Story As the Story Crumbles | Updated: Dec 2nd

ArtisticVicu

ArtisticVicu

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Info Be it short or long, a random ramble or a thought out story, there's a little bit of everything here. The genres are just as wide spread as the focus of the piece, be it a sci-fi slice of life, a fantasy horror, or the more expected basic fantasy story or modern mystery. Some are short and simple, others just as short but far more complex. More than anything, the majority of what is contained here is exploration of the written word. There is enjoyment in writing it. I do hope you enjoy reading it in turn.

Please peruse at your leisure. Any comments are welcomed as the Table of Contents below is updated with every new post.

Updates!Fanfiction | The Fifth Descender | Chapter 2
Fanfiction | Harry Potter and the Altered Timeline | Chapter 13
RPA Fall Event 2023

Assorted and Prompt Writings
Event Writings
RPA Fall Event 2023
Altruistic Endeavors | Inktober 2020
RPApril Extravaganza 2019
Caffeine Prompts #24-28
This is Halloween 2018
RPApril Extravaganza 2018
RPApril Extravaganza 2017
Random Event 2
Random Event 1
Monthly Writings
Fanfiction
The Fifth Descender
Harry Potter and the Altered Timeline
Gaster's Involvement
Kepler's Story
Othertale
Sanity Virus
 
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Sanity VirusTransformers Movie Verse AU
Megatron X Optimus Prime

Please be advised that this story does have:
Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Major Character Death



  • Beginning​
    He leaned heavily on the balcony's railing, heaving a sigh. It had been a long day and the following were to only get longer. His dim blue optics drifted over the growing city with little more than weariness and defeat dancing in them. Try as they might, Cybertron would never be what it once was. Not in any of their lifetimes, nor in those of the next generations. He wasn't sure if he was content with how humble his race had become or sad that it had come to this. He shifted his stance, from forearm to elbow so he could bury his face into his hand. A hand stroked up from the base of his shoulder blade to nape of his neck, a thumb stroking the strained wires there. Optimus Prime pushed off the balcony's railing in favor of leaning into both the hand on his neck and the chest behind him.

    "You need to quit doing this to yourself, Beloved," a deep, rumbling voice spoke softly from behind him as an arm wrapped around his chest and a face pressed into his shoulder. Optimus reached up, placing a hand on Megatron's faceplate. "You'll run yourself into an early grave."

    Optimus gave a soft huff in amusement, relishing in the unconditional love he could feel surging over the abused sparkbond. They each had died once and had made it back before the other could truly lose their mind. The war had finally ended and all Cybertronians were now focused on repairing what had been thought to be unrepairable. A bite on his neck - hard enough to cause pain but gentle enough not to mark - brought Optimus from his thoughts and back to Megatron. He shifted enough to look into his sparkmate's optics, curious. His spark seized at the look in Megatron's red optics.

    Concern and worry both dominated the larger mech's unwavering gaze. Optimus found himself trying to slow his venting. He wasn't sure what had caused the reaction but he knew it hadn't been a good emotion. He gave a weak smile, returning his hand to Megatron's faceplate. "I am sorry, Megatron. It has just been a long day."

    Megatron kissed Optimus's temple, the kiss lingering for comfort being sought from both parties. When Megatron pulled away, he offered, "It has been for both of us. Let's go recharge."

    Megatron stepped back and to the side. He kept an arm around Optimus's waist as he led the red and blue mech back into their quarters. It was simplistic, small. Megatron remembered a time when he had wanted elegance, the largest place Cybertron had to offer, but, when the war had finally ended and the rebuilding of Cybertron had started, he had found the smaller quarters had been much more pleasurable. The greatest factor had been how much it had put both veteran mechs at ease. Sometimes it was hard to push aside war taught habits and paranoias.

    The berth was soft and warm. Optimus climbed in first, his systems already shutting down to rest. Megatron helped the sleepy mech settle before going around and climbing in on the other side. Optimus rolled over and pressed his faceplate over Megatron's spark chamber. Megatron wrapped his arms securely around Optimus, humming a tone that seemed to gently vibrate his entire being. It was something they had both discovered had helped a peaceful recharge after so long in war. Soon Optimus was in a deep recharge and Megatron finally gave in to the need to recharge as well.


    "The attacks are getting more frequent," Sideswipe commented, leaning heavily on the table covered in datapads and holocubs. "Do we even know where they're coming from?"

    Optimus sighed, rubbing at his optics as Ratchet replied, "No. From what we can tell, it's some kind of virus. There hasn't been enough time to analyze the compound fully to tell what the full effects are."

    Sunstreaker huffed, pushing off the wall. "I can tell you the effects, Doc. They turn good bots bad. Make them do things they would never do."

    "We don't know that for sure," Ratchet countered but Sunstreaker barked back, "I watched Arcee get her spark ripped out by her own sparkmate! I know for a fact that that would never happen! Their bond was too strong!"

    "And yet that only restates what little we already know!" Ratchet shouted back. "We need time to know the true effects of-"

    "Enough." Megatron stepped forward, glaring at the two mechs. Both silenced immediately, though Sunstreaker still glared at Ratchet. "Whether or not we know the true effects, we do know how it's being transferred."

    Ratchet nodded, meeting Megatron's gaze. "As of right now, it's only through fluid. Fresh fluid. Give it a few hours outside of a system and it dies. There's no telling if it'll go air born."

    Megatron nodded. "Then we work to contain the infected. Ironhide, work with Soundwave to set up teams and quadrants to patrol. Starscream, take your Trine and another and patrol the skies till the ground teams and quadrants have been set up. Then follow Soundwave and Ironhide's schedule as they need you."

    All mechs nodded their acknowledgement before leaving. Megatron looked over to Optimus and knew the other wasn't reading the data pad in his hand. He dismissed the rest with the flick of his wrist and waited for them to leave. As the door clicked shut, Megatron pulled the datapad out of Optimus's loose grip before engulfing Optimus in his arms. He more felt then heard the sigh that escaped from Optimus's vents as his frame relaxed. Megatron placed a chaste kiss on Optimus's temple, offering, "You could have stayed home today. I can hand this."

    Optimus shook his head. "I am losing many friends, both old and new. If I can aid in stopping this virus, then I will."

    Megatron stole a kiss before he pulled away. "I'm going to visit the building sites. Stay here and go through some of these. I want you to take it easy today. Nothing more strenuous than reading useless information."

    Optimus laughed weakly and Megatron took it. Kissing Optimus one last time, he left the room. Optimus sighed and picked up the datapad Megatron had pulled from his grip. He scrolled back to the top, intent on truly understanding what he had been reading but he had barely read the first line when he was interrupted.

    The screech was the only warning he got as the windows shattered. His head whipped around and he engaged his cannon without even thinking. A Cybertronian mass collided with his side and his hip caught the edge of the table, both of them sliding across the tabletop and over the other side. Datapads and holocubes scattered in every direction as the table tipped and collapsed overtop them. Optimus's left shoulder burned but he ignored it in favor of dealing with the attacking Cybertronian mass. Optimus managed to land a right hook to the side of the mech's face, giving him enough of an opening to kick the form off and take aim. The door burst open, drawing the assailant's attention away from Optimus for the millisecond it took to register what he was seeing.

    The Cybertronian was Soundwave, but he looked damaged, frozen in the middle of withering in pain. Limbs were twisted in painful directions and broken in others. Energon dripped from the wounds that grew with each movement. The worse part of it all was Soundwave's face.

    The mech never had much in the way for expressions but the way his face was distorted...Optimus had to look away before he purged his tanks. Even after all that he had seen, it was a gruesome sight.

    "Optimus!"

    Optimus cursed himself as Soundwave collided with him, slamming him into the floor again. Optimus was able to get an arm free to keep Soundwave from ripping into his throat with serrated teeth. A shadow covered them both and suddenly, Soundwave was crashing into the opposite wall.

    Megatron fired at Soundwave. It was a direct hit to the spark and Soundwave crumbled. Tension seemed to escape the room as Megatron lowered his cannon and turned to Optimus. "Are you-"

    Megatron was tackled by Soundwave and the sound was excruciating. Megatron was able to throw Soundwave off as his back hit the floor before the infected mech could scratch or bite him and promptly decapitated Soundwave. The frame crashed to the floor unceremoniously as Megatron straightened up. He retracted his blade and turned to Optimus, offering the mech a hand. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe came rushing in. Sunstreaker went directly to Soundwave and Sideswipe walked over as Megatron pulled Optimus to his feet.

    "Ironhide's in pretty bad shape," Sideswipe stated without prompt. Optimus gently gripped his burning shoulder. "He's in medical right now, getting cleaned and patched up by Ratchet. He said Soundwave just snapped and attacked him. Rachet said that Ironhide hadn't gotten infect."

    Megatron nodded, his gaze going to Optimus. He placed a hand on the small of Optimus's back, offering when dim blue optics looked up at him, "Let's get you to medic."

    Optimus nodded.


    "You're clear as well," Ratchet stated, reading the scanner in his hand. "The energon that had splattered you was merely surface exposure. Nothing to worry about."

    Optimus sighed, relief flooding his spark and mingling with the relief Megatron was feeling. Megatron slid off the medical berth. "How much longer till you have a way to counteract the virus."

    Ratchet shook his head. "Until I figure out what caused it, there's no telling on when I'll come up with a way to counteract it."

    "We will need to keep everyone on high alert," Optimus voiced. "We cannot allow this to become wide spread nor can we allow it to pull us apart."

    "Agreed." Megatron turned to Ratchet. "How long till Ironhide is ready for a debrief?"

    Ratchet shook his head. "Soundwave had done some serious damage. It was a miracle Ironhide was conscious when he was brought in and still clean of the virus."

    Megatron nodded. He turned to Optimus. The red and blue mech met his gaze with a tired one. Megatron cupped Optimus's faceplate. "I'll be back when things settle. Get some rest."

    Optimus nodded, accepting the kiss before watching Megatron leave. With a sigh, he settled back onto the medical berth, rolling onto his good shoulder. Ratchet walked over and stated, "If you need anything, just call."

    Optimus nodded, already halfway into recharge.

    He woke with a start, feeling as if he had only drifted into recharge. He sat up, wincing as his healing shoulder and hip protested to the movement but didn't hinder him. He looked around the dim medic bay trying to decipher what woke him. He turned his head to the door and saw that it was partially open and harsh whispers were emanating from the hallway. Sliding off the berth, he rubbed his sore shoulder briefly before dropping his hand to the side.

    The closer he got, the more he could make out and he recognized his sparkmate's voice long before the words made sense.

    "-ther time," Megatron was growling, sounding as if he was trying very hard to keep his voice down. "I won't repeat myself."

    "Well, that attitude will get you nowhere," Ratchet replied. Optimus reached out to pulled the door open as the medic commented, "You have to come back in the-"

    The door opened and Optimus stepped back. Ratchet jerked back at the sudden appearance of Optimus standing before him. He frowned. "You should be in a deep recharge."

    Optimus gave a half shrug, feeling like a youngling getting reprimanded. "I woke up."

    Megatron chuckled and Optimus looked at him, smiling gentle. But the smile faltered. Something was off with Megatron but he wasn't sure what. Megatron held out his hand to Optimus and Optimus took it as Megatron offered, "Let's go home."

    "Optimus should-"

    "We're going home," Megatron growled.

    Optimus frowned, retorting, "Megatron."

    Megatron looked at him and he seemed to calm instantly. He gave a tired smile. "Sorry, Beloved. It's just been a hard day."

    "Then you should be home."

    Megatron shook his head. "Not without you."

    Optimus looked to Ratchet, the question in his optics. Ratchet sighed, waving the pair off. "Fine. But Optimus is to rest. Nothing till past mid day."

    "Nothing till past mid day," Optimus agreed.

    Megatron jerked his hand gentle, urging Optimus to follow. Optimus fell into step beside Megatron. Megatron gave Optimus's hand a gentle squeeze and started on the path home. Optimus was pleasantly surprised when they continued walking. It had been a long time since he had walked home with Megatron. Most of the time, they were too exhausted to think of covering the distance by foot. The distance would tax his hip but it would be gentler than shifting forms. Optimus wondered if that was why they were walking.

    They reached their apartment half an hour later. Optimus was exhausted, limping, and already slipping in and out of recharge. Megatron had, somewhere along their walk, wrapped his arm around Optimus's waist to support him. The room lit up in a gentle glow when they entered. The pair was silent as Megatron led the way to the bedroom. He turned the lights on before taking Optimus over to the berth. Vents hissed as Optimus cringed from the pain in his hip. Megatron placed a gentle hand over the ache, catching Optimus's dim gaze. Optimus couldn't focus enough through the partial recharge to read the emotions flickering through Megatron's gaze. He reached out, cupping Megatron's cheek. Megatron leaned into it, covering Optimus's hand with his own.

    "No matter what happens, you know that I'll always love you?" Megatron asked, his voice soft.

    Optimus frowned, forcing himself out of his haze as best he could. He had little success. The fog of exhaustion was winning. "Of course. You would never do anything that states others."

    Megatron dropped his gaze to Optimus's spark and Optimus looked over the crouching mech, wondering where this had come from. He must have voiced his concern because Megatron breathed, "The virus is spreading."

    Optimus's hand clenched on Megatron's cheek subconsciously as Optimus tensed. Megatron looked up at him with sorrow filled optics. As a sense of foreboding settled in his spark, Optimus snapped, "We will get through this, Megatron. We have made it out alive from much worse."

    Megatron gave a faint smile as he captured a kiss. Optimus felt himself being pulled back into recharge as the kiss continued soft and gentle. Megatron broke the kiss and Optimus wasn't quite sure when the larger mech had laid him down. Megatron kissed over Optimus's spark, muttering, "Sleep well, my Beloved."

    Optimus gave the hand he still held a squeeze. It was a weak one but Megatron seemed to understand as he squeezed back gently. As Megatron's hand left his, Optimus fought the recharge urging him to sleep, watching as his sparkmate looked back in the doorway, before completely leaving.

    His recharge was restless. He became fully aware with a start, feeling completely worn and sore. He sat up stiffly, careful of his right shoulder and left hip as both complained. He froze.

    Something was off.

    He looked around, his optics taking in the still dark window, the closed door, and the empty berth beside him. It took him a moment to figure the time and yet he didn't trust that it was just before the sun rose. He shifted so his feet hung over the edge of the berth and waited for the strain to subside.

    He focused on the closed door, the sound of something breaking muffled by the solid door and good seal. Optimus stood up, favoring his right leg more than his left as he hobbled over to the door and opened it. Something flew at him and he ducked, automatically engaging his canon. He would have raised it too if he hadn't caught sight of Megatron first.

    The red optic mech was furious, trashing the sitting area in a rage. Most things were overturned, sliced into multiple pieces, and smashed underfoot. Optimus had to his cannon to disengage. It was a rage he hadn't seen since the war and it honestly scared the Prime. Taking the courage that most Autobots still remember him harboring, he stepped out into the chaos, ignoring the twinge in his hip and the fear in his spark.

    Megatron threw something at the far wall that shattered, peppering both their forms in debris. Optimus reached out, clasping a hand on Megatron's arm as he choked, "Megatron."

    The blade was at his throat before either of them could fully process it but the manic in Megatron's gaze had been there long enough for Optimus to see it. Recognition and guilt quickly overtook the manic, burying it as the blade disengaged.

    "Optimus," came the strangled apology. The red and blue mech found himself being engulfed by Megatron's arms and he wrapped his own arms around Megatron's slightly larger form, his face buried into Megatron's neck. "I'm so sorry, Beloved. I was-it's-I don't know what came over me."

    Optimus tightened his grip. "Have you slept, Megatron?"

    "I..."

    Optimus sighed, pulling back. "Is there anything you have to do first thing?"

    Megatron had already given in before he had even answered the question. It wasn't hard to see where this was going as he gave Optimus a gentle smile. "No. And I believe a decent recharge will help."

    Optimus accepted the kiss before pulling away and towards the bedroom. Megatron followed without a word, closing the door behind them both. They settled down to recharge but Optimus found recharging on his hip was much more painful than on his shoulder. Megatron didn't seem to mind that the positions had changed slightly. He still wrapped an arm around Optimus and fell into a deep recharge almost instantly. Optimus hadn't been sure if he could even make it into a deep enough recharge to rest fully. Still, he found himself waking without remembering when he had fallen asleep. The berth beside him was empty but still warm. He smiled gently and got up.

    His shoulder and hip were still sore but the strained joints were getting better. He walked without any trouble. He entered the sitting room and had to pause in the doorway as the fear from just a few hours ago gripped him again. His hand latched onto the doorframe and cracked the paint. The room was clean, spotless, and repaired. A spike of fear shot through Optimus as he wondered frantically if the previous night had occurred.

    Movement drew his attention elsewhere and he smiled gently to Megatron. The mech was leaning against a doorframe, arms crossed and smirking. Optimus released the doorframe with some difficulty and walked over. The fear was still there, still just as strong, even though he knew it was irrational. Megatron wouldn't hurt him, wouldn't harm him. He knew that in his spark. Megatron seemed to have known the turmoil in his spark and captured a chaste kiss briefly as the smirk fell. "I'm needed back at HQ. You're welcome to tag along but, if Ratchet gets wind you left this place, it'll be your own aft."

    Optimus chuckled, accepting the chance to be playful. It aided in ignoring the fear. "I thought you liked my aft to be exclusive."

    The grin on Megatron's face shouldn't have scared him, shouldn't have reminded him of the times of war. He shouldn't have even made it to the other side of the room as quickly as he had while tripping over the furniture. None the less, he found him back crashing with the far wall as he tried desperately to stop the hyperventing and to disengage the cannon beamed to Megatron's spark. Fear and concern were clear on Megatron's expression as he moved forward slowly. He stopped at the end of Optimus's charged cannon and slowly forced it to lower. His expression never changed as he reached up with his other hand to cup Optimus's cheek.
 
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Random Event 1An Assortment of Writings
These were all from the first event I did. I no longer have access to what the event was originally labeled and am simply pulling from my tumblr archive. Every item title is the given prompt. Some are song, some are word or quote. A number had word limits whether it was a minimum or an exact.

Be advised:
Some are interlaced with fandoms.
Some can be spooky,
If you find one that needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know. I have not reread these as I posted them as of the date on this post.


  • As the world dissolved around the group as the portal came down around them to take the ground away from beneath their feet, he closed his eyes. The inverting left him reeling and, for the briefest of moments, panic rushed through him. Not from his rapid decent possibly ending in a shattering smack against the ground several hundred feet now above his head, but from the oncoming battle he was dropping into. He snapped his eyes open and his companion that could fly came to intercept him as he remembered that he was not alone in this; the 16 others around him were there to support him and just as ready for this fight as he was.
 
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October 2016Monthly Writing Prompts
There is a 100 word minimum to complete the prompt and an alternative 1000 word minimum. I keep with the alternative word minimum.

Be advised:
Some are interlaced with fandoms.
Some can be spooky,
If you find one that needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know. I have not reread these as I posted them as of the date on this post.


  • His breath curled before his face, visible in the cold fall air as he sighed. He watched it with tired eyes, body laden with more than just the pack on his back and the winter cloths keeping him warm. The sky above was barely turning from night to day without a cloud in the sky. Even the last few stars that he could see beyond the branches and remaining leaves seemed to wink goodbye at him as he turned his attention from the sky above.

    As the last of his breath dissipated, he turned enough to look back at his companions. Two were standing about, patiently waiting with packs fully packed. Two were near the fire pit adjusting something on the younger of two’s pack. Another stood up from where one of the tents had been, slinging their pack onto a shoulder as they stood. He met their gaze briefly before looking over the others once more.

    “Ready?” he called out cautiously.

    There was a collection of nodded affirmations but the one still working on the pack spoke up. “Two seconds.”

    He nodded in turn as the others started to move towards him.

    A wind rustled the changing leaves and bare branches above their head. He looked up, watching as leaves were gently pulled from their branches and sent dancing towards the trodden path below.

    “Alright, let’s go.”

    He looked down at the last duo to see them joining the others before he turned and started down the path. Silence hung around them, filled only with the sound of crunching leaves beneath their feet and the wind playing with the treetops. The silenced stayed for quite some time as the sun crept higher into the sky till, at last, sleep had released them completely and a few in the group found topics to expand upon. He stayed at the front of the group, not feeling the need to converse with any of them.

    It seemed that others had a different idea, though.

    “How long have we been out here?” a soft voice asked from his left. He glanced over, finding himself looking at the girl that had been packing near one of the tent sites.

    “I lost count,” he confessed, looking ahead again. “A couple of months, probably.”

    She fell silent beside him, the chatter behind them as soft as their conversation had been. They had learned not to be too loud.

    “Think we’ll come across more supplies soon?”

    The weight on his shoulders seemed to grow. “I hope so.”

    She slipped her arm around his, resting her head against his shoulder briefly as she sidled up against his side. “Me too.” She raised her head off his shoulder. She glanced back at the others, specifically to the one that had being aided with their pack. “You should talk to him.”

    He chuckled, looking down at her with a tired expression. “Why should I do that?” He glanced back. “He’s perfectly ok not knowing.”

    Her grip around his arm tightened as she glared at him. “But you’re not.” Her expression fell. “Please, Warrick. It would be nice to see something happy before this all ends.”

    He looked down at her but his own expression showed nothing more than exhaustion. “I can’t, Viera. Jaden does not need that.” He couldn’t help glancing back. “Not now.”

    He watched as Jaden laughed softly at something the older man walking beside him had said. He felt Viera slip from his arm before he looked at her. She was looking at him with a strange expression. He frowned. “What?”

    “Warrick, I–”

    The snap of a twig shot through the trees like a crack of thunder. The entire group froze, eyes wide and instantly turning to the surrounding trees. He reached out, slowly pressing Viera back towards the group that was huddling together on the center of the trail on the leaves. At first, there was nothing, and they stood packed together in the cold fall air for a long time without speaking.

    He was the first to see it.

    There, at the edge of his vision, a shape appeared: a mass of fog that vanished when he looked directly at it. He gave an involuntary shudder as he watched out the peripheral of his vision the creature getting closer, blipping in and out of existence and changing location as it got closer. At least, he hoped there was only one.

    They all jumped when the thing suddenly appeared before them, pressed up against the edge of the trail in the leaves. None of them made a sound as they all stared in horror at the mass pressing against an invisible barrier protecting them from the creature’s touch.

    It was a grayish white, like fog at the edge of morning. It had a shape that was ever changing, wisping away like fog does only for the main mass of fog to never change density. The thing’s eyes were like shaped onyx, black and shiny without really seeming like eyes.

    For what felt like an eternity it stared at them, reaching for them only to fail. Eventually, the thing moved on as if it had either grown bored or had gotten distracted. He wasn’t sure but he felt his companions relax around him.

    He knew better, could see the faint wisps of the other creatures now forming around them. The other creatures kept their distance, waiting.

    Viera tugged on his arm, gaining his attention. He looked away for only an instant but it was all that was needed.

    He woke with frost coating the fur of his hood. His breath was visible before his face in the freezing night air as he carefully pushed himself upright. He rubbed at his head, shaking away the lingering feeling that he was forgetting something.

    He was used to it.

    Pulling out a leather bound book, he opened to the bookmarked page and stared down at the list. Fifty-three names were scrawled there, all but five crossed out. He looked around.

    He was alone.
 
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November 2016Monthly Writing Prompts
There is a 100 word minimum to complete the prompt and an alternative 1000 word minimum. I keep with the alternative word minimum.

Be advised:
Some are interlaced with fandoms.
Some can be spooky,
If you find one that needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know. I have not reread these as I posted them as of the date on this post.


  • They said that if you saw one, your life was forfeit. I never understood what they had meant by that, never connected the dots till I was older.

    I was told things had changed when I was only two. I don’t remember what had happened nor what life had been like before but I do remember the fear, and the confusion. I remember the quiet games and constant moving. I remember boarded up windows and gray skies and never being able to play outside. I never questioned it.

    I remember the older kids always having issues, the adults always getting into fights. I never understood what they were going through, why they had such an issue with it all. It was just how things were.

    That is, till the rainbows started to appear.

    I was 16 when the first one shot across the sky. I had learned from old books about weather phenomena so I knew, scientifically, what caused a rainbow: reflected, refracted, and dispersed white light in water droplets causes the visible spectrum to become visible. To be honest, I had always wanted to see one. But, then, I had always wanted to see the stars and feel the sun against my skin, but when the first rainbow cut across the sky and we were suddenly getting news that it was not a sign of hope, I pushed my hopes of ever seeing something beyond the gray sky to the back of my mind.

    They said that those that had seen the rainbow vanished. No one knows how or why or what even caused the rainbow to appear beneath the gray sky. There had been no rain, no sunlight to reflect within the water droplets, nothing. They’re also saying it wasn’t an isolated incident. With what primitive communication we have, we were getting world that a rainbow had appeared all over the planet at relatively the same time and those that had supposedly glimpsed the phenomenon vanished.

    Many were speculating that those that had seen the rainbows were dead.

    It wasn’t till I was 20 that I questioned this thought. We went four years without the odd rainbows appearing again. At least, in the areas we were traveling in. It seemed the rainbows followed us, though, as word reached us as areas we passed were losing populous. People were blaming the rainbows but no one was giving forth actual testament that rainbows had been appearing.

    Then, one night, something happened that had me disbelieving that thought completely.

    I had gone out. I couldn’t sleep and I was feeling restless. I felt we were staying in one place for too long and felt the urge to move on but I couldn’t leave my family. We were a unit made up of blood and choice. So, I snuck out. By the time you’re 7, you know sneaking out at all is a horrible idea. It’s drilled into you by the ripe age of 16 to never be out at night alone and by the time you were my age, you wouldn’t even give it a passing thought. It was just nature.

    But something was urging me outside and so I slipped out. I remember the adrenaline in my chest, stealing my breath as I took in the world that was supposed to be pitch black with night. Instead, it was illuminated by plants and animals that glowed. I could see as clearly in what we called night as I could in what we called day. It was magnificent. I had no idea that the plant life we barely saw in our travels could do such things at night.

    I wandered far in my awe, the need for sleep long forgotten. I eventually found myself in the top of a tree, looking towards the once gray sky. There, my eyes caught glimpses of starry night beyond brief breaks in the gray sky. It was then that the realization hit me that the gray sky we knew was only a layer of cloud. How odd that such a thing created such a gray atmosphere during the day and such a vibrant scene at night.

    It was addicting.

    After that point, there was hardly a night that I didn’t sneak out. I got really good at hiding my excursions. The only people that noticed the change in my demeanor because of it were my dad, my closest sister, and my best friend. My dad was the first one to notice. He noticed after the second night and cornered me. He didn’t know what I was doing but he could tell something had changed and he was worried. I assured him it was nothing more than just finally sleeping better, which wasn’t a lie. At that point, I had crashed after both outings and had, for once, slept without worry. That didn’t help my addition.

    My best friend and my closest sister cornered me two weeks later. I had gone out a total of ten times at this point. My sister had caught sight of me sneaking out twice and my best friend had noticed the change about a week in. My best friend had gone to my sister first before they came to me. They wanted to make sure I was going to be ok, that I was safe. I assured them but I couldn’t tell them why I went out. While I was willing to risk my own life to catch glimpses of the stars and see the beauty of the night, I was not willing to risk either of theirs.

    It had been futile to even attempt.

    A month and a half after they had cornered me, my sister and best friend somehow managed to follow me out without waking anyone or me noticing till we were already a decent pace away from where the others were resting. I had tried to urge them back but they could be as stubborn as me and so I showed them the wonders I had grown addicted to.

    My sister wasn’t fond of climbing the trees like my best friend and I were so there were several nights that my sister would settle in a clearing to watch the skies as my best friend and I settled in the canopy.

    It was up in those branches that my best friend kissed me. It was up in those trees that my best friend became my life partner. It was out in that night that the three of us made a pact to always keep an eye out for others itching to slink from the group and get away at night. The night could be just as dangerous as the gray day. There were still creatures and deadly plants and there were several nights we came back with injuries we had to hide.

