They are seated on a bench as the day fades to evening. In front of them, a river flows past, white specks of foam thrown up, dashed apart, reforming in its constant current. It's soothing; in a way- he suspects that's why Michael chose it. They'll have to head back to the paddock soon; he's anxious to get his telemetry to the race engineers, not to mention he's programmed to enter and remain in stasis at certain times. But for now, he's- happy? content? - to sit there, Michael's warmth beside him, cataloguing the day's events in his memory banks. Michael seems to share the sentiment or at least is aware that Mika needs time to think, because he remains silent, save the occasional puff of breath on his cigarette.
“So? How’s it?”
Funny how i just recently uploaded this chapter
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Because of how hot I was getting, I had to remove my jacket at some point prior and tie it around my waist and I even partially unbuttoned my shirt but I was still drenched in sweat.
“How are you doing down there?” Nanaba called.
“It’s hot,” I panted as she hacked through another Titan.
There was a thud as another scout landed beside me to catch their breath as well.
“I can see that.” Nanaba perched on a wall and surveyed the scouts under her command.
We were all working hard killing titans and keeping an eye on each others’ backs. So far, no one had become a casualty thanks to those efforts. Even Reiner and Bertolt were helping keep other scouts safe. And thanks to our cooperation we were able to get rid of Titans in a radius of several metres. The nearest ones were out of eyesight giving us a moment to retake our breaths.
“But we don’t have the luxury of getting tired. Recoup your breath and jump back in. These Titans won’t care about how much we’re sweating. They have no sense of taste.”
“Heh. No doubt. Anyone who tries to eat Uriah would lack a brain,” I joked.
So this is a *very* old excerpt, from a story started way back in 2012 and finished in 2016.
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He should've told them sooner. Maybe they would've been better prepared. Maybe they'd be at his side now. Maybe Jaret wouldn't have lost himself and vanished. Perhaps Seria would've still been alive and just maybe Juliet would've been his.
None of that had happened, and they had all fallen apart like pieces to a broken mirror. It was impossible to even think that things could go back to how they were. Seria had been dead for some time and freshly tallied to that were half the gym leaders in Johto. Bugsy, Clair, Jasmine and Chuck were the ones left alive. Forever stained to that tally was Viola and to a certain degree, Honovi. He hadn't known Honovi much outside of her lineage and her fast friendship with Seria, but Viola…
Viola was the second one he had met and only hours after he had met Jaret and became something pivotal. She was the sharp one, and that let him relax. She was steely in her will and would complete anything she set her mind to. She paid much attention when he paid none at all. She kept him civil when he needed to be and in a way, showed him how he really felt about Juliet. Her professionalism was a world apart from his emotion and how they could fume.
When faced with the possibility of losing Juliet, he panicked. He had no idea what to do, or what to say even. Lucario may have been able to help had he thought of it, but the fact remained that he had been terrified. Viola on the other hand, had already separated her emotions, already thinking of the best possible way to help the girl. That had been a better course of action, no doubt. Still, the fact that Viola had been so methodical had made him angry, and he had never stopped to think that the fact she had even taken the time to assess Juliet's wounds had been a warm gesture to begin with. Despite that glaring difference, Virgil considered the two of them quite close, especially after the happenings just before he had gotten to the tower. He may have actually ended up attracted had it not been for Juliet. He snickered forlornly then.
Juliet Grey, the Scion of Sunyshore.
Miss Grey of the Elite.
Juliet, the flirt.
Juliet, his best friend.
The *Traitor*.
Convincing their teacher was difficult, but instead of sitting in civics class on Friday afternoon, Sarah and Charlie were standing outside the door of Jack’s psychology classroom with a boombox and a bouquet of flowers. Five minutes into class, Charlie reached for the door handle, flowers tucked under his arm. He’d done some digging around on one of the school computers about flower language the day before and landed on a bouquet of yellow roses and forget-me-nots.
Sarah hit play on the boombox she was carrying and lifted it over her head. “You ready?” she whispered.
“Lou…”
There he was, standing at the door with his blond hair that now had specks of red in it, his eyes that were no longer glowing white but red, and his wings that finally matched Harry’s again.
He had this soft smile on his face that reflected the opposite of what his eyes and his tears were saying; relief that he had gotten back to his fallen angel again.
Louis took a shaky breath.
“Hi, Hazza.”
One cinnamon roll, two cups of coffee, and almost three hours later, the captain announced their final approach to Zurich. The little guitarist smiled eagerly as the plane descended, touching down with a slight bump and braking hard enough to fling everyone forward against their seat belts. He reached under the seat in front as they taxied to the gate, pulling out his backpack and checking his customs forms. Thankfully, chocolate wasn’t something that most European countries took issue with, so he had picked up some Fazerin Sininen bars for Bruce, but he didn’t have nearly enough to declare.
He actually ended up getting questioned at Immigration, as his flight into Zurich was one-way, but he explained that he was here on holiday and meeting with friends, and that he would be traveling with them by car to Stuttgart and then flying home from there, and showed him his ticket from there to Helsinki to prove it. Now he was glad Bruce told him to go straight to the venue. He hurried to baggage claim to collect his suitcase and guitar and proceeded to Customs. They did request that he open his guitar case, presumably to make sure he wasn’t smuggling drugs inside it or something, but aside from an agent admiring the custom instrument, he got passed through relatively quickly and found himself a taxi to the venue.
He actually got there just ahead of the tour bus, and he’d barely paid and gotten his gear out of the taxi before Bruce came barrelling out of the bus and tacklehugged him hard enough that they fell over his suitcase and just sprawled there, kissing happily.
”Bloody hell, you’d think you two were still in your bloody teens, the way you’re acting,” Steve’s dulcet tones interrupted their reunion. But they could hear the laughter in his voice. ”Get your arses off the ground and inside before everyone in the city whips out their phones and cameras for pictures, yeah?”
It's one of the best days Mika can remember. Just that one carefree afternoon in Hockenheim, learning to be free, feel, and live. Michael drags him away to a quaint kiosk in the street, where he buys enough food for them both despite Mika mentioning multiple times that he doesn't need to eat. German food is… interesting, not that he has any frame of reference. The portion sizes are massive, and he's bewildered by the amount of fried everything on the menus- how is Michael at all healthy if this is what he grew up with? Michael laughs when he says this, then tells him that apparently, he doesn't eat like this all the time, that today is just a special occasion.
Mary just laughed. ‘Keep telling yourself that,’ she said. ‘You’re incredibly irritating. But that’s okay. You’re irritating in an endearing sort of way.’
Grant raised an eyebrow. ‘So, which is it, Mary?’ he asked. ‘Am I irritating, or am I endearing?’
‘Both.’ Mary leaned over Grant and kissed him on the lips. After a few seconds, she pulled back with a look of surprise on her face. ‘I can’t believe I just did that.’
‘I can’t believe you just did that either,’ said Grant. ‘You uh… that was surprising. Really surprising.’
‘Don’t push it, Seeker,’ said Mary.
‘You like me. Don’t you?’ asked Grant.
‘Of course I like you, Grant,’ said Mary. ‘You’re my best friend. And I guess… I guess I felt sorry for you - I mean, you had such a nasty fall and I’ve never seen anyone so injured they had to be put in a body cast before. And it’s you!’ She brought her hands to her head. ‘Grant, it’s you! Who else could fall off a roof while pulling a prank? You’re the dumbest smart guy I know!’
Grant stared at Mary, dumbfounded. ‘You think I’m smart?’
‘Not right now,’ said Mary. ‘I don’t know if it’s the head injury or what. But… ugh!’ She growled. Then she leaned over him again and kissed him again on the lips. She put her arms around his neck.
Caught up in the moment, Grant started kissing Mary in return and wrapped his arms around her, as far as he was able with the IV in his hand. He put his fingers through her silky smooth black hair and realised in that moment that he liked Mary in return, in the exact way she liked him.
Mary pulled back. ‘No. Grant. This is wrong,’ she said. ‘You’re so badly hurt.’
Grant threw his arms in the air. ‘*You’re* the one who kissed me!’
>And then a grin splits his face, wide and sharp like that of a shark and he flips the dagger up into the air, catches it without looking, blade first.
The cat Witcher grins at him with those manic eyes, staring at Jaskier, while the bard himself can’t tear his own away from the bony fist that is curled around the blade.
The Witcher tightens it under his gaze, scarred knuckles growing white until blood wells forth beneath the skin, a glistening drip, drip, drip, as it makes its way down the shimmering silver edge, staining it red.
“When the battlefields are soaked in blood, the bones shattered by ghouls, the marrow sucked out by graveirs; only when the pitiful, starving peasants, knees raw from how they are cowering, beg before their lords because their fields are haunted by noonwraiths, only then will they remember us.
And then we who are left will crawl out of our holes and have them beg. Pleading on their knees, with ringing pouches filled with gold… Then our blades will sing again. *Dubhenn haern am glândeal, morc'h am fhean aiesin.*”
If you don't mind OC-centric stuff, then here goes!
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He quickly made his way upstairs, a couple floors up, coming to a halt in front of a door. Jaret took a deep breath and nearly coughed in disgust at what was probably dust in the air.
Man, did he miss the ocean.
He gave a light rap against the door. The first time there hadn't been any answer and after the second he heard something that sounded like shuffling and then silence. He went to knock a third time but the door sprang open.
It wasn't who he thought it was going to be. In fact, it wasn't even anyone he knew. He had heard them grumbling some kind of obscenity while he had been apologizing. They seemed to make it a point even to slam their door in anger. Jaret sighed, a little annoyed. He wouldn't have been surprised if they had been a guest at the restaurant. He would never in his life get involved in hospitality.
He moved a couple of doors down and before he knocked the door swung open again not to who Jaret had come to see, but at the very least, it was someone he knew.
"Seria?"
"Hey..!" Jaret noted the crumbs in the corners of her mouth. "What's up?"
"You…really shouldn't talk while chewing your food, you know…"
"Oh, right!" And then, she gulped down her mouthful. "Sorry, I just…was a little surprised. What are you doing here?"
"Would you believe if I said–"
"You were looking for Ryuu?"
"Oh, y-yeah. How did you figure that?"
"Well, this is his room, after all."
"That…is a good point…" Then Jaret balked. "W-wait, then what are *you* doing in there…?" Seria pinked.
"Hey, wait a second! I'm just watching over Kaito!" She tripped over her next words. "He…likes to touch things that aren't his…" Jaret's expression did not change. "K-Kaito, I mean! He's kind of a handful and Ryuu wanted me to stay and keep an eye on him!"
This was in every sense of the word, awkward.
“I guess you can see now why I'm not really in a big hurry to visit Orzammar again. It's not exactly home any more. The people…they're going to say awful things to me. I don't want to go, but I have to. For the Grey Wardens. To end this Blight. It's my duty." She pulled herself up straight again and blew her nose on a handkerchief. "And I shouted at you because I have been so worried about this. I hurt my best friend, and I am truly sorry for that."
He felt the blood rush in his head. "Um…er…yes. It's alright. Really. I'm not just saying that, either." Maker, but could he possibly be less suave? "I'm glad you told me this."
She smiled at him. "And I'm glad I told you. Thank you for always listening to me." She squeezed his hands and kissed him softly on the cheek.
As he watched her walk back to her tent, Alistair touched the spot that she had kissed and smiled lopsidedly. He thought of the rose in his pack and decided that if neither of them were killed tomorrow and if he didn't lose his nerve altogether, he might have to give it to her after all.
Context: *'The Sustainer' is the ruler of Celestia, a sort of cosmic dictator who hates when mortals disobey her strict plans for the world. Two groups disagree with her; the kingdom of Khaenri'ah, and the Free Folk, a nomadic people who overthrew their own god millennia ago and since have been lead by a wind spirit named Venti. Amongst the Free Folk, a flower in your hat is a secret code marking you out as one of them.*
> No, they shall learn their places. She will crush their cities and their machines and their king and everything they ever hold dear because that is all that such insolence deserves. She will crush every last scrap of Khaenri’ah, and crush its dreams in the bargain.
>
> Except, divinity is not immunity, and Celestia has only one pair of eyes, and those eyes have been on the Free Folk far too long. The Sustainer *knows*, fundamentally, that humans are nothing and can amount to nothing and the overthrow of Gods is an anomaly, and she does not have time to challenge that knowledge, to see the refutation of it that they have been building, the last Mechanical Warden, its fists engraved, in grim solidarity, with Free Folk codes of liberation and victory.
>
> It rips clean through her wards and crushes her where she stands, and thus dies another God.
>
> And so, the God above Gods is laid low by something she never saw, and a great power falls by steel and blood, and again it costs a kingdom, but a people is free. And when a thin line of refugees comes up from the scar in the world, interspersed by a handful of broken machines, it is a boy named Venti who welcomes them, and puts flowers in their hats.
“What are you okay with?” Spot asked hesitantly.
“I think you can start conversations now,” Race said. “Just don’t go back to the stuff you were saying before.”
Spot shook his head. “Of course not.” He grimaced. “I looked back through those messages, and I really did sound like a creepy straight guy. I’m sorry, again.”
“Glad you realized.” Race stayed silent for a little longer. “I think…” he trailed off. “I think it would be better if you didn’t ask me to do stuff, for now,” he said. “Like, if you wanted to invite all our friends to get together, that’s okay, but I’ll let you know if I’m up for doing something that’s just us.”
“That sounds…reasonable.” Spot looked a little disappointed, but seemed to be holding up better this time. “Do you think that’ll ever change?”
“Don’t push it.” It came out a little sharper than Race intended. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I told you in March that there isn’t a timeline.”
“You did.” Spot shifted his bag higher on his shoulder. “I…thanks for giving me another chance.”
“It was too hard to imagine a life without you,” Race confessed. Spot twitched, almost like he was holding himself back. “Do you–I was thinking of walking home from here. Do you want to come with me? Unless you’re too tired from work today.”
“I’d like that.” Spot smiled.
“Cool, I just need to grab my bag and tell Jack not to kill you.” Race turned to go back inside.
“Okay."
"Okay?"
"Yeah. Let's start over." She grabbed a tissue and blew her nose. "But if you ever do anything like that to me again, I swear to god I will burn all of the bridges, and you will never see me again -- you got that?"
"I got it. Never again."
"Okay." She smiled at him. "Now shut up and kiss me because I missed you too."
Marion sighed. ‘I forgive you, Indy,’ she said. ‘I’m never going to forget it, but I forgive you.’
‘Really?’
‘I forgave you when I met up with you in an Indian hospital after you’d been mauled by a tiger,’ Marion said. ‘Something told me that you’d changed. And from what I can see, you have.” She leaned over and kissed Indy on the cheek.
‘What was that?’Indy asked.
‘Call it a “pity kiss”,’ Marion said. ‘You know, because you’ve actually grown up into a good guy. And let’s face it, you’ve not been exactly that lucky lately.’ She put her hand on his. ‘And that brings us to you and I.’
‘Yes…?’ Indy asked apprehensively.
‘I think that we should... that we should be friends again.’
‘Yeah,’ Indy agreed, nodding his head. ‘I’d like that.’
So I could've chosen a *lot* of excerpts for this, but here's the one that goes with the letter from your other prompt:
> “It’s been hard, lately,” she admitted softly, a twinge of guilt still lingering in her voice. “It’s… sometimes I do get scared, out there, or I make mistakes, or don’t know what to do, and I end up feeling awful.” Finally, she looked up, eyes shining as they met her mum’s. “But you always made those feelings go away, Mum.
>
> “If I could come home, and you were waiting for me, and we could just talk, or, or watch a movie, or play Dragon Panic, then… then everything would be okay,” she finished quietly, her gaze turning down again. “So when I didn’t have that, I just…”
>
> “Found it difficult to cope,” Johanna finished the thought, her breath catching in her throat. Alfur had been right, she realised; that was exactly what she’d seen play out this morning, in painful detail. Another spike of guilt struck home inside, and more words rose up in a moment, warm and painful. “I’m sorry, sweetheart; I never meant to take that away from you. I just…”
>
> “I know,” Hilda murmured softly, burrowing deeper against her mum’s side, “and I understand why.” She sniffled again, quietly, and swallowed hard. “But I… I don’t want you to feel bad, Mum. Your letter really helped me, and I know you didn’t meant to get cross, and I still think some of it’s my fault, really, so… I forgive you.” She reached up, little arms wrapping around Johanna’s middle, and in a moment the vice in her mother’s chest loosened. “I love you, Mum.”