    And still we heard tales of the rainbows.

    When I was 22, I had a falling out from my family. It had been a massive mistake on my part but what else was I suppose to do. My partner, my sister, and I had come across a child lost in the woods. We couldn’t just leave them out there. So, at the risk of everything, we brought the child with us and explained to the group how we had come across her and why we had come across her.

    We were kicked out.

    The group split nearly in half at that point. My dad came with me, as did my younger siblings and some of my older. Those too steeped in the old ways went on their way. Those that were open to what we had done stayed. In the end, we went from a comfortable group of nearly 60 to a group just barely over 20. My partner’s family had disowned them but my dad was there to state that my partner was already part of our family so it didn’t matter.

    We didn’t go out that night.

    I can’t remember when it shifted for us but we started traveling at night. We realized that we could travel farther and longer at night. We got used to the plant and animal life. We got complacent.

    My sister had taken the child in but my partner and I helped her raise the child. Malnourished and clearly abandoned, the three of us worked hard to make sure the child regained a healthy weight and proper clothing. Soon the child was playing with the others, keeping up and even surpassing them in some of their games. It was amazing.

    It should have been our first warning.

    It was as the night was drawing to a close five years later and my partner and I were sitting outside of our shelter as the others settled that we saw it.

    I don’t know how to describe it but it was definitely very similar to how it had been to see the stars for the first time.

    A magnificent rainbow arched across the sky as night turned to day. Full and vibrant, my partner and eye stared at it in awe as we clung to each other. It had been years since we had any communication with any others and yet the fear from years ago was still there. We watched it till it faded away and even then we sat there shaking, clinging to each other. But I found that I wasn’t shaking out of fear. As I looked into my partner’s eyes, I realized it was joy, just as it was in my partner’s eyes. That rainbow had filled us with a joy neither of us understood.

    We found a short while later that my sister and the child had seen it as well. It was shortly thereafter that the child divulged that it had been abandoned because it had seen a rainbow just like that one before. I looked from my sister to my partner and the same resolve was in their eyes as the resolve in my heart.

    I woke my dad and informed him what had happened. I told him the four of us were going to slip away while the others were asleep to see where these rainbows had come from. I could feel the urge in my bones. My dad had wrapped us all in tight hugs but somehow our commotion had woken the others. We told them what had happened and, to our immense surprise and relief, the group wanted to go with us. So, our path changed and the following night, we made our way towards the origin of the rainbows.

    It wasn’t till two weeks later that I had an epiphany. They had once said that if you see a rainbow, your life is forfeit. I never understood that till I watched the 15th rainbow I had ever seen cross the morning horizon. Seeing the rainbows filled you with immense joy and peace as well as an urge to follow them. It was hard to resist and that first morning on our trek had proven my instinct correct and the rest of our party had caught their first glimpse of a rainbow as the night turned to day.

    It was about three years later when we finally reached the place where the rainbows had been coming from. We had caught sight of it about a month back but now we were walking right up to the edge. I don’t know what this massive structure is, nor these people that are coming to greet us are, but I do know that, whatever those rainbows had been, they had been bringing us to a place of hope. The rainbows had brought us to a place we could settle and call home.

    If anyone finds this and this massive structure is no longer here, look for the rainbows. When you see one, you are forfeiting your life. You are forfeiting your life for a better one, for a safer one; for a life out from under the gray skies of planet Earth.
 
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Random Event 2An Assortment of Writings
These were all from an event I did. I no longer have access to what the event was originally labeled and am simply pulling from my tumblr archive. Every item title is the given prompt. They were either a blended genre or a word, all with word limits.


  • His grip on the flashlight increased as he tried to swallow. The hallway before them was dark and there was an ominous feeling even just looking. The group pressed close to his back.

    “Man, why are schools so creepy at night?” one of the boys near the back of the group whined.

    “I don’t like this,” the girl against his back muttered. He chanced a look at her as one of the boys standing with him flicked their own flashlight on. Her gaze was ahead even though she was almost completely hidden behind him.

    He offered her a soft smile. “This is the last hallway. We’ll get out of this just fine.”

    The boy that had turned on his flashlight hummed in affirmation. “There’s nothing to be frightened about.” The boy looked at him. The boy’s glasses hid whatever his eyes were giving away. He cursed the boy’s perfect poker face. “Do you want to take the lead, Andrew, or shall I?”

    “I’m take lead, Neal,” he replied, offering a soft smile. “After all, you’re words are pretty accurate. There’s nothing to be frightened about.”

    “Says the two fearless!” someone complained from the back of the group. Andrew didn’t bother to glance back as he took the first step forward. A hush fell over the group beyond a few whimpers here and there. Neal matched his pace and the group fell into step behind them. It was slow going. Andrew was growing concerned and a glance at Neal assured him Neal was thinking the same thing.

    “How likely is it that this hallway went untouched?” Andrew asked in a low voice. The girl that had been pressed up against his back had moved to his other arm, basically placing him between the girl and Neal.

    “Highly unlikely,” Neal commented, his hand tightening around the gun in his hand. “We’d best prepare for an ambush.”

    Andrew stopped to pull his gun from his back when there was a noise from up ahead. They all froze, listening intently. It happened again and Andrew pulled his gun around.

    The swarm came much quicker than he had anticipated. He let loose a barrage as he pushed the girl sideways, Neal bringing up his own gun and firing. A good number in the group screamed as those with weapons wielded them. It was utter mass chaos and Andrew shouted over the noise, “Back towards the stairs!”

    The group slowly gave up ground as Andrew, the girl, and Neal were cut off from the rest of them. Andrew threw a wild look at the group, catching an underclassman’s gaze. The boy looked to be freshman but his gaze was sharp, clear, and that was all Andrew needed. “Try two levels down! Book it if you can! The exits just at the other end of the hall!”

    The boy nodded and took control. The noise was becoming too much for Andrew to relay anything else.

    “Neal!”

    Andrew’s head snapped around, staring in horror as Neal went down. The girl next to Andrew moved to aid him but Andrew wrapped a numb arm around her, shooting two zombies in the face. “We can’t, Lily!” he shouted, his throat tight. “There’s too much!”

    “We can’t leave him!” she screamed, taking out five zombies in her fear and her anger.

    He couldn’t argue with that, didn’t want to argue with that. Swiftly turning her about, he quickly reloaded before he started to clear a path to Neal. It was slow going but they eventually got to the point where Neal had been. It was Lily that pointed at the classroom. They were able to clear the way and make it in. They barred the door shut and Andrew stepped towards the center of the room as Lily stayed pressed against the barred door.

    “Neal?” Andrew called, worry lacing his voice. There was a sound on the other side of the teacher’s desk and Andrew stepped carefully around it. “Neal!”

    Andrew came to Neal’s side, his hands instantly shooting out and checking the lanky teen over. Neal tried blocking his attempt but there was no real intent behind it. He did give a goodhearted glar1e at the burlier teen. “I’m fine, Andrew. It was just for show.”

    Andrew’s hands stilled, before he blinked down at his gun. It took a moment of staring before his brain registered he had a paint gun slung around his shoulder. He looked at the pistol that Neil was sporting and saw that it too was a paint gun. He suddenly burst out laughing, his entire body shaking. “Holy cow,” he breathed between laughs. He watched Neal chuckle right along with him, rubbing at some fake blood on his face.

    “What did you think?”

    Andrew nearly jumped out of his skin as Neal brought up the pistol out of reflex. Thankfully he wasn’t trigger happy as the class president for the sophomore class smiled down at them expectantly. She grinned, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Can we create a haunted house, or what?”

    There was a snort from Lily. Andrew looked to her to see her expression alive in a way that he hadn’t seen in a while. He looked down at Neal and saw the same look.

    “That was sure impressive, Robins,” Lily commented, walking over. She placed a heavy hand on Robins shoulder and brought her face close to the smaller girl’s, her expression blank and yet murderous at the same time. “Don’t do it again.”

    Robins just grinned. “Oh, so going to. I think we could make some real bank with this stuff.”

    “Just no more students as guinea pigs, Robins,” Neal commented, standing as he pressed his glasses higher up his nose.

    “Yeah,” Andrew added, beaming. “We don’t need more ghosts wandering the halls.”

    Robins gave a bark of a laugh as Lily shot him a glare. It was totally worth it as he saw Neal trying hard not to laugh out of the corner of his eye.
 
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December 2016Monthly Writing Prompts
There is a 100 word minimum to complete the prompt and an alternative 1000 word minimum. I keep with the alternative word minimum.

Be advised:
Some are interlaced with fandoms.
Some can be spooky,
If you find one that needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know. I have not reread these as I posted them as of the date on this post.


  • The gravel crunched underneath as he sat down heavily. Groaning at the movement, he grabbed at the wound on his side, hissing at the pain it caused. He didn’t let up the pressure but he did relax, leaning his head back against the stone wall behind him.

    He chuckled weakly. “It’s funny,” he commented, eyes half lidded. “I always thought we would make it farther than this.”

    He closed his eyes as a breeze washed over him, pulling at his hair, at his face, as gently as it did the trees above him. He opened his eyes, taking in the glimpses of blue sky beyond. “Guess I was wrong.”

    His expression turned sad, mournful even, as he settled more into the wall. “But, hey, least we made it this far, right, brother?”

    He glanced over at the prone shape beside him in a worse condition than he was. There wasn’t much sign of life but he could tell that his brother was still there, still alive, if just barely.

    He turned his gaze skyward again.

    The wind rustled through the leaves again and he closed his eyes. The sound of the nature around them was soothing after such a hard trek, after such a hard moment in their life that he relished the peace.

    When he opened his eyes again, the sun was setting and the sky had gone from a vibrant blue to a darkening orange. He couldn’t bring himself to care.

    “I remember mom telling us about a legend,” he commented offhandedly, gaze still skyward. “The one about the phoenix and how it could be reborn after it burst into ashes. How life was just like the cycle of the phoenix. From the moment your born, it’s nothing but movement and information. Smoldering determination and white hot emotions. Life just throws everything it has at you to see if you’ll rise from the ashes or go down in a burning ball of misery.”

    A bird passed overhead, chirping happily. “I remember thinking I understood that legend when we had followed dad’s footsteps. Life was suddenly alight with passion. Every day was high paced, ending like a candle does when the sun went down. Then mom died and I believed I had come to understand the legend that much more. Suddenly the emotions were too much to bear. I couldn’t take it. I was so over stimulated by them all that I became numb. Numb until, suddenly, determination was lighting my way again. And suddenly the emotions I felt were burning hot and fueled my motivation. Our motivation.”

    The sun reached a point in its descent that rays of light cut through the trees, illuminating all the particles in the air and illustrating just where the leaves fell in the beams of light. He watched as the beams, one by one, faded as the sun continued to set.

    “I thought that the legend we were chasing had no similarities to the phoenix,” he confessed. “I saw no need to try and compare the two. A phoenix is a myth. There was no bird that could die in flames only to be reborn from the ashes. But then we saw things.” Memories flashed through his mind’s eye, things he wished he had never seen, never heard. But with those memories, those choices, had come people they cared about and who cared about them and his expression softened. He couldn’t bring himself to regret any of it. “We saw things that no human should have ever witnessed. We saw things that would have broken others, would have destroyed others. But they didn’t destroy us. Somehow, through all of this, we never turned to ash and stayed ash. We were reborn. Over and over again. We got back up, dusted ourselves off, and kept moving. We kept chasing a legend.”

    The sun’s last rays dissipated as the sun disappeared beneath the horizon. The first stars were already making their appearances through the leaves. “We kept moving, kept going. Kept trying. But no matter how far we got, how hard we ran, that legend remained out of reach, out of touch.”

    The pressure on his wound dissipated as his arm gave out. He paid it no mind as he closed his eyes, face still pointed skyward. “We discovered horrible truths about that legend and yet we still kept running after it, trying rid ourselves of the information with believing that, once we had captured it, we’d be fine.”

    He opened his eyes and a tear raced down his cheek, another going with it shortly thereafter. “I don’t think mom told us the full legend about the phoenix, brother. I think she was trying to protect us from the truth.”

    He closed his eyes again, another tear falling. “Of how the phoenix’s cycle eventually comes to an end, how it doesn’t last forever. That, once the phoenix has used up all of its energy to reform, it will turn to ashes and never rise again.”

    He found it much harder to open his eyes this time. The wind pulled at his wet cheeks, the air colder than it had been with the sun up. “I think she didn’t want us to go on living with the belief that, at some point, we would wear ourselves out and lose the ability to get back up again, to keep moving. That life loses its spark after living it for too long.”

    He chuckled weakly. “Funny how chasing one legend can lead to the understanding of another.”

    He closed his eyes with the intent of keeping them closed this time. He was so tired. “I’m sorry, Alphonse. I tried. I tried so hard to keep my promise to you and I’ve broken it.” The tears came faster but there were no sobs. Just breathless words. “I want to keep it but I don’t think I can get up after this one, brother. I don’t think we can bounce back after this.”

    “It’s alright, brother,” came the soft, weak voice from the form beside him. “I’m tired too.”

    He forced his eyes open one last time. He smiled, but it felt off. “Think we’ll see mom again?”

    “Yeah,” came the breathy reply. “Yeah, I do.”
 
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January 2017Monthly Writing Prompts
There is a 100 word minimum to complete the prompt and an alternative 1000 word minimum. I keep with the alternative word minimum.

Be advised:
Some are interlaced with fandoms.
Some can be spooky,
If you find one that needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know. I have not reread these as I posted them as of the date on this post.


  • His leg gave out from under him and he hit the ground hard. He was glad that Tony was the only one there as embarrassment rushed through him, coloring his cheeks and driving him to push himself back up. Calloused hands redirected his motion into a sitting one and he grunted in disdain, grounding out, “I’m fine.”

    “Doesn’t matter,” the inventor retorted, hands moving over the prosthetic. “I want to check the limb.”

    Steve leaned back on his hands, letting out a huff of air. His frustration slowly faded as he watched Tony work with half lidded eyes. A soft wind kicked up and it drew Steve’s gaze away and up. Soft, white clouds slowly drift by as the wind curled around him and he briefly forgot his frustration as he watches the sky.

    Those same calloused hands that had created the prosthetic moved over the stump and across to the other limb. Steve looked down at Tony, bewildered. “What?”

    “Checking to make sure you didn’t break anything else.”

    Steve caught Tony’s wrist, finally gaining the man’s gaze. “I’m fine, Tony.”

    Tony gave him a rather dark, flat look. “Says the man that took a nasty fall while running at full till and can’t even tell that he’s lost a good amount of skin on either arm.”

    Astonished was the only word Steve could find that seemed to fit his own reaction. He pulled his hand back to turn his arm so he could see the underside. Sure enough the part of his forearm that had hit the pavement was scrapped and bleeding, his left even worse. Though, that made sense, seeing it was his left leg that had given out. The moment he registered the wounds, the stinging sensation hit him. His hands twitched and his face scrunched slightly, but he merely lowered his hands, looking to Tony sheepishly. “Got anything to tend these?”

    Tony’s rather dark, flat look was on him again and Steve couldn’t help the nervous grin that crossed his face. “Right. Billionaire and over prepared for just about everything.”

    Tony’s gaze dropped back to the prosthetic, fingers ghosting over the complexity of wires and metal in what Steve could only describe as a nervous tick. “The prosthetic is fine. You should be able to walk.“ The thinner man pushed himself upright before offering a hand to Steve. Steve took it and got up, keeping all his weight on his right leg as he did so. Once he was upright, he slowly added weight, letting out a sigh when the limb and prosthetic took the weight without trouble. Tony turned and stalked off, leaving Steve to catch up.

    Silence settled between them but it was tense. Steve found it hard not to fidget when he stopped in the kitchen at Tony’s directing. Tony disappeared briefly, returning with a first aid kit in hand as well as a tool kit.

    The hydrogen peroxide stung but Steve barely flinched, holding still as Tony poured the chemical over the wounds. The tap was already running cool water and it somehow felt better than the hydrogen peroxide till Tony started using soap and a cloth. Steve bit back a hiss, turning it into a sharp inhale, as he jerked back out of instinct when Tony did something that had actually hurt.

    "Sorry,” the man muttered, “but I have to get the debris out.”

    Steve game him a soft smile, offering, “I know, Tony. It’s ok.”

    The brown eyes he was hoping would flicker his direction never did and the smile fell.

    Once Steve was patched and cleared by Tony, they made their way into the sitting room. Steve settled on one of the couches as Tony went to the liquor cabinet. Steve watched him. It was after a moment when he asked, “Have you ever danced?”

    Tony gave him an owlish look, as if the genius’s brain had failed to properly process the question. “Of course,” Tony voiced skeptically. “Is this a trick question?”

    Steve leaned his head back against the couch. “I’ve never danced.”

    “Never?” That time it was skeptical without the trepidation and Steve couldn’t help the chuckle that rose from his chest. “I highly doubt a soldier like you would have never gone dancing before.”

    “Never,” Steve countered, enjoying this.

    “Not even to prom?”

    Steve snorted, looking at the inventor finding the slighter man leaning against the liquor cabinet with forgotten alcohol behind him. “I was a nerdy lanky kid back in high school.” He shrugged at the disbelief that filled Tony’s expression. “I didn’t hit my growth spurt till college and, really, it was the military that really gave me the body I have now.”

    “I would have taken you,” Tony blurted and Steve laughed. Tony blushed violently but he stood his ground. “I’m sure you would have been a great prom date.”

    Steve flashed him a smile. “Tony, I don’t dance and we grew up in an era where two boys going to prom just wasn’t how things went.”

    Tony pursed his lips before walking towards something behind Steve. Steve lulled his head about, keeping an eye on Tony but losing any real detail on what the man was doing with the odd angle. He didn’t overly mind. He was pretty certain whatever Tony was doing wasn’t going to kill him.

    Music filled the room and Steve’s insides went cold. Ok. Maybe he was wrong. He watched with an expression befitting a deer caught in the headlights Tony cross the room to stand before Steve, hand extended. “Dance with me,” Tony spoke, his voice firm.

    Steve blinked at him. “Tony,” he tried, speaking slowly, “I don’t dance.”

    Tony rolled his eyes. “So? I can teach you.”

    It was Steve’s turn to be skeptical. “Really. You teach me how to dance?” Steve’s chuckle was nothing more than a huff of air. “Tony, I have two left feet. Now more so than ever.”

    Tony nearly growled as he insisted, “Quit being stubborn and just take my hand, Rogers.”

    Steve couldn’t help but laugh. “Alright, alright,” he conceded, taking Tony’s hand. The man pulled him up. “But if I step on your toes, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

    Again, Tony rolled his eyes, but this time there was amusement on his face as he pulled Steve a bit closer, positioning Steve’s other hand on his shoulder. “Duly noted.”

    They started out slow and Steve was really, really bad at it. He kept losing track of which foot was to go with which beat in which direction and, while Tony had such great form and was a wonderful lead, Steve found it hard to keep up. Running laps was becoming a lot more preferred over this.

    “Quit thinking so hard,” Tony ground out.

    “What do you expect me to do instead?” Steve asked, tripping slightly and accidentally stepping on Tony’s foot again. Steve winced, rushing a, “Sorry,” before Tony could even chastise him about saying sorry again. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

    Tony gave him a look and the sheepish grin was totally involuntary. Tony sighed and stopped them both. Steve blinked, mildly confused until Tony shifted before him, adjusting his form. Tony met his gaze again and this time it was just as calm and open as when they had started. “Don’t think about your feet,” Tony said. “Just move.”

    Tony took a step to the side. Steve faltered as he went with but he found that his foot went to the right spot without him having to place it there. Tony’s lips twitched. “When you react,” Tony stepped backwards and this time Steve didn’t resist and, again, his foot landed in the right spot, “you’re actually a lot better than you think you are.”

    Tony started a slow dance that had nothing to do with the music and slowly Steve became more and more relaxed in Tony’s guidance. Around the room they spun as Tony led the way. The mishaps became fewer and fewer as they started to chat and laugh and just enjoy the moment. But, just like every moment before, disaster of some sort struck and it turned out to be Steve backing into the coffee table that Tony somehow had spaced. Steve toppled backwards as Tony went with him and the table snapped beneath them. Winded but unharmed, Steve looked down at Tony. Out of instinct bread from the war, he had pulled Tony to his chest, wrapping his arms around the man’s head and shoulders to protect him. He eased his hold on the man, allowing Tony to look at them. There was silence for but a moment before they were both laughing.

    Tony moved away, sitting on his ankles. Steve propped himself up on his elbowed, grinning at the other. “You are a horrible lead. I am never gonna dance again. Not unless it’s in a ballroom or some sort of open space and you are teaching me how to lead.”

    Tony laughed. “Fair enough.”
 
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February 2017Monthly Writing Prompts
There is a 100 word minimum to complete the prompt and an alternative 1000 word minimum. I keep with the alternative word minimum.

Be advised:
Some are interlaced with fandoms.
Some can be spooky,
If you find one that needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know. I have not reread these as I posted them as of the date on this post.


  • There was laughter over the track of the movie and he was part of it, even as a part of him was kind of sad to miss this section of the movie. Jasper picked up on it instantly, meaning Edward was right behind him. Amber eyes were on him as a mischief smile graced that sculpted face. Adhara rolled his eyes. “What? I happen to like this part. Even if it is cheesy.” There was a collective, teasing, “ooooh” from the majority there and Adhara gave them all a flat look. “You cannot deny me the hopeless romantic notion of finding a partner in a long term friend here.”

    “I can see what’s happening,”
    “What?”

    “He does have a point,” Alice voiced, leaning against Jasper. “It is something many wish for.”

    “And they don’t have a clue.”
    “Who?”

    Edward pressed closer, whispering into Adhara’s ear, “Do you want me to tell Jessica to hold off on getting a date for prom or do you prefer Angela.”

    “They’ll fall in love and here’s the bottom line,”

    Adhara shoved him hard enough that the vampire rolled over the arm of the couch and crashed to the floor. The room roared with laughter as Adhara good-heartedly stuck out his tongue at the one on the floor. Edward gave him a cheeky grin in return.

    “Our trio’s down to two.”
    “Oh.”

    Adhara rubbed at his face, the movie loud enough downstairs that he knew exactly where they were at. The memories of fun times with the entire group assaulted him and he fortified his mental shields to keep Edward out. Thank the gods for small miracles.

    “The sweet caress of twilight,”

    He wanted to be down there with them all, if only to relive those moments. He felt Jasper’s ability wrap confidence and ease around him but he brushed it aside. But no matter how much he wanted to relive those memories, she was down there and he was having a hard enough time just sharing classes with her.

    “There’s magic everywhere,”

    She was the reason he was now alone in his doubts. He and Edward had bonded over their own doubts of ever finding love, of ever having a partner through life. They had settled into being two bachelors and that had been a decent compromise. It had even been great.

    “And with all this romantic atmosphere,”

    At least, until his cousin came to town, leaving him to be the only one doubting love was ever coming for him. After all, how could he find love with what he was?

    “Disaster’s in the air.”

    “I’m going to ask her to marry me.”

    “So many things to tell her,”

    Adhara was impressed he was able to not react to that news. He was also impressed that he hadn’t managed to collapse. It felt as if his entire body had shut down out of shock. How was he managing to stay standing, let alone appearing calm, was beyond him because he certainly didn’t feel calm about this. Though, he didn’t feel much of anything at the moment.

    “But how to make her see,”

    “Oh,” he offered but the flicker of emotion on Edward’s face told him it had sounded odd to him as well.

    “The truth about my past, impossible.”

    “I want you to be my best man.”

    “She’d turn away from me.”

    Adhara had to close his eyes to keep from showing just how much that hurt. When he opened them again, he offered a tight smile, and a tighter, “I can’t.”

    “He’s holding back, he’s hiding,”

    He hadn’t even noticed that he hadn’t thought of Forks in months till he had caught sight of a familiar head of hair in the crowd. He felt a body press closer to his side in the crowd and he leaned into his roommate even as he came to a stop.

    “But what, I can’t decide.”

    Amber eyes met sky blue and Adhara gave himself a moment to take in Edward through the crowd of Pearl Street Mall. It eased some part of him to see that the other appeared to be doing well without him.

    “Why won’t he be the king I know he is?”

    “Adhara?” his other roommate inquired. Adhara turned, ignoring Edward’s voice calling for him. He tried not to react physically to the pain that it caused. He shook his head, urging as they lost Edward in the crowd, “Ignore him.”

    “The king I see inside?”

    “I am not leaving until I know you are bandaged and not going to get jumped again!”

    “Can you feel the love tonight?”

    “And I want you out of my home! God damn it, Edward. You can’t just show up unannounced and expect to be welcomed with open arms!”

    “The peace the evening brings,”

    “And I’m not about to leave when neither of your roommates are here to protect you.” The insinuation left Adhara equal parts flabbergasted and enraged. He narrowed his eyes.

    “The world, for once, in perfect harmony,”

    “Don’t you dare insinuate things you have no business dealing with. They’re not here because I asked them to disappear for the night so that they would be out of danger.” His insinuation was of a different nature but he could see that it hit a nerve in the vamp before him. Good.

    “With all its living things.”

    “Seriously?”

    “Can you feel the love tonight?”

    The word was softly spoken, as if Edward had taken the care to pick it and say it. Adhara let the gentle smile show on his face, thumb running over the worn cover of his mother’s journal, the thing that had answered so many of his own questions that Edward was unknowingly repeating. “Seriously,” he parroted, looking at him. “Apparently, even though I had scent markers, it’s nothing like the Quileute pack’s imprinting. It’s one sided and doesn’t even create emotions. They’re just scent markers.”

    “You needn’t look too far.”

    Edward chuckled, the sound vibrating through him where their ribs were pressed against each other. Edward’s hand tightened comfortingly around Adhara’s. “No wonder you didn’t want to be my best man.”

    “Stealing through the night’s uncertainties,”

    Adhara shoved him off the balcony, grinning as he heard Edward laugh all the way down to the ground. He looked down at the vampire that had landed in a crouch, unharmed. Edward grinned up at him as he straightened and, if anyone asked when Adhara’s world had finally mended itself, he would always point to this moment and tell them that it was when he shoved Edward from the second story balcony.

    “Love is where they are.”

    But, in reality, it was when Edward returned to his side, settling on the edge of the balcony once more with their ribs pressing against each other and the vampire entangled their fingers once more. Cheesy, but it was something Adhara would cherish till his dying day.
 
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OthertaleUndertale AU
Sans Centered

Summary:
Everything is wrong. Or, at least, he vaguely remembers thinking everything is wrong. Or maybe that was just a dream. Living in a temporal loop has certainly erased any memories of what had happened before he had gotten trapped in the temporal loop.

It was even more true when he finally wakes up from it, too.

Left with nothing but the memories of living the same stretch of days over and over again in a nightmare of a time loop, Sans the Skeleton wakes to an Underground he does not recognize. There had only been one human in the time loop and even fewer monsters. He hadn't worked at a lab - heck, the lab hadn't even existed in the time loop, let alone 90% of the Underground - and what little sciencing he had done had been laughable. But he could adjust. It would be fine. He still has Papyrus. He also has a human lab partner who seems a bit too intertwined in his life to not be someone more significant than a lab partner of two years. He wasn't sure what to do with that but there was hope things would be answered when his memory returned.

If it returned. Turns out he had delved into things he probably shouldn't have and he can't even remember what had been so important to risk it.


Please be advised that this story does have:
Major Character Death
Graphic Depictions Of Violence



  • It felt like a miracle he was even waking up with how bad his head was pounding. He was pretty certain he was either stupid lucky he hadn’t cracked his skull on the floor or that someone had found him rather quickly after he had collapsed. He grumbled lowly to himself, shifting against the mattress. He had known he was going to pass out. Why did he have to fight it?

    He frowned. Weird. Why did it feel like he was on a mattress with no sheet?

    He pushed himself off the mattress enough to look even as every bone in his body complained at the action. Sure enough, he came face to face with the bare mattress he had been face down on.