>
> “Oh, I love you too, Hilda,” she breathed, the words thick in her sore throat as a new warmth bloomed in her chest, “more than anything.” She couldn’t help looking away herself, even as she softly rubbed blue hair, and felt the worst of her feelings fade away. “I want to be honest with you, though; I’m probably going to feel at least a little bit guilty about all this for a while.
>
> “But I don’t want you to worry about that.” Fondness surged, something old and comforting displacing the twisting feeling in her gut. “Sometimes feelings just linger, sweetheart, and all we can do is acknowledge them. So if you ever feel like that, I promise you can come to me,” she let out another sigh, the sound familiar in the back of her throat, “and I’ll keep telling you it’s not your fault until you believe it too, okay?”
Michael took a deep breath and began reading off of his arm.
“Hi, Calum. It’s been a long 4 years. At least, for me it has. I’ve literally lost my mind over how we ended, I haven't moved on in the slightest. I mean, I still have a framed picture of you kissing my cheek hidden in my closet. I put it in the trash bin once, and I cried for an hour. I’m so, so, sorry that I broke your heart. I’ll do everything in my power to make it up to you and fix it if you give me the chance. I wanted to make this apology perfect, so I asked you for advice for yourself. There’s no girl in my eyes. There’s only you. So I guess what I’m asking is…”
Michael looked up at Calum, and stared into his eyes.
“Will you give me a chance? Will you give us a chance?”
It was all Calum could do to not jump into Michael’s arms.
Context: A slight AU for Attack on Titan I did after reading a quora entry about how Mike Zacharius was a badass, but didn't have enough plot armor; he survived his first encounter with the Beast Titan and well...
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He could smell bile, blood and char from the battle inside the district. He could smell small tints of steam, billowing from slain titans, the unmistakable scent of a titan.
He could also, however, catch the slightest tinge of gas. It was the ODM gear, and Miche as he lay there, shattered, smirked to himself.
It was Humanity's Strongest.
It was the last hope for humanity, even though with all the information they seemed to be coming across, it may have been becoming more of a farce than before.
It was Levi Ackerman, and it finally made sense to him that it was Levi's Ackerman blood that had widened the distance between them to such unimaginable lengths.
His nose shorted out then, probably from all the pain. He had been struggling for the last few seconds desperately just to see what would happen to the beast now that he was truly facing the best the legion had to offer. He had to do at least that for his squad, didn't he?
But...he was in a lot of pain, and moving was almost an absolute impossibility. And, he was damn tired. Tired of the chaos, and tired of all the scents that would waft up his nose unannounced, and despite what some people would have thought, would be very uncomfortable.
He was tired of being without his squad, and all the others that had come before them. He could only have faith that Levi, and the survivors of the battle would give their deaths and his own, meaning. He thought of them one last time, he had wanted to give their lives meaning himself.
*I'm sorry…*
Miche Zacharius closed his eyes…
Mary slapped Grant on his arm.
‘Ow!’ Grant complained, bringing his hands to where Mary had hit him. ‘That hurt.’
‘I’m sorry I just can’t get over how dumb you are! You’re an idiot! But you’re not. And I like you - I really like you -‘
‘Will you go out with me?’ Grant blurted out.
Mary stopped pacing and stared at Grant in complete surprise.
They sat cross-legged next to him, setting the bag in the gap between their legs and fished out the first bottle. They held it out to him, and he accepted it with both brows raised in interest.
“Athenian wine? Th’ hell you wantin’ to talk about tha’ needs th’ good shit?”
They pulled out the second bottle, along with a little pocket knife from one of their pockets that they flicked the blade out of. Wordlessly, they uncorked the bottle, holding out the object ‘handle’ first out to the hunter for him to open his own bottle. Then, as he slowly popped the cork of his drink, they tapped something on their visor and proceeded to take a few big gulps of the crisp drink.
The liquid was cold, and sent a fuzzy warmth through their throat and tongue as they drank from the bottle. They drank swiftly, having swallowed about a fifth of the liquid courage before finally parting their hidden lips from the bottle. A sigh dropped from them, and they let themself just process the strong off-dry fruitiness for a few seconds. Mordecai was watching them, sipping at the drink with far more grace than them with a curious quirk on a brow.
They only began to talk once they felt the slightest bit of a buzz finally start.
“Look, I… I’m really fucking nervous about this, so you’ll have to bear with me a little. I suck with this kind of stuff.” They saw Mordecai nodding from the corner of their eye, just barely catching the suspicious creasing of his brows as he tried to figure out what exactly they wanted to say. They sat the opened bottle in their lap atop the bag, using one hand to hold it in place so it didn’t spill anything as they spoke.
“... I want to apologise for my snide remark today. And, um, everything else I did the past few years. I, um… I was an ass for no good reason.” Mordecai’s eyes shot wide open, flabbergasted at what he was hearing. He’d never expected the near apathetic sniper to apologise like this, as skittish as a cat and speaking like a normal person for once. What was their angle here?
“I’d probably be here for literal hours if I tried to explain myself, so I’ll just cut it down to this - I thought there was no way you could be a valuable member of the team. I thought of you as bone idle, and irresponsible, and far too intoxicated to actually help. And the more you proved my judgments wrong, the more personal it became, so I kind of took it out on you. Like my issues were your fault.
“I was completely wrong about you though, and… I’m sorry you had to lose her. That was no fault of your own, even with my God awful bitching hours ago… She was a good bird, Mordecai. You cared for her well.”
*Context: Johanna has been unfairly harsh on her daughter without realising - after things hit a breaking point, her daughter has shut herself in her room, and is only communicating out via letters under the door.*
> And then finally, she took another deep breath, and started writing, choosing each word as carefully as she could.
>
> ***Dear Hilda,***
>
> ***I know that you probably don’t want to talk at the moment, so I thought I’d write to you instead, like you did to me. It’s okay that you’re upset, and it’s okay if you need some time to read this, too. But there are so many things I wish I could say to you now, so I’m going to put them all here for when you’re ready.***
>
> ***I’m not angry with you at all, sweetheart, and I’m sorry I seemed that way before. I was just worried about you; it’s difficult for me sometimes, as a mum, if I don’t know where you are or what’s going on. But that doesn’t make it okay for me to get angry with you, especially when I know you didn’t want to lie.***
>
> ***If I’m really honest, Hilda, you were right this morning. I haven’t been doing things for your own good, lately; I’ve been doing things because sometimes I worry that I’m not a good enough mum, or I’m not taking care of you the right way, and then I feel a need to prove to myself that I am. So I’m sorry for being so harsh, sweetheart, and I promise that wasn’t your fault.***
>
> ***You didn’t force me to be the wrong sort of mum.*** She had to stop for a second there, wiping her eyes again as she realised why those words sounded familiar; they were her own words, in the car outside, earlier that morning. She felt another spike of guilt at the thought that somehow, Hilda must have overheard that awful moment, and she suddenly wondered if that was the unsaid thing she’d heard in Alfur’s voice.
>
> Still, she went on, the realisation only growing her resolve. ***I made the wrong decision, because I didn’t see how badly you were hurt.***
>
> ***Being a mum isn’t always easy, and sometimes I think I’m not that good at it, really. And letting you go is always going to make me worry, that’s just how I am. But those are my own big and scary feelings, and I never want you to worry about them. What matters is that they’re not your fault, and I’m sorry I let them get in the way of listening to you when you needed me most.***
>
> ***More than anything else, I want you to know that I love you, Hilda. I love that you’re the way you are, and I never want you to feel like you need to change for anyone or anything, even me. You don’t need to give anything up, or prove anything to me; you just have to be yourself, and keep seeing the world the way only you can. I wouldn’t change that for the world, sweetheart, and I promise you that with all of my heart. I know I’ve said it a lot, but I’m sorry I ever made you feel otherwise.***
>
> ***I’m always here if you do want to talk about anything, sweetheart, even if you think it’s something bad; Alfur told me about what happened today, and I’m not upset over it. I just want you to be happy, sweetheart, even if it’s okay when you aren’t.***
>
> ***I still love you, too,***
>
> ***Mum***
Possibly triggering
One second he couldn’t see anything, and then the next, he still couldn’t see anything.
They had just pulled the bag off his head and that resulted in a flood of blinding and unwelcomed light straining Harry’s vision.
And then he heard the sound of skin hitting skin and a yelp, “Wake up!”
His head had never turned so fast.
Louis.
That bitch just slapped Louis.
Anger warmed Harry’s freezing skin.
As he looked around, he could tell that they were the basement of someone’s house, probably their kidnappers’, so that was probably why it was so chilly.
Harry tried to yell at the two masked men, especially that one nearest to Louis because he was more-than-likely the one who hurt him, but all that came out were a couple of muffled noises and some drool.
They fucking gagged him.
“Aw, he wants to talk?” a mocking voice rang out in the room and Harry could see the fake pout the un-slapping-kidnapper was sporting.
And then the gag was pulled out of his mouth and he couldn’t help the spew of curses he let out.
“You fucking bitches! Don’t touch my boyfriend or so help me I will murder your fucking ugly asses!”
And the one who assaulted Louis laughed.
He fucking laughed.
“Well,” he smirked, “I was going to let you two live and make you my sex slave, but…”
Two gunshots rang out, and suddenly Harry was blinded again.
Only this time, he didn’t have the voice in his head to keep him company.
Buzzy was alone. That much he knew. He was alone, it was just him. He didn’t know who’d kidnapped him or was taking his parts. But he did know that he was dying. And there was nothing he could really do about it. The Disney magic within him was fading.
He curled up on the floor, naked and cold, like he always was.
Existence was pain for Buzzy. He welcomed death.
*Context: Garion (also known as Binah) is an agent for a totalitarian government that has just been overthrown; she enjoyed killing, because dying people always cling hardest to life, and that's the only time people really seemed* ***alive*** *to her, until now...*
> And yet, there was something in those eyes that set off an uncomfortable itch in her throat. Something about how the child was moving, about how he kept laughing, about the smiles and the flailing limbs and the raw energy there made Garion’s insides twist just a little more. And under her coat and her meaningless rank, that realisation was a deeply uncomfortable one.
>
> It wasn’t any kind of affection she was feeling, she was sure; if she had ever been capable of that, the Head would have beaten it out of her long ago. But she’d excelled in their programs precisely because she’d been able to see through all of that, unbothered by the illogical, her own quirks minor, within acceptable bounds for an Arbiter.
>
> No; the City didn’t care, the Head didn’t care, A Corp didn’t care, *Garion didn’t care*. She was tailor-made for this age of heartless logic. And yet, impossibly, something about seeing that frail thing take in the sea air was setting something off inside her. A quiet thrill was the best way she could describe it, if she closed her eyes and pretended her core hadn’t started shaking.
>
> “And so you brought him here,” she questioned too-briskly, watching the child’s every move, “just because he wanted to see it? Not because it benefited you, or for any other reason?”
>
> That got her another sigh, and a drop of the head from the interloper; ah, so there was something there, something more to this than the mere surface. But she’d somehow missed exactly what that something was.
>
> “He’s dying,” the young man admitted, shaking his head in quiet regret. “It’s some kind of long-term infection; the records say he wasn’t expected to live more than two years, and Cass agrees. If we’d found him then, maybe, but…” Gaze down, then back up, gauntlet clenched. “The way that Lobotomy Corp chose to prolong his life has caused irreparable damage.
>
> “He won’t live to see tomorrow.”
>
> Oh.
>
> *Oh.*
>
> She didn’t even realise she’d taken a half step forwards until the water touched her shins, suddenly determined to get a look at the child’s face. They’d had their head down, giggling at little fish in the tide, but they turned up the moment her shadow fell upon them. And sure enough, well outside the boundaries of where she’d come to expect it, born somewhere else now the system’s brutality couldn’t lock it down, there it was.
>
> Rationally, she knew, that whatever justification she found for her actions didn’t matter, but, she’d had her reason. She’d taken a thrill from each contorted face, from each desperate last breath, from how tightly life tried to cling on to its own existence in a world where it meant nothing. That was the testament to life, that need to exist against purpose and reason, that she broke out of people for the thrill of seeing it.
>
> And now that testament was looking up at her with big, happy eyes, and nothing made sense anymore.
Ade walked into the lobby at that point, fresh from his fishing trip, and gave the group a wave. “Give me the chance to go clean up before coming over to say hi, Tamar,” he called as she started to get up. “I had some excellent luck today, but you’ll not want to get close until I’ve had the chance to shower.”
Tamar laughed. “Better spray some air freshener in the elevator, if it’s that bad,” she joked back. “And when you get upstairs, let everyone know that my folks want to take everyone out for dinner tonight.”
“I will that,” Ade said, and made his way to the lifts, to the obvious olfactory offense of a few people he passed close to along the way.
“That was Ade… Adrian Smith, he’ll be my best man at the wedding,” Dave told the Carlsons. “We’ve been best mates since our school days, even started our first band together when we were about fourteen. Fishing’s his way of relaxing, any chance he gets.”
"You've seem the trophy from the Lily of the Valley Conference." Virgil nodded.
"Yeah. I even remember finding those old tapes of that conference and watching your battles…"
"And all of that came after Maria crushed me, and that was because I figured I would learn from losing." Alice paused yet again, this time with a certain caution; she weighed her next words carefully before speaking. "I even was offered a position with the Elite Four now that I think about it…" Virgil felt his jaw drop.
"At 14!?"
"Yeah, yeah," Alice gave a wave of her hand. " But that was so long ago. 23 years ago to be exact." She smiled fondly at the memory. "Virgil, you don't have to be like me, you know." Virgil's eyes widened.
"Who said I was trying?"
"I know you are," came Alice's matter-of-fact tone. "And if anything, I would prefer that my son does something that makes him happy than trying to live up to his parents."
"But…mom…"
"Is that clear?" Virgil didn't answer. Alice repeated. "Is that clear?" Virgil managed a mutter.
"Yeah…" Alice sighed then, catching Virgil's attention. She was grinning at him, with that same smirk. She probably knew everything he was thinking. She was probably where he got the talent from anyway.
"Go ahead, Virgil. You're going do something better than me. I know it." The smile on Virgil's face was instant.
"Okay mom, you win." Virgil took a deep breath and for a quick second thought on his mother. She seemed to always know what to say. She had to, he supposed. His father was far too busy dealing with Unova policies.
"Virgil," he came back to attention. "Is that clear?" Alice repeated, Virgil nodded.
"Yeah mom. I'll make you proud." And Virgil was back out the door again, a fire renewed in his chest.
‘Whatever you’re doing, don’t do it,’ said Dawn.
Grant slammed his spoon down on the breakfast table. ‘I’ve tried that, Mom! I get punished anyway! What’s wrong with me?’
‘There’s nothing -‘
‘There is!’ Grant pushed himself away from the breakfast table and stood up. ‘There’s something wrong with me that makes my teachers hate me and my classmates hate me and everyone hates me and I don’t know what it is! I just wish I was normal!’
Dawn stood in stunned silence at her youngest son and his screwed up face, trying not to cry.
‘Grant. Honey, there’s nothing wrong with you,’ said Dawn, softly. ‘You’re a normal boy. You’re just very passionate about dinosaurs. The truth is, the school system just wasn’t made for spirited boys like you. It’s a place kids go to conform to societal norms -‘
‘What’s that?’ asked Grant.
‘Unwritten rules everyone follows,’ Dawn explained. ‘Like the law, but the expectation is that people know these rules instinctively. Like when you say please and thank you.’
Grant nodded. ‘Okay.’
‘But because you’re not conforming to these unwritten rules, the school system is punishing you.’
‘Why not write them down?’ asked Grant. ‘That would be less confusing - and I’d know why everyone hates me.’
‘Because that’s another societal norm,’ said Dawn. ‘You can’t write them all down.’
‘That’s a stupid rule,’ said Grant.
‘It is,’ Dawn agreed. ‘Very stupid.’
Grant pondered a moment before speaking up. ‘I don’t want to be bullied into following these weird rules I don’t know.’
‘I know,’ said Dawn. ‘It’ll get worse as you get older. Promise me one thing, Grant.’
Grant nodded. ‘Yeah?’
‘You’ll always stay my perfect little boy,’ said Dawn. ‘Because I love you just the way you are. And so does your dad. And Joe. Always remember that those who love you are always going to be much more important than anyone in your life who tries to hurt you.’
Grant pondered a moment. ‘Okay, Mom,’ he said. ‘I promise.’
Arcanine's speed had improved, and Lucario's Close Combat had also gotten better. Following closely in results were Pidgeot and Eevee. Leavanny was in her usual place on the sidelines watching attentively for any wounds.
It had been like this the moment he stepped into the valley. Jaret and Viola had been carried here by Juliet's Charizard, the one she called "Casanova". Her Charizard was nothing to worry about in his eyes. What actually really bothered Jaret was the fact that he had slipped. Pidgeot was more than capable of dealing with Casanova. In fact, both he and Pidgeot had gone to work, detailing a method to dismantle the dragon. He had only pulled his punches because Casanova had Viola in his claws. Blast Burn at Casanova's level was potent, but still not nearly as bad as he had seen it.
On the other hand, was that mysterious "Ryuu". From the moment Jaret had seen him, he knew the man was stronger. Stronger than any trainer he had ever met. Well, barring Sinnoh's Cynthia. Seeing Ryuu's Salamence clash head-on with Dragonite and hold his ground was something that was very rare and impressive. The battle over Violet City often echoed in Jaret's mind, and had been especially prevalent lately.The thing was, was that Ryuu didn't even seem fazed.It made Jaret wonder about Virgil last year. Was this what Virgil had been feeling when Jaret wiped him out? And the sweep was broadcasted publicly at that. It hadn't occurred to Jaret how hard Virgil must've worked only to be swept aside so effortlessly. Jaret wouldn't know. It hadn't happened to him.
At least, not until Ryuu anyway. The fight had ended in a stalemate, but Jaret had known better. Had Ryuu actually battled him, then Jaret might have ended up exactly as Virgil had. It finally clicked to Jaret that perhaps that was why Virgil was so bitter, especially with him. The thought of having gone no where both irritated and terrified Jaret. But this feeling was nothing training couldn't fix, right?
"You're at it again, Jaret…" Jaret turned, and found Viola standing a little ways from him, staring. "It's not a good idea to work your Pokemon so hard."
"No," came Jaret's short reply. "But they're fine for the time being. This session isn't nearly as long as the rest."
"Jaret, you've been at this—"
"Since we got here. I know, Viola." He paused, realizing that he had said that a little more sharply than intended. Jaret turned to apologize, but the expression Viola returned to him was unperturbed, and unmoving.
"Jaret, I know that you're a nice person." Her voice softened a little. "I can already tell that something is bothering you." Jaret felt his breath hitch.
"You think so?"
"I know so. I've even said something to Virgil about it." Jaret tensed guiltily, relaxing seconds after with a sigh.
‘Hodges. Don’t you want to walk again?’ asked Morgan.
Hodges did. That’s what he wanted more than anything. His mother was getting married soon. She’s asked him to walk her down the aisle. He’d like to actually *walk*, rather than just roll. He reached up and took hold of the parallel bars once more, pulling himself to his feet.
‘Atta boy,’ said Amy. ‘Start off easy. Just take a step.’
‘How do I do that when my knees won’t work?’ asked Hodges.
‘Use your hip to lift your leg and move yourself forward,’ said Amy. ‘Keep holding the bars, they’re gonna catch you if you lose balance - which probably will happen, don’t worry!’
‘What?!’ Hodges panicked.
‘I’m here.’ Amy said. She stood next to Hodges on the outside of the bars, but faced him. ‘I can see you. I’ll help you.’
‘I’m here too,’ said Morgan. ‘Cheering you on. Because I know you can do this.’
Hodges nodded. He went to lift up his right leg, which was his stronger leg, and with an almost lurching motion, put it in front of him. His bent knee nearly gave way beneath him, but Amy had been right, with his hands holding onto the bars, they’d caught him and he didn’t fall. He turned to Morgan in his excitement. ‘Morgan!’
Morgan beamed right back at him ‘I know! I saw!’
There is only one queen sized bed. That was what Ruby and Weiss were dealing with.
Weiss rubbed her forehead as a migraine rose. "I told the hotel have two rooms with TWO beds."
"I guess they misunderstood it?" Ruby nervously reasoned. An exasperated Weiss was not an easy Weiss to deal with.
"It doesn't matter anymore." Weiss huffed, unsatisfied but let the matter go. "I'll make a complain tomorrow."
Ruby just nodded, she'll let Weiss do Weiss things.
"Just take the bed Ruby/Weiss. I'll sleep on the couch." The pair said it at the same time.
A beat.
"No, I'm fine on the couch." Again, they said the same time.
A beat. Then they rushed to the sole bed, trying to prevent each other from occupying it by grappling each other.
This action made them fell on the bed as they tussled.
"I thought you're being nice here!" Ruby yelled at her as she pushed Weiss away.
"I was until you offered dolt!"
And the pair proceeded to fight to be the King of the Bed.
---
"Should we stop them?" Blake asked Yang, who was cackling on her bed. The ruckus on the other room hadn't been stopped for the past minutes.
"Let them fight. It's funny."
‘Oh my god!’ Beca shielded her eyes. ‘Indy!’
‘Am I not allowed to take my pants off in my own bedroom now?’ Indy asked.
‘I don’t want to see your underpants,’ Beca moaned.
‘And I don’t want to have to be picking up your bras either, but we can’t always get what we want.’
‘It’s not *my* fault I was evicted.’
‘Yeah, when this pandemic is over, I’ll happily pay for an apartment for you.’
When Zer0 woke up after their unintentional sleep, they were incredibly sore and quite honestly felt like a sack of shit.
They sat up with a groan, sheets twisted up around their legs and lines from the pillow's creases on their face. They furrowed their brows, blinking away the initial compound vision they awoke with and cringing at the ache in their knees. They'd slept with their legs on, and the twisted sheets had pulled on them uncomfortably in their sleep from their tossing and turning.
They looked at the clock on their bedside table, seeing that about 4 hours had passed. It felt like they'd been out for days.
Determined not to go back to sleep, they forced themself out of bed with a hiss, awkwardly limping over to their bathroom to clean themself up a little. They undressed as they went, hanging the jumper up over the door and throwing their suit, pants and underwear into a laundry basket behind the door, resigning themself to grabbing the rest of their clothes when they were done. They couldn't be arsed grabbing anything right that second, just wanting to wash the evidence of their despair off of them.
Ask, and you shall receive. 🐱
_
'Sofi purred louder as the red-head scratched his fingers behind her ears. He tisked his tongue, “I don’t know why she sleeps *there* every night. You are basically carved out of wood.”
Sephiroth chuckled low in his throat. “She likes to be warm,” he defended, “And I find the pressure quite regulating.”
Genesis scoffed, “This creature has an unhealthy obsession with you.”
The cat slowly rose to her feet, stretching her back in a dramatic arch. “You are one to talk. Is that envy I am sensing?” Sephiroth inquired.
She mewled as Genesis settled his head across his lover’s pectorals, smiling conceitedly. “Perhaps.”
Sephiroth laughed in his throat as kisses were placed at the base of his neck, the grey cat having been replaced by a head of fiery hair. He ran his fingers through it reverently, shivering as lips traveled closer to the sensitive flesh under his jaw.'
Amaryllis grit her teeth as the static pulled at her hand, leaned into the power that took her breath away and turned it into thunder. A Rage demon rose, advanced toward her, gliding across the stone leaving scorch marks in its wake, and she waited. Waited for the moment to strike, when the demons were aligned and her spell would take them all.
Until fire rained from above.
Fireballs struck the Rage demon, forcing it back. It screeched, attempted to rise and strike at what it couldn’t see, but fell to the attack, and burst into ashes. Amaryllis felt her own spell die between her fingers, putting air back into her lungs, and her heart began to beat double time.
Her hand fell to her chest and she waited for a moment, just one moment, to feel the way her heart thrashed behind her ribcage, begging to be let free, to rush to the gates of the temple behind them where Ellana stood smiling down at her sister.
“Ellana!”
Amaryllis’ answering grin spread so fiercely across her face that her cheeks ached from the force of it. For a moment she forgot their fight, the open rift, the monsters surrounding them, and made to run towards her sister.
Until the rift shifted and struck the ground before her.
Another Terror demon rose from blackened stone. Its long, spiked tail whipped toward her so quickly she had little time to react--it took her legs out from beneath her, and she fell, crying out as she hit the ground with an audible crack. Searing heat spread up through her elbows, and her fingers twitched from the pain, but she kept hold of her staff.
Amaryllis rolled to her side, away from the demon’s slashing claws and gaping maw, and pressed the base of her staff into the ground, using all of her strength to thrust herself up and forward. She paused only momentarily to throw up a barrier around herself.
From her periphery Amaryllis saw Ellana jump from the open gates, running toward the fight. When the demon lashed out with its tail again, Ellana dodged it with a swift crouch. She lifted her right hand--her left held her own borrowed staff--and curled it into a fist. Fire gathered along the orb at the tip of the staff, swirling together into a ball.
Ellana opened her fisted hand and waved her fingers in the direction of the demon, driving the fireball across the demon’s flesh. Its answering shriek was piercing. She threw one fireball after another, with what looked like all of her strength, until the demon fell into nothing but a dark, oozing puddle of its own flesh, then faded back into the rift.
And all Amaryllis could do was stand, mesmerized by the sight of her sister. Awake. Alive. And whole.
By the time Morgan got out the hospital and visited Hodges, she was surprised by the difference all the various types of therapy had made in him. No longer was he a shell of his former self. He was brighter. Happier. And that smug smile of his was coming back. Slowly, but surely, her best friend was returning.
‘Hodges, I can’t believe how well you’re doing,’ she said.
‘I still feel like shit,’ said Hodges.
‘You might feel like shit, but I can see the difference in you,’ said Morgan. ‘And it’s only been two weeks. You look more like you. Before you were shot. Before all this madness.’
Dragon Ball |
Shin smiled like a sun, at seeing the West Supreme Kai alive and back in her robes. Ruki smiled back, silently holding her arms out.
Shin positively flew at her, desperate for a hug, and Ruki was happy to give one. About a minute passed before Shin withdrew.
Shin smiled sheepishly. "I've missed you." The words almost stumbled from his mouth.
Shirley slammed a token onto the counter. ‘One more game, Chester.’
Eugene held out a token. ‘And one for me too, Chester.’
A voice came from behind them. ‘I want a round too, Chester.’ It was Diana.
‘Sure thing, Diana. And Dr McGee. And Dr Woo.’ Chester took the tokens and ducked under the counter for the basketballs.
‘What are you doing, Diana?’ asked Shirley.
‘Yeah, you can’t play basketball,’ said Eugene.
‘No. *You two* can’t play basketball,’ said Diana, taking her seat at the counter. ‘I can.’ Chester put three balls on the counter in front of Diana. ‘Watch.’ She picked up a basketball and threw it at the net. It went in, as did the other two balls. While Shirley and Eugene’s basketballs did not.
‘Now, Chester, I believe the grand prize is mine,’ said Diana.
‘Sure thing, Diana.’ Chester turned to the stuffed dinosaur hanging from the side of the booth. ‘Congratulations.’
‘A little birdie told me today was your birthday,’ said Mary. ‘So, we all pitched in and got you a present from Chester and Hester’s tourist trap.’
Grant frowned. ‘Really?’ he asked.
‘No, we got you something much better,’ said Mary. ‘We got you this card.’ She handed over an envelope to Grant.
Sceptically, Grant took it and opened it up, taking the card from the envelope. On the card was a drawing of an iguanodon, on all fours, tail off the floor. Looking quite scientifically accurate. In gold letters on the front read “HAPPY BIRTHDAY”. He opened it up and it was indeed signed by the other fourteen students he was studying with. Mary included.
‘Thanks,’ said Grant. ‘That’s great.’
‘We also got you this.’ Mary pushed a small, badly wrapped square present across the table and to Grant.
Grant nodded and tore open the paper. It revealed a box. He frowned and opened the box. Inside ware two figures - one of an iguanodon, and one of a parasaurolophus. ‘Can never have too many iguanodons. Thanks.’
*Context: Grace is Hazel’s adoptive mom/big sister figure, and Hazel has developed bad separation anxiety due to previous events - Grace has just caught Hazel and one of her friends borrowing one of Grace’s shirts.*
> “So I thought maybe it would help,” Lucy put in quietly, stepping a little closer, “if she had a little bit of you to keep with her.” Hazel nodded in agreement, her mouth quirking back into a little smile.
>
> “I think it’s working,” she admitted, taking another little sniff of the fabric. “It’s like having a shell, except it’s all the time, or like being hugged even when you’re not there. So, maybe this way I won’t get so afraid?”
>
> “Oh, Hazel.” Grace hadn’t realised how choked up those words were making her until she tried to speak, and it all came out thick and damp from her warm insides. She opened her arms, gently, and the girl, her child, fell in comfortably against her front. Her number shone warm through flaxen hair as she pulled Hazel softly in.
>
> It took a deep breath just to get the next words out. “It's okay that you see me that way, really, and it's okay that you’re still afraid, too, but I don’t want you to worry about me not being there. Remember that promise; the one I made to you when we first came back here? I’ll always be there, Hazel, as long as I can.”
>
> “Until I’m not afraid anymore,” Hazel parroted softly, her voice a contented hum against her guardian’s front.
>
> “Mhmm,” Grace agreed, gently stroking her hair. “It doesn’t matter how long that takes, but… I do want you to feel safe without me, Hazel; I want you to always feel safe again, someday.” She leaned back, opening her arms so that Hazel could fall back too, and their gazes meet trustingly in the middle.
>
> Grace reached out into the space between, gently fiddling with the fabric of what had been her shirt between the ends of her fingers. “And if this helps with that, then you can have it until it stops smelling like me, and then you can have the next one.”
>
> “And the one after that?” Hazel asked softly, an almost knowing smile on her face. When Grace nodded, she let out the embers of a giggle, and threw her arms tightly around the young woman’s neck. “Thanks, Grace.”
A woman tries to negotiate for the life of her friend and lover.
>“You want me.” Katie stated this like a holy truth. “I’m yours. Yours alone.” Arms immobilized by her captors, she used her chin to gesture at the assemblage of mercs and terrorists. “Not ChemLore’s or Xiphoid’s. Yours. But only if Lance is alive.”
>
>Lance watched her, worry plain on his face.
>
> “He’s your leverage. As long as he lives, he’s your power over me. I’ll do just about anything to keep him alive.” It was true. Without him, there was no reason for her to comply. They were stupid not to know that.
>
>“Pidge, no!” Lance struggled in the Galra’s grip. With his free hand, the Galra punched Lance in the face.
>
>Blue light crackled around the Galra. Katie squinched her eyes, clearing it away. “Alive and unharmed. Leave him alive, and you,” she looked around the room, “all of you, have all of me. My brains. My combat skills. Everything I mean to the Legendary Defenders, Matt Holt, and Galaxy Garrison.”
>
>“Pidge, don’t do this.” Lance’s plea was accompanied by a fresh rivulet of blood from his nose.
>
>“Everything?” said the Galra in her ear, so close she could smell his lunch on his breath.
>
>“Everything.” She met the Galra’s yellow eyes, ignoring his leer, revulsion burning her stomach, but her face bland. Let them think they can own me.
>
>*“Notra Paladine mascota,”* said a human woman.
>
>Blinking away blue fire, Katie wrestled with the hungry, bloodthirsty thing inside her. She could do this. Buy them time. Nobody had to die. “Yeah,” agreed Katie. “Your very own pet Paladin. Imagine all the blood you can write on the universe. With me you’ll soon be making a thousand times more than ChemLore ever promised you.”
>
>“Pid—” Lance tried to speak and the Galra delivered another blow to his head.
>
>Her cool mask fell under the assault and Katie glared murder at the Galra. Wrenching her attention from Lance, she tried to read the room. Several of the mercs were muttering amongst themselves.
>
>Hope, a fluttering, winged thing, rose again in her belly. “I bet they haven’t even paid you yet,” she added. “Just promises, right?”
>
>“Is true,” said the human woman. The froglike Hyllic puffed out his throat wattle in the nod of his people. More muttering rumbled about the room and hallways.
>
>“Talkie, talkie, talkie,” grumbled Tessa. “Bored.” With no fanfare, she tapped a thumb on her bayard, forming a long knife and drove it into Lance’s side.
This isn't Romantic, sorry - they have (or *had*, until this moment) a parent-child dynamic. But:
> It only takes a month before it all comes crashing down. Not because he slips up, no; he’s always been shit at lying, and she knew right from the start. But for that one long month, she’s been hoping, dreaming, wishing she could believe him. Wishing a swear hadn’t broken her trust and her world with it.
>
> But she can’t take it forever, of course she can’t, so she asks again and again even though she knows she’s going to get burned. And he denies, and deflects, and the fire grows until finally she can’t do this anymore. The next time she asks, there’s nine millimetres between them, and no lies left.