    Something was wrong. He looked to the side, finding himself in his room, buddle of sheets and blankets at the foot of his bed looking like a boulder as usual. Except, this wasn’t his room nor – to his bewilderment – the room he expected to wake up in. But it was his room and there was no reason why he should be waking up anywhere else. The whole duality (or, in this case, triality) was really not helping the pounding in his head as it sent a wave of vertigo through him.

    He settled on the edge of the mattress as he attempted to will his headache away. The sound of footfall outside his room then the sudden pounding at his door did nothing to aid his attempt.

    “SANS! TIME TO GET UP!”

    Sans the Skeleton flinched, but smiled warmly at his brother’s voice even as a sense of wrong went through him. “Five more minutes, Pap,” he called out in return, his voice lulling the words about in a manner that spoke of sleepiness he wasn’t feeling.

    “YOU CALLED FOR FIVE MORE MINUTES TEN MINUTES AGO!” his brother countered. Sans chuckled. “TIME TO GET UP!”

    “That was so kind of you, Pap,” he replied, getting up. He regretted it instantly. His entire being throbbed painfully but he pushed it all aside as he grabbed whatever was closest and dressed. “You’re the best.”

    “OF COURSE I AM! NOW HURRY UP AND GET DOWN TO THE KITCHEN! WE HAVE A FULL DAY AHEAD OF US!!”

    Heavy footfall fading away was enough for him to clue where his brother was heading. He attempted to deny the sense of wrong that had come with the thought of his brother’s destination.

    He attempted to deny that the feeling had been associated with the jacket he had grabbed, blue with a fake fur lined hood that seemed to be too bright in color, as if it wasn’t even real.

    He tugged on a different shirt and cleaner shorts, though cleanliness was more relative in this case. When had he become such a slob?

    The scent coming from the kitchen was foreign and familiar as he stepped out of his room, closing his door securely behind him. The fresh wave of vertigo was accompanied by nausea and it took all he had to manage his way down the stairs.

    Every part of him was screaming WRONG and yet there was nothing wrong. Everything was as it should be. There was nothing out of place, nothing incorrect. But, no matter how hard he tried, he came to a stop at the kitchen door, gripping the doorframe for support as he tried to keep from shaking.

    Before him was his brother, back turned to him as the taller skeleton tended to something on the stove, battle body on like always. Sans found it equal parts easy and difficult to recall why the taller was wearing the strange attire that wasn’t strange at all.

    His headache pulsed painfully behind his left eye and he pressed the heel of a hand to the socket, willing the headache away.

    “BROTHER!! GOOD! TAKE A SEAT!! BREAKFAST SPAGHETTI IS ALMOST READY!!!”

    “Aw, bro, you shouldn’t have,” Sans urged playfully, though there was no honesty to the emotion. It was like he was sprouting memorized lines and, as he settled into a chair, he found that this whole situation felt like an act in a play. It was a very strange analogy, one he wasn’t sure he knew the origin of.

    “NONSENSE!!!” Papyrus exclaimed and Sans was grateful the other was too busy focusing on cooking to have seen the flinch at the volume. “BREAKFAST IS THE MOST IMPORTANT MEAL OF THE DAY! WE MUST BE NOURISHED TO BE ABLE TO BE PRODUCTIVE.”

    The smile came easily as he rested his chin on his palm. “Sure, bro. Whatever you say.”

    To say that he was startled when a plate of spaghetti was placed before him was an understatement. He had been expecting something else, something completely different to be placed before him but, when he tried to remember what he had been expecting, it slipped through his fingers like smoke.

    The scent of a specific cigarette assaulted him long enough for him to register it but not to pinpoint the memory it dredged up.

    He hid his shudder by grinning at his brother, commenting, “This looks great, Pap. Even better than your last batch.”

    Papyrus beamed at him and started talking about something in that loud voice of his but it was nothing more than background noise. What was wrong with him? Why was he suddenly experiencing all this? Papyrus always made spaghetti. Heck, he was pretty sure his bro didn’t know how to make anything else. But there had been that scent as well, whatever that scent had been. It had been brief, it had been so potent, like he should know what it had come from and should have remembered what it was but, just like the sudden expectation of a different kind of food for breakfast, he couldn’t figure out what it had been.

    He hadn’t realized he had been eating till he took another bite and the bitterness and the wrong washed over his senses. He swallowed the bite he had been consuming, shuddering at the taste and willing his body to retain it. He put his fork down and keyed in to the one sided conversation.

    “Hey, bro, shouldn’t we get going?” he interjected, bringing Papyrus’s train of thought to a halt.

    “YOU ARE RIGHT, BROTHER!” Papyrus exclaimed, jumping to his feet. Sans noticed that Papyrus hadn’t really touched his own place. Sans let that ease his smile bigger. “IF YOU ARE QUITE FINISHED, WE SHALL LEAVE RIGHT AWAY!!”

    Sans passed his plate to his brother.

    Stepping out of the house was probably worse than him stepping out of his room. Vertigo washed over him and the breakfast spaghetti nearly made an encore as he stumbled in the snow. He couldn’t breathe as his gaze snapped around, horror sinking in.

    Wrong, wrong, wrong. It was all wrong! There was-this was all-No!! This was wrong! This was-

    “BROTHER?!” Sans jerked, finding his brother’s hands securely on his arms. Sans felt like screaming. “BROTHER, ARE YOU ALRIGHT?”

    “Yeah, bro,” he spoke, his words coming easily and the lie even easier. “Guess the sandman wasn’t quite done with me this morning.” Papyrus frowned at him and Sans grinned. “I honestly can’t ‘sand’ the guy.”

    Papyrus released him and Sans almost reach out towards him, fearing he would fall face first into the snow. Thankfully, he didn’t. “SANS!!! NOT THIS EARLY IN THE MORNING!!!!”

    “Don’t worry, Pap, I’m ‘morning’ that one too.”

    “UGH!!!” Papyrus stormed off in the direction of his puzzles and Sans trailed behind but it was weird. The sense of wrong hadn’t left and it was just getting stronger the longer they passed through town. There should be more homes, more people, different people, but Sans knew this had always been who had been here, that the buildings were as they had always been. The library with its misspelled sign, the path that led to the few houses north and the dog that chucked ice to keep the core cool, Grillby’s on the other side of the path. It was all as it should be but it was all wrong.

    He looked up and wished he hadn’t.

    Sans shoved the sudden claustrophobia away as his magic reacted, yanking at the world around him and depositing him behind Papyrus. He nearly stumbled face first into the snow as he suddenly appeared on his brother’s heel. This time actual panic rushed through him. Teleportation was a thing he did naturally but what he had just done was not what he normally did.

    His head pulsed painfully.

    He felt like screaming in frustration as his head pounded and just teleport back to his room and stay there. This was not right, not fair!! Why was he feeling like he was suddenly not right in his own bones? This…this was….it just….

    He came to a stop at the bridge as a sense of apathy settled over him. It was foreign but welcomed as he focused on his brother already halfway across the long bridge. He took a second, grounding himself in the sudden apathy.

    All the wrong fell away.

    When he opened his sockets, Papyrus was nearly cross the bridge. With no effort, he brushed the world around him with his magic and, as he took a step, he went from one end of the bridge to the other in the blink of an eye. Papyrus glanced back as his boots touched solid ground but Sans only gave him a lazy grin and continued to follow.

    The canine royal guards greeted them as they passed. Sans went with the motions, speaking words he didn’t even have to think about. When they reached the last puzzle – or the first, depending on the direction one traveled in – Sans looked to his brother, offering, “I’ll trek ahead and check on my post.”

    “DON’T DILLY DALLY, SANS!! WE HAVE A LOT OF WORK TO DO!!!”

    Sans chuckled and pulled at the world around him when Papyrus wasn’t looking. As used magic drifted away and dissipated, the apathy did as well. With his brother out of sight and being so far from another living soul, Sans found it hard to even keep the apathy in place.

    He was reacquainted with the breakfast spaghetti but, thankfully, it was through expelled magic rather than half digested food. He shuddered, his bones rattling at the force. He didn’t even want to know where that knowledge came from and hoped he forgot about it as he had everything else that morning.

    He frowned.

    No, he could remember that morning, but it was hard. He remembered that something at breakfast had startled him but he couldn’t remember what. He remembered that waking up that morning had been weird but he couldn’t…..couldn’t………

    He came to abruptly, finding himself slumped forward in a chair, head resting on the counter of the sentry station in a clearing with an interestingly shaped lamp. He rubbed his face as he sat up, frowning. Odd…he couldn’t remember making it to the sentry station let alone falling asleep at it. He looked around. Nope, nothing strange beyond the lamp. Pulling at the world, he stood at the edge of the clearing, barely making out an interesting structure farther down the path in the fog. It took nothing to take a shortcut closer and he found himself coming up on a ravine that had an old bridge crossing it, a massive wooden structure that looked more like rectangular arches than a gate. He chuckled, passing through the gate. Leave it to his brother to create the most interesting of things. He sporadically used shortcuts, only moving as far as he could see.

    It was probably the wisest thing he had ever done because he would have ended up teleporting into a door and he much preferred not being a permanent addition to the underground’s historic structure. He pressed a hand to the stone door, a smile tugging at his face. Exhaustion pulled at his bones again and Sans went easily with it this time, teleporting to a high branch in a nearby tree.

    He settled in to nap only for a low rumble of stone grating against stone to fill the quiet forest.

    He sat up, his gaze automatically locking onto the door set into the wall. He watched as a tiny human stepped out. Oh, he knew the figure wasn’t a monster. It was very obvious the tiny person was not a monster.

    He slipped from his branch and the world bent and stretched around him as he teleported so that he landed on the tough-looking branch the kid – it had to be a kid – had walked around. Spend magic dissipated quickly and the surprise the sound seemed to cause in the human was amusing. He fell back a ways before shifting the world around him and returning to a few paces behind the kid. The kid stopped at the bridge and Sans slowly strolled up behind them.

    He came to a stop just outside of arm’s reach, anticipation racing through him like adrenaline. An amused smirk pulled at his smile. “Human,” he states plainly, slowly. “Don’t you know how to greet a new pal? Turn around and shake my hand.”

    The words came easily and tasted familiar but that was nothing new. The kid turned around slowly. He reached out, offering his hand to this human that had been labeled a danger by Asgore long before the human had ever fallen.

    The kid took his hand.

    The whoopee cushion deflated between their palms and Sans’s smile broke into a grin. “Heheh. The old whoopee cushion in the hand trick. It’s ALWAYS funny.” The kid gave a confused giggle as Sans tucked his hand back into his pocket. “Anyways, you’re a human, right? That’s hilarious. I’m Sans. Sans the Skeleton. I’m actually supposed to be on watch for humans right now. But…y’know…” Sans shrugged, “I don’t really care about capturing anybody. Now my brother, Papyrus, he’s a human-hunting FANATIC.” Motion over the kid's head drew Sans's attention briefly and his face lit up. He’d know that silhouette anywhere, even from this distance through the light fog. “Hey, actually, I think that’s him over there.” He focused back on the kid, catching the tail end of their rotation to see what he was looking at. “I have an idea.” The kid looked back at him. “Go through this gate thingy.” The kid glanced at the gate, worry marring their expression. Sans nodded. “Yeah, go right through. My bro made the bars too wide to stop anyone.”

    It was a breath, a moment that allowed Sans to watch as the kid’s worry turned into determination, before the kid turned right around and walked through the massive structure’s posts. Sans kept pace with them, following them through to the other side and then some. Surprisingly enough, the oddly-shaped lamp that had always been next to his station was suddenly conveniently-shaped and very useful, especially with his brother heading their way. “Quick, behind that conveniently-shaped lamp.”

    The kid gave him a hesitant smile before they hurried to hide behind the lamp. Just in time, too. Papyrus came striding in like he always did, with a purpose and an air of confidence. It made Sans’s smile turn endearing. “Sup, bro?”

    “YOU KNOW WHAT “SUP,” BROTHER!” Papyrus snapped, his voice still at its loudest volume. “IT’S BEEN EIGHT DAYS AND YOU STILL HAVEN’T RECALIBRATED. YOUR. PUZZLES! YOU JUST HANG AROUND OUTSIDE YOUR STATION! WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING?!?”

    “Staring at this lamp,” Sans easily supplied, gesturing lazily at the lamp the kid had hid behind. “It’s really cool. Do you wanna look?”

    “NO!! I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THAT!!” Papyrus shouted, stomping his foot. “WHAT IF A HUMAN COMES THROUGH HERE!?! I WANT TO BE READY!!! I WILL BE THE ONE! I MUST BE THE ONE! I WILL CAPTURE A HUMAN!” Papyrus shifted his stance, a hand on his hip, a hand on his chest, and somehow his cape billowing dramatically behind him. Sans snorted on a laugh. His brother was the best. “THEN, I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL GET ALL THE THINGS I UTTERLY DESERVE! RESPECT…RECOGNITION…I WILL FINALLY BE ABLE TO JOIN THE ROYAL GUARD! PEOPLE WILL ASK, TO, BE MY, “FRIEND?” I WILL BATHE IN A SHOWER OF KISSES EVERY MORNING.”

    “Hmm,” Sans offered, “maybe this lamp will help you.”

    “SANS!! YOU ARE NOT HELPING!!” Papyrus stomped his foot. “YOU LAZYBONES!! ALL YOU DO IS SIT AND BOONDOGGLE! YOU GET LAZIER AND LAZIER EVERY DAY!!!”

    Sans shrugged, a mischievous half grin on his face. “Hey, take it easy. I’ve gotten a ton of work done today.” He winked. “A skele-ton.”

    Papyrus bristled. “SANS!!!”

    “Come on. You’re smiling.”

    “I AM AND I HATE IT!” Papyrus admitted. He sighed. “WHY DOES SOMEONE AS GREAT AS ME HAVE TO DO SO MUCH JUST TO GET SOME RECOGNITION…”

    Sans could not help himself. He felt his grin grow as he commented, “Wow, sounds like you’re really working yourself…down to the bone.”

    Papyrus threw his hands up. “UGH!!! I WILL ATTEND TO MY PUZZLES. AS FOR YOUR WORK? PUT A LITTLE MORE, BACKBONE INTO IT!!!! NYEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!!!”

    Sans chuckled right along with his brother, so proud. Papyrus made his exit with that laugh and Sans’s chuckles died with the taller skeleton’s exit. He waited, watching Papyrus turn around briefly and give a final, “Heh!” before fully leaving. Once he was sure his brother was fully gone, he shifted his weight and his head to look at the lamp. “Ok, you can come out now.”

    The kid wandered out from behind the lamp, cautious but clearly happy. The kid walked right up to him without a worry and Sans chuckled. “You oughta get going. He might come back. And if he does,” Sans winked, “you’ll have to sit through more of my hilarious jokes.” The kid smiled at that, but said kid didn’t look like they were planning on leaving any time soon. Sans’s smile fell a bit. “What’s the holdup?” The kid returned their attention to him, inadvertently showing their worry to him. He kicked his smile back up, offering honestly, “Look, there’s nothing to be afraid of.” He winked, trying to get the kid to lighten up as an idea started to form in the back of his mind. “It’s just a dark cavern filled with skeletons and horrible monsters.” The kid’s face twisted up in conflict and Sans couldn’t help but arch an eye ridge at them. “Well?”

    The kid looked up at him and nodded, determination on their face. With a wave goodbye, the kid was off, and Sans gave a huff of a laugh. The kid was definitely something else. Which could mean…

    “Actually, hey,” he called out. The kid stopped, turning to look at him with a curious expression. “Hate to bother ya, but can you do me a favor? I was thinking, my brother’s been kind of down lately. He’s never seen a human before, and seeing you might just make his day. Don’t worry, he’s not dangerous,” Sans quickly informed the human, already seeing the worry reach into the human’s expression again, “even if he tries to be.”

    There’s a pause before the human nodded in agreement. Sans felt a part of his soul ease at that. “Thanks a million. I’ll be up ahead.”

    Sans waved goodbye and headed back to the bridge only to pull at the world and step up behind Papyrus.

    “Hey, bro,” Sans called out, gaining his brother’s attention.

    “SANS!” Papyrus commented, partially annoyed. “WHY ARE YOU NOT AT YOUR POST?”

    Sans shrugged, smiling. “Aw, come on, bro. Our conversation conveniently reminded me you never finished your tale from earlier. The one about Undyne.”

    “HONESTLY?” Sans nodded. Papyrus’s face lit up. “SO, AS I WAS SAYING ABOUT UNDYNE–”

    Movement from the path leading to the sentry station drew Papyrus’s attention, cutting his renewed story off. Sans watched Papyrus, already knowing who was approaching. The kid’s footfall was pretty unique. Sans looked to the kid when Papyrus looked back at him and looked to Papyrus when his brother returned his gaze to the human. They did this probably eight or nine times till they were spinning around, coming to a stop facing the human. Sans was trying very hard not to fall over as the world kept spinning. The fact that he was trying not to laugh wasn’t helping. Papyrus quickly spun Sans around the other way, rushing in what was as close to a stage whisper as Papyrus got, “SANS!! OH MY GOD!! IS THAT…A HUMAN!?!?!??!?!”

    They turned back around and Sans, out of habit, couldn’t help but mess with his brother. “Uhhhh...Actually, I think that’s a rock.”

    Papyrus deflated. “OH.”

    Sans was quick to bring the wind back into Papyrus’s sails, though, asking, “Hey, what’s that in front of the rock?”

    Papyrus lit up again, and Sans was very happy to see Papyrus so excited. “OH MY GOD!!!” Papyrus turned to Sans again and questioned in his not-so stage whisper, “IS…IS THAT A HUMAN?”

    “Yes,” Sans supplied in a stage whisper.

    “OH MY GOD!!! SANS! I FINALLY DID IT!! UNDYNE WILL-I’M GONNA-I’LL BE SO…POPULAR!!! POPULAR!!! POPULAR!!!” Papyrus paused before clearing his throat. Sans chuckled. Papyrus ignored him. “HUMAN! YOU SHALL NOT PASS THIS AREA! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL STOP YOU!!! I WILL THEN CAPTURE YOU! YOU WILL BE DELIVERED TO THE CAPITAL! THEN…THEN!!!” Papyrus hesitated. “I’M NOT SURE WHAT’S NEXT.” Sans snorted as Papyrus didn’t let that little detail stop him. “IN ANY CASE! CONTINUE. ONLY IF YOU DARE!!! NYEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH!!!”

    Laughing, Papyrus hurried on ahead. Sans stayed put and watched his brother race off before turning to the human. “Well, that went well. Don’t sweat it, kid.” He winked. “I’ll keep an eye socket out for ya.”

    With his last tidbit to the human, Sans turned and followed after his brother till he was out of sight of the human. A surge of magic and Sans was a good distance behind the human, out of sight but close enough to watch. He followed the human, watching as a Snowdrake came and started a fight. Sans found his smile slipping when the battle was started, watching as the controls and HP bar popped up for the human. Again, the sense of wrong washed through him but he ignored it for the most part. During the whole fight, the human never pressed FIGHT. Instead, they made bad ice puns and laughed at the Snowdrake’s jokes. Whatever worry Sans had about the human being dangerous was laid to rest. With a smile returning to his face, Sans warped the world around him.

    Time seemed to vanish. Sans tailed the kid like he had promised, though he didn’t try overly hard to constantly keep the kid in his line of sight; seemed a bit much and way too much effort. He did keep with his brother for the most part till the kid left Snowdin. After that, it turned out the kid didn’t need him and Sans backed off, manning his stations or hanging with Papyrus. There were only two times that he met up with the kid purposely. One was when he gave the kid his warning at the too fancy of a restaurant.

    The second time was when he Judged the kid.

    Thankfully, thankfully, he didn’t have to act. The kid was dust free, EXP untouched, and he let the kid be. He teleported away, finding himself shaking, bones rattling. He wrapped his arms around his torso, not understanding the sudden reaction to whatever was going on. He hadn’t reacted like this to anything else.

    He jumped when his phone rang and he fumbled at it. He let out a sigh, catching the familiar sight of his brother’s name. Pressing answer, he held the device to the side of his skull and dutifully answered. “Sup, bro.”

    “SANS!!! GET TO THE CASTLE AS QUICK AS YOU CAN!! WE HAVE TO AID THE HUMAN!!!”

    Sans smiled already hearing his brother’s footfall as the lanky skeleton ran towards him. “Huh. You don’t say. Guess it’s a good thing I’m already at the castle.”

    Sans watched as Papyrus skidded to a stop not far from where Sans was out of direct view. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING AT THE CASTLE?!” Papyrus asked, staring incredulously at the device in his hand.

    Sans stepped out of his spot as he pocketed his phone, shrugging, “Thought I’d catch the sights. It’s a beautiful day today.”

    Papyrus stormed right up to him and grabbed him by the arm, dragging him along. “YOU CAN TELL ME ABOUT IT ON THE WAY. WE DO NOT WANT TO BE LATE AIDING THE HUMAN!!”

    Sans couldn’t help the grin on his face as his brother released him in order to storm the room ahead. Sans followed, catching his brother’s words only due to his brother’s natural volume of loud.

    “HEY! NOBODY FIGHT ANYONE! IF ANYONE FIGHTS ANYONE….THEN I’LL!!! BE FORCED!!! TO ASK UNDYNE FOR HELP!!!”

    Sans chuckled, shaking his head. That was his brother for ya. Other things were said but he missed them as he slid into the room and greeted familiar and not so familiar faces. “Hey guys. What’s up?”

    The one face he couldn’t put his finger on spoke up, though it wasn’t overly loud and almost sounded like she had said, “That voice!” The goat monster approached, happily greeting, “Hello, I think we may know each other?”

    That alone made the first statement make a whole lot more sense as Sans grinned at her. “Oh hey…I recognize your voice, too.”

    “I am Toriel,” she offered. “So nice to meet you.”

    He couldn’t help but wink at her. “The name’s Sans, and, uh, same.”

    “Oh! Wait, then…” she turned her attention to Papyrus and Sans’s expression became fond. “This must be your brother, Papyrus! Greetings, Papyrus! It is so nice to finally meet you. Your brother has told me so much about you.”

    “WOWIE…I CAN’T BELIEVE ASGORE’S CLONE KNOWS WHO I AM!!! THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE!!!!!!!”

    Sans chuckled. Only the Great Papyrus. Toriel spoke up again. “Hey, Papyrus…what does a skeleton tile his roof with?”

    Sans had to swallow a laugh as Papyrus’s sockets narrowed. “HMMM…” the lankier skeleton voiced as he thought. “SNOW-PROOF ROOF TILES???”

    “No, silly!” Toriel quickly replied. “A skeleton tiles his room with…shin-gles!!!”

    Sans shared a grin with Toriel as Papyrus nearly lost his shit. “I CHANGED MY MIND!!! THIS IS THE WORST DAY OF MY LIFE!!!”

    From there it just went from funny to hilariously awkward as Mettaton appeared out of nowhere somewhere in all the chatter and encouraged Alphys and Undyne to kiss. Toriel’s reaction was probably his favorite, rushing to be between them and stop it, all in the name of not doing it in front of the kid.

    Toriel, ever the warmhearted, turned her attention back onto the human child. “My child, it seems as if you must stay here for a while.” Sans forced the smile on his face to remain. Oh yeah. They had needed the human’s soul to pass through the barrier. “But looking at all the great friends you have made, I think….I think you will be happy here.”

    The kid beamed at her, at all of them, but Sans couldn’t help the disappointment that wafted through him. He tensed, gaze quickly flicking towards the side. He thought he had seen a mass in the shadows but it seemed he was seeing things as Alphys spoke up. “H-hey, that reminds me. Papyrus…you called everyone here, right? Well, besides, uh, her. Uh, anyway…if I got here before you, how did you know how to call everybody?”

    Sans honestly hadn’t thought about that and glanced at his brother. “LET’S JUST SAY…A TINY FLOWER HELPED ME.”

    It was like his magic turned to ice around his bones but the sudden apprehension seemed unwarranted. Alphys’s reaction, though, only made the apprehension grow.

    “A tiny…flower?” she asked, her voice quaking.

    San felt every fiber of his being stand on end at that but he was unable to move as a large vine came through and smacked them all before smaller ones wrapped around each of them and tussled them up, feet off the ground. Pain rippled through him but it wasn’t enough to truly distract him from the conversation. A yellow flower popped up between them and the kid, said flower actually speaking. The kid was suddenly trapped and assaulted by bullets from the flower. Sans watched as the kid’s health fell down to one measly point before there was suddenly interference. And that interference came from Toriel herself.

    “Do not be afraid, my child,” she spoke, her voice calm as the pain that had been running through them all stopped with the flower’s confusion. “No matter what happens, we will always be there to protect you!”

    His brother and Undyne were next to step up to the plate. “THAT’S RIGHT, HUMAN! YOU CAN WIN!! JUST DO WHAT I WOULD DO: BELIEVE IN YOU!!!”

    “Hey! Human!” Undyne called out with a toothy grin. “If you got past ME, you can do ANYTHING! So don’t worry! We’re with you all the way!”

    “Huh? You haven’t beaten this guy yet?” Sans asked easily, the words flowing without him even needing to think about it. “Come on, this weirdo’s got nothin’ on you.”

    Others stepped up magically and Alphys spoke up, “Technically, it’s impossible for you to beat him…b-but…somehow, I know you can do it!!”

    Sans wasn’t quite sure how supportive that was.

    “Human,” Asgore added, “for the future of humans and monsters…! You have to stay determined…!”

    Suddenly the room was filling with all sorts of monsters, all of them encouraging the kid, and, for the briefest of moments, Sans believed that they actually had a chance of getting out of this. But then the flower called them all stupid, claiming their souls as pain rushed through Sans and the world turned white.

    Somewhere, somehow, the barrier was destroyed.
 
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March 2017Monthly Writing Prompts
There is a 100 word minimum to complete the prompt and an alternative 1000 word minimum. I keep with the alternative word minimum.

Be advised:
Some are interlaced with fandoms.
Some can be spooky,
If you find one that needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know. I have not reread these as I posted them as of the date on this post.


  • “Shaving monkeys is my favorite pastime.“

    He choked on the water, staring at her wide-eyed. "And I thought I was crazy,” he commented, passing back the canteen. “How in the world is shaving monkeys your favorite pastime.”

    She grinned at him, taking the canteen but not drinking quite yet. “Ok, ok, so partial lie. Making other people shave monkeys is my favorite pastime.”

    He smirked. “Aw, see? That makes more sense.”

    She giggled and his smirk fell. It sounded slightly unhinged but, then, so had her random comment. His concern expression turned into a deep frown. “Rachel, who am I?”

    “Discord, God of Chaos,” she rattled easily, all the while grinning at him. He noted that she seemed to be looking through him to whatever was behind him.

    He tried another angle. “Rachel, what am I?”

    “A traveler from another world,” she rattled just as easily, but that hadn’t been the answer he had hoped for. She knew what he was down to the molecule. He only appeared human because of her doing and she was actively in his head because of it. “And my best friend.”

    He blinked at her, thrown off by that. “B…Best friend?” he asked, his mind unwittingly pulling up memories of another that had called him that, one that was soft spoken and sweet, always putting up with him even as the disaster that he was normally.

    He shook his head. He’d come back to that later. “Rachel.” She looked up at his face, blinking. Concern constricted his chest. Her eyes were slightly glazed. “What do we desire?”

    This…was an unfair question, one that would - in normal circumstances - get him smacked or at least get her to comment on how “their desire” was not a singular desire but several desires that some were shared and some that were not. But, seeing as his hunch was correct in that something was wrong, Rachel merely blinked again before stating with a giggle, “To see all the people shave monkeys.”

    She went into a laughing fit as if that was the most hilarious thing ever. Discord couldn’t find the humor. He stood up, looking around. Oh, if only she hadn’t bound his magic this would be so much easier.

    “Can’t unbind the magic,” she chimed, almost singing the words. He focused back on her. Had she just read his thoughts or was he speaking out loud? “And the words are in your head, silly,” she playfully chided, waving at him. He blinked at her before suddenly becoming very tempted at using the situation to his advantage. Well, till a thought came to mind.

    “Are you drunk?” he blurted out.

    She blinked at him before giggling. “You have to consume alcohol to get drunk, silly,” she said, the edge of her words now becoming slightly slurred. “You’re funny.”

    He reached over and touched her forehead. Even with it being such a poor way of finding out if she had a fever or not, Discord nearly recoiled at the heat. He scooped her up as he grumbled, “We have to find you some place to rest. You’re not well.”

    She was a giggly ball of squirming body, acting almost like a five year old they had seen in the previous town from a week ago. “But I don’t want to stop. We need to keep moving.” Her giggles didn’t subside. His grip on her tightened marginally as he picked a random direction.

    “Any place we can whole up for the night, then?” he asked, trying to get her to help.

    She let out another string of giggles and pointed - thankfully - in the direction they were going. “They’re baking cookies.”

    While that didn’t tell him squat about how far they had to go, it gave him a direction to move in.

    The minutes turned into hours and when she suddenly stopped talking, the onslaught of panic in his veins froze his steps to the ground. He looked down at her, shifting her enough to press the back of his hand to her forehead again. He couldn’t gauge if there was a difference or not. “Rachel?” he asked, concern nearly breaking his voice on her name.

    “I’m tired,” she muttered.

    “Rachel, I need you to tell me how far out we are from the cookies.”

    She frowned, though it was only slight in her exhaustion. “Cookies?”

    “Yes,” he urged. “You mentioned someone was baking cookies.”

    Her eyes slid close for longer than he was comfortable with but, just as he was about to call her name, they opened again and her arm was moving to point where he had been walking. “They made cookies,” she spoke, the words lulling together.

    “How far?” he pleaded as her arm dropped limp.

    Her expression twisted into the tired equivalent of extreme concentration. “Not very.”

    He rolled his eyes, anger briefly coming forward in the situation he had no skills of handling. “Not very,” he grumbled, starting to walk. “That is not a dist-”

    He stepped around a tree and his words died on his lips. There, across what could count as a decent lawn, sat a cottage. Or, at least, the closest thing to a cottage this world had. He would have wept for joy if he hadn’t suddenly registered how limp Rachel was in his arms. “Ray, you have to stay awake for me.”

    No response.

    His throat attempted to close and he crossed the lawn as quickly as he could, trying again. “Ray, come on. Stay awake.”

    No response.

    He maneuvered her into one arm before pounding hard on the door, fear driving his hand. He didn’t know what to do, where he was, and felt utterly useless because of it and that was not a feeling he quite enjoyed, thank you very much. When the door wasn’t immediately answered, he pounded again.

    The door opened, revealing a rather burly man with a plump woman standing behind him. They were both armed and ready for a fight but neither moved to attack first. “Can I help you?” the man asked in his gruff voice.

    “My friend is sick and I don’t know what’s wrong or what to do,” Discord croaked. “Please, you have to help me.” He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “I can’t lose her now.”

    The couple shared a look but it was the woman that nodded. The man lowered his weapon as the woman went farther into the home. He stepped back, opening the door wide. “Alright, come in. But you do anything to harm either myself or my wife, and I’ll throw you both out after making sure you’re not coming back.”

    Discord nodded, stepping into the home. That sounded reasonable. After all, he was an unknown stranger to them. For all they knew, he could just be using this as a cover to get close.

    He shuddered, disgusted by the thought.
 
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RPApril Extravaganza 2017An Assortment of Writings
RPApril Extravaganza is an annual event, 2017 being the first year I participated. Each section contains the content from that given event.

Decathlon

The Decathlon
For those of you who may not know, a decathlon is an Olympic event made up of ten track and field events. This will be similar in that our decathlon will consist of 10 events, with a new one coming out every 3 days until the end of the month. Each event will come with it's own set of instructions and you will have 3 days to complete it. It should be noted that all RPA rules are in effect for this.


  • The rain was heavy in the air as she sat beneath the pine tree, eyes wide as she watched the falling water droplets cascade through the air. Never had she cared about the weather but now she just couldn’t get enough of it. Thunder rumbled through her chest and she let out a shaky breath that condensed before her gaze before it dissipated in the chilly air. She turned her gaze towards the opening in the trees that revealed the rest of the mountains in the area and she gaped at the virga that brushed the mountainsides as the clouds seemed to be fog among the peaks. She just could not fathom never having cared for the weather before.
Triple Threat

Triple Threat
How far can you twist your imagination? In this contest, members will be given three unrelated themes to merge into a great short story! But the challenge doesn't end there - we want you to write three stories - one each week for the first three weeks of RPApril!


  • “Tales as old as time, man,” Benny chimed lazily. Everyone gaped at him.

    “I’m sorry,” Conner countered, adjusting his glasses, “but I fail to remember ‘saving old lady from a roof’ as being considered a classic of literature.”

    “I thought it was at least creative,” Abby commented. “I never expected that topic to make such a scary story.”

    Dennis puffed out his chest. “I’m just talented like that.”

    “And arrogant,” Erin chimed, smirking at the glare Dennis shot her. “I’m sorry. Did I hit a nerve?”

    Hector held up his hands, stilling the argument coming. “Guys, enough. Don’t have at it next to the camp fire. We all know it turns to fists at some point and I’d rather not have to treat burns.”

    “Shoot,” Frankie spoke, gaining the group’s attention. She held up the empty bag of marshmallows. “Benny finished off the bag.”

    Benny shrugged when the majority looked his way. “Guilty as charged.”

    “We should have more in the cabin,” Conner informed them. “I think the bag is on the counter.”

    “I left it on the floor,” Dennis spoke up. He shrugged when Conner glared at him. “They’re marshmallows and they were in a second bag. Not like they were gonna get dirty or anything.”

    Frankie stood up and Grace hurried to her feet. “I’ll go with you, Frankie. I have to get some more water anyways.”

    “Bathroom break,” Abby called, getting up herself.

    Benny rolled to his feet. “Aw man, I totally agree with that.” He popped his back before looking to the others. “Anyone else?”

    Dennis clambered to his feet. “I need more booze so I’ll tag along.”

    “Sweet,” Benny chimed. He turned to the remaining few. “We’ll be back, brosefs.”

    Benny wandered after Abby as Dennis joined Frankie and Grace in the kitchen. Grace smiled at him before leaving, a full glass of water in hand. Dennis opened the fridge but frowned when he noticed that Frankie was just standing there, frowning. “Frankie?” he asked, watching as she jumped.

    She looked to him, bewildered. “Oh! Hey Dennis. Where did you leave the marshmallows again? I can’t seem to find them.”

    Dennis sighed and closed the fridge, beerless. He walked over. “On the floor with…”

    His words died on his lips as he came to stand beside her finding the spot he had left the bag empty of a bag. What he did see, though, had him grabbing Frankie’s arm and pulling her towards the door.

    “Dennis?” she squeaked, her words belaying her sudden worry.

    “We need to get the others,” Dennis spoke, his voice grave.

    “Why?”

    Dennis shook his head. “Later, when we’re all together.”
5 Things, 1 Story

5 Things, 1 Story
You can turn just about anything into a story. As a writer, you're just creative like that! So in this fun contest, we'll be putting that ability to the test! Each week of RPApril (On Fridays), you'll be given five things that are completely unrelated from each other. Then it's your job to put them together in a short story.


  • The sea was rough, the bow of the ship slamming down into the water after every wave crested.

    "Hold tight, my fellows!" the captain bellowed from the helm. "And keep her steady!"

    The crew scrambled about to follow orders, working their best to keep the ship pointed forward. The captain's hand rested on the piston strapped to his waist, his right eye narrowing. A nasty gash went under the eye patch over the left eye, hinting at what could only be a severe wound underneath the leather material. He easily picked out the different crew members working, taking stock of who was where, doing what on the rigging. His gaze snapped about, noting those missing, one of which had no excuse.

    "Where is Marcus?" the captain demanded over the storm.

    The first mate came rushing forward, sliding on the wet deck but staying upright. "None have seem him, Captain!"

    The captain snarled. "Keep her heading! I'm going below."

    The captain stepped away from the wheel and the first mate hurried forward to take control. He shouldered the door to the decks below open, the ship lurching sideways and shoving him into a wall. He growled and made his way through the ship, his good eye still narrowed. He had a pretty good idea where Marcus was. He just had to trap him in the room.

    The only sound he could hear was the creaking of the ship around him as he approached a room that was supposed to be locked from all others. The door was ajar, swaying on the hinges with the motion of the ship. He pulled his pistol free into his other hand before slowly pushing the door open.

    "Come on, come on!" a voice snarled. "Where is it?"

    The captain clicked the hammer back and the figure in the room froze. "What are you looking for, Marcus," the captain growled.

    "Captain Ozack!" Marcus chimed, jumping to his feet with his hands in the air near his shoulders. "Fancy meeting you here."

    "Do not make me repeat my question, landlubber."

    Marcus's expression cleared, becoming serious. "Where did you stash it, Ozack. Where is the book?"

    Captain Ozack smirked. "You think I would leave it where others could easily access it?"

    Realization crossed Marcus's face. "You left it in your quarters."

    Captain Ozack's smirk turned into a grin. "You thought I would have moved it after your first attempt? I knew you would never think I would keep it where you had seen it last."

    Marcus shook his head, snarling, "I am such a fool."

    Captain Ozack adjusted his aim to Marcus's head. "That you are."

    The pistol went off but Marcus was already moving. Captain Ozack grunted as the pair went down. The saber skidded out of his reach and Marcus was off, racing towards the captain quarters. "MARCUS!!" Captain Ozack screamed in fury.

    It was a race, one that Captain Ozack was determined to make Marcus lose. The ship did not help as the vessel lurched sideways, slamming them both into the walls and then to the floor. Marcus was quicker to recover and he was at the cabin doors before Captain Ozack could get his hands on him. Marcus wrenched them open, stumbling as the ship shuddered beneath his feet. There was a clap of thunder that rumbled through his chest. There, on the desk nailed into the floor, rested the treasure he had been looking for; a book with a jewel encrusted cover. He grabbed it, yanking it to his chest. He turned around, ready to bolt, only to come face to face with the barrel of Captain Ozack's gun.

    "The book," Captain Ozack growled, offering his hand. "Now."

    Marcus snarled but handed the object over. Captain Ozack tucked it into his coat before gesturing for Marcus to go ahead of him, never removing the gun from Marcus's head. Their procession was steady even with the ship trying to throw them about. As they stepped into the storm above, the rest of the crew stilled as best it could in the midst of trying to keep the ship going. The majority of eyes were on them as Captain Ozack ordered over the storm, "Lock in the plank!"

    Two crew members rushed forward to shove the plank of wood through its slot and then secure it into place. The ship lurched beneath them all and Captain Ozack gave a feral grin. "Walk the plank, Marcus. I'll be merciful and leave you untied. The storm will swallow you faster than you will sink."

    Marcus glared at the captain before walking to the edge of the ship and placing his foot on the rim before the plank. He turned back to place his steely gaze on Captain Ozack. "Mark my words. I will have that book and I will use its powers against you."

    Captain Ozack laughed, the sound haunting and full of hate. He gestured wide. "I'd love to see you try, Marcus." He pointed his pistol at Marcus once more. "But first, you must walk the plank."

    Marcus stood there for a brief moment before turning, prepping to step up onto the plank of wood.

    "James! Syrus! What are you two doing?"

    The scene broke and two boys blinked at the mother standing at the edge of the living room, an incredulous look on her face. James stood on the couch with a foot on a snowboard that bridged the couch and coffee table. Syrus stood on the other end of the couch, a toy gun pointed at James, an eye patch over his left eye that he quickly pushed up to look up at the mother with both eyes. Under his arm was a book wrapped in tin foil. The mother's gaze snapped to the silver package. "Syrus, what is wrapped in the foil?"

    "A book," he squeaked.

    "It's the Book of Spells!" James exclaimed, hopping off the couch. "I grabbed one of your novels and wrapped it because you always say that your books are full of them."

    The mother's expression softened, though her gaze wandered over the mess. It seemed as if a tornado had torn through her home. Toys and items were all over the place, littering the stairs from the basement. Even the furniture hadn't survived the havoc her son and his friend had created. Several chairs were on their side and it looked like they had tied one of the sheets from the closet to the kitchen broom and the couch itself, the broom handle stuffed down between the cushions. The mother sighed, running her hand through James's hair affectionately. "Alright. It's time for you two to clean up. Syrus, your sister will be arriving in a half hour to pick you up."

    "Yes Miss Sucram," Syrus dutifully replied, pulling the eye patch off his head. James walked over and took the book from Syrus. The world melded back but, instead of being on a storming ship, Captain Ozack and Marcus were standing on a docked ship, a glorious island beside them. Captain Ozack gave a brisk nod of his head, eye patch gone to reveal the scarred flesh. Marcus gave a nod in return, the jewel encrusted book in hand. He turned, facing the woman standing on the deck, the crew still bowing to her. Marcus walked up to her and offered her the book. She smiled and took it, touching his cheek. "That's my boy."

    The goddess vanished as Marcus was left there, standing with his gaze where she had been. He took in a shuddering breath as Ozack placed a heavy hand on his shoulder.

    "Come on, mate," Ozack spoke, his voice low. "We have quite the mess to clean up."

    Marcus grinned, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "That we do, old friend."
Single Piece Events

Inanimate Object Soap Opera

It is up to YOU to create a parody of a soap opera television show using various inanimate objects that you are free to choose. Each object will be in connection (or relation) to another object in some form and of your choosing. Make up your own soap opera story!
Limerick
lim·er·ick
ˈlim(ə)rik/
noun

a humorous, frequently bawdy, verse of three long and two short lines rhyming aabba, popularized by Edward Lear.
Your limerick must be five lines. You can submit up to two limericks
Big Boss Story

The writing prompt this year is: "That's what he said" Min. 1000 words and Max. 3000 words.

Paw-Print: My Story

They say that everyone has a side to them no one knows. They say that people project a different image of themselves on social media and online that is merely highlights, and not true to who people actually are or what their lives consist of.

Some think that this is true, too, for our non-human companions - our pets. They see almost everything we, people, do and we pay them little to no mind. So this is where you, players, tell us what our furry- scaly- feathery- friends see, know, and even do their on their own time.

What is the secret life of pets?
Poetry in Motion

Your challenge should you choose to accept it would be to write a poem.
A poem about Motion.
How you perceive motion.
Motion of the heart, motion of the world, motion of thought, time, place..
How do you choose to interpret motion in a poem setting.

A Dark and Stormy Cliche

So here's the fix! I want you write me a story - it doesn't have to be overly short or overly long, but do try to consider that there may be lots of you entering said competition, and that we need to judge all of you!) - utilising some of these awful starting lines that have all embedded themselves into our minds as some of the most dire cliché's in literature of all time. Using these, we want you create some great writing that makes us not want it to end!

Here's the list! -
Once upon a time, a long, long time ago.
It was a dark and stormy night.
They say that all's well that ends well, but he begged to differ.
She was stuck between a rock and a hard place.
Little did I know, everything was about to change.
Record Scratch. 'Oooh...yeah...that's me. I bet you're wondering how I got here?'


  • "Ugh. I think I'm going to be sick."

    The plastic statuette shifted away from the water bottle, attempting to look as affronted as a plastic mini cruise ship on a stand could look. "As long as it's not on me!" the plastic statuette exclaimed, shimmying farther away without much success. The shelf they were on together was already not very large and the statuette was already at the corner.

    "Deep breaths, bottle," urged the pocket watch from a shelf below. "And, really, if you're going to be sick, do it on the carpet, not on the shelf."

    "Easy for you to say," the water bottle wheezed.

    "It's alright!" the pamphlet called from the table beneath the shelves. "He can lose his contents on me. I'll just absorb them!"

    "That's very sweet of you," the towel folded into a monkey spoke, "but my brethren beside you would be a better choice for that."

    The multicolored towel ruffled itself, glaring in a sorts at its white, oddly folded counterpart. "Excuse me!" they exclaimed. "I will have you know I am of high quality and am not made for cleaning up messes, unlike you."

    There was a collective noise of shock and disbelief from the other objects in the room.

    "Towel!" the backpack on the couch shouted. "Apologize, right now."

    The colorful towel did its best impression of a sneer. "I don't see why I have to."

    "Because you don't know your fate, Fresh One," came a thick, heavy voice from beneath the bed. All objects focused their attention on the duffle bag suitcase that slowly withdrew itself from the confines of the bed skirt. Nestled inside its open belly were several grocery bags, one of which shifted open as the clothing within freed themselves to look about. The other clothing in the bag shifted about, making room. "All end up either within myself or the backpack to return home."

    The colorful towel deflated slightly. "This is not home?"

    There was a spattering of giggles and laughter. Even the suitcase gave a deep chuckle. "No, Fresh One, this is not home. Home is much more than this single room."

    The colorful towel looked about, not understanding. The backpack spoke up, though the words were softly guarded. "Do you know what an airplane is?"

    The colorful towel nodded, puffing itself up again. "Of course! How do you think I got here?"

    The backpack didn't engage in the bate but the suitcase took over. "It is alright, Fresh One. There are a many Fresh Ones that do not know what it is. Backpack is one of those."

    The colorful towel looked to the backpack, surprise written in how the towel held itself. "Honestly?"

    The backpack, for a lack of a better name for the action, nodded. "I knew what a car was. I was a school backpack for the longest time. I carried books, notebooks, and all sorts of trinkets and gadgets. I didn't know what an airplane even was till I was taken through a location I had never been. Let me tell you, being sent through the scanner for the first time without knowing what it was is the scariest thing ever. I was lucky that Suitcase was with me."

    "I was made for travel," the suitcase spoke, "and that particular trip had only been another trip with our human."

    The colorful towel seemed to frown. "Human?"

    "The strange creature that pulled you out of your wrapper," the pocket watch chimed in. "They are quite kind, if not a bit rough at times."

    "Not their fault," the suitcase assured the colorful towel when it was clear the words had disturbed it. "The human and every other of its kind are clumsy creatures and they are not always the most careful when dealing with us. We will break and tear from wear and use. You may get put away for months before you are used, if not years. I only come out when the human is traveling far from home for a large amount of time."

    The backpack nodded, adding, "I am pulled out more frequently and left within easy access of our human. I am lucky to be able to watch their day to day life from where I'm stored."

    The colorful towel looked around. "So where are we if not home?" the towel asked in a small voice.

    "On what the human calls vacation," the backpack offered.

    The suitcase agreed, adding, "Specifically, a cruise ship. A massive vessel that traverses water."
Writing Marathon

Writing Marathon
This event forces writers out of their comfort zone and into the challenge presented. Every day a new prompt will be available for writers to look at and take upon the challenge of. The writer is given 48 hours to complete the prompt and post it here in its respected thread.

Day 01 - Please have mercy on me!
Day 02 - And I'm free falling
Day 03 - But one soul lies anxious, wide awake
Day 04 - I'm jealous of the rain.
Day 05 - Sometimes I feel like I can rule the world
Day 06 - I love you 'til the sun dies.
Day 07 - Sing me a song for the ocean to part
Day 08 - Ain't got a care in world, but got plenty of beer.
Day 09 - If we can't have it all then nobody will
Day 10 - I had my heart set on you.
Day 11 - If it makes you happy
Day 12 - Your need is driven on
Day 13 - Fight fire with fire
Day 14 - I don't understand why you're so cold.
Day 15 - Forgive me father, I have sinned
Day 16 - Tell me what you want, what you really really want
Day 17 - I want it that way
Day 18 - Larger than life
Day 19 - You are my sweetest downfall
Day 20 - If there is a higher place to be
Day 21 - She broke your throne and cut your hair.
Day 22 - You're hot and you're cold
Day 23 - Have you ever seen the rain?
Day 24 - You float like a feather in a beautiful world.
Day 25 - Ready or not, here I come!
Day 26 - Somewhere in time I will find you and haunt you again
Day 27 - Love is an open door
Day 28 - Trying to forget
Day 29 - I remember a song, like in a dream
Day 30 - But in the end, It doesn't even matter

  • "Please have mercy on me!"

    The beggar cowered in the mud as lightning cracked overhead. He stared down at the man, wide eyed and not believing anything he was processing. He had been raised to believe that the world outside the castle had been a utopia for all, that there were no more beggars, that all famine and war had been removed from the world, but the man before him - scarred, missing his left arm below the elbow, and clearly starving without a home - was a clear sign that all he had been taught was a lie.

    He felt sick.

    The man flinched when he offered the muddy beggar a hand. There was clear hesitation and confusion before the man took his hand and accepted the aid to standing. Before the beggar could even react, he had already placed his heavy, expensive over the man's bony shoulders, protecting him from the icy rain.

    "Do you have a home?" he asked, already suspecting the answer. The beggar shook his head. He placed a comforting hand on the beggar's back. "Come on. The temple is not far from here. They-"

    The man jerked from his touch, scrambling to get away as the cloak fell into the mud. Again, he turned a bewildered, wide eyed gaze onto the beggar as the man blurted out, "Not there. Anywhere but the temple. Please don't take me there."

    He looked to his companion and his expression must have conveyed his plea for help because his still heavily cloaked companion walked over to the beggar and got down on his level. Words too soft for him to make out over the rain were told to the beggar and he let out a relieved sigh when the beggar visibly relaxed. He scooped up the cloak as his companion helped the beggar to his feet. He followed his companion and beggar through the rain drenched streets, ignoring the looks they were getting.

    The inn was dimly lit but warm when they entered from the storm. Running a trembling hand through his hair, he did his best to suppress his shivering as he stood with the beggar near the door as the companion talked with the bartender. He let his gaze wander, taking in the main room as his eyes adjusted to the low light.

    There were a number of tables and booths in the main area. It reminded him of how one of the ballrooms would be arranged during large parties, how there would be tables set up in some artistic pattern and only meant for those that wish to sit and chat. Never did all the tables fill the room. There was usually on a small portion of the room taken up but the entire room in the inn was filled with tables, booths lining the walls as two separate fires roared on opposite sides of the large space.

    And it wasn't empty. There were patrons all about and, if he wasn't mistaken, this inn also passed as a place to just come and eat as well. As his gaze took in a group of suspicious people in one of the far corners, his companion returned, offering, "We have a room."

    He turned his attention on his companion and nodded, placing a hand on the beggar's back. "Lead the way, please," he offered politely.

    His companion led them up the main flight of stairs and down the left hallway. However, instead of taking one of those rooms, his companion opened another door to reveal another staircase. They started walking and he dutifully followed with the beggar between them. They went up two more floors before the companion stepped out into the hallway and making their way towards one of the rooms. He noted that the room was situated on the back of the building and placed in the hallway where either staircase - whether the main or the one they had just come up - were within equal distance. His companion unlocked the door and stepped in. The beggar followed and he closed the door behind the three of them, locking it. His companion was speaking softly with the beggar again but he paid them no mind. Instead, he went over to the window and looked out. It was hard, with the window being pelted with rain, but it seemed as if beneath there window within a safe distance was a roof they could land on if they needed a quick escape.

    "Hard to get to, many ways to get out," he commented when he heard the shower start up. His companion seemed to materialize beside him and they hummed an affirmation. "Will he be alright?"

    His companion nodded. "I bought an outfit from the innkeep. It should fit him just fine."

    He nodded and turned his gaze back out the window.

 
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April 2017Monthly Writing Prompts
There is a 100 word minimum to complete the prompt and an alternative 1000 word minimum. I keep with the alternative word minimum.

Be advised:
Some are interlaced with fandoms.
Some can be spooky,
If you find one that needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know. I have not reread these as I posted them as of the date on this post.


  • Xavier stared at the beast at the other end of the hall that he had been passing. He hadn’t meant to catch its attention but it seemed as if it was a moot point. The beast’s startling blue eyes were locked on him and, for the first time in his life, Xavier felt no fear for the situation that was most likely going to end in a painful death.

    The creature turned slowly before suddenly charging. It was on him in a second and the only thing he could get his shaking legs to do was back up. His back it the wall just as the beast’s teeth sank into his shoulder. He let out a choked cry of pain before forcing himself to relax. The creature had only clamped down. There was no tearing, no continued mauling, and Xavier forced an eye open despite the pain he was in. As he pressed a hand into the fur on the creature’s neck, he offered in a soft, low voice, “It’s alright.” He felt like a fool but that didn’t stop him from trying to talk the creature down. “It’s ok. I’m not here to harm you. I’ll leave as soon as I can. But you have to let me go.”

    The beast growled but Xavier felt the teeth leave his flesh. He rubbed a hand over the top of the creature’s muzzle, offering an exhausted smile. He felt the tremor of surprise and anticipation beneath his hand but the creature didn’t react much more than that, still watching him intently with those startling blue eyes. “Thank you,” he urged past the black overtaking his vision. His already weak legs gave out from under him as he passed out. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t hit something hard as he completely succumbed to the exhaustion in his bones.

    To say that the past week for him had been hard was an understatement. Not only had he woken that first morning to his shoulder tended to and wrapped in clean bandages, he had come to discover that the snow storm had yet to let up. The day after he discovered the castle was enchanted. Two days after that, the stable roof collapsed due to snow collecting on the old roof, injuring his mare enough that she would not be able to pull the cart till the abrasion healed and his stallion had never had the temperament to be a cart horse to begin with meaning he was stuck there for an unknown amount of time. The two days that followed that he spent patching the roof in the bitter cold and occasional snow flurry enough that neither the horses nor his cart was damaged. And not even an hour ago he came to discover that the creature he had encountered his first being here was actually a prince under a curse that could no longer be broken.

    He sat staring at his meal, not sure how to process that last bit. The creature had left after their short interaction. How he had managed to get the creature to even speak to him had been incredible. At least, that’s what the servants said. Supposedly it had been a year since the window for the curse to break had closed. The servants had thought they had been destined to be asleep forever but found they had awoken around three months later to a castle that looked more like ruins than an actual building and a prince that was no longer human; not one of the servants had seen him speak or behave like a human in the last nine months until just under an hour ago.

    Xavier felt sick but he wasn’t sure he knew why.

    He pulled his hair up, the long locks just making him too hot. He had long since abandoned his shirt and glove, leaving his skin free to breathe as he worked. The large section of roof that had collapsed was only being repaired because it was over an area of the castle actually being used. He climbed the ladder to where a few of the servants were already working. They didn’t make much progress on their own and Xavier only added so much, even after only 4 months of helping out. He really wished he was able to do more for them as he stepped up onto the roof, grinning at them. “Alright. Onto the next spot.”

    There was a collective sound of confirmation and Xavier got to work. It only lasted about 15 minutes.

    He stepped on a rotting board without realizing it and the plank gave out from under him. He tipped sideways and, for that brief moment he was in limbo, he saw the horror on the tools before he was suddenly falling towards the ground. He expected to die but found instead that he was caught by none other than Adam. Shaking, he gripped the cursed prince’s shirt, stuttering out, “N-n-nice catch.”

    Adam’s arms tightened around him. “I’m glad I was able to make it in time. I think it’s time for a break.”

    Xavier was carefully put onto his shaking legs and he nodded quickly. “Agreed.”

    His scars slipped his mind till they were brought up a week later. Adam had placed one of his large hands over the majority of the burn scar hidden by his clothing and he shuddered, a part of him fearing this confrontation as another was startled that Adam even remembered where the scar was. But, unlike the disgust and rejection - or heavens forbid pity for scars over 10 years old - he had been expecting, Adam offered comfort and sympathy, letting Xavier talk it all out before asking questions. It removed a weight from Xavier’s shoulders he had not realized had been there. He found himself finally relaxing around Adam and their relationship became all that closer.

    Xavier was surprised when the one year mark came and went. He found himself leaning on what remained of the balcony rail off of Adam’s quarters on the date that was the second year mark for the curse’s window closing. Adam came up beside him, still as large and burly as ever but looking well dressed. Adam placed a large hand on Xavier’s back and the smaller man leaned into the warm paw, easily shifting to lean against Adam’s very warm chest.

    “How are you feeling?” Adam asked, the words a low rumble in the burly chest beneath him.