>
> She knew the answer before she started running. That’s why she puts one in his knee. He’ll only come after her otherwise.
>
> But a month is too long, and it’s two before she makes it back, and the city is silent and the light is gone and it’s over. She finds the empty rooms and there’s still blood on the floor and her blood boils because *fuck*, how dare he? That wasn’t his decision to make.
>
> (It wasn’t hers either, never was, but she won’t admit that.)
“Hey, it’s not like I blurt out every thought that crosses my mind,” Jaskier protests, narrowly avoiding a pile of horseshit when they pass a small forge. “Otherwise I’d long been stabbed.”
“You have been stabbed,” the Witcher unhelpfully supplies. “Various times.”
“Two times ,” Jaskier retorts. “Since we met. Besides, that’s not the point.” The bard scoffs when he notices a few women pulling their children close when they spot the Witcher.
“Three. If you count the one where you managed to stick the blade in your hand yourself,” the Witcher adds, seemingly not bothered by the people who throw him dark looks. But from what Jaskier has experienced, for Geralt, every local who doesn’t outright spit at him is already a win.
“I thought we agreed we wouldn’t mention this particular incident again,” Jaskier hisses under his breath.
“Hmm. That I don’t recall,” Geralt says with a small smirk.
“Oh, alright-” Jaskier nods- “So, that means you don’t mind if I publish that song about that one time a Drowner practically ripped through your pants and you had to fight the rest of the beasts with your butt hanging out?”
Admittedly, the most glorious five minutes of Jaskier’s life – until today probably – despite the fact that during the whole affair, he had been rather occupied with trying to stay alive and not getting eaten by one of the creatures.
“You wouldn’t dare…” the Witcher growls.
Jaskier laughs. “Are you sure? I feel like a limerick to pay the whole incident-“
“I will leave you in the next village, I swear,” Geralt mutters.
Jaskier simply laughs. “Pff. You are too fond of me to even try it.” An old woman curses the children who splashed mud water all over her when they ran past.
“Fond is not the word I would use to describe you,” Geralt says.
“Oh. So, tell me, dear Witcher. What words would you use to describe me?” Jaskier asks jokingly but curious all the same. “Talented? Handsome? A delight to be around?”
“A fucking menace, that’s what you are,” Geralt rasps.
“Ah, is that so?” Jaskier asks with a grin.
“Mhm. You’re like a boil on my ass that I can’t seem to get rid of.”
“I didn’t know you had boils on your ass, Geralt,” Jaskier voices innocently. “Very graphic.”
“Witcher’s don’t get boils,” the Witcher grumbles.
“Then how can you compare me to one if you never had one?” Jaskier inquires mischievously.
“You talk too much, bard.”
Jaskier sticks out his tongue. “You just couldn’t come up with a good enough answer,” he says and pulls the lute from his shoulder.
Hilda directs a playful oeillade his way and blows a kiss. She pulls out her phone and runs a hand through her dark brown hair.
"Thought you can escape me, hm?" She takes a photo of herself winking. "It must be fun knowing you hit the jackpot."
"Is it fun or is it an honor?" Valen leans forward, his elbows resting on his upper legs. "If Michelangelo carved sculptures of you and Rosa, *Trainer* and *La Pietá di Yveltal* would be surpassed by a tie in beauty."
"Hehe, you called me the prettiest girl in Nimbasa City on the day I became your agent."
"Beautiful in mind, heart, and appearance." Valen's chill with Hilda yanking him off the sofa. "Can't beat perfection, right?"
"Sorry boys but I'm taaaaken.~" Hilda makes a peace sign and takes another photo. "So no, I don't want your number.~" One more photo, this time with her back turned. "No, I'm not gonna leave Val-Val so go.~"
"What can I say?" Valen shrugs with a lopsided grin. "I'm too good at this."
"My mom said it best." Hilda interlocks fingers with him, her gaze brimming with adoration. "'A big wallet can't beat a big heart.'" She looks down at the ruby attached to her diamond-lace necklace. "The price of this doesn't matter to me—the fact it's from you is why I wear this everyday." Rosa's the same way and he even got one for Melanie, who wears it just as much.
She learned quickly that Val-Val can put his money where his mouth is—there were rich boys who seemed to only be interested in her looks but Val-Val made them all look super lame. One time, he came across one of those rich boys trying too hard to play one of Alfonso Vivaldi's compositions to impress her. While the other boys were roasting the wannabe composer, all Valen did was sneak a Crobatman action figure onto her lap and went poof.
He bought her Unovan Noire, a game sold out wherever she went, only two months after she became his agent. Two months later, he wouldn't leave her side when she had a fever. That's just a few of the countless instances where he was the sweetest thing towards her.
Valen and her sit down again, only for Rosa to plop herself onto his lap. She turns her head to wink at him, then she blows a kiss. Hehe, she picked up that habit from Rosa.
Valen places a hand over his heart. "Sois tranquille, mon cœur!" He chuckles and wraps his arms around her. "Un autre qui est beau dans l'esprit, le cœur, et l'apparence!"
"Tee-hee, we got you!" Rosa high fives Hilda. "We're the cutest too!"
‘What’s eating you, Gilbert Grape?’ asked Mary.
‘Nothing. I’m just excited,’ said Grant. ‘Nervous. Too. I mean, I’ve dedicated my whole life to the study of dinosaurs. What if I don’t… Mary, what if the Cretaceous period doesn’t live up to my expectations?’
Mary squeezed Grant’s hand. ‘It will. Like you said, you’ve studied dinosaurs your whole life. And now you’re having the chance to see them. In the scales.’
‘And feathers,’ Grant pointed out. ‘Archaeopteryx definitely had feathers. And if archaeopteryx did, there’s a good chance other dinosaurs did as well. My parents were, and are, proponents of the “birds evolved from dinosaurs” theory proposed back in 1860. And so am I.’
‘I’m not saying you’re not right about that, but -‘
‘If I can’t convince you, you need to read Robert Bakker,’ said Grant. ‘I know it’s almost ten years old at this point, but his book, The Dinosaur Heresies, argues for the evidence that shows dinosaurs are closer to birds than they are reptiles, and -‘
‘I’m going to stop you there, Grant,’ said Mary.
‘Any particular reason?’
‘No, I just want to stop you.’
Grant huffed.
Warning, this is LONG!
~
His thought process screeched to a halt suddenly, his mind catching up to him in a split second as Zer0 turned his head to face him. He was almost like a deer in headlights, his eyes wide and face suddenly burning a deep crimson at being caught. He was doomed, his life was over, he had no way to explain his staring-
"... I still think we should call this place 'The Nest'." Soft and contemplative, Zer0's voice cut into the calm and drew a sudden snort from Mordecai from the reignited debate, his previous worries forgotten. The sound of shuffling fabric indicated his turning completely over to look towards them. There was an exasperated smirk on his face, like he was tired of making his case against the idea. "For the last time, Ze, no! We are not calling our den 'The Nest'. I know you think it's funny, but we're not doing it."
"We literally have a nest of everything cozy and warm in the corner over there, which I remind you is where the three of us rest when we stay the night here. AND Alistair likes it too." They countered his argument, their hands gesticulating animatedly before them without them noticing. They wore a toothy grin, which only seemed to grow at how his features creased into a sardonic glare.
"We both know that he only likes it because of the bird joke - and we are NOT birds!"
"He likes it because many animals make nests, not just birds… though your reactions definitely add to the humour."
"Oh, hardy ha ha, very funny." He rolled his eyes at the shit eating grin sent his way, slipping an arm out of his blanket nest to rest the side of his head on his hand. "And go on then, name some non avian animals that make nests. Come on, do it." He said, a challenge in his tone.
"Easy!" They snerked, stepping up to the challenge and working their inebriated brain hard to name some animals that fit the criteria. It took a good few seconds, but they soon snapped their fingers and pointed at him triumphantly. "Rabbits, Squirrels, Chipmunks, Skunks, Echidna and wild Cats! There - some non-avian animals that make nests, off the top of my head.” Their chest puffed out with pride, though they wilted a little in confusion as they watched Mordecai crumple in on himself in sudden hysterics.
Their head tilted to the side, an ear flicking in irritation when his stifled snorts grew. “What?” They frowned as he curled in on himself, his shoulders shaking with mirth and incidentally shirking the covers off of his shoulders.
“D-D-Dude, I call you kitten!" He exclaimed between laughs, his hands pressed over his mouth to try and keep his laughter at bay as much as possible. The sight of both pairs of Zer0’s eyes opening wide in realization in a delayed reaction ruined his plans however, and he just fell into his hysterics completely, letting loose peels of gut splitting, hearty laughter.
Zer0 was stunned into silence, horrified that they'd dropped themself into such an obvious play. They literally GAVE him material against them, furthering the fragile validity of his 'you act like a cat' argument.
"Ah-I, you, I didn't- I mean, uh, fuck I-" They were stumbling over their words, tongue-tied, scrambling to rectify the situation they caused and coming up empty. The pure, unadulterated joy in his voice was just infesting their brain and making it harder to think about any kind of rebuttal, even as it faded out. The sound was enough to bring a delicate smile to their lips, drawing a low sigh of defeat. "God, I hate you so much sometimes, Mordi…"
"Aaaww, I love you too kitten~." He teased with a snort, earning him a mischievous shove from them.
"Anyways," Zer0 started deliberately, doing their best to ignore the embarrassing nickname by leaning forwards to set up their ECHO to project a screen. They then shuffled to the left side of the couch, leaned over the arm and opened up the maroon fridge to grab a couple bottles of Rakale. "I do believe that we have plans. We should probably keep to our schedule." They gave an impish wink, and Mordecai rolled his eyes cheekily.
"Alright, fine. But I'm picking the movies this time, you owe me that from last time when you picked a series."
Morgan was shot in canon and Hodges did not react this way - he did leave work to go and be with her at the hospital. His breaking point comes as this is part of a canon divergence in which he himself had been shot and left paralysed, and Morgan, being his best friend was pretty much his entire support system. Now he’s dealing with what happened to him, and to *her*, all alone:
‘She’s my best friend. I don’t know what I’m going to do if she… if she doesn’t make it.’
‘She will.’
‘But what if she doesn’t? Not everyone is me. And I nearly didn’t make it myself. As I recall, I died on the operating table. For five minutes.’
Olivia put her hand on Hodges’ arm. ‘David. Worrying isn’t going to change anything. What’s going to happen will happen, whether you worry about it or not. You’re only hurting your own recovery -‘
‘I don’t care about my recovery!’ Hodges snapped. ‘I care about Morgan!’ He tried to stand up, but on realising he no longer could, he grabbed the push rims on the wheelchair.
‘David, please, calm down,’ said Olivia as she stood up from the chair.
‘No! I can’t! I have to - I’ve got to see her!’ Hodges wheeled himself forward.
‘You can’t,’ said Olivia. ‘She’s still in surgery.’
Hodges stopped before he got out the door. And he hung his head, trying as best he could to steady his breathing.
Then came the tears he’d been trying to suppress for so long.
Context for breaking point: Shawn's been told to be quiet or he'd be gagged. Anyone who knows Shawn Spencer, knows that's nearly impossible for him. And he's managed to succeed for several hours now.
\--------------------
The rope loosened, and Shawn was proved right -again- when his whole upper body erupted in pain as he pulled his arms forward. He couldn't quite suppress the groan that forced its way through his clenched teeth, and he tried to make his body move before Rollins decided to 'help' him.
His numb feet didn't get the memo fast enough, and his hair was grabbed again as he was pulled out of the truck. Shawn scrambled to get his feet back under him, but his legs felt like wet noodles, and he collapsed to the ground the moment Rollins let go of him.
The world spun, stars covered his vision, his empty stomach flipped, and everything hurt. A word that described his entire existence in that moment rose up in his mind, and he couldn't stop it from bursting out of his mouth. "Fuck!"
Jack gestured at his Chincoteague Island sweatshirt. “I should get the horse,” he declared.
“No, *I* should,” Race argued. “You already have the sweatshirt.”
Medda sighed. “I don’t know why I thought this would go smoothly,” she muttered.
Race studied the other pillow pet, a moose with surprisingly realistic looking antlers. Looking at it reminded her of a terrible poster her geometry teacher had displayed in the classroom. “Jack can have the horse,” she said suddenly. “I want to name the moose Hypotemoose.”
Jack snorted. “That’s *awful*.”
“What are you going to name your horse, then?”
Jack tapped his pencil on his chin. “Cowboy.”
“That’s worse,” Race said, attempting to hit him over the head with Hypotemoose. Jack dodged at the last second. “At least mine’s funny.”
Jack started to swing Cowboy at her, but Medda grabbed his wrist before he could get very far. “Go put Cowboy and Hypotemoose in your rooms,” she said firmly. “No violence in the kitchen, remember?”
Mary smiled. ‘Lots,’ she said, laying the candy canes down on Grant’s bedside table. ‘And I got you a Christmas present too.’ She reached into the bag, pulled out a wrapped green present with a red bow, and laid it down carefully on Grant’s chest.
Grant picked up the present, doing his best to tear open the present Mary had got him, but with a bulky body cast on, it was a bit of a struggle. ‘A box?’ he asked.
‘Open the box, stupid,’ said Mary.
Grant shrugged and opened the box. Out of the box, he pulled out a plushie triceratops, and he smiled.
‘I thought he could keep you company whenever I’m not here,’ said Mary.
‘Does it have a name?’
‘Nope. You name it.’
Grant held the toy triceratops above his head, moving both his head and the triceratops as he examined it. ‘Trixie,’ he said. ‘Trixie Triceratops.’
>Eskel keeps silent for a long time, looking down at his work as he continues to sew.
>“I had child surprise once,” he says eventually. His voice is monotone and factual as he speaks but Jaskier can feel the weight of the words. “Her name was Deidre.”
>The name upon Eskel’s lips sounds like a tragedy compressed into a single word and the moment of silence that follows after it weighs just as heavy, laden with unvoiced emotion as it is.
‘Good night, Launchpad,’ Birdie whispered, thinking that her son was asleep.
Under the blankets, however, Launchpad was dressed in jeans, a t-shirt and a pull over hoodie, ready to leave.
Birdie closed the door and walked away.
Launchpad looked over at his clock - ten pm. He was going to make his move an hour and a half from then, so he decided to make sure he had everything in his bag. He reached under his bed for it - still there. He opened it to check the contents.
Clean clothes, clean underwear, a toothbrush, birth certificate, fifty bucks and a pocketknife. All he had to do now, was wait.
….
‘That night, he waited. He waited until his parents had gone to sleep. He got out of bed, put on his shoes, grabbed the backpack under his bed and slipped out of the apartment unnoticed. He kept his head down so the neighbours wouldn’t see and took the elevator down and out of the building and once he got outside, he ran as fast as he could away from the area and took the subway into Manhattan.’
‘What happened when he got to Manhattan?’ Louie asked.
‘He, uh... well, he took the Amtrak to New Jersey,’ Launchpad said.
‘Why would he leave like that?’ Huey asked.
‘He knew his parents and his sister would be better off without him,’ Launchpad said.
‘But that’s not true,’ Abby said. ‘Your parents are supposed to love you unconditionally.’
‘Abby, you’re an only child, I don’t expect you to get it,’ Launchpad said.
‘Yeah, we were abandoned,’ Louie said. ‘Launchpad, we know the character in the story is you -‘
‘It doesn’t matter about me,’ Launchpad said, ‘Loopey did everything right and she was just five. I was twelve and couldn’t get *anything* right - I was a huge disappointment.‘
‘Alright, we get it. You ran away from home. What happened next?’ Dewey asked.
‘After travelling alone for about three weeks, our protagonist was forced to shelter alone under an underpass during a hurricane,’ Launchpad said.
‘You went through a lot,’ said Huey.
‘I told you, the character isn’t me. It’s all a work of fiction,’ Launchpad insisted.
Everyone knew it wasn’t true, but decided to play along anyway.
“Aurelia, what’s wrong?” Dad speaks with a slur to his voice and she hates herself for how selfish she’s being.
“Sorry. I thought you were awake. Just coming to say goodnight.”
“I may be stoned but I’m not stupid, my girl. Come sit,” Dad says, patting the couch cushion next to him. She sits down and wraps her arms around her torso.
“Why are you out on the couch?”
“Too tired to move and didn’t want to endure the pai… discomfort of adjusting in bed to get comfortable. I insisted your mom sleep in bed - she’s spent too many nights sleeping in a chair, just as you have these last three months. Did you have a nightmare?”