    “Still can’t seem to get warm,” he confessed, shame burning his cheeks. Adam automatically wrapped his large arms around him and Xavier melted into the warm that wrapped around him with the gesture. “But this is helping. I’m also achy and tired but if I stay in bed for another minute, I will go absolutely mad.”

    “So you decided to come and settle on the cold balcony outside my quarters?” Adam chuckled.

    Xavier shrugged. “It was a pleasant walk, to say the least.”

    Adam hummed before shifting his arms around Xavier. Xavier gave an undignified squawk as he was picked up. He held onto Adam as best he could but the prince didn’t seem to have an issue with carrying him. Xavier’s cheeks burned but this time it was out of embarrassment. “Adam! What-”

    “I’m bored and the book I want is in the library,” Adam spoke, cutting his words off. “And since it would be pointless to leave you by yourself, I am taking you with me and we are settling before the fireplace in the library for the rest of the afternoon.”

    Xavier settled down, trusting Adam. He gave a noncommittal hum and found that the motion and warm were lulling him to sleep. He fought it but found himself waking tucked up against Adam on the couch before the fire in the library, Adam asleep beneath him with a book resting on the broad chest. Xavier found that he was quite content there with the cursed prince and made no move beyond picking up the book Adam had started. Making sure to not lose the prince’s place, he settled more against Adam, turning to the first page. His mind briefly turned to all that had happened in the last year and how he was looking forward to the coming year with Adam.

    Movement drew his eye to the human servant dusting at the other end of the library. It made Xavier’s stomach do a funny little flop. If the curse was breaking on the servants, then hopefully it would break on Adam as well. The man was not the man that had been cursed all those years ago. Adam - and even the servants - had told him how he had been cursed in the first place in a accepted resignation about the subject. Adam had come to accept his fate for what it was and regretted that it had involved the servants. Xavier knew he was not alone in his fleeting hope that Adam would one day become human again. Every single servant wished that right along with him.

    Turning his thoughts back to the book in his hand, he started to read out loud, “This is a tale as old as time…”
 
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May 2017Monthly Writing Prompts
There is a 100 word minimum to complete the prompt and an alternative 1000 word minimum. I keep with the alternative word minimum.

Be advised:
Some are interlaced with fandoms.
Some can be spooky,
If you find one that needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know. I have not reread these as I posted them as of the date on this post.


  • “I’m not sure this is the wisest of choices, Tai Hao,” his companion informed him, watching as he shoved at the barrel and rolled it across the floor.

    “Nonsense! This will work perfectly,” Tai Hao countered happily, a mischievous grin on his face. His companion didn’t believe him and expression and stance translated that well. He couldn’t help the chuckle. “Come on, Levine. It’s not that horrible.”

    “Says the one shoving a highly explosive barrel,” muttered the polecat. “Look, I don’t care how perfectly this will go. It’s a bad idea.”

    Tai Hao shrugged. “If it works, it works. What’s a few missing hairs.”

    “Says the wolf!” Levine countered sharply. “I am not as big as you, let alone as hardy.”

    Tai Hao gave one last shove and turned at a run. He scooped Levine up, grinning. “All the better. If you were any bigger, this wouldn’t work.”

    He shoved Levine up the small opening, following as quickly as he could. Levine pulled at his shirt but it helped little. Tai Hao made it up through the gap just as the first explosion rocked the floor. Tai Hao scooped Levine up again. “Out of time.”

    Down the hall, up the stair, round a corner, down another corridor, another corner, a second followed by a third set of stairs, and they reached the deck of the ship as a final blast rocked the entire vessel, blowing out a section of hull on the bow’s port side.

    Chaos ensued.

    Tai Hao raced across the deck with Levine clinging to his back. Tai Hao had hoped to have gained a few seconds of cover from the confusion but he was spotted instantly.

    “Stop them! Don’t let them escape!”

    Tai Hao growled. There was a flash of steel and he met saber with saber. He threw the assailant off, using the momentum to keep going forward. They had to make it to the long boat before the rest of the crew realized just how screwed they were but said crew kept getting in his way.

    As the ship started to list, the Captain cut him off and Tai Hao skidded to a stop, hissing in displeasure.

    “Get to the long boat, Levine,” Tai Hao ordered.

    “But-”

    “No,” he snarled, cutting him off. “Go. I’m right behind you.”

    Levine removed Tai Hao’s knife from its sheath at the small of the wolf’s back before dashing off. The crew went after him but Levine was quick and was out of sight in an instant. The Captain bade the polecat no mind, eyes solely focused on Tai Hao.

    “You have been a pain in my side since we swept you up, landlubber,” the Captain growled.

    Tai Hao shrugged. “More of a seadog than you know, Captain,” he offered with a smirk, his body appearing relaxed as he played confidence acting as if the Captain wasn’t the threat he really was. “I’d show you a few pointers but you might hurt yourself.”

    The Captain lunged at him. Tai Hao misjudged his ability to dodge fast enough and received a slice across his shoulder for his mistake. Still, it got him in close and he buried the hilt of his saber into the Captain’s gut. Said Captain was hardier than that and pain erupted on the same shoulder Tai Hao had already injured as the Captain’s own hilt drove itself into the joint. Falling to a knee, Tai Hao brought his sword about and sliced the underside of the Captain’s sword arm. Blood gushed over his head and shoulders, the low angle of attack not the greatest of ideas but it was effective. The Captain jerked away and Tai Hao dashed around him.

    “KILL HIM!”

    Tai Hao internally winced at the roar. Of course he would gain the Captain’s wrath with a move like that. Not to mention, if he hit the artery, the man would bleed out if it wasn’t attended to soon. He ignored the guilt that ate at him. He could wallow in self misery about no longer being a pacifist later.

    Levine was holding his own rather poorly but enough that the long boat was still theirs. Tai Hao took out Levine’s assailants and wrapped an arm around the polecat one last time, throwing him into the long boat before diving in after him. “Hang on!” he shouted before cutting the ties.

    The boat gave out from under them and Tai Hao found his stomach in his throat. They hit the water hard and he slammed into the bench, certain he felt a few ribs crack. With pain lacing through his body with each movement, he shoved himself towards the oars and grabbed them both. He had received worse injuries than this and had to do a lot more than simply row with them. This was nothing.

    By the time they had a league between them and what remained of the sunken ship, Tai Hao pulled the oars in, groaning as his entire body screamed at him. Levine shifted behind him, groaning as well but for a separate reason.

    “Ah, what happened?” Levine asked, looking about. “We made it?”

    Tai Hao covered his bleeding shoulder, now feeling the effects of blood loss. “Yeah, we did. I take it you hit your head with our landing?”

    Levine nodded, making his way over. Somehow - miraculously - Levine’s glasses had remained on his face and intact through the whole ordeal, meaning that the polecat could see a lot more than hazy shapes. His small hands moved Tai Hao’s and there was a sharp intake of breath from the smaller creature. “Tai Hao, you’re supposed to protect yourself, not get skewered in every fight,” Levine chided.

    Tai Hao chuckled weakly. “Trust me. I would if I could but he was a lot faster than I had anticipated.”

    Levine hummed. “Well, at least it’s a clean slice. Will make patching you up all that easier.” Tai Hao involuntarily flinched when Levine prodded the wound rather forcefully. “Even with you making it worse by rowing so…..aggressively.”

    Tai Hao gave him a flat look. “Hey, you were asleep while I was rowing. As far as you know, I had caught a swift current.” Levine met his gaze with an equally flat look. Tai Hao conceded. “Ok, so I could have been a bit more careful rowing.”

    Levine gave a curt nod in acknowledgment before moving to grab the first aid kit. Tai Hao looked back at the wreckage, his entire being feeling heavy with guilt of the actions he had taken to stay alive and make it back home.
 
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June 2017Monthly Writing Prompts
There is a 100 word minimum to complete the prompt and an alternative 1000 word minimum. I keep with the alternative word minimum.

Be advised:
Some are interlaced with fandoms.
Some can be spooky,
If you find one that needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know. I have not reread these as I posted them as of the date on this post.


  • The email arrived, the one that would state whether or not they would move onto the next step. Excitement thrilled through them as they clicked on it, confident enough in their abilities to have made it to the final step.

    The email was not what they had been expecting.

    There, in simple text, was the notice that they had not been selected for the final stage in the hiring process. And, just like that, excitement turned numb. They had done so well on the test and, while phone interviews were never their strong suite, they felt they had done well enough to make it. They had been certain that they were making it to the face to face interview but, for the fifth time in a row, this was not the case.

    They weren't sure if they wanted to cry out of anger, sadness, or a toxic blend with frustration thrown in there. They had been so sure.

    They really needed to quit being so sure, it would seem.

    It made the next month all that more difficult. They were barely squeaking by as it was and it was stressful. Never before had their account been so close to over drafting with a steady income and knowing better. It wasn't comfortable to be only a few pennies away from having nothing in a checking account when they had bills, pets, gas, food to buy. It was all a fricken conspiracy, they were certain.

    They had put out ten job applications and, what do they get? Nowhere near getting accepted at any of the positions they had applied for. And the sad thing was, they were running out of ideas of what they could even do as work. They felt so limited in what they could apply for.

    Oddly enough, though, they still went back online and browsed openings at whatever places came to mind. In the end, they had sent out two applications, confident in only one.

    Too stressed to call it a night, they turn their attention elsewhere on the internet.

    An hour passes without their notice, eyes glued to a computer screen displaying whatever they maneuvered to. An alert pops up in the lower right corner of their screen, drawing their attention.

    someone friend 23:58 : Hey, you got a minute? I think I found something that...

    They glanced at the clock, verifying it was indeed approaching midnight. Strange. This particular friend wasn't usually on this late.

    They clicked the alert.

    They cried out in disbelief as their computer abruptly shut down. Before they could even move to try the power button, the computer turned itself back on.

    Near the center of the black screen is a blinking cursor. Seconds pass and when nothing happened, they reach out to type something.

    Something beat them to the punch as text was typed out.

    external.connectId:GHOSTOFTHEVOID to [91.181.18920.21.1]
    mark.3; initiate connection
    >ip=15.233.58892.1
    >user.interface {false}
    >external.displayAlign {
    /:22844019
    (false_
    screen transfer
    >external.displayAlignPing
    valid
    >external.driverAlign {
    /:22983019
    (false_
    driver access
    >external.driverAlignPing
    Reply from 91.191.18920.21.1: bytes=64 time=32ms TTL=39
    Reply from 91.191.18920.21.1: bytes=64 time=32ms TTL=39
    Reply from 91.191.18920.21.1: bytes=64 time=39ms TTL=39
    Reply from 91.191.18920.21.1: bytes=64 time=32ms TTL=39
    Reply from 91.191.18920.21.1: bytes=64 time=36ms TTL=39

    connection established

    fuction myFunc(est.connect) {
    var x, txt = "";
    for (x in est.connect) {
    txt += est.connect[x].name + "cmd.exe";
    }
    event("cmd.exe").interface= txt;
    }

    They frowned, not understanding a good amount of the information. Before they could piece together the flowing text, it vanished, replaced with the blinking cursor once more.

    ->Hello.

    They blinked at the single word, the cursor blinking after the period. They glanced around, not sure what to do. When they looked back, there was more.

    ->Hello.
    ->You can type back.

    They hesitated only for a moment.

    ->Hello.
    ->You can type back.

    Who are you? What do you want?<-​

    ->Oh, good. The connect is stable.

    You didn't answer my questions.<-​

    ->I'm aware. They are unimportant right now.

    No. Answer my questions.<-
    Who are you and what do you want?<-
    Why have you hacked into my computer<-    ​

    ->Hack is such a strong word.

    Shut it.<-
    Answer my questions.<-




    NOW!<-​

    ->Just answer the questions, Doc. We don't have time for this.
    ->Oh, you're on this, too?
    ->When did you connect to the system?
    ->I'm the one that organized this little "chat", Doc. Remember?

    They stared at their screen as the second person the other end jumped in. This was crazy. There was no way this is real. The conversation between the pair kept going but they didn't care as they quickly cut in after one of the newcomer's lines.

    end of the second part.

    I'm gonna turn my computer off now.<-​

    ->No!
    ->You can't!
    ->Wait!
    ->Please.
    ->Hear me out.
    ->We need your help.
    ->The Doc believes you can help us.

    They blinked at the rapid fire of text. They frowned, reading over a second time and weighing their options.




    ->Please




    They sighed, giving in.


    What do you want from me? And who are you guys, anyways?<-​


    There was a pause and they watched the blinking cursor.

    ->Thank you.
    ->Thank you.
    ->I am a scientist by the name of Diggory Howard. I have a PhD. in quantum physics and mathematics.
    ->The doc's pretty cool. I'm his assistant, Zel.
    ->Zelpher has been a tremendous help.
    ->Oi! Doc!
    ->No need giving them my full name.
    ->It's embarrassing.
    ->Nonsense, Zelpher. It's quite the name and you should be proud of it.

    They chuckled softly, reaching forward.


    Hey. I don't mean to interrupt but what do you guys want from me?<-​

    ->Aw. Right! That.
    ->Zelpher?
    ->We want your help with getting the doc back.

    They frowned.


    Back from what?<-​

    ->The void.

    They massaged the bridge of their nose, feeling suddenly exhausted.


    You want me to believe that you're in some sort of void?<-​

    ->Correct.

    Is this a joke? You pulling my leg or something?<-​

    ->Not a joke.
    ->Nor a conspiracy.

    They groaned before giving in.


    Fine. What do you need me to do?<-
    Just so you know, I don't have any skills that'll help you get out of this "void"<-    ​

    ->Nonsense! You are quite skilled in the area we need you skilled in.

    They instantly regretted agreeing in helping.


    You do realize I am just a normal person, right?<-
    I have an associates in Sculpture, for heaven's sake.<-
    I work at Starbucks.<-
    Nothing special<-    ​

    ->Don't worry. You'll be able to help us.
    ->You'll do just fine.

    Somehow, they didn't believe him.
 
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July 2017Monthly Writing Prompts
There is a 100 word minimum to complete the prompt and an alternative 1000 word minimum. I keep with the alternative word minimum.

Be advised:
Some are interlaced with fandoms.
Some can be spooky,
If you find one that needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know. I have not reread these as I posted them as of the date on this post.


  • “Independence.”

    The single word crackled from the sound system.

    “They say it’s something you have to fight to keep.”

    A wind rolled through the still city.

    “They say it’s something that only the privileged know. They say that the independence we gain when we transition from child to adult is only an imitation of true independence.”

    There, on the edge of the shadows, was movement. It was small, barely noticeable unless one was trained to see it. Most were in this world.

    “They lied.”

    A poster smacked against the wall it had been pinned to. It was old, tattered, and barely legible anymore but the propaganda was still very clear.

    It was a call to war.

    “We can have independence. We deserve independence.”

    The poster pulled itself free of the wall, the wind taking it through the deserted street.

    “We WILL have independence.”

    The poster floated about, whipped this way and that. It smacked into a pole, a rusting mailbox, the ground.

    “And you are the only one that can help us gain such a luxury.”

    The poster lost its touch with the wind that had been carrying it about. It came to a stop in the middle of a ragged road. Something dashed at it, tearing it to shreds and ridding the world of another “INDEPENDENCE NEEDS YOU” poster.

    A shot rang out through the street and the thing in the middle of the street collapsed. Several other things just like the now dead thing dashed forward and ravaged the carcass. The gunner sneered at the scene, selecting a new target. Silencer on, they took out the new arrivals one by one. Luck would seem to be on the gunner’s side. With each new carcass, two to four more would take its place. With their current hiding spot, there was no concern of running out of ammo any time soon and this honestly killed a few hours while being rather productive at the same time.

    “Independence.”

    The gunner didn’t even flinch when the speakers crackled to life again. The things down in the street seemed to have learned that the audio was useless as well.

    “What is it?”

    The gunner took aim as a thing brought its head up, seeming to look directly at the gunner before a bullet was between its eyes and its fellow things were ripping into the now dead carcass.

    “If you look up the definition, you will find that independence is freedom from the control, influence, support, aid, or the like, of others.”

    The gunner takes out three more before they’re forced to reload. The motion is swift and smooth. There’s little noise as the new magazine is locked into place. Ready to go, they took aim. Four more fell.

    “And yet, when you look into the cultural context of independence, the word is used for a variety of situations.”

    The gunner tsked, re-situating themself.

    “What matters is that independence - while known as a word by most - is not known as a state of being for many.”

    The gunner went on shooting things. Not a single bullet was wasted, a blessing of leisure killing. Making their way through the swarm they had inadvertently summoned, the words resounding through the city filled their mind.

    “This cannot stand.”

    The gunner sighed, taking aim on a new target.

    “Things cannot remain this way.”

    For a moment, the gunner found themself near the start of the war, just prior to these things being created. A crowd stretched before them, thousands packed into such a small stretch of land. Panic pulled at them, not at all confident before such a sea of faces. Their stumbled over the words, a pause that was not planned but desperately needed. Taking in a shaky breath, they leaned against the podium before them just a bit more and pressed on.

    “Independence cannot be won through war. War breeds fear, fear breeds hate, hate breeds vengeance, and vengeance turns the world blind with ‘an eye for an eye’. We cannot obtain independence through war. The greatest way of creating and maintaining independence for all is by creating a culture based out of love and compassion. Curiosity and empathy instead of greed and pride.”

    The crowd before them roared. It was hard to tell if they were cheering for them or against them. They hoped it was for them as they continued on. “We will be our own destruction if we keep fighting for independence in this way. Instead, let us change the world in a different way…”

    “…in a new way.”

    The gunner blinked, finding themself back in the present. They shuddered, grateful the old recording had finally ended. It wasn’t often they got caught up in their own words like that, especially not when the old recordings were being played in almost every city they had gone through. Thankfully, that was the only recording of them. No one had recognize them yet, though the scarring helped. Their voice wasn’t the only one spouting words for peace but it had not been their voices that had been heard. Even the one that had first called for war and had changed their standing halfway through had been ignored. Somehow, someway, war won out in the end and the entire world collapsed.

    Another shot off.

    “Thought I would find you up here.”

    They looked back, expression curious as they flicked the safety of their weapon. The newcomer was young, bright, and in far better condition than they were. The newcomer offered a soft smile. “Come on. Ride’s here.”

    They grinned. “Bout time,” they rasped out. They gestured to the boxes of ammo around them. “Help me pack all this.”

    The newcomer happily went along with the request, gathering all the boxes and anything else that could be used. They helped the newcomer for a moment before they started getting themself to their feet. They waved off the newcomer, indicating the task the newcomer had. Balance horrible due to a poor prosthetic, they wobbled for a moment before they had re-acclimated to being upright. Taking the newcomer’s arm, they shouldered their weapon and followed the newcomer out of the room littered with shell casings.
 
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August 2017Monthly Writing Prompts
There is a 100 word minimum to complete the prompt and an alternative 1000 word minimum. I keep with the alternative word minimum.

Be advised:
Some are interlaced with fandoms.
Some can be spooky,
If you find one that needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know. I have not reread these as I posted them as of the date on this post.


  • “What’s that?”

    He looked up, his hand clasping around the strip of metal he was certain had caught the dwarf’s attention though he wasn’t worried of the dwarf stealing it. Well, not this one. He already knew that the one with the odd, almost star like hair style had already helped himself to a few of his things.

    “A sfyríchtra tou desmoú drákon, or a bonded dragon whistle in the common tongue,” he answered, pulling the leather cord from around his neck. He handed over the slim tube of metal to the curious dwarf beside him. “It’s useless so there’s no worry of bringing a dragon here.”

    “How?”

    He looked over his shoulder at the gruff dwarf with a dark mane of hair. Though no more attire than those he was with, it was clear that this dwarf was the one in charge even if they hadn’t already shared introductions. “Well, for two reasons. The first - and probably the most important - is that the dragon this whistle is bound to is no longer living, or so I was told. Bound whistles don’t generally get bound to a new dragon. Instead they are normally melted down and recrafted and not always back into a whistle. Additionally, whistles are not generally passed on to a new bearer without the dragon’s permission. While a dragon can be controlled by the whistle, the dragon has final say of who controls them.” He nodded at the whistle that the younger dwarf was inspecting. “That one’s dragon is long since gone and was given to me by someone who had received it from the true bearer of the whistle as a trinket to remember home by. I wouldn’t use it even if the thing worked. Case in point,” he reached over and revealed the large crack that ran the length of the whistle, effectively making it nothing more than a trinket, “the second reason why it’s useless is the damage that it had when I received it. Even if I wanted to bind another dragon to it, I wouldn’t be able to. But I digress. Blowing on that and taking the chance that the bound dragon still lives would surely bring me death. The dragon was not able to say whether or not I could be the handler of this whistle and thus has all right to melt the whistle and me on sight. Additionally, calling an unbound dragon to bind with the whistle is a ritual I do not know fully and would most likely fail at the cost of my life, your lives, and anything within a rather large radius.”

    He accepted the return of his whistle and hung it back around his neck before focusing back on the gruff dwarf. “He was not lying when he said that I could help. I am not a dragon tamer but I know enough to keep your Master Burglar safe. Well, as safe as one can be with a fire breathing lizard in a cavern system.”

    “How do you have that?” growled the very large dragon. He wanted to whimper and cry but it would do nothing to get him and the halfling out of there alive. Instead, he stood his ground between the massive beast not breathing fire quite yet because questions needed answers and he was the only one with the answers the dragon wanted. “It should have remained with Fengari. Not get passed around when he-”

    The great beast reared back, lips curling in a snarl, but he was stepping forward, hand firmly clasped around the cracked metal tube. “Fengari believed you to still be alive,” he called out, suddenly understanding the odd riddle that had been spoken to him when he had received the whistle. “He gave it to Nychta, who gave it to me before I left our home. Fengari had believed you still lived and thought passing it on would bring it to you to do with what you pleased.” He closed his eyes, his heart heavy with the following words. “I think he wished that you had something to remember him by, even if he could not give it to you in person.”

    The great fire drake stilled, focusing on him. He kept from fleeing on instinct. The halfling was still clinging to his leg, grounding him in the reality of the situation. One misstep and he and the halfling would be burned to crisps. “Fengari is dead?”

    There was no need for future sight to know that this had just turned for the worst. As much as the dragon boasted of his strong hide, a bond between dragon and whistler was that of family and death of either hurt the one left behind. He forced the words beyond his lips and was surprised at how steady his voice sounded. “I am the second generation to hold the whistle. Fengari passed two generations before I was born.”

    If dragons could lose color like most mortals did, he was sure the one before him would look like death. The stillness was suddenly broken by a grieving dragon roaring in agony, dragonfire unleashed in their direction. He dropped to the ground, dragging the halfling with him, but he slipped off their ledge and into the gold beneath it. The dragonfire had missed the gold he fell in but somehow his motion to avoid it had gotten the whistle caught in the blast. It bounced hot against his chest, scorching through his attire and burning the skin beneath it. He yanked it off, leaving a nasty red mark across his palm from where the hot metal had touched his bare skin and he released it as soon as it was clear of his chest, the leather tie long since burned away. It fell into the gold, melting coins. The pile he was on shifted as the dragon stirred the coins. He grabbed at the ledge the halfling was still on and shouted, “Get to the company! Tell them! Warn them! I have to get my whistle!”

    “But-!” the halfling tried but he cut him off.

    “Go! I’m right behind you!”

    He found the whistle out of sheer luck. It had been hot enough to melt gold but not lose its shape. He didn’t have time to ponder that as he scraped off what he could and scrambled to the nearest exit. The dragon was outside, threatening the lives of more than those on the mountainside and he had to do something. The air outside was sharp against his face but he barely noticed as he brought the still hot whistle to his lips and blew.

    He stared at his wrapped hands, lost in some other space in his head where thought wasn’t really a thing. Things entered him mind only to slip out and it wasn’t till someone was actually shaking his shoulder and dragging his attention to them that his mind started retaining thoughts and information.

    Relief crossed the face of the dwarf before him. It was one of the eldest of the company, the gruff one’s adviser or something like that. “All right there, lad?”

    He nodded. He received a rough pat to the shoulder. “Good. The royals are awake and wanted to speak with you. Do you feel up to company?”

    He frowned. “Aren’t they in worse condition than I?”

    The dwarf chuckled. “Well, yes, but it would seem saving a Prince’s life has earned you a special place in that odd family right along with our Master Burglar, whom of which has been between your room and theirs so often, I think he created a trench in the floor.”

    Amusement pulled at his lips. “Hey, at least that’s easier to repair than damage done by a grieving dragon.”

    He received another rough pat to the shoulder. This time he couldn’t suppress the wince as it jarred the massive side wound he had sustained protecting previously mentioned Prince. The dwarf’s expression softened and the touch to his leg was much gentler. “New beginnings are always welcomed in this dwarven kingdom if our current king has anything to say on it.”

    He actually chuckled at that. “As long as I can make amends for my new charge, I think we’ll be good.”

    Two dwarves that he knew rather well joined them and with the help of all three, he was up on his feet and walking the hall to what had been dubbed as the royal confines by the others. It wasn’t hard to see why as he found three dwarfs tucked into three separate beds in the rather large space with an elderly dwarf and a small halfling rushing about aiding the elven healers. At least two of the elven healers were aghast to see him moving about but the dwarven king, the princes, and even the dwarf and halfling’s spoken relief at seeing him alive seemed to ease the elven healers’ initial response.

    “I have your whistle!” the prince he had saved called out, waving the shiny tube about over his head.

    A kind smile pulled his lips and he crossed to sit in the chair beside the bed. He couldn’t completely hide his wince as he sat down. “And why, pray tell, do you have my whistle?”

    The dwarf didn’t even look remotely sheepish. “I was bored out of my mind so I asked someone to snatch it from your person so that I could restore it for you.”

    He blinked at the whistle resting the dwarf’s palm. What had once been a silver, cracked tube of metal was now a blend of gold and metal that seems to have been varnished blue. It was the oddest thing till the prince spoke up. “The dragonfire heat treated that metal of yours. It’s not unheard of for some oars to do something similar with high enough heats but I’ve never seen that color before, let alone something not simply melting when touched by dragonfire. The gold filled in all the flaws. I just made it look nice.”

    The dwarf had done more than just that and he could tell. Etched into the metal were all sorts of designs and images, things that he recognized even if just barely. But he did have a good enough eye that he commented, “More than one hand etched something into the metal.” He looked up at the prince, gaining a sheepish grin from a flustered dwarf before he looked at the other two bedridden dwarven royals. Sure enough, the younger prince was beaming even more than his brother was as the king’s ears had turned red as he tried to maintain his gruffness. There was a bit of the dwarf under the king’s facade showing, though, and he smiled. “Thank you. All of you. I’ll do my best to make such a gift worth receiving.”

    “It is a gift,” the king spoke out and he could see the confusion behind the sharp words. “There is nothing to repay.”

    He stood. “I heartily disagree. The dragon bound to this whistle you have so magnificently restored for me while bedridden yourself has caused a massive amount of damage to your home and land and it is my responsibility to make amends.” Several shouts when up but he heard none of the words. He shook his head and regretted the action as the world moved without him. He gripped the chair to keep from falling. “I will help with the repairs to your home and write to the dwarrows of my land to see if any clans would be willing to make the long journey to bring you aid in craft and strong forms.”

    There was something in all the expressions around him that he did not understand, something that seemed to have touched all of them in a way he had been left out of. Pity, he didn’t know how to properly counter such a reaction not knowing what it was.

    He was too tired to really care about that anyways.

    “I will make sure there is a solid connection between our kingdoms so that you are never without aid,” he continued. “It’ll take time but the dragon bond I now have will help tremendously. I will see about making sure that what aid I can provide from my own homeland is here within the year.”

    The dwarven king dipped his head. He heard the thank you loud and clear and offered the dwarf a nod in return.
 
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September 2017Monthly Writing Prompts
There is a 100 word minimum to complete the prompt and an alternative 1000 word minimum. I keep with the alternative word minimum.

Be advised:
Some are interlaced with fandoms.
Some can be spooky,
If you find one that needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know. I have not reread these as I posted them as of the date on this post.


  • The sound of laughter and pleasant conversation filled the afternoon air. The grasses swayed in the gentle spring breeze as the leaves of the surrounding trees danced. The gathering was in full swing even as the sun started to descend on the western horizon. It mattered not, though, for those gathered had begun preparing for such a thing. Lights were being strung, candles lit, and lanterns hung. Fires were prepared for though none lit. The chill of the night had yet to arrive and the sun still provided plenty of light. Still, there was an endless stream of food and an endless stream of hungry guests. Such things would last till the wee hours of the morning when those invited either gave in to getting the children to bed or giving into the fact that work came when the sun rose the following morning, regardless how late one stayed up.

    To be perfectly honest, he didn’t want to miss a moment of it, but here he was on the outskirts of the party looking on. The person climbing to the top of the hill he sat upon under an old tree was far more important than any even he was missing out on, anyways.

    The figure offered a gentle smile when they crested the top of the hill, looking as if the climb had been nothing more than a pleasant walk. He envied them that. He had been winded not even halfway up and he wasn’t all that old quite yet.

    Ok, that wasn’t true, but he still shouldn’t be quite so tired all the time. It was infuriating.

    “Enjoying the view?” his visitor asked, settling beside him beneath the large tree.

    “Quite,” he offered, smiling as he brought his pipe to his lips. “I must say that I look forward to the sun setting. The decorating lights will be a splendid sight to see from here.”

    The figure hummed in agreeance and silence settled between them. It was light, at ease, as the pair watched the party below.

    “Why are you not with them?” his visitor asked, their voice holding nothing more than curiosity.

    He took a deep pull from his pipe before letting out the breath of smoke as slowly as he could manage. “I would love to but the trek just to get up here has worn me out so.”

    The figure chuckled. “I can imagine.” They looked his way but he vehemently ignored them. Their soft smile grew out of the corner of his eye and he fought the urge to smile himself. “You certainly have gotten on in age despite the adventures you’ve been on.”

    “One adventure,” he corrected, though the smile slipped free. “One long, grand adventure.”

    The figure beside him gave a soft laugh but said nothing more on the subject. Together they watched the party crowd ebb and flow, watched as guests came and went and came again. It was strangely like watching a colony of ants, he decided after a while. Though, that may be due to the fact that so many of those coming and going used the roads rather than go willy nilly through the fields like a few of the children were currently doing.

    “They look like honeybees,” his companion commented, tapping a finger against their leg. “Most in the hive making light of the day while other come and go to collect the food.”

    He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. Rather than be offended as he would expect from most, his companion simply watched, waiting to hear what was so funny. Eventually, he calmed down and was able to breathe properly again. “It is rather funny,” he started, “how you went to honeybees and my mind went to ants.”

    The figure beside him blinked before chuckling. They looked back out on the party, voicing, “They certainly do look like ants from here, don’t they? May have something to do with your small stature.”

    He scoffed, though there was no animosity. All in good fun and he knew for certain that his companion was only teasing while also pointing out a known fact by all of the lands. “Yes,” he agreed, bringing his pipe back to his lips, “we are quite small.”

    His good mood diminished some as his mind wandered and, before he knew it, the lanterns were being lit proper and the fires were blazing. He let his head tip back. Sure enough, the sun had set behind him for there were numerous stars visible in the sky above his head.

    “What had you so enraptured?” his companion asked, their voice low and gentle on the night breeze. “Nothing bad, I hope?”

    “Nothing bad,” he assured. “Simply old memories.”

    “Good ones?”

    “Yes.” He looked at his pipe. It had long gone cold and the beautifully carved wood had been worn in many a place from his handling of the old thing. “And no. Simply recalling the past recalls remembering the joyous and painful moments together.”

    His companion hummed and they fell to silence again. And like before, his companion broke it, though this time far sooner than last time. “But that is not what has weighed down your soul, is it?”

    His grip convulsed around the pipe and he shifted his hands so that he was cradling the gift. “No, it is not.”

    “What has you so concerned, friend?” they encouraged, though their voice left it clear he had every right to refuse.

    Oh how he wanted to. Oh how he wanted to say it mattered not. But this was the one person he could ask, the one person he could confide in without fearing scorn or hearing lies. With a deep breath, he asked hoarsely, “Is it asking too much to be given time?”

    “Of course not,” came the instant reply. “Your loved ones understand and they wait patiently for you to join them.” He chuckled and his companion gained a knowing smile. “Yes, even that gruff lover of yours. He is being surprisingly patient waiting for you to come home when you are ready.”

    The stars seemed unusually bright that evening. That or the tears in his eyes were increasing their light for him as he tried not to cry. “And if I want to be selfish and go home?”

    The figure’s smile turned understanding. “It is not selfish to want to go home or to stay here. But you can’t stay on the fence forever.”

    His companion stood as he rubbed at his eyes. When his vision was clear, his companion was standing before him, hand outreached to him. “If you wish,” they offered, “I can take you home now. There is nothing tying you here anymore. Your loved ones will be fine and will understand. But it is your choice. It is your choice till the hourglass empties and then it will be your time to go, no matter what you wish. That was the request you had made.”

    He smiled sadly, though there was a flicker of amusement in his eye. “And when did that hourglass run dry?”

    His companion grinned. “Oh, about the time I started climbing this ridiculous hill. Honestly, couldn’t you have chosen your lovely home to end your time in?”

    He laughed, taking their hand. It was solid and warm, almost contradictory with who his companion was, but the grip was steady and sure as the figure helped him to his feet. He felt far more nimble than he had in years when they aided him to his feet. A fog rolled in, grey but luminous.

    “So,” he asked, running his hands over his favorite waistcoat that looked brand new. His hands slowed to trace the embroidery done into the fabric, tucking his pipe in a pocket as he did so. “I had forgotten how beautiful this had been back then.”

    “A lot is muddled by age and time,” his guide spoke, leading him down a not so steep hill. He could not see very far but he trusted his guide to lead him true. “You will find that even love will be as well.”

    The fog cleared and at once, he felt at home though he not truly recognize the home they were in. But there was the sound of thunderous feet and he was swept up by many. First, his two adoring nephews, followed swiftly by an assortment of friends that had passed before him. The crowd was split by one figure he reached for, called out for, and the moment their hands entangled, he found himself yanked against a broad chest he had nearly forgotten, hands burying themselves in raven locks as he kissed his husband and lover. Much larger and stronger, his husband was able to lift him completely off the ground and support him with ease. The kiss broke, and they touched foreheads, beaming.

    “Welcome home,” his husband greeted breathlessly.

    “I am home,” he agreed happily.

    And he meant it as he touched foreheads with his sister-in-law, the mother of the nephews that had greeted him first. Soon, though he hoped for not a very long time in the mortal plain, they would be joined by his nephew by blood and his not so little family would be complete. But he could wait. It was not his nephew’s time yet and he hoped that his nephew took all the time he could.
 
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October 2017Monthly Writing Prompts
There is a 100 word minimum to complete the prompt and an alternative 1000 word minimum. I keep with the alternative word minimum.

Be advised:
Some are interlaced with fandoms.
Some can be spooky,
If you find one that needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know. I have not reread these as I posted them as of the date on this post.


  • Magic crackled around her hands. It burned and ate at the appendages but she ignored it. She had to. She ran as hard as she could towards the fight as his magic curled around her and suddenly they were in the midst of the battle. She adapted to the sudden change in location and lashed out with magic that was foreign to her body and far more potent than the magic from her home region. She threw creatures about, delaying the inevitable of those around her as one by one every person she was trying to save - that they were trying to save - were turned to stone.

    Suddenly, he was the only living thing not turned to stone that she could see fighting with her, rather than against her. Panic flooded her and she lashed out at the creatures trying to turn her to stone as well. It cleared the way enough for her to catch sight of two Magics in a losing fight against Orbicas. Every attack they sent his way did little and he only laughed, high and sharp, at their pitiful attempts to binding him. He zapped them of more magic, and she watched in horror as the eldest of the pair crashed to her knees, her once magic saturated hair limp and dull against her back as her legs started to turn to stone. The cool breeze was the only thing that made her hair move now and even that was not going to be enough.

    “Solis!” the younger cried loud enough that she heard it even from where she stood so far away. But the sudden push from seeing the eldest fall to her knees slowly changing mattered little as Orbicas flicked his wrist and the younger was thrown to the ground, her own legs slowly turning to stone.

    “Dissonance!” she yelled, lashing out at the surrounding creatures again. He was suddenly at her side, his magic wrapping around her as she reached out carefully with hers. The mental link was briefly formed, barely a whisper in both their minds, but it was enough to pass on the message of what had to be done, the plan she had roughly formed. It was enough and the connection snapped apart. He shot off like a bullet, slamming into Orbicas with a force that clearly surprised the overpowered lackey. She felt her heart go out to the region; to be tormented by someone that had normally been ranked as a lowlife and not the villain he was now was frightening. If the villain over Orbicas’s head ever found out about this magic saturated region, the entire world would suffer and none of them would be able to do anything about it.

    She shoved the thought aside as magic licked at her body, dragging her through space and relocating her just before the two Magics of the region, her hands starting to bleed. Dissonance was flung skyward but she had no time to worry. It would work out well in the end as she reached up and unleashed her own magic.

    Orbicas was suddenly ensnared in chains far stronger than anything he could break out of, even with his sudden power boost. He glared at her, challenging, “You think you can do me any damage when the two Magics behind you could do nothing?!”

    “Echo,” the young Magic behind her whispered. Her name drew her attention but her magic never wavered and she couldn’t spare the Magic a glance. Didn’t seem she needed to as the young Magic pressed on in a strained voice, “Be….careful.”

    There was a final crackle before silence fell behind her. Both Magics were now fully stone and Echo allowed her eyes to slide shut in silent mourning. Orbicas cackled above her and she opened her eyes to glare at him. “See! Not even she was safe from my power!”

    Echo gave a vicious grin as she took in the massive ball of magical energy Dissonance was collecting in his upturned palm. He was so small and the mass of magic was so large. Echo shoved Orbicas far out to the center of the crater he had originally made, magic humming through her body painfully. It ringed the crater as Dissonance finished off the collection.

    “I’m not concerned for my safety,” Echo spoke, her words soft but her ability to create mental links carrying her words for her as she lost a bit of her control. She had lost her finite control coming here and she could no longer care for its loss. The magic that had ringed the crater slowly edged skyward, slowly constructing a shield. “I’m more concerned about making sure there’s nothing left of you to harm another soul again.”

    Dissonance threw his hand down. The gesture dragged him out of the way as the mass of magic descended.

    “What?!” Orbicas squawked, his gaze snapping skywards. His eyes widened as the orb began to increase in speed. Orbicas suddenly started fighting his bonds and Echo grunted under the strain of holding him tight and waiting to throw up the shield. “No!”

    She looked beyond the magical attack and made eye contact with Dissonance. She watched as the satisfaction on his face bled into confusion. The moment he realized what she was doing, the magical attack was where she needed to be and released her hold on her magic.

    He screamed her name but it was too late and she gave him an encouraging smile as the magical attack first engulfed Orbicas before touching the ground. The shield solidified into a dome just as the ball of potential reacted.

    The explosion ripped at the ground with nowhere else to go with the shield in place. She was slammed backwards into the solid shield wall behind her and, as Orbicas’s screams mingled with the sound of the explosion itself, her mind was swallowed by white before being engulfed in darkness. She prayed as her mind slipped into unconsciousness that her shield held long enough for the damage done by the explosion was contained.

    A once familiar magic burned across her being and the scream ripped itself from her throat. Consciousness did not bring coherence, and the body wrapped around her felt like a branding iron at every point of contact. She had so little strength, though, and while she tried to get away, all it did was cause her body to writhe in pain.

    Eventually, eventually, the pain diminished and exhaustion threatened to pull her under again. But the form holding her was shaking and she could make out the sound of crying. She forced her eyes open with what strength she had left and frowned up at the blurry sight before her. She couldn’t make heads or tails of what she was seeing but glimpses of color and the voice accompanying the crying had her drawing a tentative conclusion.

    “Dissonance?” Her voice was raspy and weak, but he seemed to hear her just fine as he jerked around her. He cupped her cheek, his words washing over her without leaving an impression. She leaned into his hand and closed her eyes but couldn’t give into her exhaustion quite yet. “Did it work?”

    “Yes,” came the choked reply. She was glad that the word didn’t just brush her by. “Yes, the others are being freed now.”

    “I’m glad.” She wasn’t sure she had fallen asleep or not but when she opened her eyes again, they were moving, albeit slowly. “I’m so tired.”

    He shifted her about and she felt his cheek press against the top of her forehead. “Go to sleep, Echo. I’ve got you now. Everything will be alright.”

    She tried to hum in reply but it didn’t come out right and she didn’t care enough to correct it as she finally succumbed to her exhaustion.
 
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November 2017Monthly Writing Prompts
There is a 100 word minimum to complete the prompt and an alternative 1000 word minimum. I keep with the alternative word minimum.

Be advised:
Some are interlaced with fandoms.
Some can be spooky,
If you find one that needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know. I have not reread these as I posted them as of the date on this post.


  • “No! Please! I didn’t mean it!” she hollered, struggling against the grip around her wrist. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the others shrinking away and being left alone. Good. She could take this far better than they could. “Please! I’m sorry!” she screamed, putting on such an act that she had everyone fooled.

    “Shut up,” the one dragging her along growled, shaking her. “You did this to yourself so you will pay for your mistakes.”

    Her hands were shoved into the basin of scalding water and she let out the loudest pain filled scream she could struggling against the grips holding her hands under the water. Mentally detached from the act she was putting on, she noted that while the water was hot it wouldn’t actually leave a mark. In fact, the sensation of the hot water on her cold hands was fascinating and she used it to keep her sanity as she led them all by their nose believing she was breaking.

    She was shoved back with the others and while she wanted to assure them all she was alright, she shied away from them, cowering as was expected.

    It was hours later when one of the other captives came to her side, a familiar empty bowl in hand. They must have been fed while she dozed.

    “We have food for you,” the one that had approached her whispered.

    “Give it to the ones that need it most,” she ordered softly. “I’ll be fine till the next meal.”

    The other nodded and walked away, taking the bowl with them. It was dangerous behaving as such with one that could betray her to those that held them but she trusted them, as foolish as that was. She trusted them to behave as needed and she would lead them out like the sheep they were.

    It was just a matter of time, after all.

    The next round of meals came and she made the act of shoveling food. It was rather easy seeing as they weren’t given utensils to use. She just pushed more off her hand than she actually took in her mouth.

    It was working. Those that watched over them were watching her less and less while those she was trapped with watched her more and more.

    The alarm came when they had all managed to get to sleep.

    She was up and moving towards the bars, three others joining her. She pressed against the bars of the cell, gesturing for those that had joined her to be quiet, and waited.

    A moment later, guards rushed passed.

    “-breach of the northern wing. All personnel! Breach to the northern wing. Lock down commen-”

    She turned, facing the three with her as the guards disappeared. “Gather everyone quickly. We’re leaving.”

    Two of the three dashed off to round everyone up while the third passed her several small items. Turning, she popped the electronic lock’s cover and got to work. By the time the entire group was situated, the lock clicked open and the door swung freely on its hinges.

    “Keep together and keep quiet,” she directed. “Those set to release the other rooms, do it now. Meet up at the designated place.”

    A few branched off as she let another lead the masses through the halls at a run. She brought of the rear end to help those that couldn’t keep the pace not get left behind.

    A rumbled rolled through the building as another group joined them. The now larger group spilled out into the receiving hall even as the group kept together. She ran around the edge, shouting orders. “Keep tight together! We’re not leaving a soul behind if we can help it!”

    Another group joined them, adding to the mass of bodies clustered in the middle of the room. She kept running perimeter with a few others, keeping everyone in a relatively circular shape even as the third and fourth groups were added.

    The building shook and a number screamed. She came to a stop, gaze snapping to the ceiling. Almost there.

    She looked to one of the ones helping her. “Keep them clustered and as calm as possible. I’ll get our ride.”

    “Be safe,” they responded, nodding.

    She didn’t get very far.

    The outside wall was blown in as she reached the door and the entire mass of bodies quickly moved towards the opposite side of the space pressing tight against the far wall. Several tripped and a few fell but none were left behind. Many stopped to grab and drag along. They had been in this together for too long for one of them to be left behind.

    She turned, catching someone before setting them upright. She took a few steps forward as the dust cleared and the debris settled. Beyond the destroyed wall was a vessel that had them all on edge till the gangways were lowered, revealing that those on board were not those they needed to fear.

    There, standing at the edge of the middle gangway was a figure that she was immensely grateful to see. He locked eyes with her in an instant and before the ramp had been completely extended, he was running across it towards her. She ran to meet him.

    He leapt the gap. landing hard and rolling but never losing his momentum. They collided, armed wrapping around each other and shifting weights to keep themselves upright. She pressed her face into his shoulder as she cried out, not sure if it was his name she was calling or simply exclaiming her utter joy and relief to have him there. He buried a hand in her overgrown hair, the other gripping the measly fabric between her shoulder blades as he held her tight, any words he was saying going unheard till he pulled back enough to look at her, his hand dragging along her scalp to cup her cheek.

    “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice calm and familiar. She nodded, watching, waiting. He relaxed, letting out a breath. He slipped his hand from her cheek to the side of her neck. “Good. I would have been here sooner but I ran into a few political issues.”

    “Your timing worked well enough,” she assured him. She looked to those that were being herded into the craft. “What will happen to them?”

    His gaze followed hers as his thumbed rubbed over her skin slowly, She suppressed the shudder at the sensation, appreciating the comfort he was giving her with the contact. “The Association has created a small town for them to all live in. If any want to return to their Masters or go elsewhere, we’ll help as best be can.”

    She turned, resting her forehead on his shoulder. “Can we go home?” she asked weakly.

    “As soon as I can pull us away.” He pinned her against him and she reveled in the sense of security as he pressed his face into her hair. “I am never letting you out of my sight again.”

    She chuckled and he pulled back. Her smile fell away instantly, ready for an order. Instead, he stared at her and she grew confused.

    “If I kissed you now, would you push me away?”

    She blinked, staring at him. “I-You can’t. I’m your Collared. It would be improper.”

    “You were never registered as such and the Association is willing to get you your honorable discharge as well as a badge of some sort for your part in this.”

    She lost all her strength at that. His arms tight around her kept her upright. She couldn’t think, couldn’t seem to find a reaction. She knew he was calling her name, could hear it, but it wasn’t really registering as she realized that the heaviest thing she had carried for so long was the one thing she didn’t want to let go of now. She looked to him, her eyes pleading. “I don’t have anywhere to go. All I have is that status. I don’t-”

    His lips covered hers, stilling her words. She was shaking as she lost her composure but he was there, he was solid, and he was clinging to her as if he didn’t want to let go. She prayed he never would as she clung to him in turn.

    He broke the kiss, his breath hot on her face. “You don’t have to leave. You can stay. With me. At my side.”

    She looked at him confused but she was able to stand again so she counted that as something.

    “I want you to be my life partner.”

    He was pulling away but he didn’t brush her hands away. Instead, he took hers in his, pulling off the red control ring of his own finger and putting it on hers. It wasn’t a wedding band but the symbology was so much more.

    “If you will have me,” he continued, “I would love nothing more than to see this world burn with you at my side, whether as my life partner or simply my partner till we go our separate ways.”

    She pulled her hand from his only to grab his face and kiss him. It was short as she pulled away enough to say, “If you will have me as your life partner, then I don’t intend to be anything else but such.”

    He kissed her at that and she felt like she was drowning in both of their joy and did not want to be saved.
 
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December 2017Monthly Writing Prompts
There is a 100 word minimum to complete the prompt and an alternative 1000 word minimum. I keep with the alternative word minimum.

Be advised:
Some are interlaced with fandoms.
Some can be spooky,
If you find one that needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know. I have not reread these as I posted them as of the date on this post.


  • Her breath hung in the cold air before her face, distorting her view for the brief moment it took for the cloud of warmed air to rise out of her line of sight. Her chest burned from sucking in the freezing air and even now she couldn’t quite get her breath to a normal state as she stared at him, watching him stand there staring at her in turn.

    He was so far away.

    “Please.” The word was beyond her lips without even thinking to speak. But with one word gone, the rest flooded out without restraint. “Don’t do this. Don’t leave.”

    “I have to,” came the gruff, garbled reply.

    She shook her head viciously, the amount of magic in the air growing the longer they stood so far apart. “No you don’t.” She reached out to him, eyes pleading. “Please. We’ll figure this out. You don’t have to go.”

    He didn’t respond and this time the tears escaped as well when she shook her head again. “Don’t go.”

    She was met with silence as she focused on his through the blur of tears. He was still staring at her. His jaw moved, a breath of his own curling out both sides of his mouth as she felt the sudden gathering of magic. She took a step forward, reaching for him as her eyes widened and she sucked in air.

    “Wisps of fire calm the hearth, gentle breeze bring the cold, and let it snow.”

    A gust of wind and a flurry of snow slammed into her as she screamed, “Elias!”

    “Sister?”

    She gasped, jerking upright in some toxic blend of emotions, her head whipping around. Her brain registered she was in her bedroom. Her twin brother had a knee on the edge of the mattress as he leaned towards her hands out stretched but not touching her. She knew that it had been a dream - a memory - but her heart was still pounding and the tears were still streaming.

    The magic in the room slowly dissipated at the same rate she started returning to reality.

    His hands were calloused from their line of work but his touch was gentle as he finally deemed it alright to touch her. She sagged at his touch and gave into the sobs choking her. He caught her and held her close, waiting it out like he always did and guilt ate at her just as much as the sorrow did.

    The hot cup of tea felt nice in her hands but she had yet to take a drink. It was her favorite kind, too. Instead, she watched the steam rise from the cup still too caught up in a long forgotten memory to be able to function properly.

    “Do you want to talk about it?” His voice was soft, gentle, encouraging. She looked up, feeling raw. She shook her head no and he nodded, understanding. “Let me know if you need anything.”

    He made no move to leave his chair at the table, a cup of tea in his own hands, though he was drinking his. She looked down at her cup, berating herself for not doing the same but being unable to muster the energy to lift the mug from her hands.

    It was almost like she had slept while staring at the cup because when her brother removed the cold drink from her hands, she felt like she was waking up all over again. This time, though, she simply sat back, looking around and finally taking everything in proper. She caught movement out of the corner of her eye and looked to her brother. He had a smile on his face, their face. “Good morning, Sister. I’m glad you’ve finally woken up. Would you like a fresh cup and some food? I was thinking pancakes.”

    She loved his pancakes and felt a little coerced into the decision but she couldn’t say no to that. “Yes please,” she responded instead.

    Business as usual as soon as breakfast was over. They had the wayward guests like they normally did and they tended to them as they normally would. She returned to being her normal, snarky self, that is, till there was a visitor at the door she never expected to see.

    The door opened and before she could even give the customary greeting, her eyes met the eyes of someone oh so familiar. “Oh, no,” she snapped, rage suddenly filling her out of nowhere. “No. You have no right coming to me looking for services after what you did to me. No. Go find another magical surgeon. This office is closed.”

    “Please.” She froze, door nearly closed as an unfamiliar yet so familiar voice rushed through the crack. “I can’t….I can’t lose her Destiny. Not like this. Not after everything I’ve learned and she’s gone through. Please. I can’t do this on my own.”

    She jerked back, hand pressed to her chest. She blinked, finding that it had been her twin to cover her hand on the doorknob. He gave her a gentle smile before opening the door fully. “We know, Elias,” he soothed. “Give my sister a moment. I’ll show you where you can put her down.”

    Her eyes finally landed on the body their guest was carrying. She glared at her brother and he shrugged.

    “Are you sure about this?” she questioned one last time.

    “Yes,” he responded with the same surety as the other times she had asked.

    She sighed, catching sight of her brother tending to the girl laying in the middle of the chalked circle. “Fully aware of all the consequences?”

    “Yes.” He sounded resigned on the matter.

    He didn’t expect to come out of this alive. She let out a sigh, unable to not wish for his safe passage through the ritual as well. “Fine. Get into position. We’ll see just how much you’ve changed.”

    “Thank you.”

    She glanced back but he was already moving. Strange. It almost sounded like he truly felt relief and gratitude for her actions. But that wasn’t possible.

    Was it?
 
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January 2018Monthly Writing Prompts
There is a 100 word minimum to complete the prompt and an alternative 1000 word minimum. I keep with the alternative word minimum.

Be advised:
Some are interlaced with fandoms.
Some can be spooky,
If you find one that needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know. I have not reread these as I posted them as of the date on this post.


  • Their breaths curled before their faces as they entered through the portal, the only light granted to them coming from the event horizon they had just entered through. Metal glistened all around them. It seemed even time could not tarnish the interior structure of the vessel. Their footfall echoes in the expansive space but, instead of being haunting as it had once been, all present found comfort in a sound they never believed they would hear again.

    A single body broke away from the group, crossing towards one of two podiums at the opposite end of the room. Their breath curled before their face as shaky as the breath itself had been. The figure glanced up to sweep a gaze over the growing crowd before focusing on the podium before them.

    It was a console of sorts angled to keep the glare of the portal from obscuring the screen that filled the majority of the surface. Buttons were on either side but the figure didn’t touch a single one. Instead, they pressed their hand carefully to the screen, fingers splayed across the freezing cold surface. “Audio command input, login code delta-omega-1-4-5-7-2-6. Activate protocol 1-7-5-alpha-romeo-0-india-papa.”

    The screen came to life as a voice echoed through the room. The figure removed their hand from the screen. “Audio command inputs recognized. Initializing atmosphere control,” there was the sound of rushing air as the lights came on, “and returning power to all designated systems. Welcome back on board.”

    “Thank you, Ode,” the figure replied softly, watching as the console started filling with information.

    “I never thought I would ever appreciate Ode’s heating system till just this minute,” a voice called from the crowd. There was a spattering of chuckles as people filled the space; some sat against the walls or on crates while others stood about as the rest of their community came through the portal. All were chatting away happily, working as one cohesive group to make sure everyone arrived without a problem.

    “Anything to be concerned about?”

    The figure looked up to the two men approaching, focusing on the one that spoke. “Thankfully no. All systems are operational and the work we’ve done has held out. The ship’s in no worse for wear.”

    “Good,” the man replied, looking to his companion. “Any particular place you want to hit first?”

    “Our rooms would be nice,” the other commented, the hint of an almost abolished accent curling the words. The slight curl to the man’s lips spoke of the humor the line had been spoken out of. “I feel like a pack mule.”

    The first laughed, the sound low, rich, and carrying with ease. “True.” The man looked back at the figure. “You know where to find us.”

    The figure nodded, verifying as the men started to walk away, “I’m clear to start getting people to work as needed?”

    “Just make sure they have a chance to stop by their rooms,” the man confirmed, limping alongside his companion.

    A solid collided with the figure’s hip and leg as a new person approached. “Easy, Luca,” the approaching male chastised even with a smile on their face. “No need to go barreling into him.”

    “Oh, I don’t know,” the figure countered pleasantly, reaching down and hefting the pre-teen up onto their hip. “Got my attention, didn’t it?”

    The child’s string of giggles gained a few amused and joyous glances and the figure smiled. “Yeah,” the child squeaked between giggles.

    The male sighed, though the amusement had yet to leave their face. Stepping closer, the male curled their hand around the back of the figure’s head, gently pressing their foreheads together. “We made it home,” the male sighed.

    “That we did,” the figure agreed, leaning into the touch as long as it lasted, the child’s head resting against their neck. The figure pulled away and transferred the child to the male, neither voicing complaint. “Which means that there’s work to be done. Go see if there’s space enough for the school.”

    A brief kiss and the pair was walking away. The figured watched till they were out of sight before turning back to those that still resided in the space. “Alright. Go ahead and drop off personal belongings. If you don’t have a room, coordinate with Ellen to find one. When that’s done, if you remember what your role was when we were here last, pick that up again. Old ranks still apply. Those that were not with us or cannot remember stay in the communal area. We’ll find a place for you.”