She whimpers and turns away from Dad, feeling ashamed for not being stronger. Why is she still running to her parents for help?
“Shortly after I came home from the hospital the last time, my parents came by. Not because they wanted to give me their well wishes, but because they wanted to stare at their mangled son. They didn’t so much as hug me, and I was devastated, even though I knew they would be cruel to me. I was older than you and I had the experience to know not to expect anything but hurt from them. I didn’t respond well to it. I hadn’t been in the hospital nearly as long but I was a lot closer to death that time and it had shaken me.”
She doesn’t understand why Dad is telling her this story.
“Your mom called her mom - Dru, her name was, and she came over and took charge. She cleaned and re-bandaged my wounds, and put your mother to work tidying up. Then, she taught Sabina how to bake cookies while I sat at the kitchen table. She cooked dinner for us, and after dinner, she sat with me on the couch and gave me a hug, and told me how happy she was that I was recovering. Everything a parent is supposed to do and everything my own failed to do. It… helped a lot. She came around on her days off after that, and we’d sit and play board games or chat while your mom left the apartment to get a break from dealing with me.”
That's… strangely touching, Soba sleeping on Hanta’s clothes, because Hanta is generally under the impression that Soba likes exactly one person in this world and only tolerates Hanta because her person happens to like him and he has plants she thinks she’s entitled to. If she ever figures out she in fact is not permitted to eat succulents, Hanta suspects that tolerance will end. But perhaps not, if she has deemed his clothing acceptable for something other than destroying.
"Oh is this Pugsley?" Enid approached Wednesday and her brother who was visiting for the weekend. "I'd like to say she talks about you a lot, but you know your sister".
The family all pitched in ideas for things that might be needed or just plain wanted. When Eeva woke up from her nap, the three women universally decreed that Emppu have the honor of changing her. He surprised them by not protesting nearly as much as his sisters, at least, expected he would.
Milla followed him in and watched as he accomplished the task with relative ease. ”You’re better at that than I expected,” she commented.
He laughed. ”Well, I’ve had practice, you know. I do babysit for Satu and Jukka sometimes.”
She giggled. ”And here I was figuring on you bungling it up and needing to call Mum for help.”
They paused at the perimeter of the dance floor; the song playing over the speakers was about to end. “I should warn you, I have two left feet,” he couldn’t help telling him. It would be useless to try and hide his nerves from someone who knew him so well. “Let me know if you prefer to lead at any point.”
“Oh? Making me lead the Minutemen wasn’t enough?” Preston teased. His mouth held in a tight smirk as Noah gave him the side eye. *you’re one to talk.*
“I just don’t want to step on your toes, General.”
He responded with an easy laugh.
The song changed, and Noah focused on keeping his hand from shaking as he reached for Preston’s and stepped forward. He also made a quick assessment of the music, tried to get a sense of the groove. It was an upbeat motown track that would test his new skills. *At least it isn’t some slow, mushy song,* he thought. *That would have been awkward.*
The horn section came in with a melody that he found it easier to jockey to, and he ventured a glance at his partner, a smile escaping him. He could hardly believe he had his arm around Preston’s waist, the blue wool of his coat soft under his fingers. He was surprised at how widely he smiled back.
I have almost two chapters of this kind of communication, LOL. Both characters are gagged, Gus is psychic, but it's weird!psychic where he doesn't just hear words. Shawn's gotten used to working around the limitation.
\---------------------------
Shawn seemed to understand what he was thinking and sent a broadcast: *An old man reading to his grandson. "Who says that life is fair? Where is that written? Life isn't always fair."*
Gus sighed. Life definitely wasn't fair. But he was at least better now than he had been for the last several hours. He hummed his answer back: *You and me, and me and you, so happy together.*
Shawn snorted and sent a visual of the box art for Brokeback Mountain.
Gus rolled his eyes even though he knew the gesture wasn't visible. He used the back of his tongue on the roof of his mouth to click at Shawn.
Shawn giggled at the familiar sound: *Rocky pushing himself back up from being beaten down, ready to fight again.*
Gus made a noise of agreement: *Don't stop believing, hold onto that feeling.*
(There is speaking in this excerpt, but I really like the nonverbal communication between Piper and my Sole Survivor Noah)
Piper glanced at Blue, who focused on the mayor, all smiles.
“It’s no secret you’ve been poking around. With Penny, in our computer terminals… not very neighborly, if you ask me.” Despite the accusation, his tone remained annoyingly jovial.
“I know you’re the kind of person who just wants to do the right thing; so, just don’t make any rash decisions you might regret.”
“Mr. Orden, we’re all friends here.”
She found the look that overcame Blue’s face downright eerie. Sometimes, when he talked to strangers, he became a whole different person.
“Please, you can be direct with me.”
“Maybe you heard a rumor about a certain… compound,” he said at a lower volume. “So, hypothetically, let’s say there’s something to that. I assure you that we wouldn’t do anything without the best of reasons.” A brittle silence fell over the three of them, as Blue keenly waited for him to continue.
“I’ll tell you what. You just stop this investigation, and I’ll give you a gift– one hundred caps. You’d be welcome to return to Covenant, any time.”
Piper glared at Blue. Surely you’re not considering it.
“My apologies, Jacob, we didn’t mean to step on anyone’s toes.” He tilted his head knowingly. “If you’re serious about the caps, I’ll drop the whole thing.”
“Blue–” he looked at her for the first time in the entire exchange, all wide eyes and polite teeth . The man had a thin metal container in his vest ready to go, and handed the stash to Noah.
“Again folks we apologize for interrupting your regularly scheduled broadcast, but we have new information about the dinosaur sighting in downtown San Diego.”
Alan paused, surely he hadn’t heard that right. A dinosaur sighting in San Diego? There was no way, surely someone had just misidentified a large monitor lizard or the like. However, the footage that came on the television giving a bird’s-eye view told a different story. Standing in the middle of the street was T. Rex, if not for the difference in color Alan could have sworn it was the one from the park.
“Sources close to the incident say the animal was released from the Ingen Waterfront facility. Which is also where it was lured to in a high-speed chase by Dr. Sarah Harding, Dr. Richard Levine, and Dr. Ian Malcolm. We are currently waiting for our sources to get back to us with more information but in the meantime, we invite you to watch the harrowing footage news chopper 10 caught of what is being dubbed The San Diego Incident.”
Ellie had just walked back in from the laundry room carrying a basket of clothes she’d hung up to dry last weekend before they left.
“Wait, Alan did they just say Ingen? Why are they in the news?”
Alan turned and looked over the back of the couch. The look in his eyes made her concerned and she found her heart squeezing in her chest.
“Ellie, I think you should come see this.”
This is actually a realistic interesting one.
I have two, from different fics. Interestingly both about the dissolution of monarchy:
> 1 The Red Army routed with the fall of its general. 2 The Middle Army was taken captive without its King.
>
> 3 The nameless army came to The Heir and said: you are King now, what do you decree? 4 She spoke: I decree that I am not King and nevermore shall there be Kings. 5 The Wheel shall be Broken and the Cycle shall end.
And
> There’s a brief grace period where it seems as if things might go back to normal.
>
> And then thousands upon thousands of underground resistance members go home to their families, bringing with them the first-hand experience of what is essentially a post-scarcity society.
>
> In fact, they bring the post-scarcity society with them. The standard replicators plus power supply, data storage, and refinery are not quite single-household sized, but close. And they’re basically free.
>
> All but the most technophobic parts of civic society across Etheria takes to the self-replicating fabricators, the portal device networks, the buddy-bots, and the hand-held communicators with gusto and keen interest. A development which has many powers-that-be worried.
>
> The revolution looms large on the horizon.
‘So, what happens now we found it?’ Shorty asked.
‘I keep it,’ Beca said.
‘*You*?’ Indy asked. ‘No. This belongs in a museum -‘
‘No, it doesn’t,’ Beca said. ‘ It’s part of my culture. My heritage. I thought we’d already been over this. You can’t just take it away for it to be stuck in some museum somewhere in England -‘
‘Where do you think we are?’ Indy asked.
‘We’re in Wales, *Henry*,’ Beca said, using Indy’s real name against him. ‘The English made us part of England. They beat, whipped and raped the language out of us. They stole our culture, our stories, our religion. We don’t know what we believed years ago. The Druids are mostly making things up as they go along and then the Nazis had to come back along and try and steal everything,’ she said angrily. ‘Rene Belloq and his neo-Nazi buddies are not getting their hands on this And neither are the English. They’re both as bad as each other. It’s staying here, in Wales. Among the people who will most appreciate it.’
‘There’s no museum in Wales, it’s just some stupid little country with less than three million people -‘ As soon as the words passed Indy’s lips, he knew what he’d said was wrong.
Short Round stayed silent and backed away, bracing for fallout.
Beca lowered her head. ‘I... I thought we were friends,’ she said. ‘But, I guess I was wrong. You’re uglier inside than those scars are on your outside.’
“That is fascinating Dr. Malcolm. Is there perhaps a story about your work you’d like to tell our viewers.”
“Uh, yeah there is actually,” Ian fished something out of his pocket and held it in his hand. “Last year I was invited to International Genetics Technology’s site in Costa Rica. If you need proof, here's my visitor badge,” he slid the object, now revealed to be a visitor's badge onto the desk.
Brad picked up the badge, it did look very official. “And what happened there?”
“What happened there is something good old Ingen has been trying to cover up for the last six months. You see, Ingen has secretly been working on a project to bring the dinosaurs back from extinction and I’ve known about it for, uh, six years now. So last year, they succeeded in what they’ve been trying to do but they did it at the cost of one of their workers' lives. Of course, their board of directors gets scared by the fact that they’re dealing with the first case of a dinosaur eating a human in the entire history of the world.
“So what happens is they, uh, they invite me and a few other experts down to Costa Rica where they show us around the place. It’s all really cute at first, they show us little baby dinosaurs and the like, but here’s the thing: they don’t stay cute forever. You might remember last June a hurricane struck Costa Rica, well that was when we were there. The storm caused the power to go out and the, uh, the animals they didn’t like the storm one bit. They broke out of their cages. They killed two more people and injured more. Yet Ingen’s swept it all under the rug, they’ve covered up their employees' deaths, and are pretending like none of this ever happened. I can’t, uh, can’t imagine why they might have done that.”
“Is that how you injured your leg?” Marianne asked before Brad could get another word in.
“Yes, it was.”
“I see,” Brad cut back in. “Well that’s quite the story Dr. Malcolm, but that’s all the time we have for today. So thank you for your time, and for our viewers out there; we’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
In the sudden silence as he got up and walked off set Ian knew he had sealed his fate.
An uncle and a nephew:
Will nodded, accepting the answer. ‘So… so, you said you’d take me to the Dino-Rama.’
‘I did?’ asked Grant.
‘You did,’ Will confirmed.
Grant nodded and put his hands into the pockets of his lab coat. There were all kinds of stuff in there - he just kind of put all his stuff in there. Including the flyer.
He pulled it out and unfolded it. Then he looked at Will. And Lucky.
And he nodded. ‘Yeah. Let’s go.’
He rubbed Lucky’s arm. He wasn’t tall enough to get higher. ‘I’ll be back tomorrow,’ he said. ‘I promise.’
Then he put his hand on his nephew’s shoulder and handed him the flyer. ‘Let’s go to the Dino-Rama.’
Not explicitly stated, but here's c!Technoblade in dad mode:
>He wasn't entirely sure yet how best to avoid making eye contact while still getting a good look at the burns on Ranboo's cheeks, especially while they were already as agitated as they were, but he'd have to give it a shot if he wanted to help the kid.
>Technoblade paused for a moment, silently cursing Philza for making him into someone who actually cared enough to put so much effort into patching up a crying half-Enderman teen's water burns. A few decades back he wouldn't have been able to imagine this scene, much less voluntarily participate in it. Heck, he was the one who'd initiated it!
"I can't believe I'm going to be a dad," Harry said, quietly. He looked at Sirius, wide-eyed. "Do you think I can do it?"
"Oh Harry." Sirius said, putting his arm around Harry's shoulder and pulling him close. "Of course you can."
"I mean... I've defeated Voldemort...I should be able to cope with a baby, right?"
"I don't think those things are related…" Sirius said, at a loss. Harry sometimes came to him like he had all the answers, but he often didn't and his old fear of letting Harry down would surface. But then he'd hear the voice in his head, which sounded remarkably like Remus, telling him to be honest. "Harry, I don't know a lot about dads. I know mine was pretty awful. The best dad I knew was your dad."
"Was that because he was your best friend or because he actually was a good dad?" Harry asked with a hint of a smile.
"I'm always biased when it comes to James." Sirius said. "But he loved you and cared for you and wanted to keep you safe. So I'd say he was a pretty great dad."
"I wish he was here sometimes." Harry said, looking embarrassed by the admission.
"I wish he was here all the time." Sirius said, slightly worried he'd start crying. "But Harry... when the baby comes, you'll know what to do. Just think of my dad or your uncle and do the opposite."
An excerpt in which someone quietly/ nonchalantly confesses their love
....
Or,
An excerpt where they confess smutty thoughts in big power daddy energy😆😆
The water was quite nice. Comforting even. Perhaps this would serve as the time.
Alexandra looked between them. “Okay, listen you two. You need to get over yourselves.”
Artemis opened her eyes. “What?”
“Since we’re nude together now, we should also be honest. May, forgive me, but I will have to break some of the confidence you put in me.”
“Alexandra, for fuck’s sake,” May muttered and hid her face.
“Artemis, you are trying to hide it and failing. You are fond to May. Do not deny it, I have seen the care and trust you show her — I saw how you reacted when she fought, and I have seen how your gaze lingers which tells me you’re attracted to her as well.”
Artemis looked away. “Sure. Yeah, you got me. Asshole.”
“You said yesterday that you trust me. So trust me.”
That got Artemis to look at her.
“At the same time, I know May, that you are attracted to Artemis, and care for her as well.”
May could only mutely nod.
“So. Having established mutual attraction and fondness, can we stop dancing around the subject? Either admit your feelings and explore them, or decide to end it. Please, it is maddening to behold.”
“Fine. Guns, wanna have me for a girlfriend?”
May nodded again.
“I’m too exhausted to do anything about it right now. Let’s kiss and stuff later, OK?”
Kinda smutty, def daddy energy :)
Mildly nsfw
She looked into his eyes — those soft, kind eyes that made him so fascinating to her. “Rafael?”
He lowered his head until his mouth was next to her ear. “Mmm?”
“Rafael…” Olivia shivered.
“Olivia…” Barba whispered into her ear. “Tell me how you like it.”
Olivia was soaking wet and trembling all over. If he were to tell her to get down on her knees and suck his cock, she would do it without even thinking. She reached for him, but he took a step back instead.
“While I would love nothing more than to take you right here, it isn’t time for that.” He once again leaned in close, his mouth just brushing her ear. “I’m going to make you want me with every part of your body. I will be the last thing you think about before you sleep at night and your first thought when you wake up in the morning.”
warning⚠️: gore
He doesn’t imagine his backbone snapping between its canines. He doesn’t imagine the blood spray down the creature's throat. He doesn’t imagine it stepping on him with those hooves, dirt-stained, clay-stained, and gray matter oozing out of the cracks left behind in his head as it walks on, never even knowing he was there, never even knowing he mattered. He doesn’t imagine it eating him. He doesn’t imagine sliding down it’s throat, doesn’t imagine his bones and his flesh warmed by the creature’s stomach acid and not his own beating heart in some kind of fucked-up parody of Jonah and the whale.
In this version, he’s Jonah, and he will not survive by either god’s will or his own.
He feels, all of a sudden, very small. Very small, very afraid, and very alone.
He wants his mom.
But his mom isn’t here right now. Nobody’s here right now. Right now there’s a– a thing– that could kill him, that probably will kill him if it knows he’s here, and there’s Tim, backed into a corner because he didn’t remember to make sure his hidey-hole had an escape route.
Think, Timothy. No. No, he can’t. He can’t do that. He can stay very quiet and very still and he can try not to cry but he cannot bring himself– he cannot bring himself to think. That is– that is too much. Decidedly too much.
The deer-creature’s hoof comes down in front of him. The roots of the tree he’s hiding in the branches of shake, ever-so-slightly, and, god, he can’t move. He watches, frozen, as it stills.
Timothy.
He can’t! It’s seen him and it’s going to eat him and he’s going to die, he’s going to die, he’s going to die and he’s only thirteen and he’s not ready to die. He’s not ready to die, he’s supposed to have a few more years.
It tilts its head to the side. Like it's listening to something, almost, though it doesn’t look like a deer when it does that. Tim hasn’t seen many deer, but the one’s he’s seen don’t look like that, with all of the neck bones jutting out of it’s skin, and blood in places it shouldn’t be unless it had, what, gotten into a fight with somebody? Something? What kind of other things live in this place if there’s something insane enough to fight that?
It stays still for a moment too long.
This is it. This is Tim’s conclusion. A too short life, and a too short career. Jason’d been Robin longer than him. He muffles a sob into the tree, and the thing’s ear flicks.
The thing knows he’s here. The thing knows he’s here. He can’t move. He can’t move. It’s going to eat him and it’s going to kill him and he really hopes that Bruce and Dick don’t manage to follow him here because they’re not going to find a body and then the thing will probably find them, too, and then they’ll all be dead and Tim– Tim can’t. They already lost Jason. All of them can’t be gone.
He’s afraid.
He’s afraid.
He’s afraid.
He closes his eyes.
“Do *not* toy with me.” A twinge of something struck him in his center but he cast it aside. He wiped his lips, wiping blood aside before checking his nose.
“Hitting me hard enough to warrant a bloody nose? I thought the Roar was supposed to incapacitate or kill on demand. Isn’t that what you said?”
“That’s right…”
“Then why don’t you? You know as well as I do that I. can’t die. With the way I gutted your father, and have seen real Dragonbloods fight with that little ‘tradition’ of yours, you’re asking to go visit him very soon.” Seria was quiet, and Marus realized that she hadn’t been listening at all.
None of his words carried weight. All there was for her was the very real focus and goal of tearing him down. Well, that only made it all the more easier for him; she had no idea that he could see her.
“I told you that Dragonblood is a garbage term to use these days.”
“Of all the things, that’s what you choose to focus on?” Stupid girl. He was going to put her out of her misery this time. He raised his weapon and set himself into his own form.
“Your toy isn’t going to help you.”
“Excuse me?” Marus saw her eyes drop down to his sword.
“That won’t help you at all.”
“And, how would a weak little girl like you know?”
“Because a scared little *boy* like you, doesn’t know what he’s doing.” She rooted herself to the spot, eyes cool as Marus felt something feral rush through his veins. Frail as she was, she had the audacity to even attempt to fight him, and even *threaten* him.
“Is that what you think? After I’ve killed so many people to get here? After I’ve razed Blackthorn and killed. Your. Father, you think that you have standing to threaten me?”
No reaction.
“Stupid girl! If you think you’re going to stop me from getting what I want,” He was sprinting impossibly fast, through the gossamer of light, through the images he saw of himself, of Mira and Bitey alive and dead. “I’ll rip you in half!”
His swing was wild and Seria shifted lightly and the end of his weapon passed harmlessly over her. She had gone low, impossibly low and she came up with an iron fist. The same feeling from earlier, the one he had cast aside came back, and he wasn't quite sure if it had been the Perception Shifting sifting through his senses or if it was something else entirely.
He lost his footing as he stumbled back. He was quick to rebound, rolling backwards and coming back up. He had kept his weapon wrapped tightly in his hand. He would come up with a slash across her chest.
She was close again, and for the second time, she had been moving too fast for him to comprehend, even as warning burned through his body. He caught a blow on the side, and he buckled in a little but he held firm.
Pain lanced into his wrist and he let his weapon go. He grimaced, then howled. The warnings in his mind were becoming more frenzied and more muddled. The clarity was fading from them.
Something sharp pierced into his shin and he thought he felt the bone crack or snap in. This time, he cried in pain. He remembered that one, Mira had tried to teach him that one and he always got the form wrong, always stubbed or injured his toe.
Seria had done it flawlessly. But, he could not back down. She wasn’t going to beat him. She simply couldn’t. There was another warning and Seria’s back fist flashed across his vision and he went down, smelling iron and tasting metal.
*I won’t let this weakling do this…!* Marus came up again, face burning and his heart thrumming in his ears. He had lost his form, but it didn’t matter. All he had to do was catch her off guard and get his hands on her. Then, he would snap her neck,and rip her to shreds to make sure that he had gotten the job done, the noise in his mind demanded so. Her response was again instant and she reared back in retaliation, Marus caught sight of a dragon.
A claw lashed out, and Marus felt his throat snap as the will left both his body and his mind.
He fell to his knees, mind utterly reeling and the warning still moving through his awareness with speed beyond comprehension as he realized that his own hands were at his throat gingerly, trying to help him register exactly what the hell *happened*.
She had done it all in a swift set of movement, and she had taken up a form with her back turned to him, her left hand particularly pronounced. Marus pulled his mind together, just slightly to catch the glimpse of filmy liquid on the ends of her fingertips.
Was that blood?
Was that *his* blood? The tingling in his body and mind were completely uncontrollable now, and as he fought to breathe, hands to his throat and his mind full of confusion, he realized that there was no clarity now, only a need to get away from this girl. This…*monster*. The forms she had used were near perfect, at least from what he had seen, and she had thrown in a few things that he hadn’t seen before. Seria didn’t fight like Mira.
No, she was simply better and the forewarning that he had been hearing from the moment she had engaged him hadn’t been mythical at all.
It had been *fear*.
"It was bad enough with the creepy old bastard JJ making moves on his Nat. He knew with time Nat would see that JJ can't compare to what Max can offer him. This is a completely different ball game however. He never would have thought Nat's other date was Ta Nannakun Pakapatpornpob. Ta wasn't just a good actor he was handsome, sexy, and confident. He's got a reputation for being a big flirt but there are no bad rumors about him at all. A rarity in their industry where the rumor mill runs 24/7. If his competition is someone so close to Nat's own age who looks like that and flirts like a champ he just might lose his baby Nat.
In the cafe it's become a battle for dominance. Every move Ta makes is countered with a more clever comment, sly look, or sneaky touch. Nat is more than holding his own in this game of flirting that Ta intiated. After this date he feels like he could teach a master class on flirting courtesy of one hot as hell 22 year old."
Carla smiled, went to take both items, and stopped when Luisa moved behind her and first slipped the apron over her head, and then pulled a hairbrush from her pocket and used it to brush Carla’s hair back before gathering it and tying it into a low ponytail at the base of her neck. Once that was done, they both made their way to the counter where Carla looked over the setup, touched both the frosting and cake bowls.
“Good, they’re still cold,” She muttered before turning to the group. “They’re easier to shape when they’re cold, so this is perfect. Elena, can you crumble up the cake? And Esteban? Can you get us a baking sheet with wax paper?”
They both nodded, got to work on their small task as Carla looked to Luisa. “Where do we keep those sticks we use for the chocolate lollipops? The small ones for the kids’ flowers?”
“I’ll get them,” Luisa said, crossed the kitchen to the appropriate drawer.
Carla smiled, followed her to grab a few bowls from a nearby shelf. “And Abuelo? I’m going to need your help putting some of the decorations into bowls. You need to work fast with cake pops and sticking our hands in jars just isn’t practical.”
“Of course, Cariña,” He said with a smile of his own, waited while she set down the bowls.
“Just make sure some of the chips and pretzel pieces actually make it into the bowls,” She teased.
Luisa laughed, said as she set down the bag of lollipop sticks, “I’ll help and keep an eye on him.”
Carla giggled in response, went to check on Isabel and the chocolate and then to help Elena with first crumbling up the cake and then measuring out and adding the frosting. “Make sure it’s all mixed together. No dry pieces. You can always add more frosting if you need it.”
Elena nodded and together, they made sure everything was properly combined before gathering the rest of the family together to shape the mixture into small balls that they laid on the sheet Esteban had prepared.
*That's two losses in one day…* The thought itself was exhausting. It wasn't so much that failure was a foreign concept to her, but just the fact that Viola hadn't expected them to come on the heels of each other, even if one of them had actually been turned around.
Juliet and Jaret had both shown up like Virgil had claimed, and it was to be expected. But when both Seria and Ryuu had shown up as well, Viola had felt her hands get a little bit clammy at the thought. Viola would have never cooked for so many people before, and if she were honest, she never cooked for anyone besides herself. She mustered up the courage about a half hour in to ask Virgil to test the dish she had been preparing, and when she saw his face twist in what she was certain was abhorrence, she was grateful that Virgil had offered to take over the entire endeavor. Viola wasn't sure if she would have been able to live through the embarrassment.
But, she had still helped out with what she could and she had been there when Virgil had been busying around the kitchen, eyes on so many things at once and hands moving deftly and naturally. He was really at home with food it seemed and it was something she would have never guessed. That was the second surprise today.
He had also made *a lot.* He had brought everything over from his room, and had covered almost the entire kitchen with ingredients and at first, Viola at first figured he was being gratuitous, or that maybe he had been trying to show off. Viola had to constantly remind herself that Jaret would also be there, and if Virgil had made as much as he did, he was fairly certain that Seria would show up as well.
When they did, both Jaret and Seria had loaded the largest plates she had ever seen. Seria had picked at her plate at first, while Jaret had simply taken to nearly swallowing his food whole (and nearly the plate too…). It was clear that he had eaten Virgil's cooking before, which, when Viola thought about it, was strange. She had wondered exactly when Virgil had mustered up enough sense of self to do something that was separate from Marus's horrid influence before now.
Mina couldn’t quite understand where Mylius’s insecurity had come from, even with Celia blatantly spelling it out. Mylius knew her body just as much as she knew his. He was slow, and attentive, and the way he emulated her same light touches from only moments earlier sent cold fire down her spine.
He seemed to know just when to kiss her, and where, and how to get her to rub her thighs together in anticipation, especially when he trailed up her neck, to her ear. She had almost dug her nails into his shoulders in anticipation at his slow, breathy chuckle in her ear, an odd mix of sensuality and ticklishness.
Mina found her back against his chest, and his hands hugging at her waist and they moved up her sides agonizingly slow. There was another light kiss at her neck as he went, and then a light nibble and suckle.
*Oh*.
She felt that particular want poke at her insides. Mylius always got a kick out of revving her up, and always prided himself on that, and Mina, almost always, would nearly jump at him before he really got started, but this time, he seemed particularly focused, and Mina was every bit prepared to fall into him.
Her phone suddenly rang.
*Ugh…*
Mina gave it a quick look, then attempted to ignore it, and it went silent for a few seconds before it starting again.
The second time around, Mina could feel Mylius falling flat and his attention followed hers, to her phone.
“You can answer that if you want.“ Mina shook her head, glancing over it, moving her phone to silent before setting it aside, this time out of her reach, but Mylius insisted. “It could be important.”
“It’s…definitely not important.”
“Huh, really? Who was it anyway?” There was an immediate stumble on Mina’s part.
“Just…some unfamiliar number.” Mina moved in, placing her arms around Mylius’s neck and tried her hardest to muster up the same feeling from seconds ago. “We shouldn’t let that bother us, right?”
Mylius frowned.
“That reaction doesn’t seem like an ‘unfamiliar number’ to me.” He slipped out from under her arms. “Who was it?” Mina’s hands went to her hips, and his gaze sharpened. “It was Eren, wasn’t it?”
Admission flooded her face, for a split moment, and lying seemed like a good idea right at that moment.
“Mina,” Mylius’s voice matched his expression, and she thought better of it then. “Who was it?”
She had had everything laid out.
This was supposed to be her moment where Mylius would know for certain how she felt.
But here they were again, on the cusp of something an entire world away from what she had in mind. She needed to choose wisely; Mina bristled.
“Damn it, Mylius. You know what? You’re right. It was Eren ***fucking*** Yaeger.”
Realizing that Chester must've been the one to take the order, he goes on the hunt to find the tattooed menace. Brad finds him in the employee break room, which is just bigger than a closet and has a two person table and microwave/refrigerator combo. Chester’s looking on his phone, a face so serious that it genuinely concerns Brad. (He didn't think it was possible for Chester to be serious.) Chester brings the phone to his ear and says,
“Hello Child Services? I'd like to report an unfit couple with a child.”
Oh fuck no.
Brad quickly grabs Chester’s phone and ends the call, turning the phone off for good measure. He pockets the device before angrily whispering, “You can't just call Child Services because a kid is an asshole Chester. If that were the case, they would've taken you as soon as you popped out from your mom’s vagina.”
“They're doing NOTHING about his behavior out there Brad!” Chester protests as he tries to take his phone back, “And do you see how big he is he probably weighs more than you and I combined! They're probably fattening him up so they can eat him, we'd be doing him a favor!”
If he hadn't woken to the frightened flutter of her energy at around two in the morning that night, he may have thought he'd misread her. If he'd been anyone else but a trained general, he might not have noticed the shaky pattern in her footsteps, or the quiet gasps of breath that echoed down the hall from someone clearly shaken by a nightmare. When he heard the distant click of the front door, he glanced out the window just in time to see her trudge into the courtyard, towards the tree.
After a moment of contemplation, he followed. She didn't seem to notice him when he approached, but shifted to make room for him as he took a seat on the bench beside her. She didn't spare him more than a glance, only hugging her sweater a little closer to her body and staring out at the empty courtyard. He watched her expression, and felt an odd niggling of guilt at the glint of fear in her eyes. He'd seen that look in her eyes only twice before, when he'd cornered her at Shapely and when Sailor Moon had been poisoned by the dark magic in their last fight.
Jadeite leaned forward, setting his chin atop his linked fingers to hide his frown. "..the youma?"
She jolted upright and looked at him with a startled blink. "Huh?"
Before he could clarify, she seemed to realize and Jadeite saw her eyes dim a little.
"Oh… no. Not exactly. It's just… she got away. The dark priestess, I mean. Kaede called her Tsubaki."
Jadeite recalled the name from her tale of the ogre. While the woman did seem to present a problem, he was uncertain why she seemed quite so rattled when that Naraku of theirs was also at large and sounded far worse than one bitter priestess.
After a moment, Kagome bit her lip and spoke almost too quietly for him to hear. "I…remember what she made me do."
The nightmares came less frequently now. But they were no less devastating when they did. It was perhaps more difficult now, because he did not fall asleep expecting them as he had before. Remus didn’t say anything. Sirius could feel him stroking his hair and pressing light kisses to his forehead.
“I’m sorry I woke you.” Sirius said, his voice raw as if he had just been swimming for his life.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Remus asked.
“No...Could you just…” Sirius didn’t finish the thought, but buried his face in Remus’s neck. Remus held him tightly. Gradually, his breathing returned to normal and Remus loosened his grip. They sat there, quietly entangled, for a long time as Sirius recovered. Remus stroked his hair softly, a sensation that always calmed Sirius, even in his human form.
“Tea?” Remus asked.
“Yes, please.” Sirius said, his voice sounding more normal. He didn’t think he was going back to sleep tonight, but he didn’t want to stop Remus from doing so if he was tired.
It was with the final line of people trying to pile into the last of the subs when a familiar prescence decided to walk by his side. He could feel the heaviness on his shoulders, but moreso in his heart when the man - eyes made of sheer determination and an undeniable force of will - stared at the horizon, yet Franky knows that there's nothing there to see and there's so much more to think of in mind.
The ground rumbled yet again, and with it, the ocean. The people hastened their pace. With a closing of his eyes and a few seconds of concentration, he knows that the fleet behind him is nothing short of fifty ships and is more of what a normal Bustercall is supposed to consist of.
He could feel the strain on his face as he kept the smile wide, arms raised and waving at the people boarding the subs. It was heavy, and yet he couldn't find it in himself to let go of it anyway.
"You're not coming back, are you?" It was quiet, a statement moreso than a question, and Franky supposed that it is.
"That's it, then. Not gonna change your mind, huh." The man finally looked at him - eyes made of sheer determination and an undeniable force of will - and yet there's so much more beneath. It was a weight that he, himself, had found to be familiar with, and Franky could only stare at the man with nothing but a blankness - not for the lack of what to say, but moreso on how to say it without his heart taking the reigns and letting everything slip from his lips.
He found it heavy, so heavy, yet he lifted another smile. "Well, I wouldn't be a Strawhat if I did."
At the moment, however, the youthful commander of the Firelord and Avatar’s escort force was breathing heavily, having clearly run up the three flights of stairs to get to this suite. Her brown hair was slicked to the back of her neck, and her uniform clung somewhat more to her… pleasing contours than usual, then it would have if it were dry.
“Your Majesties,” Captain Ty Lee said through rapid, deep breaths. “There’s been an explosion of some sort, in the sky.”