    The silence was almost deafening as the figure took a breath. “This is just like our last home. There are always tasks to do and everyone helping makes light work of every task. But back here means that certain skills need to be touched upon once more and a large number of us are rusty, myself included.” There was a round of chuckles. “And don’t any of you worry. This is still our home. We’ll settle right back into it. It’ll just take time.”

    The crowd started to move about, the figure’s words done. Over the buzz of conversation, the figure shot off a quick order. “Anything for the store rooms can either be left here or taken to the proper store room. If you don’t know what that is, don’t move it. Place items for a given store room outside the door. We’ll be about to catalogue how much of what is going where.”

    Several crates and containers got shuffled around but a majority got left in place. A few personnel approached the figure and things were set into motion.

    An hour later, the portal closed and what counted as normalcy for a spacecraft was slowly returning to those familiar with the vessel’s workings.

    The figure entered the bridge, finding a few people already there.

    “Everything going well?”

    The figure’s gaze landed on the male duo that had first approached the console, specifically on the one that had the limp. “Store rooms are being catalogued and filled as we speak. Mechanics are bustling about running checks on the kitchen and living quarters. Engineers are looking over what we had done last to see how the repairs had lasted as well as locations we had previously marked. They’re set to giving me a prioritized list of what sections need focus in the coming days.”

    “Good.”

    The other man stepped forward. “And the Ode’s databases?”

    “Untouched, as is the data that you had requested for Ode to gather in our absence.” The figure smiled softly. “We’ve got quite the work ahead of us, Doc. We were gone quite some time.”

    The man nodded, eyes bright in anticipation. “That we were. She’s seem to have handled our absence well, though.”

    “That she has.” The figured focused on the first man. “There’s a survey crew out right now checking the hull. We’ll be clear to move when they return.”

    The man nodded. “Keep me in the loop.”

    It wasn’t till another two hours had passed till a pleasant chime rang through the common areas, a voice following shortly after. “Countdown to jump initiated. T. minus 5 minutes.”

    The figure looked up to stare at the ceiling briefly before actually standing. “I’m going to go take Luca to the observation deck, Doc. Let the Colonel know so that he doesn’t fret when I don’t arrive.”

    There was a noncommittal hum from the lead scientist and the figure chuckled, taking the moment to send a message to the lead scientist’s companion before turning his console off. The figure found the preteen with the same male on the observation deck. It was a bit crowded, what with so many looking to see the first jump to occur after so long planet side. The figure scooped up the child, gaining a screech that quickly shattered into giggles and laughter. Several other children were running about making a ruckus so such a friendly assault went without complaint from others.

    Settling the child on a hip, the figure reached out for the male, quickly gaining the other’s hand. With fingers intertwined, the figure settled the child on the railing, making sure to keep an arm looped around the child’s waist. “Ready to see this for the first time, Luca?” the figure asked, pressing a kiss to soft hair.

    The child nodded, the movement subdued as large eyes focused on the window. “How much longer?”

    “T. minus 10 seconds.”

    A hush settled over the room as people shifted to allow those that had never seen this occur before to move closer to the railing. Children clambered all over the railing with parental units within reaching distance. All eyes shifted to the window as the last few seconds went unspoken in the room.





    3











    2

















    1
 
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February 2018Monthly Writing Prompts
There is a 100 word minimum to complete the prompt and an alternative 1000 word minimum. I keep with the alternative word minimum.

Be advised:
The following is a series based off of an rp. It is simply a play on an idea. I apologize for any offense given. That was never my intent writing this.
If you find one that needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know. I have not reread these as I posted them as of the date on this post.


  • The light drizzle peppered his blond curls with water droplets, not that he minded. There was something pleasant about experiencing the rain, even with as light as it had become during his drive to the art museum. He locked his car and it beeped as a family passed him, the children running ahead in raincoats and boots laughing as they splashed about in the rain. At first the parents were annoyed but as they passed him, their anger and annoyance, their fears and societal standards melted away and the parents continued on smiling and joining the children in their enjoyment of the rain.

    His own enjoyment of both the rain and the children’s delight diminished at the reminder he was just pretending to be human. Closing his eyes briefly, he focused on himself and drew his angelic aura back in, wrapping it around himself tight so as not to influence another, negatively or positively.

    When he opened them, he started walking towards the museum entrance.

    The amount of guests at the museum was so low that he eventually found himself wandering through one of the galleries by himself. Now, granted, he was one of the slower patrons of the museum - what with taking in the entire piece and reading the informational plaques and simply experiencing - that this came to no surprise. Instead, he relished the brief moment alone and eased up a bit on his control fully aware of the cameras located in the spaces. He didn't do much outwardly but even just easing up his hold on his aura was a relief. It was like a weight was lifted partially off his shoulders. The weight wouldn't fully leave until he returned completely to his angel form - wings and all - but it was enough for him to truly enjoy the experience.

    Every now and then he would forget about how much he influenced humans and the passing worker or group that was touched by his aura would relax more as his enjoyment spread to them. He felt bad but did nothing to fix it. It didn't hurt to encourage the enjoyment of the arts. After all, a few that passed seemed to have needed his aid, not that he could blame them. For a human with stimulation everywhere and elsewhere, a museum could seem boring, but at least the enjoyment his aura carried seemed to help them create a visit that was truly enjoyable for them. He still hadn't figured out how the emotional influences worked. He hadn't ever tried to push it either but he knew with near absolute certainty that his influences were never beyond what that given person would normally do.

    “Beautiful piece, isn’t it?”

    Michael blinked, bringing himself out of his thoughts to look at the very handsome man standing to his left. He carefully drew his aura to himself, offering with a kind smile, “It certainly is.” He looked back at the piece. “I always enjoy wandering through the older galleries. The amount of work that goes into every piece astounds me every visit.”

    His sudden companion hummed in agreement. “Paints, canvases, tools, all of it made by hand and taught from master to apprentice. Quite the amount of work.”

    “But that doesn’t negate the beauty of modern day pieces where materials and supplies are far easier to access, either,” he amended. “Sometimes having such things more readily available and in wider variety helps the process.” He shrugged. “It solely depends on the artists themselves.”

    “So what is your favorite era of art?”

    He smiled again, this time softly. “I don’t really have one. Each era has so much variety that it’s hard to pick. All of what man has created is magnificent and breathtaking.”

    His companion chuckled. “You’re not wrong.”

    He looked to his companion but the man was looking at his phone, an amused look on the handsome face. He tensed slightly when his companion’s gaze met his own. He found the brown eyes of this stranger were so rich in color, they almost looked red.

    “I must get going,” his companion informed him, giving him a wave with the hand still holding his phone. “Enjoy the rest of your visit.”

    “I hope your day remains joyous as well,” he responded, taking a step after the man without a thought.

    Said man smiled and it looked sharp on the edge. “I plan to.”

    Left alone once more, he sighed and let his aura uncurl a bit again. While humans weren’t always perceptive to his aura moving around them, that particular human had been rather close and he hoped that the man had not been one of the more perceptive of the human race and had noticed him pulling his aura back in.

    He found himself fretting about it too much to enjoy the rest of the gallery. Before he could even make it to the next one, though, he felt the phone in his coat breast pocket vibrate. He pulled it out and found a text from work. Seemed they were short staffed and he was being asked to fill in if he was able to. No longer in the mood to wander the museum, he suppressed his aura fully and started for the exit.

    The drive was short and the lot reserved for staff barely had any cars speaking volumes to how low staffed they really were today. He parked quickly and hurried through the back door.

    "Michael!"

    It was Ryan, one of the best bakers in the whole shop. A glance over revealed the man covered head to toe in flour, not so short hair standing in every direction and a nice gradient from the brilliantly blue hair to the palest of blues due to the flour coating the dyed strands. The man grinned at him, blue eyes flashing with joy. "Man! Are we glad to see you. Get changed. Margaret needs a hand on the floor."

    "Where are the bosses?" he asked, crossing to the lockers hidden behind a wall in the kitchen.

    "Here," a gruff voice answered him as a burly man appeared at the entrance to the small space that housed the lockers. "Change quickly, Engel. As much as much as my sister enjoys being on the floor, we need her in the back helping Ryan."

    Michael yanked his jacket and shirt off, leaving him in a white undershirt. "Who's on floor?"

    "Rebecca." Michael gave his boss a skeptical look as soon as his head was free of his uniform shirt. Said boss merely mirrored the look, raising an eyebrow. "She's not a cook, Engel."

    "She's not a barista either, Boss," Michael countered, rushing to get into his dress pants, a bonus to keeping a spare uniform at work for days like these.

    "Thus why my sister is on the floor. Replace her and we won't have to worry about it."

    Michael nodded and slipped beyond the burly man. It was easy to find his other boss and trade off. He got into the flow of filling drinks as Rebecca worked register and gathering requested food.

    It was insane in the popular cafe and Michael wasn't sure how they were handling all this with only five people on staff. He spotted his gruff boss slipping out of the back a few times to wipe down tables before disappearing into the back again. It was a relief when Nate showed up for his shift. Rebecca left and Michael traded with Nate. Nate was one of their best coffee makers and Michael had no problem manning the register. He was surprisingly good at it, though he was rather doubtful when his bosses always seemed to point at him when the tip jar was just that much fuller at the end of the day, regardless if he was on drinks or at the register.

    "Here’s your cake. Your drink will be ready in a moment," he happily informed the customer he passed the warm slice of cake to. He watched long enough to see the customer slide over to the drink line that had only a few people in it. They were doing great, even as the gruff boss wandered out to do a cleaning run of the tables, floor, and bathrooms. "What can I get started for the next person in line?" he called out, turning his hazel gaze on the next customer with a welcoming smile and his full attention.

    He found the almost red gaze of his brief museum companion. The man had an amused smile on his face as he ordered, “A tall, black coffee, please.”

    “Regular or decaf,” he responded on rote, coming out of his startled staring as the words left his mouth. He forced his gaze to the register so that he didn’t accidentally type the wrong thing in.

    “Regular is fine.”

    “Three fifty.” There was a tap on his shoulder as the man before him pulled out a credit card.

    It was his gruff boss. “Dinner break. I’m here to take over.”

    Michael nodded, tearing the receipt from the printer and passing it to the man on the other side of the counter with a smile. “Here’s your receipt. Your coffee will be right up.”

    He slipped into the back, letting out a shaky breath. What were the odds the man simply showed up at his place of work? Either he had a stalker now or it truly was only coincidence. He jerked back when a plate was shoved into his face. He looked up to find Ryan grinned at him. "Orders from the bosses: dinner on the house."

    The plate held one of his favorite sandwiches they sold as well as a chicken wrap and what they called chisps. They were baked potato slices that were seasoned to excellence and were far better than any potato chip. "You all are life savers." He hasn't realized he had even been hungry till the plate was in his face.

    "You're the life saver here, Michael," his other boss called from somewhere in the kitchen.

    Michael chuckled. "I'll be out back if you need me."

    Ryan gave him a salute and Michael slipped out the back door into the quiet space tucked away for breaks. Every bite was savored but he kept an eye on the clock. He wasn’t quite done yet.

    Michael made it home far too late for a day off. His bosses were gracious enough, though, to swap his shift tomorrow for one later in the day. At least now he could sleep in. The door opened into his dark living space. He kicked off his shoes and didn't bother with a light. The blinds didn't keep out much of the street lamp light so while he couldn't see details, he could see furniture and anything that could possibly be on the floor.

    His room was equally dark, illuminated as well from the street below. He stripped from his work clothes and left them where they fell on the floor. He grabbed the sleep pants on the messy bed and yanked them on sleepily. Screw doing anything else. He clambered into bed and settled down, his brain running far too fast for his exhausted body.

    It kept coming back to the customer just before his break, not that he could figure out why. A part of him felt like he should recognize the man that had ordered the tall, black coffee, the one that had joined him in the gallery.

    He rolled onto his back, staring at the shadows playing faintly on his ceiling. As much as the man had been attractive, God had decreed for no same sex relations among the angels. Michael threw an arm over his eyes, wondering if He even knew that Michael was struggling against such a decree, than Michael was very certain that he was very gay if his thoughts swirling around Mr. Tall Black Coffee were anything to go by.

    He prayed none of his brothers and sisters in Heaven and on Earth were going through this as well. It was infuriating and stressful and quite terrifying. He wasn't sure what God would do if He found out about Michael's affinity for the same sex.

    A thought made him shudder; what if Jesus found out? The past couple millennia had not left the Son of God untouched and Michael was certain that corruption had touched the once pure soul. After all, how could a single creation take on all the sins of man and step away untouched by the experience? Michael felt his heart go out to his brothers and sisters in Heaven dealing with Jesus in his absence. It wasn't often that Jesus listened to him when being told off but being the elder helped, marginally. Jesus was such an ass now that he barely listened to anyone, striving with his own agenda with God blind to it all.

    Michael rubbed at his face, changing thoughts. He found too much focusing on Jesus would summon him and he'd rather not deal with the younger on the mortal world.

    His thoughts turned back to the man that had ordered the tall, black coffee and almost wished they hadn't. While he was glad that he wasn't bound to summon Jesus now - hopefully - he could do without the damning thoughts.

    “So this is where you’ve chosen to stay for your stay down here?”

    Michael jerked upright, hand moving as if to draw a weapon only to still as his gaze landed on the one and only Jesus. The Son of God had a rather pleased look on his face, a glint in his eye that Michael didn’t care for. The hand that had moved towards an absent weapon grabbed at the sheets, throwing them off as he commented sharply, "Heaven above, Jesus. Are you trying to kill me before I have fulfilled His Plan?"

    He stood up, offering his brother a soft smile. Despite the heart attack it was nice to see a face from home, even if it was Jesus. "I do hope you're not causing much mischief down here, Brother. Come," he gestured towards the bedroom door, "let's talk in the kitchen. Do you want anything to drink?"

    “I’m not here for a lengthy visit, Brother,” Jesus spoke. A grin replaced the sudden stoic expression. “In fact, I was actually here visiting someone far less pleasant than you and it got me thinking.”

    Michael took a step back, finding his Brother’s face far too close to his own.

    “It’s been a while since I’ve dropped by to see how you’ve been handling among all the sin of man.” His grin grew even more. “Corrupted, yet?”

    Michael adapted a blank expression. “Are you so eager to cast another Sibling from Heaven, Jesus?”

    Jesus took a couple steps back, shrugging with a smile. “You know I would never want such a thing, dear Brother. Father holds you far higher than any of the angels in Heaven, even the Archangels, of which you are one of.” The look he sent Michael was vicious. “It would be so sad for Father to cast out another Archangel. Could you imagine the chaos that would ensue? The fear? There would be no telling who would go next!”

    Michael’s expression broke. “What happened to you, Jesus?” he asked earnestly. He spread his hands to his sides. “You used to be so kind, so caring, and now you’re nearly as bad as the humans and demons here on Earth and in Hell.”

    He should have watched his tongue as he found his back hitting the mattress hard, Jesus’s hand around his throat. “You forget your place, Brother,” Jesus threatened as he grabbed at Jesus’s wrist with both hands. “Or would you rather I toss your pathetic excuse of an Archangel ass to join Lucifer in Hell? I’m sure he would love your company and love it even more to corrupt you into nothing more than a pleasure slave.”

    Michael kicked the other hard in the gut, getting some distance between them enough for Michael to breathe and sit up, on guard for another attack. Jesus didn’t go very far and Michael glared at him when the other’s face was placed inches from his. “Step out of line again, dear Brother, and I will not hesitate to get you thrown out of Heaven just like Lucifer.”

    Michael blinked and Jesus was gone. He didn’t dare relax, standing and checking his small condo apartment for any signs that Jesus had lingered. With every inch searched, Michael allowed himself to sink down on the edge of the couch with a heavy sigh. Burying his face into his hands, Michael tried to quell the soft tremors coursing through his body from the adrenaline and fear. Even with Michael being the older, Jesus’s threat was not one to be taken lightly. God was blind to what Jesus had become and Michael was going more and more concerned that something had happened to turn God’s gaze from His Son.

    He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, asking the silence, “Why me?”

    There wasn’t an answer.

    He hadn’t expected one anyways.
 
Last edited:
March 2018Monthly Writing Prompts
There is a 100 word minimum to complete the prompt and an alternative 1000 word minimum. I keep with the alternative word minimum.

Be advised:
Some are interlaced with fandoms.
Some can be spooky,
If you find one that needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know. I have not reread these as I posted them as of the date on this post.


  • Waking was slow, difficult, and unwanted, but the nausea that seemed to just crash over him in waves was unrelenting and waking seemed to be the only state his body would let him be in.

    Whatever his forehead was pressed against was warm, almost hot, and he frowned. When had he become so cold?

    He curled towards the heat and his brain finally registered the arms holding him as they tightened at his movement.

    "Easy," came the gentle command from somewhere over his left ear, soft enough not to deafen him out of proximity. That single word rumbled the chest he finally realized he was against, the throat shifting against his forehead as the person carrying him spoke. "I've got you."

    He frowned as his foggy brain dredged up memories as best it could, memories of what had transpired who knew how long ago. "Lucifer?" he asked for the third time, though now the name came out crackly and on a fat tongue. His frown grew at his distaste for the slurring. The person carrying him hummed in a way to acknowledge his inquiry without vocalizing their own inquiry. Michael felt his heart clench as he gripped the expensive shirt covering the broad chest. Something shifted against his arm and he wondered when he had been draped in a coat that smelt all too familiar. "Or Luciano?"

    Again with the slurring but it seemed to have been enough for the man carrying him gave him a clear enough answer. "Both, in one way or another; Luciano is my current façade on Earth and I'll probably be changing it again in a decade or two as I normally do."

    Michael closed his eyes tightly. His brain was moving faster now which meant that it was taking in more from his senses. His sense of sight was finally seeing beyond the little bubble that was him against Lucifer's chest and the view of motion was not helping his nausea. At least he couldn't feel it yet.

    "Why did you let me believe that I was dealing with someone other than my Fallen Brother?" Michael ground against the fat tongue in his mouth. "I was so confused when Jesus brought me before God accusing me of associating with you when I truly thought you were nothing more than another mortal."

    Lucifer's head shifted but with Michael's forehead pressed against the other's neck and his eyes closed, he didn't know specifically how. He also wasn't sure he cared one way or the other.

    "You didn't pick up on my aura on our date?"

    Michael's eyes snapped open and – nausea be damned – he fisted his hands in Lucifer's shirt as he pushed himself away to stare at him. The sudden motion startled them both and Lucifer jerked to a stop in order to keep from not only losing Michael but from losing his own balance. Michael didn't have enough in him to care. Instead, he found himself staring at Lucifer, not Luciano like he had half expected, and that made the words come out higher than he had intended. "Why would you make me think I was going crazy because I couldn't shake the overlay of your face over Luciano's? I thought I was losing my mind!"

    Something crossed Lucifer's expression but the sudden motion and his sudden shrieking had caused his head to start pounding. That, in turn, made his nausea spike and he groaned as he pressed his forehead to Lucifer's shoulder with his eyes squeezed shut.

    Lucifer shifted his weight about enough to bury a hand in Michael's curls. "I apologize if I has caused you such turmoil. It had not been my intent and, to be honest, I had thought you had realized who I was when we had first met here on Earth."

    "I hadn't thought too much on what my aura had been picking up in the gallery so much as trying to not let you realize that I was drawing it back into myself," Michael countered, though there was an edge to his words he had not intended. He silently cursed his frustration with the situation and amended in a softer tone, "After that, I was working in the café surrounded by humans. There was no way I would have let my aura out to even try and sense anything off of you."

    Lucifer chuckled and Michael felt it rumble through his arms into his chest. It didn't help his headache. "No, no. Before all that."

    Michael frowned. "Before all that?" He parroted. And before Lucifer could even say a word towards it, the nausea suddenly spiked. With a moan, he quickly uttered, "I'm going to be sick."

    He wasn't sure where they had been nor where they had been heading, but thankfully they had been close enough to some restroom that by the time Michael could no longer suppress the urge to expel whatever his body was rejecting, his face was over some toilet.

    There was no tracking of time nor memories after that. Only impressions stayed with him once the whole ordeal passed and those impressions returned as he laid against Lucifer's chest on the bathroom floor, too exhausted to try to protest or move and far too cold to even think about leaving the furnace that Lucifer seemed to be.

    The first impressions were of Lucifer's constant presence, the other always there and always comforting him in some way: rubbing circles into his back, softly rubbing a damp cloth over the back of his neck and through his hair, cleaning his face.

    Covering his eyes to keep him from seeing what his body was rejecting so vehemently even if the tears did that for him.

    And the more impressions that came, the more confused he got: there were no discernable words but Lucifer's voice wrapped around him regularly, the other's strong arms holding him close in the brief reprieves that occurred.

    Holding him close as he cried.

    Shame washed through him and was quickly followed by self-loathing. He could not remember anything he had blabbed while sobbing turning some of the reprieves but he knew there were many a word he had never intended to share. A sour taste that had nothing to do with bile filled his mouth; out of all the people to lose it in front of, Lucifer had never been high on his list. He had idolized his Brother and had done everything to be seen as worthy enough. Now he was nothing more than a Fallen afflicted by some human illness that had degraded him down to the level of babbling moron.

    Lucifer shifted under him and Michael opened his eyes. The bathroom was spacious, well decorated, and he couldn't help but wonder where they had ended up. "Are you feeling well enough to move to the bed?"

    "Bed?" Michael echoed faintly, trying to get beyond the exhaustion to remember if Lucifer had ever mentioned where they were at.

    Lucifer's hand through his hair was oddly soothing and he found himself settling against Lucifer again, almost slipping off to sleep only for Lucifer's voice to cut through gently. "I was able to make it to my home. We're in the bathroom attached to my bedroom."

    There was his answer, then. "I doubt I'll be vomiting any time soon. I doubt there's anything left my body can expel anyways."

    Lucifer hummed but Michael wasn't sure if that was because Lucifer had nothing to add or had kept from saying something else. There was movement under him before he was up in Lucifer's arms once more. He wasn't sure how the other male was able to carry him without obvious strain and probably would have asked under different circumstances. Instead, his muddled brain bypassed the question and went straight to letting out a contented moan as he was placed on a mattress that enveloped him so complete that he nearly fell asleep at that moment. It was only the covers being pulled over him and Lucifer's voice that kept him from slipping under completely.

    "I'll be in the living room if you need me. Just shout or reach me with your aura."

    Michael shifted about and blindly grabbed for Lucifer. Fingers ensnared fabric and he clung to it vehemently, Lucifer's body heat slipping beyond the fabric confirmation that he had indeed grabbed the other. "Why are you leaving?"

    Amusement washed over him and he blatantly realized that Lucifer's aura was not currently restricted. "Because you need sleep and I want to watch some tv for a while."

    "You have a tv in here," Michael protested, though he didn't know that for sure. He couldn't remember actually seeing one.

    "It'll keep you up," Lucifer countered, his hands gentle as he pried Michael's fingers from the fabric and confirming Michael's blind accusation.

    Michael snorted into the pillow that smelt not of Luciano but Lucifer, as if the other slept in his proper human form rather than the façade he portrayed to the public, not that there was much difference between either. "I'm going to be dead to the world in all of two seconds. Stay and watch your show. I don't want to rid you of your bed."

    And that had been the unintentional display of his distress. And while he would rather not have said that, he truly did not want Lucifer leaving. The thought of being left alone, of being vulnerable to Jesus's antics, and of having to face another bout of vomiting should it occur also brought to focus that he was imposing on Lucifer and Lucifer's home.

    Comfort wrapped around him as Lucifer brought Michael's knuckles to his lips. Michael wondered if he had accidentally spoken his distress more than he had already unintentionally had done.

    "Alright, I'll stay," Lucifer conceded against the skin of Michael's knuckles before lowering Michael's hand back to the mattress. "But if I'm keeping you up, let me know."

    Michael hummed an affirmation. When Lucifer moved away, Michael found it hard not to just pass out. He waited, listening as Lucifer shuffled about, the sound of fabric and things getting dropped or tossed filling the silence in spirts, until finally the other side of what Michael quickly discovered was a massive bed dipped under the other Fallen's weight. Lucifer's presence approached along with the weight on the mattress till Lucifer was just beyond what Michael was sure was arm's reach. Already inches from the edge of the bed, Michael couldn't fathom how large this mattress truly was and why Lucifer had such a large bed. Certainly he grew lonely.

    He ignored the anger at their situations, of how Lucifer had the height of luxury while Michael lived among the common folk.

    When he awoke, it was to warm sunlight cutting through a crack between the blackout curtains and filtered through the sheer curtains beyond. He also woke up alone in the massive bed in an unfamiliar room. At least he felt better, if not a bit groggy and quite grimy. He must have had a fever that broke while he slept.

    While angels never got sick, living in human forms certainly made them more susceptible to an array of illnesses with varying degrees of severity. Because of how he worked and where he worked – too hard and too often – he had come down with the occasional cold or stomach bug but the severity had never been to the level as what he could only presume was the day prior's experience.

    Shifting in the sheets, foggy memories of what had transpired during the height of whatever he had gone through filtered through his mind. The only things that seemed to have settled there were Lucifer and Luciano were the same person and that he had said and done things he would not have normally said and done.

    But what had transpired in Heaven came back crystal clear.

    He let his feet touch the cool floor when he sat up at the bed's edge. Tremors coursed through his body simply at the memories of God's actions and when he tried to get his wings to show, his body fought him tooth and nail.

    The trauma of God ripping his wings into existence made the process of pulling his wings into existence a painstakingly slow process but he had to check, to see. When the last tug was made and the full weight of his wings was on his back once more, he opened his eyes.

    His wings looked dead as they half curled around his shoulders. Any slight shift or tiny twitch would send a cascade of feathers down onto the sheets and carpet lacking any luster that would have normally been there. It wasn't like the feathers seemed to be clinging to the wing structure to begin with and they were so brittle that the one he had picked up broke. The bits of feather caught between his fingers seemed to turn to dust.

    He was disgusted.

    What was even more infuriating was, despite how careful and slow he had been, he could feel blood trickling down his back, seeping into the shirt he wore.

    He should have been more careful.

    "Michael."

    Lucifer's hand was cold even through the shirt on his back and Michael hissed against the touch, though the pain was nothing compared to when God had yanked his wings out. The other's hand stayed, healing energy flowing into his back in an attempt to counter the damage he had inevitably created. Michael quickly moved to his feet, putting distance between them even as it created a shower of feathers. Michael was glad Lucifer's expression was so controlled he couldn't even read it. He was not in the mood for pity. "Don't," he snapped, though what he was telling Lucifer not to do was beyond him.

    "You shouldn't have brought them out," Lucifer spoke evenly. "What healing I can do was nothing compared to what God had done to your back and bringing them back out only opened the wounds again."

    The laugh was dry and sharp. "No kidding," Michael spoke ruefully. "I can feel the blood dripping down my back from these decrepit things."

    Lucifer's expression hardened. "Michael," he warned, but whatever was going to finish the warning off was never spoken.

    "This is great, isn't it?" he went on sarcastically, throwing his hands up as his anger grew. "Absolutely fabulous!" He gestured at Lucifer. "You get to keep wings worthy of any angel despite being a Fallen and what do I get? Decrepit, useless limbs that will probably be featherless in the next hour."

    Whatever Lucifer had been able to do in that brief moment of contact was undone as he forced his wings away, tearing the wounds on his back even bigger and barely even flinching from the pain.

    The feathers didn't disappear.

    "I'm going home," he spoke to the window.

    "Michael," Lucifer spoke again, stepping towards him but Michael stepped around the other Fallen.

    "You can't keep me here, Lucifer," Michael countered, his steady voice quaking at the edges as he paused at Lucifer's side. "Not when I don’t want to be here." There was a pause and he half expected Lucifer to fill it but there were no words from the other. So, Michael gave his last piece, glacing over at Lucifer but not looking at the other's face. "Thank you for your help, Lucifer. I'll let you know when I'm feeling up to company."

    Lucifer didn't stop him on his way out of the bedroom and certainly not across the living space. It wasn't till he had sat down to put his shoes on that Lucifer did anything but it wasn't what he had expected.