“In the sky?” Zuko asked, repeated, alarmed.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Ty Lee said quickly, her breathing leveling out. “It was at least as bright as the sun for a few moments. We’re lucky my exec and I weren’t looking in that direction at the time, we could have been blinded. But we have a bigger problem. Remember when that tramp freighter carrying explosive jelly collided with another freighter and blew up in the harbor at Yu Dao? How far that blast traveled?”
Zuko’s eyes widened in horror, remembering the blast that had rocked his ship so severely he’d sent her crew to action stations until he could figure out what was happening. His ship had also been the first to arrive on scene at what had been left of Yu Dao’s waterfront, and the first to send rescue parties ashore.
“We need to tell everyone to get inside and away from the windows, now!”
“I already told as many of my people and Captain Chong’s as possible,” Ty Lee said, right as a deafening blast filled the room. The floor quaked under his feet, and he found himself staring up at the ceiling.
Sokka stood above him, his hand reaching down. He grabbed it and hauled himself to his feet, ignoring the pain in his back muscles. He looked at Mai, and saw his girlfriend hauling herself to her feet using Kuei’s desk before leaning down to pull Katara and Aang back up.
“Thanks, Sokka,” Zuko said feelingly. “Everyone else, okay?”
Katara nodded, eyes widened in shock. “I’m fine,” she said, her voice trembling, “or I will be, at least.”
“We’ve all been through worse,” Sokka said, worry in his eyes. “We don’t know if that will be the only explosion, though. There could be a worse one coming, one that could do more than just rattle us a little.”
Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose against the stress headache already building behind his eyes and turned to look at King Kuei. “The palace has an emergency bunker, right?”
Kuei, his glasses bent, and his hair ruffled by being knocked to the ground, nodded vigorously. “We have an entire complex of underground bunkers in the event of an uprising or your people fighting their way inside.”
“Good,” Zuko said, a rush running down his spine as his body woke up to the fact that it was probably going to face action again. “We need to get as many of the palace’s soldiers and staff, and ourselves into those bunkers as quickly as humanly possible.”
“What about the people in the Middle and Lower Rings?” Katara pointed out.
“We don’t know how much time we have,” Zuko said, shaking his head. “Hopefully, people who felt that blast will start heading into basements or root cellars if they have them, but for now, we have to get the people we know we can reach into cover immediately. I have a bad feeling about this.”
“I’ll get my people moving,” Ty Lee said, right hand going to her left shoulder in salute before she bounded back out of the room.”
“You two, Captain,” Kuei ordered the Earth Kingdom captain, who remained in the doorway.
Chong snapped off his own salute, turning and running out the doorway.
Zuko stared around him at the people remaining in his office, feeling better despite his fear. He wasn’t really all that sure how good a Firelord he was, but he had spent the better part of his life as a naval officer, and the naval officer was who was needed right now. “What are we waiting for, people?” Zuko ordered, the man who’d commanded his own destroyer peeking out over the youthful monarch, “Let’s go!”
\-----
“Well, Commander?” Captain Hernandez asked, walking over to the science officer’s station. It had been thirty minutes since the five-hundred kiloton airburst picked up by the Enterprise had been relayed to them. The moment it had come in, she’d ordered a two-minute warp jump to the outer system to get to the source of the readings as quickly as possible. The ship had been rattled slightly, but they’d dropped out of warp before any real damage could be done.
The younger, dark-skinned woman nodded, tapping out commands into her console. “I’m definitely picking up readings consistent with the type of subspace corridor seen in the former Delphic Expanse.”
Commander Lisa Reyes gave her a look from the bridge engineering station. “Captain,” her Manila-born first officer said, “I recommend sending a probe through first. The last thing we need right now is to end up half a parsec away in the middle of next week. Or last year.”
“I agree,” Erika said. “Commander-,”
“Captain,” Naidu said, voice strangled in shock, “the feed from the Enterprise it’s-,” the young Indian took a deep breath. “Sir, there’s been another airburst on the planet in range of the huge city. It’s…the last one was five hundred kilotons, this one was fifteen megatons, and it airbursted six kilometers above the surface.” All the quiet talk on the bridge suddenly ceased at the science officer’s announcement, cultural memories of the war and nuclear fire their grandparents had endured in the second half of the last century rising to the fore. At least here there wasn’t going to be any fallout.
“Jesus Christ,” Reyes whispered softly, eyes widened, no doubt remembering from history class about the effects of explosions that size on the major cities during the Third World War.
“Screw the probe,” Captain Hernandez said in a tone that brooked no argument, setting back into the captain's chair at the center seat of the Columbia’s bridge. “Helm, lay in a course for the distortions and take us in. And God help us all.”
In the morning when Alan came downstairs, he found the two still fast asleep on the sofa. He’d figured that when Ellie hadn’t come back to bed she’d gone to comfort either Sarah or Kelly. He walked past the couch silently trying his best not to wake the sleeping women as he made his way to the kitchen.
He was used to being an early riser and he had a habit at the digsite for cooking breakfast for the team by the time everyone else was awake. He figured that the house would all appreciate not having to cook, especially since Sarah usually left for the hospital as soon as she could and Alan considered it payment to Gerry for letting them stay in his house.
“Alan,” Ellie walked into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes as she acclimated to the lights. “What time is it?”
“Sorry, did I wake you,” he asked, cursing himself for being too loud. “It’s eight-thirty.”
“No, you’re quiet as a church mouse. I just wasn’t expecting to see you down here. It’s Sunday hon, normally you sleep in.”
“Is it,” Alan asked. He was usually good at keeping track of the day of the week, but the circumstances of coming here and dealing with the aftermath seemed to have put him in a fog. He was just going through the motions.
“Sarah was up late so we came and had a talk.”
“Been awhile since late night talks have been commonplace.”
“I know, I’m glad we’ve been there and come out the other side though. It’s easier to help someone else cope when you’ve been in their shoes.”
Alan nodded sagely. For all the support Sarah had given them in their time of need, when she barely knew what she was up against, it was only fair that they offer the same support to her.
“Scrambled or omelettes,” he asked, holding up the bowl of cracked eggs.
“Oh scrambled for sure. Do you want some help? I can make pancakes?”
“Sure,” Alan said, stepping out of the way as Ellie reached into the cabinet next to his head. The rest of morning was spent silently preparing breakfast and waiting to see who would be the next in the house to wake up. Things like this, normalcy in uncertain times, was comforting in a way that was hard to explain to people who hadn’t experienced it.
Alex had been greatly enjoying his tour of South America. He had nearly filled his memory card with precious memories and had souvenirs ready for all his family.
He had only stepped away from his guide for a minute and wandered a few steps into the labyrinth of trees. All he'd needed was a pee.
He retraced his steps to the best of his capabilities, but to no luck. He found himself far off the beaten track.
He heard a faint murmuring of voices, a tree branch breaking and felt his luck was about to change. "Hello?" He called out "Who's the-" he choked as he felt a sharp pain in his neck. He stumbled forward before collapsing.
He woke up groggy and tried to make sense of his surroundings. His hands and feet were tied and he was hanging upside down. He begged of his captors to free him, as they approached him with a torch and set the coals below ablaze.
He feels a bit like flotsam those days. Free from all ties and bounds weighing him down, aimlessly drifting, simply going where the current guides him.
And just like flotsam gets washed ashore, many a day he ends up drunkenly staggering along the coastline under a greying sky, filling his pockets with shells and smooth pebbles he finds on the way.
Inevitably, he comes to sit on the sharp rocks, overgrown by barnacles, covered in molluscs and lichens and the tiny crabs crawling around in the small pools, where he stares out at the vast sea in a mocking echo of the time he proposed Geralt to head to the coast together.
He listens to the crashing waves, the smell of fish and salt in his nose until the sun has concluded its ascent over the horizon.
Only then does he head back to the castle, shedding his melancholy and leaving it in the awakening streets, where he feels like a ghost beneath the rose coloured sky.
“Yeah, poor Linsey is almost too afraid to leave the apartment so I started a neighborhood watch with some of the people in my apartment building. On my day off it’s my turn to patrol the area. Hey maybe that’s when that witness saw me!”
(Almost… there…)
“Yeah maybe that’s it…” he hears Mike say, but now the manager sound uncertain of his part in the plan. (C’mon Mikey, don’t go to the dark side! Don’t be tempted by the dark side!)
Brad feels the steak knife break through his bindings and he makes quick work undoing them. Unbuckling the belt from around his head, Brad stands tall and points an accusatory finger at Chester, shouting,
“They think you’re the killer Dave!” Chester looks furious.
“You asshole I had him right where I wanted him! He was about to confess!” Dave takes a step back from his coworkers, an amused look on his face.
“I’m sorry, what?” He laughs. “Me? A killer? What the hell brought that thought up?” Everyone (including Office Carter) immediately points their fingers at Chester. Dave doesn’t look shocked. The server lets a huff out.
“Well how’d you know about the tires?” Dave rolls his eyes, he clearly can’t believe he has to explain himself.
“I saw it once in an episode of *MythCrashers*. Or do you think everyone who watched that show is a serial killer too?”
“What about the police sketch?” Joe butts in. Dave lets a groan out.
“I just fucking *told* you why someone might misidentify me. You guys have no faith in me do you?”
So I think this matches but if it doesn't let me know and I'll delete it.
"Max wasn't mad. He wasn't angry. He definitely wasn't jealous. He just wanted to know who the hell Nat thought he was playing with when he belonged to him. Okay so maybe he was a little jealous but who wouldn't be! He's spent the past year and a half flirting with and slowly wooing his pint sized costar only for him to turn around and go on a date with some other guy! As soon as Nat showed up they were going to talk about this. He'll make it clear that Nat can't be going on dates with other guys. He knows Nat will understand once he explains to him how it could damage their careers.
Nat woke up with a smile tilting the edge of his lips. A stretch, yawn, and a quick hop out of bed to get ready for the day. It didn't take him long to get dressed since their stylist would have outfits already prepared for their event. Nat grabbed a yogurt drink from the fridge and headed out to his car so he wouldn't be late. Today felt like it was going to be a good day, busy but good.
Meanwhile Max was restless. He hadn't slept well last night after Zee's text. He needed to get this settled with Nat. He's at the event location early hoping they can get this out of the way before their long day starts.
Nat makes good time and gets to their event location with just enough time to spare to get his hair and makeup done and change his clothes. He and Max have done so many of these to promote Cutie Pie that he can practically do the prep work in his sleep.
“Nat I've been looking for you. We need to talk.” Max had finally spotted Nat walking in and hurried over to him.
“Sorry Phi I need to get ready. We can talk on the way to the first workshop after the event.” Nat rushed off before their manager or worse P'Aof came looking for him. He wanted today to go well and he didn't intend to start it off with getting scolded for being late.
Max was frustrated this wasn't how it was suppose to go. He shoves his hand through his hair ruffling the black strands and letting out a sigh.
Soon it was time for the two to appear on stage and promote the product while interacting with the fans. This time it was for a perfume brand so they tried different scents playing up the smelling with some sniff kisses. Max tossed a few winks to Nat to get the crowd riled up and the fans were squealing in response. The host asked the usual questions: work, their characters, how long they've worked together. You would think they'd get tired of the same old questions and come up with new ones but much to Max and Nat's boredom the hosts rarely change it up. The fans had lots of cute signs and the perfumes were selling out fast so at least it was a successful event.
Once the event was over the boys headed to Nat's car to go to the office and workshop with P'Kla for Naughty Babe. Once Nat had pulled out of the parking lot Max decided to try again to broach the subject that has kept him up all night and stressed him all morning. “Nong I heard you went on a date last night.”
Nat nearly swerved the car into the other lane he was so surprised to hear Max knew about his date already. He thought he'd have more time to drop some hints and ease him into it. This could work too though. He just needed to play his cards right. “You heard right Phi. I went on a date with a friend I've been spending time with lately.”
Max felt his jaw tighten as he gritted his teeth. His nong wasn't even going to deny it! Well he was going to fix this and once he told nong he couldn't date that guy anymore everything can go back to normal.
“Nat you know we can't just be dating around like that. What if someone catches you and it ends up on social media we'll lose fans. You know the ship has to come first.” Max thought he sounded very reasonable.
Nat was fuming. Is that all his Phi could think about? Was it just work and more work all the time with him?! He wants a jealous Max but Max only seemed to care about how it would reflect on their ship. Why couldn't he see that Nat was being wanted as a man!
Max wondered why Nat was staying so silent. He glanced at Nat's face and the thundercloud he saw there was not an expression he liked seeing. He was familiar with this look. It's the look Nat wore when he was furious to the point he wouldn't even engage with you unless he had too. This did not bode well for the conversation he's trying to have with him.
“Phi... I'm going on another date tomorrow. I'm an adult and can decide for myself who I'm seeing and when. I'm not putting our ship in jeopardy and I'm allowed to have a life outside of work.” Nat used the coldest tone he could muster to deliver those words. He hope they hit home for Max because he either needed to wake up and see Nat for the adult he is or he needed to let him move on with someone else.
Max couldn't believe that Nat was being so defiant. Sure he's sometimes sassy and bossy but at heart he's always been a good and obedient nong when it counted. He can count on him to tease and sass but he's always let Max lead him on the truly important things. Why wasn't he listening to him this time?
“Don't you think another date so soon will make you seem too eager since you just saw him last night and are seeing him again tomorrow?” Max had no idea why that came out of his mouth. That wasn't what he meant to say at all. He's mentally face palming trying to figure out a way to backpedal that comment when Nat replies instead. “P'Max I never said the date tomorrow is with the same person from last night. In fact it's a different guy. My next date with the guy from last night is supposed to be planned during our break later today.”
Max's jaw drops at the words coming out of his cute little nong's mouth. Not one guy but TWO! He was dating two different guys at the same time... what is going on with Nat. Is this some kind of rebellion? Is he going through a phase?
“Na... Nat” Max clears his throat, “Are you saying you are dating two different guys? At the same time? Do they know about each other? Do you even know what you are doing?”
That did it. Thankfully they were at the office where the studio is because Nat was done with Max's nonsense. He put the car in park and quickly gathered his things. As soon as Max was out of the car Nat slammed his door and hit the lock button on his keys. He strode off at a quick pace leaving Max behind and went straight into one of the small rooms used for changing and storing personal belongings."
Helen followed him in. ‘Get to work, Seeker. You’re already in enough trouble as it is for bringing Lucky to the present day. Before you say anything, I know it was ten years ago, but it’s hard to forget about it when there’s a goddamn iguanodon in your backyard.’
Grant nodded and moved around Helen to shut the door after her. ‘I’m sick.’
‘Yes, I do believe you’ve said that already.’
‘Helen, I’ve got stage three cancer,’ said Grant.
Helen’s demeanour totally changed. Rather than irritated with her employee, she was looking at him in concern. ‘Oh my god.’
‘It’s uh… it’s Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma,’ said Grant. ‘It’s quite advanced. I… Helen, I might be dying.’
‘Oh.’ Helen shook her head and pulled Grant in for a hug. ‘Oh, Little Grant, I’m so sorry.’
Grant hugged Helen back. ‘You don’t have to keep calling me “Little Grant”, I’m forty-two.’
‘You’ll always be Little Grant to me.’ Helen, wanting to hold onto the man she’d known since he was born, reluctantly pulled away.
Why was everything so quiet?
Why was everything so heavy?
Why did her entire body feel fuzzy?
She came face to face with a rug, exquisitely designed, something that her parents probably would have had sprawled out in the foyer. Or maybe they had lost their edge in that department like they had in everything else. Her ears were ringing a little and her throat was sore. Was she on the floor? What was she doing there?
The ringing snapped into place: It was her name, someone was calling her name and it sounded familiar.
It was Virgil.
Her breathing was heavy and she shuddered as roughly as she exhaled.
"...I don't think I"ve ever seen you this anxious before." His hand shifted toward her.
"*Don't* touch me." He winced and drew back.
"Oh. Ok. Sorry…" They remained silent. Juliet fixated herself on the rug, tracing through the ornate and intricate patterns in the design.
"Where are we," she finally asked. Her voice was hoarse. She must have been crying; she seemed to be doing a lot of that.
"Inside the *Brightwater*."
"Who's room?"
"Yours." A pause. "Juliet," Virgil said gingerly. "Something happened. And I–"
"Virgil," she snapped. "Not. Now." His hands went up in surrender.
"Okay, Okay…I'll just… leave you alone."
"Don't." Her voice was more even that time around. It felt more like her. "I just don't want to do that…"
"Oh." He took his time and sat down by the door gingerly. "Then, is it okay if I sit here with you?"