    A coat settled on his shoulders, heavy but comforting. Lucifer offered in leau of the coat, "The blood's seeped into the back of your shirt. This will keep it hidden and keep you warm. There's a cold front in town right now and it's quite chilly outside."

    Looking over his shoulder, he found Lucifer already halfway across the apartment heading down some hallway. Baffled but not at all deterred, he finished putting his shoes on before slipping his arms into the sleeves. He found his keys on the table near the door and stepped out.

    The coat smelt of Lucifer.
 
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RPApril Extravaganza 2018An Assortment of Writings

RPApril Extravaganza is an annual event on a different site centered around writing. Each section contains the content for that given event.

Before you dive in, I did write to the limit to all prompts with word count caps, partially because I'm a sadist and partially because I wanted to push myself this year. A few were simply because the story got away from me as well.
Single Piece Events
Paw-Print: My Story - Dog

Our pets watch us dance like crazy around the house or pick up that food we dropped after the 5 second rule. They see that secret side of ourselves that we only show at home. And we allow them to see...because they can never tell another soul how embarrassing we truly are!! HOWEVER!! We are not alone in our silliness. Occasionally, we catch them doing something silly. You watch your cat go skidding over ice and then try to act like they meant to do that...or a dog trying to get through a door with a stick that is far too big!! But I’m curious and I am sure some of you are too…. What do animals do when we are not around to see them!! Are they as silly as ourselves...or do they plan for WORLD DOMINATION!! So I ask of ye, my wonderful fellow RPAer’s, what do animals do when they are by themselves! Please write in first person point of view. Minimum word count is 100 and maximum word limit is 1500.

Scribble a Little Poem

Inside all of you I can see
A poet waiting to be set free!

So during this month of games and fun
Let that poet free to run!

28 days you have to make your rhyme
Be sure it's submitted to the thread on time!

It can be about love or the beach,
Dogs, mountains, hockey, or a ripe, juicy peach!

Only once may you enter this contest
Guidelines? Restrictions?- we put those to rest!

On the 30th the winner will be revealed,
Until then, the badge shall be concealed!

So go ahead, take a risk and try,
Spread your poet wings and fly!


The Big Boss Story

This years' prompt for the ultimate short story contest is :

"All of a sudden, I realized... this was what I'd been looking for all along!"

The contest will take place from 4/1/18 till 4/23/18. Min. 1000 words and Max. 3000 words. Make sure you include the prompt, in it's entirety, somewhere in your story.



Time for Haiku

A Haiku is a simple poem, composed of three lines. The first and third line have five syllables, and the middle line has seven. There's no particular theme. Each participant may submit up to TWO entries.


  • My two leggeds are talking again, moving about in the other area, but I have found the perfect spot in the sun where the floor is cool but the sun is warm and I just, I don't want to move. I'm comfy.

    They've coming closer. Maybe I should look up? I open eye to see my human enter the area I am napping in and I raise my head. I know that. That is not normal fur. That is outdoor fur. I know my tail is thumping on the floor but I do not care. My human has come over and petted my head, my face, my back, because of it but my nose fills with the scent of outside and it makes me wake up completely. My tongue lulls out one side as I pant, looking up at my human with my tail still thumping against the floor. 'Outside?' I want to ask but my human would not understand so I don't ask. I watch, I listen, and I try and understand but their words make no sense. I know those inflections, though. My human and my other two leggeds are happy. They seem excited, even.

    I get up and shake out my fur. Thoroughly fluffed, I pad over to my human and look at the other two leggeds, watching, waiting.

    The smallest of the two leggeds are sitting. Are they putting tougher paws on? I watch one grab one of the tougher paws and my tail goes nuts. I start bouncing about, stretching and panting happily. I want to bark but my human doesn't like me barking and I don't want to make my human sad now that they are happy.

    My human has knelt before me. Their hands are soft and gentle in my fur as they talk to me. I don't think I'm going but I lick my human's face anyways. I like how it makes them laugh and rub my face. They press their strange shaped face into the fur between my ears before getting up. I watch, staying close. Maybe they will take me with anyways.

    My human is the last to step into the outside. They look back at me and tell me things that I do not understand but am familiar with. It is their way of saying they will be back. I just have to be patient.

    Patient.

    I can be patient.

    My human will come back and they will be just as happy as when they left. Happy human is a good human.

    Wait, won't they be happy? Tallest of the other two legged is with my human constantly. They do things I do; they make my human happy and they are kind like my human is, though I prefer my human's pets. Tallest two legged gives best butt scratches, though. They will watch over my human.

    How long have I been sitting here? Are they back yet?

    But will they? What if my human gets lost? Will tallest two legged be able to find my human?

    I do not like these thoughts. Maybe the plush mound with the noise box is better for seeing them return.

    I pad into the area with the noise box - one of several, in fact, but this one is favorite of two leggeds - and hop up onto the plush mound. There is a see-through behind the plush mound. I have learned how to see beyond the see-through's coverings but they are open today so I simply put my front paws on the back of the plush mound and look out the see-through, It is better than the not-see-through the two leggeds and my human exited through. I can't see if my human and the other two leggeds have returned through it.

    There are loud things outside. They are safe. They give rides to two leggeds and others like me. My human's loud thing is nice. I like the back plush but my favorite plush when there is no other two legged is the plush next to my human in the front of the loud thing. There my human pets me and does collar scratches as they watch out the see-through of the loud thing.

    See-through, see-through....

    Maybe I should check the large see-through to the outside. Maybe human left it open. Oh! Maybe human and two leggeds did!

    The ground doesn't give when I jump from the plush mound in the area with the noise box but I am able to keep traction on the soft ground. I like the soft ground. I hurry into the area for food and find that the big see-though is indeed closed. I press my nose against it to make sure. The see-through doesn't like it when I do that. It stops being see-through when I do that. Human gives big see-through baths when I do it often.

    I try the hole with a not-see-through over it. The not-see-through swings into the outside and I happily push into the outside., into my outside. I book it to the outside soft ground and sniff about. There have been bunnies and birds but I do not smell the cat from yesterday. Good. I must protect my human from strange animals.

    My human.

    I turn and try the far side of the inside, looking for a hole in the tall thing that keeps my outside separate from the outside. There isn't one. I try the entirety of the tall thing but find nothing. I go back to the inside through the hole in the wall past the not-see-through.

    I go back to the plush mound in the area with the noise box. The noise box is quiet. I like it quiet when my human or the other two leggeds are not there. I sit on plush mound and watch the outside through the see-through. I can wait.

    I wait.

    There are many things in the outside. I do not mind. They do not come near mine though the animals like to. The other things do not. No strange two leggeds are allowed.

    I don't like being on the plush mound. It makes me tired. I get up and return to the not-see-through that leads to the outside. My human and two leggeds will return through it. I will wait here.

    Maybe I will nap. Yeah, nap. I lay down on the cool hard ground close to the not-see-through and rest my head on my paws. I doze but sleeping on side is more comfortable. I lay on my side and hope my human is ok.

    I miss my human.

    I miss my two legged pack.

    I hope they come home soon.
The Triple Threat
The Triple Threat
How far can you twist your imagination? In this contest, writers will be given three unrelated themes to merge into a great short story! But the challenge doesn't end there - we want you to write three stories - one each week for the first three weeks of April. At the end of the month, an esteemed panel of judges will announce the winning author, as well as prizes awarded to all who managed to write a story each week that incorporated all three themes. Minimum of 300 words per story.


  • The trees rushed by, the windows streaked with the last of the rain. Beside him in the back of the car was his twin sister with the file they had been handed before their departure. He had already read it but that didn't mean that he wasn't thinking about what awaited them. The fact that they were given a file spoke far more than either of them cared to acknowledge.

    The scene wasn't a pretty one if what the detective had said over the phone was accurate, not that he expected the detective to have embellished or diminished the scene in any way. And, if he was being honest, no scene was a pretty one.

    Especially cases with children.

    But this scene - this particular case - was rubbing him the wrong way. While there were the obvious signs as to why he was being called in, there was something else going on that he couldn't quite put his finger on and it was clear at how his sister was glaring at the file that she was on the same wavelength.

    The car came to a stop as his twin closed the folder. He took it when she passed it to him and tucked it under his arm as the car door opened. He caught her gaze, the flick of her fingers, and he let out a breathy chuckle. He agreed with her fullheartedly. Something smelt fishy and it wasn't the location. He climbed out and nodded in thanks to the driver. He looked over the small crowd of onlookers as his sister climbed out.

    "Are you sure you don't want me to drive you to the location?" the driver asked.

    "I'm sure," he offered in turn. "Thank you for dropping us off."

    The driver nodded but said no more at the twins started towards the small crowd.

    The crowd shifted around them, ebbing and flowing as people mingled at the road blocks. He looked about as he made his way through, the different scents washing over his senses and counting heads as he went. By the time they had reached the barrier, he had a pretty decent catalog of those present just by scent alone. His sister would have gotten those he had missed as she joined him and knew she had their faces recognized. She was far better at that then he was.

    They were not stopped when they passed the wooden barriers. In fact, the two cops that would normally have stopped them recognized him, meaning that he and his sister were left alone. He took the first steps down the long drive and as soon as it turned, there was silence.

    The trees were so thick here, even the soft murmur of those waiting at the barrier were silenced, the faintest of sounds bounding down the drive towards them only to be muffled and stop completely once they stepped far enough. All that was left was the ambiance of the forest at night and the low rumble of thunder from the storm that had just passed.

    She shifted first, one second a human, the next a wolf. He followed her not a second later and the pads of his feet pressed into the damp soil. His nose flared as his ears twitched, things far more heightened now that they were fully in their secondary form. What's more was that they could now see better and they started trotting down the drive, picking up scents and watching for clues.

    Whether a disappointment or the cunning of any suspects, many were familiar in the sense that they smelt of emergency personnel. A few he recognized and could name.

    None matched any from the crowd yet.

    The location's seclusion seemed to be working in their favor as he and his sister returned to their primary forms as they touched the edge of the main property. There was an argument going on and he was not looking forward to interrupting any sort of argument. The main antagonizer was someone he recognized only by scent. With the antagonizer was the detective that had called him, an officer, a special cases agent, and someone who was probably the field medical examiner.

    It wasn't till they were a few yards away that the antagonizer snapped his gaze to them and pointed at them with a sausage finger. "And who is this?" the man demanded.

    "I was asked to come by Detective Hansen." He looked to the detective and the detective nodded in greeting. He returned it. "The detective thought our skills would come in handy."

    "Who is THAT?"

    He felt an eye twitch when the man pointed the sausage finger at his twin. He resisted the urge to break the finger between his teeth. Instead, he looked behind him, verifying that the man was indeed pointing at his sister. "That would be my twin sister."

    "You have a twin?"

    The question was a simple inquiry, one that broke through the man's anger and turned most of the attention towards the approaching personnel. The questioner was a petite woman with a kind face and a curious gaze. She had someone with her he did not recognize.

    He nodded. "There's a reason why it says Markette Twins in your directory. Generally most cases don't require us both but for some reason Hansen thought we were both needed for this one." He looked to the detective with a narrowed gaze. "While the file was useful, it doesn't explain why you need us both. It seems like a simple missing persons case."

    It was the petite woman who informed him, "I am glad to see that the file given to you was filled to my discretion. There had been some information I wanted kept out of it in case others wanted to read it." She turned, gesturing for them to follow. "Come on. I'll show you what we left out. Detective Hansen, if you would please join us."

    The antagonizer from before stopped, grumbling about agencies meddling in his work. He arched an eyebrow at the man but did not attempt to question what he meant till they were out of ear shot and even then, the petite woman beat him to it.

    "He's from the local police force," she offered in explanation. "He was not at all ok with ICARUS coming in."

    He arched an eyebrow. "Did he even know about ICARUS before you showed up?"

    She laughed. "No but a call from a very high personnel got him to shut up." She looked at him, her eyes briefly flashing in the low light as she grinned, teeth surprisingly sharp now. "It's been fun keeping him out of the loop."

    "Madam, please be nice," Detective Hansen urged, quickening his pace to be beside her.

    "Any others I should know about?" he asked, returning to the main reason why they were there. "Any quillas or agir present? Any manipulators? Or is this team mostly human and vicuran personnel?"

    "We have one angen and two controllers, a water and an earth. Beyond me and now you two, there are only two other vicuran present and two other humans from ICARUS."

    He frowned. "Small team."

    She stopped at the front door, looking back at him. "Didn't need a big one for this."

    She pushed it open into what had appeared upon approached to be a rather old but well kept home of two stories. The paint on the building was fresh, the roof was relatively new, and all the windows and the front door had been recently upgraded. The house had even been washed recently. But when the door was pushed open and he stepped inside, it appeared to be abandoned, barring the curtains on the windows that kept onlookers from peeking in and seeing empty rooms and a number of lamps, each on complicated looking timers.

    His sister tapped his shoulder and he caught her fingers flickering out of the corner of his eye. He voiced her comment, though it had been running through his own head. "Someone's gone through a lot of effort to make this place look lived in."

    "A gardener was hired so that there was always fresh tire tracks and footprints around the property," Hansen explained as the petite woman led them through the home. "He was the one that called us."

    "A vicu with rodent forms. He smelt the trouble without knowing what was wrong," the petite woman explained. "Nice man, if a bit up in years."

    "64," Hansen told them, not that he cared much about the vicu's age. "Nearly had a heart attack from what he found."

    They stopped at the door that he was certain led to a basement of sorts. "And do I want to know what he found?"

    She looked at them, her gaze hard. "No, but you're going to see it anyways. I'd advise keeping your senses dulled. Too many have gotten overwhelmed by this."

    Down the stairs she led them, Hansen behind his sister, his sister behind him as he followed the woman. He had been right, it was a basement, but it was finished, well furnished, and a mess. Even without heightened senses, the scents were pungent and made his eyes water as he covered his nose with his shirt. His sister did the same but she moved further into the space, aiming for the hallway on the one side.

    "He came across the smell?" he clarified, watching as his sister's ears shifted into wolf ears, one pointed at them, the other twitching this way and that, listening.

    "It had gotten so bad that even the new windows and walls couldn't hold it anymore," Hansen explained muffled behind a cloth he had produced from who knew where. The only one not covering their nose was the petite woman. Her expression was hard as her gaze swept over the space. His sister disappeared down the hallway. "It seems that whoever had been living down here wasn't much for cleaning up after themselves."

    "They've been down here for months if any of the food decomposing is anything to go by," the woman explained, "but that isn't why we called you in."

    A sharp whistle - one he was very familiar with - came from the hallway. The woman smiled as he started for his sister. "It would seem your sister has found why we brought you in."

    He followed the same path his sister had taken and wandered the long hallway. He frowned, looking behind him at the woman, Hansen behind her. "This leads out from under the house," he pointed out, wanting a confirmation as he dropped his hand. The scent of damp soil was just barely there underneath the remaining pungent smells.

    The woman nodded. "Quite a ways, too."

    They walked on and at first he thought it was just a hallway till he caught sight of an open door. He jogged to it and came to a room he found his sister in.

    His eyes snapped all around but there was no sign of the child that had clearly been housed there. His sister was standing in the middle of the room, holding something, and as soon as he was done looking around, he was at her side and looking over her shoulder.

    It was a child's drawing, one that made him frown and want to touch but he settled for holding onto his sister's arms, smelling the same thing she had.

    Her fingers twitched, and he couldn't help but agree.

    This was certainly one mystery they were not going to like. Not at all.
Five Words, One Story
Five Words, One Story
Anything can inspire you to write. A movie, a song, a picture….a collection of random words posed to you by a strange Scottish lady? Excellent!! Every Friday five things will be posted. It is up to the writer to make them into a short story!! Let your imagination go wild, dream up a land where frogs and kettles coexist in harmony or a terrifying tale of a motorbike driven by a killer pigeon!!!! Entries may be anywhere from 500 to 1,500 words!

Each week's words are in bold.


  • He was bent low over the handlebars of his motorbike against the harsh setting sun. His scarf, red from the blood of his enemies, snapped and waved behind him in the wind, a flag of who he was as he made his way across the barren desert. There was no sign of relief from either the heat or the unstoppable thirst that ate at him. What water he had was long since dried up and it was only him and his trusty motorbike taking on the expanse of desert.

    With no sign of shade or water, he pressed on with the hope tha-

    A sandstorm came out of nowhere and a horse suddenly appeared.

    "Mom! Amy's messing up my story again!"

    The afternoon sun was high above the backyard. A boy was kneeling in the sandbox with a toy motorbike in hand, a red ribbon tied around the driver's neck as if it were a scarf. In front of the boy was a girl younger than he was with a plastic horse in the way of his toy.

    "Bryce, she just wants to play with you," a woman called from the deck, a dripping watering hose in hand. "Why don't you include her in your story?"

    Bryce made a face. "But she's too little! She'll just mess everything up."

    "You could always learn how to play with her," his mom offered, voice amused.

    Bryce rolled his eyes. "But I don't want to."

    "Then I don't know what to tell you." She looked at him, serious but kind. "However, that sandbox is for both of you so you have to share. I understand that it is upsetting when you want something to go a certain way but things change regularly and being willing to work with the change instead of against it will make things easier."

    Bryce made a face again. "I don't want to."

    His mom chuckled. "None of us do, love, but it is what it is." Amy plopped down in the sand, plastic horse still in hand as she watched him. Bryce scooted away, not at all happy with her presence. "You will learn to be happy with being able to adapt to new things easily in a few years."

    "No I won't," he spoke stubbornly, nudging his sister's approaching toy away with his hand.

    "Ok," his mom said and the conversation fell away as she went on watering the plants.

    Bryce, for his part and with one eye on his mom, scooted his sister to the farthest corner of the small sandbox. She giggled, clapping her hands as best she could with the toy horse still firmly clutched in one. Situating himself once more, he went back to his storytelling.

    Time was running out. He needed to make it to the other side of the desert before-

    Amy's hand wrapped around the ribbon trailing behind his toy and pulled hard.

    "Hey!" he shouted, yanking on his toy to get the ribbon out of her hold. She was holding on much tighter than he had realized and the ribbon stayed in her grip. "Let go!" She giggled, finding this an enjoyable game as he yanked on it again. "Let go!"

    He gave one last yank and the head of the motorbike's driver broke off, the ribbon slipping from the rest of the toy with it. He watched it bounce off of Amy's forehead. He sat there too stunned to feel anything as he watched his sister's eyes well up with tears.

    She started crying and suddenly he was mad, very mad. His favorite toy was now missing its head and it was all his sister's fault. Without thinking, he picked up her plastic horse and threw it as far as he could. It bounced off the nearby fence and landed in the mud.

    "Bryce!"

    He flinched and, just like that, he went from being very mad to suddenly very scared. He looked up, defiance still keeping him from actually cowering and he gave his dad a look. However, instead of looking angry like Bryce had thought the man would be, instead the man looked very calm. Bryce folded his arms and looked away as his dad squatted beside the sandbox. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Amy get picked up and jealousy rushed through him. Why wasn't his dad holding him? He was the one with a broken toy.

    "Hey, bug-a-boo," his dad cooed. Amy's crying calmed to sniffles as her attention turned to their dad. Bryce didn't look over but he kept listening. "Does your head still hurt?"

    There was an affirming hum along with another sniffle.

    "Do you want me to kiss it better?"

    Bryce didn't hear nor see what she had done but he was certain she had nodded, forehead nestled on their dad's shoulder. There was the sound of his dad kissing Amy's forehead. "All better?"

    Probably another nod for his dad turned his attention on Bryce. "Bryce." Bryce looked over even though he didn't want to. His dad reached out and ruffled his hair. "You ok, buddy?"

    Bryce shook his head. "Amy broke my toy."

    His dad's head tipped to the side still completely focused on the boy. "It was an accident. You know that, right?"

    "But she pulled on the ribbon!" Bryce shouted, flailing his arms.

    His dad nodded. "That she did, but her intent had not been to break the toy, had it? What had she wanted to do?"

    Bryce frowned, already used to his parents and their odd ways with dealing with these kind of things. "She wanted to play with the ribbon."

    "Right." His dad shifted so that he was sitting crosslegged by the sand box. "And had she been older, what would you have done instead of yelling at her?"

    "Asked her to let go," he grumbled, looking away.

    "And since she's younger, what do you have to do instead?"

    Bryce sighed, annoyed. "I have to be careful and understanding. I have to give her something else to play with."

    "And if she wants to play with you?"

    Again Bryce sighed but this time he was kind of resigned to it all. "Then I take the time to play with her till she is distracted by something else."

    "Correct. Now." His dad shifted Amy to his other leg. "What would you have felt had the toy broken and hit you in the forehead?"

    "Upset," he spoke without thinking. "And confused."

    "Right. And then how would you have felt had someone thrown your toy into the mud after that had happened?"

    "But my-" Bryce started, angry again.

    "I know, Bryce," his dad soothed. "Can you answer the question for me, at least?"

    Bryce grumbled for a second before he did. "I would have been more upset."

    "Right." There was footfall on the other side of the sandbox and Bryce looked up to see his mom walking over, hose in one hand, freshly rinsed horse in the other. His dad continued talking as his mom handed Amy her horse. "Sometimes we do things out of our emotions we would not like others to do to us. When that happens, when we do something we would not like, we apologize. We say sorry and mean it before correcting our actions or making amends. Sometimes others will not want to hear it but I'm sure your sister would be happy if you were able to apologize, mean it, and do something different."

    "But what about my toy?" Bryce asked, not willing to let that piece up.

    His dad smiled. "Your mom's already fixed it."

    Bryce looked over and found that indeed his mom had fixed it. The biker's head was back on and the ribbon back in place as a scarf. He took it when his mom handed it to him. He turned his toy over, mulling all this over for a moment, before turning to meet his sister's watching gaze. "I'm sorry, Amy," he said and he meant it. "Do you still want to play?"

    Her face lit up and she squirmed out of their dad's lap back into the sand. His dad reached out and fixed the sunflower barrette holding back Amy's hair before stepping away with his mom. Bryce settled back into the sand and placed his toy before him. His sister placed her plastic horse beside the bike.

    The journey for freedom from the hot sands would be long and hard for both of them, he was certain. As his red scarf trailed behind him in the wind, he looked over at the rider beside him, a girl on top of a strong horse, a sunflower tucked into her braided hair and the sun glinting off of the shackles around her wrists and ankles. She was beaming at him and he smiled back behind his scarf. It would be worth it, though, he decided. There was no other companion he wanted on this journey than her.

    It was her freedom they were fighting for anyways.
Writing Marathon
The Writer's Marathon
This event forces writers out of their comfort zone and into the challenge presented. Every day a new prompt will be available for writers to look at and take up the challenge of. The writer is given 48 hours to complete the prompt. Each entry must have 100 words but can go over. There is a maximum of 1000 words.

This is a continuation from RPApril Extravaganza 2017's Writing Marathon and prompts are bold in each entry.

Day 01: The Fool
Day 02: Deja Vu
Day 03: Black Sheep
Day 04: Cowboy
Day 05: Mistaken
Day 06: Kittens
Day 07: Birthday
Day 08: Reflection
Day 09: Apology
Day 10: Glare
Day 11: Answers
Day 12: Elephant
Day 13: Debate
Day 14: Rainbows
Day 15: Warning
Day 16: Avalanche
Day 17: Perfection
Day 18: Let it snow
Day 19: Spaceship
Day 20: Caterpillar
Day 21: Travel
Day 22: Communicate
Day 23: Insanity
Day 24: Mirror Mirror
Day 25: Lullaby
Day 26: Criminal
Day 27: Memory
Day 28: Catastrophe
Day 29: Adventure
Day 30: The End

  • A static, low and faint, filled the void. After a while, other noises joined it: the shifting of cloth on cloth, a pair of rubber soled shoes connecting with ceramic tile rhythmically, a door opening and closing.

    When the door opened, more noises were heard, though none were truly distinguishable. Though, if things were being heard right - and far clearer once the door closed - there was electricity buzzing, something sparking, and the sound of several different liquids doing several different things.

    The something sparking stopped, though, when the door clicked shut.

    "Aw, Diggory. I was wondering when you would be showing up." There was the sound of movement but it was not as close as the original sounds had been. It was about the same distance as whatever had been sparking. "Hard to get much work done when I'm lacking my assistant." There was a pause filled by the ambiance of the room before a chuckle was formed by the voice speaking. "Well, come on." Again, movement, and this time the voice sounded muffled, as if there was something in the way of the sound. "I doubt you need an engraved invitation."

    The sparking sound picked up once more.

    "What is the Crystal Heart?" a new voice asked, this one much louder, as if it was coming from the same point as the shoes on the tile had ended just beyond the door.

    This time the first voice gave a chortle. "We have been working on this project for five years and just now you are asking what it is we are making?" The voice became muffled again. "Please, Diggory. I am sure you could answer that far more eloquently than I can."

    The rubber soled shoes against ceramic tile picked up again at a much faster pace, the sound of rubbing cloth as equally hurried as the second voice, the much louder, much closer voice spoke urgently, "No." The sound of shoes stopped as something solid hit a hollow surface, the rubbing cloth dying away. "What is the Crystal Heart?"

    "Where did you get that?" the first voice asked, voice grave and heavy as it came from the left, much closer now than it had been originally.

    "While I had been cleaning the lab last week like you had told me to do. It was open to this."

    "You should have well and left it alone," the first voice spoke, though it sounded as if it wasn't aimed in the same direction anymore. The sound of sparking kicked up again.

    "How could I have left it well enough alone when the goddamn title was what we were working on!" the first voice challenged at a higher volume.

    "That is nothing but a fairy tale!" the first voice shouted.

    "IT'S A GODDAMN WEAPON!!" bellowed the second. The ambiance of the room was deafening. The second voice spoke again, softer but still as sharp. "Professor, I am not stupid. I may be naive, but I am not slow. I have found probably most of what has been written about this to have a very good idea of what you are attempting and I can't let you."

    The first voice laughed. It was sharp, it was brief, and it was anything but humorous. "Let me? LET ME?! You expect me to believe that my lowly assistant can stop me from creating the ultimate tool for creation?!"

    "It is a weapon of mass destruction!" the second voice countered, a plea on the edge of the words. "Professor, this will not only kill this planet but every planet in existence. Every star. Every planet. Every single molecule will be destroyed if you manage to create this."

    The following silence was far longer than anything else. There were clicks and clatters but it was irregular and not always in the same location.

    Finally, the second voice spoke again. "Please, Professor. Don't go down this path. You do this, and everything we've been doing, everything we've created up to this point will be for not."

    The first voice gave a low chuckle. "You think it will all be for not? That all this will be for not!?" The first voice got louder, as if its source had gotten much closer, yet the volume of the voice dropped to a threatening rumble. "This was all for the final product, Diggory. I gave my life to this project, I gave you a life with this project. A homeless boy starving on the streets with no where to call home, beaten nearly to death. I took you in, I gave you a purpose." There was the sound of something shifting and though the voice's volume did not change, it moved away, causing the appearance of being softer. "And now you see it fit to bite the hand that feeds you. You are a fool, Diggory." The voice spoke, muffled as if directed elsewhere. "Leave. Now. Before I call security."

    "I'm sorry, Professor," the second voice offered, heavy with emotions that were indistinguishable between each other. There was the sound of something being picked up and then a heavy book softly thudding close. "But if either of us is the fool, it is you. You will only bring your own destruction with this plan of yours."

    The first voice exploded. "GET OUT!!"

    A silence settled that even the ambiance of the room could not fill. It seemed to last for an eternity before there was the sound of shoes scuffing against tile before softly connecting rhythmically with the ceramic. The rhythmic sound stopped in exchange for the sound of the door opening. There was a pause with the sound of shifting cloth.

    "I hope it works, Professor. If not for everyone sake's, then at least yours."

    The door clicked shut, shutting out the sounds of the room left behind.

    He opened his eyes with either the dream or the memory rolling about through his mind. Electricity shot down his spine at the slightest twitch and he hissed in pain.

 
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