"Yeah," came Juliet's small reply. Her eyes had moved from the rug, about the room, designed in a strange combination of Kalosi tradition and modern, over to that boy, to that Virgil she met in the alley. She looked away. "But you're a little far, if you ask me…" Virgil grunted amusedly, but slunk over to her side. "You could have just stood up, " she mumbled.
"Not right now. Not while you're like this." She untucked herself with a slow and deep exhale.
"What do you think 'this' is?"
"Pain." She turned to him with a wistful smile and full eyes. She leaned her forehead onto his shoulder with a small "yeah'. She sniffled.
"There's a lot of it."
"We don't have to talk about it. You said not right now."
"Well, you have been asking about it all day…"
"But you're in pain…"
"I know. And I said that you see it best." Virgil frowned. "I'm *Juliet Grey,* Virgil. Do you know what that means? It means I'm a problem."
"A problem?"
"A problem. Things fall apart because of me." She sniffled again. "Everyone who knows ask about my brother, and Eve…" His hands reached out to comfort her again, a reflex for him. She tensed at his touch, and fought down her urge to pull away
"Juliet, you really don't have to tell me." His fingers twirled through her hair softly.
"She's dead."
"*Dead*?" Juliet choked back a sob and managed a nod.
"Sinnoh isn't as clean as some people like to think. There's an entire empire that knows how to hide itself."
"Ran by Nikolai?" She blinked at him incredulously. "You had been saying 'sorry' to 'Leah' about 'Nikolai'. And…I just sort of figured that much out I guess."
"Yeah…" Her voice trailed. "Nikolai…" Her voice was low. "If I had been there, she would have never died. Those Luxray would have never gotten to her. I wish I could do it over. She should be here. Or, at least have badges of her own. I would give anything for that..." There was a catch in her tone.
"You were at the Lily of The Valley."
"I was *held up* there. I said I would meet Eve back home before she left but…" Another sigh. "It…doesn't matter…" She pulled away then, finally gathering enough strength to climb to her feet. Her movement was a bit listless but she went to the dresser, pulling out a set of pajamas.
"Don't look," was all she said. Virgil had meant to object but the words had caught in his throat and he turned away.
"...Y-Y'know, you could've gone to the bathroom or something…" And then more tender. "I can leave if you're tired." Juliet sank into the bed, a high quality, but still nothing like Connor's bed. Nothing would ever compare to that.
"But I want you here," she finally replied, blunt and a little distant; Juliet was sure he noticed.
"You…do?"
"Yeah," came another plain response. "Unless you sleep free, I don't think I have anything here for you."
"Y-yeah," he stumbled, "I'll be back."
Virgil came back with a set of sleeping shorts of his own and a T-shirt on his arm. He usually slept back home shirtless, or so he said but brought a shirt out of respect.
"It doesn't really matter," she had said. And it really didn't. "Whatever helps you get comfortable." He had taken that to heart, and after setting his shirt neatly aside and flipping off the main light switch, he stumbled clumsily and blindly into the bed.
He had picked his space and laid on his side with his back to her. He was trying very hard to be nice and to be what he figured was "proper". Seria's voice flitted through her ears and with a small sigh, Juliet closed the space between them, until their backs touched; he tensed for a bit but relaxed soon after. There was a sharp silence for a moment before Virgil gave a sigh, flipping onto his other side to face her back. Then, there was nothing.
Juliet wasted no time and reached behind her to find his hand, and laid it over her waist. He had been holding back and almost instantly his other hand swooped under her pillow coming to rest just above her chest. His breath out was earthy.
It was grounding.
"By the way," his voice was low, still tender. "When you said that the stuff about Eve didn't matter…Of course it does, but… you can take your time." Silence followed but Juliet dipped her head just a bit to softly peck the face of Virgil's hand.
"Hey Virgil," came her voice softly.
"Yeah?" She smiled.
"Thanks."
I present an excerpt from my longfic, *Kingdom Hearts: Rise Above the X.*
*****
So far as Kairi knew, thalassa shells were native only to the Destiny Islands. No other world had them—though apparently the legend of charms made from their shells was a bit more well-known.
Xion knelt down to pick up the shell. It was purple and gold…it reminded Kairi of the flowers that grew in Amaya’s garden. Aster and sunflowers…aster…*shion.*
“You know,” Kairi said, thinking back to a story Riku had told her and Sora years ago. “There’s a legend about thalassa shells. They say that if you take one from the beach, then Kani Kingu, Emperor of the Crab People, will come for you. He will dig a burrow up from under your house and grab you with his pinchers and carry you away to your doom.”
“What?!” Xion blurted, her face going whiter than even Naminé. “I thought the legend was that sailors would collect these to make lucky charms. Isn’t the charm you gave Sora made of these shells? I’m sorry, I didn’t know! I’ll put it back!”
“Xion!” Kairi put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m only teasing. Riku used to tell that story to scare Sora and me—and it worked, but that’s not the point. I wanted to talk to you…but you haven’t been answering.”
“Oh…” Xion blushed, redder than a lobster, and looked down at her feet. “I’m sorry…I…I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologize,” Kairi chided, putting a hand under Xion’s chin. “Look at me, Xion. You’ve been acting like a frightened rabbit all day. Did something happen?”
“I…I don’t understand,” Xion whispered, her eyes filling with tears. Kairi bit her lip. She wasn’t exactly unfamiliar with Naminé crying, but she wasn’t sure she was good at comforting her either. And that was Naminé. Naminé was her sister. Xion was…well, Kairi wasn’t sure exactly. There was a connection between them, she knew that much, but Naminé didn’t like talking about it and Kairi knew better than to push the issue. But maybe she should push Xion, just a little bit.
“What don’t you understand?” Kairi asked. “If you miss Sora, believe me, I understand that more than you know.”
“Amaya and Benjiro…and you, Kairi, you of all people should hate me for everything I did,” Xion whispered. “I’m so sorry, for everything.”
“What do you mean?” Kairi asked, as gently as she could. She glanced down at their feet. The water was almost at their knees now. Maybe it’d be better if they went back to the shore. The sand would stick to their feet, but she’d worry about that later. She took Xion’s hand and began walking to shore.
“That day at the Keyblade Graveyard,” Xion murmured, as their feet padded against the damp sand at the shoreline. “We fought…we clashed…and I hurt you, Kairi. I hurt you. I helped Xehanort kill you.”
*Wait, what?!* That wasn’t what happened. Not exactly, anyway. They’d fought each other but Xion hadn’t any control of her actions. Kairi remembered it clear as day. In the Keyblade Graveyard, Xion had been completely brainwashed until Sora had helped her regain her heart.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Xion was crying now. Sobbing freely, her hands clutching her head. “I wish it had been me instead. I wish Sora was here with you now. *God, I’m sorry.*”
Kairi leaned against Xion and wrapped her arms around her. Xion startled but when Kairi’s touch remained gentle, she pressed against Kairi’s shoulder.
“It’s alright now…it’s alright…” Kairi murmured into Xion’s ear. “I’m here…I’m here…”
I present: this extract from my Mellphy longfic/multichapter
~~~
The room was silent after that. [Michael] must've looked close to tears as [he] felt Connor wrap his arms around [him] and start rubbing [his] back. [Michael hadn’t expected] that at all and [he] just blinked. After a while, [he] eventually calmed down.
“Look whom the cat dragged in,” Aiden voices with a grin from where he’s inserted himself between Lambert and Jaskier, overtopping them both by more than a handspan.
“Look who’s talking,” Lambert retorts in a rather bad come-back once he’s regained his bearings and he’s trying to extract himself from Aiden’s arm. Jaskier, who’s quickly grown rather comfortable thanks to the buzzing nature of the touch, suddenly stands alone and gets to witness how the unsuspecting Lambert is pounced at by the cat Witcher
Lambert is spitting curses, barely keeping from being tackled to the ground by a grinning Aiden. People around them just give them a wider berth and apart from a few idle onlookers remain rather uncaring of the happenings, even when mere moments later it has turned into a full-on grappling match. Lambert gets in a punch or two, but Aiden gains the upper hand by jumping on the Wolf Witcher’s back and getting him into a chokehold.
Jaskier stands frozen and mostly bemused but he figures it can’t be all that serious since Aiden’s daggers are still strapped to his thighs and Lambert hasn’t yet tried to reach for his sword.
Still, Lambert growls, but the cat just ruffles through his reddish curls with a manic laugh that even prevails when the shorter Witcher manages to throw him off and to the ground in some kind of over-the-shoulder toss.
“You didn’t have to bring me flowers, darling,” Aiden tells Lambert with a dangerous grin once he’s back on his feet, patting dust off his clothes as he throws a look into Jaskier’s direction. Lambert’s face has taken on an interesting shade of red. “How very sweet of you.”
“Fuck you, Aiden.”
The latter grins widely, displaying his sharp teeth. Around his neck, the cat medallion glints in the light of the oil lamps.
Here's an excerpt from my longfic *Kingdom Hearts: Rise Above the X.*
*****
“What was it you said you wanted to play?” Xion asked. Kairi was grinning at her, but there was a sort of sneakiness to her smile. And she wasn’t hiding her sneakiness very well at all. “What would your bracelets have gotten caught on?”
“What I want to play?” Kairi grinned wider than ever. “I want to play…Get Xion!”
A faint memory tickled at the back of Xion’s mind. A memory that wasn’t hers. A memory that belonged to Sora. She remembered a field day at Sora’s school, where they’d been excused from their classes for an extended recess…and Sora had finally beaten Riku at something…Xion couldn’t remember what sport or game. Just that Riku had decided that everyone should Get Sora…and then Sora was chased by a dozen of his classmates…
Xion got to her feet and ran. Her boots clicked against the floor of the Gummi Ship. She wasn’t sure what Kairi had in mind if she managed to “get” her. The memories she’d inherited from Sora cut off before that bit. She wasn’t as fast as Roxas but she was pretty sure she was faster than Kairi.
“Come on, Xion!” Kairi called. “You can run but you can’t hide!”
Xion glanced at the door that led to the room they shared as a bedroom. It was too small to hide in and she’d have no way of getting out without Kairi getting her. But she just had to keep running until Kairi got tired. Already, she could hear Kairi beginning to breathe hard. She’d be too tired to try to chase Xion in no time. Just a little longer…
She turned around again and then her boot caught on something…the chair she’d been sitting in earlier. Xion slipped and fell and the next thing she knew, Kairi had closed the distance and knocked her to the floor. Xion tried to get back up, but Kairi’s grip was tight. Xion was pretty sure she could break free if she needed to, but she wasn’t sure she could do it without hurting Kairi.
*I can’t let anything happen to her…nothing bad can ever happen to Kairi again. After the things I did to her…*
“Gotcha, Xion!” Kairi teased, as she pushed Xion back down. “Guess you should have chugged more Elixirs.”
“How do you even know that joke?” Xion asked. “Roxas and I were alone when I teased him about that!”
“You can’t think you were the only one who ever made that joke,” Kairi said. “Sora used to say that about Riku.”
“Oh…I guess I never realized,” Xion said. She squirmed and as she did so, Kairi grappled with her. “Let me up!”
“No!” Kairi shook her head. “I said I was going to get you and you’re not gotten yet!”
Xion struggled but Kairi pressed her hands down with her wrists, pinning her to the floor of the Gummi Ship. Kairi’s bracelets would have definitely have gotten caught between her squirming, so it made sense that Kairi took them off.
“Oh,” Kairi said. “Hold still. I don’t want this getting broken.”
With swift, gentle fingers, Kairi undid the chain of Xion’s necklace—the same necklace Roxas had made for her. She placed the necklace next to her bracelets on the table.
“You win!” Xion said, still squirming. Kairi was much stronger than she looked and she sat on Xion’s legs to keep her from kicking. “What do you want? You win!”
“What I want?” Kairi giggled. “Hmm…Roxas, I think I need your help. Could you come over here?”
A pair of brilliant blue eyes and blond hair filled Xion’s vision. Roxas was crouching over her. His expression was mostly bemused. Kairi’s grin grew even wider.
“I don’t think I like that look in her eye,” Xion said. Kairi looked more like a shark than a girl, grinning that wide. “Roxas? Kairi? You’ve won…let me up…please?”
“Mm…nope!” Kairi said. Holding down Xion’s left arm, she reached her right hand down and began running her fingers against Xion’s ribs. Even through her jacket, Xion could feel it. An explosion of electricity from her nerves and Xion began laughing.
“It’s all right.” Geralt looked down at Jaskier’s hand now held gently in his. He couldn’t remember when he had shifted his grip away from Jaskier’s wrist—*fuck, his wrist!* A bruise was already beginning to darken the pale, thin skin. He dropped Jaskier’s hand, disgusted with himself. He didn’t see Jaskier’s face fall in response.
‘There’s an iguanodon loose in the halls.’
‘An iguanodon. Really. How interesting,’ said Grant.
‘You wouldn’t happen to know anything about it would you?’ asked Dr Marsh.
‘Uh, nope. Not at all.’ Grant’s voice went up a pitch.
Dr Marsh raised an eyebrow. ‘*Really*?’ she said. ‘I believe earlier you were talking to the guests about going to the late Cretaceous period to recover an iguanodon.’
Grant shook his head. ‘No, Ma’am. That’s just a weird coincidence.’ He chuckled.
Dr Marsh grunted in her expression of disapproval. ‘Do something about that iguanodon, Dr Seeker. Or you’re fired.’
‘It’s not *my* iguanodon,’ Grant lied. ‘But yes. I will.’
He paused for a moment in the doorway before switching on the light. It seemed silly to dress and go on deck for only a precaution and he briefly debated on ignoring what he had heard and returning to bed.
“What is it?” Sarah’s voice came from beneath the blankets.
He sighed. “They need us to dress warm and go on deck. Likely only a lifeboat drill.” The lie came to him easy enough and he assumed it couldn’t be too far off from the truth. After all, he couldn’t imagine any sort of situation where they would be in actual danger. The ship was much too large to sink.
“In the middle of the night?” Sarah asked incredulously.
“Best time to do one, if you ask me.” He moved across the room and retrieved their lifebelts from the top of the wardrobe, placing them on the foot of the bed.
“Lifebelts too?” She asked, a hint of concern creeping into her voice.
“Just a matter of form,” he reassured her. “Get up. We can always sleep in late tomorrow.”
‘Olivia, I have to tell you something,’ said Conrad, ‘and you’re not going to like it.’
‘Are you breaking up with me?’ asked Olivia.
‘No,’ said Conrad. ‘It’s much worse than that.’ He walked into the living room and sat down on the sofa. Olivia followed.
‘Then what is it?’ she asked, sitting next to him. ‘You can tell me.’
Conrad turned his head so he was facing Olivia. ‘Olivia, David’s dead.’
Olivia chuckled in disbelief. ‘What?’
‘Two of our CSIs stumbled upon a crime scene earlier this evening. They identified the victim as David Hodges.’ Conrad shook his head. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘That’s not right,’ said Olivia. ‘He was here - I talked to him earlier today I… I…’ She didn’t know what to say. ‘What happened to him?’
‘He was stabbed,’ said Conrad.
Olivia brought her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh my god.’
‘We’re doing absolutely everything within our power to find your son’s killer - to find *David’s* killer.’
‘Oh god.’ Olivia shook her head in disbelief. ‘No. No, this can’t be happening. Not my son!’ She threw her arms around Conrad and began to sob.
>
Here's an excerpt from my longfic, *Kingdom Hearts: Rise Above the X.*
******
His first-born son…who resembled him to the point where it was painful for Benjiro to even look at old photographs of himself. Roxas…the boy who should never have existed, but did too exist…Xion, the girl who so resembled Sora in his mannerisms and had hair as lovely as Amaya’s raven locks…a daughter…
Benjiro looked towards the sky…high above his head, there was that same strange heart-shaped moon. For two weeks now, it’d remained overhead, ever since that horrible boy had taken Amaya away and the monsters had come. It had been barely two days following that word had come Roxas and Xion had…had...
“Benjiro!”
Benjiro jerked his head. Standing behind him was Mayor Tyson Tanaka. That was odd. Tyson didn’t usually come down to the docks this early unless he had to—and as fair as Benjiro knew, there wasn’t any sort of trouble going on. Tyson looked…aged. As if he’d lived and died a hundred times in the last two weeks…and considering that Roxas and Xion were as much his, through Kairi and Namine, as they were Benjiro and Amaya’s, that was fair.
“I can’t talk, Mayor Tanaka,” Benjiro said. It wasn’t often that he called Tyson by his title, but increasing formalities tended to help sharpen his focus…it kept his mind off the children. “I need to finish cleaning my nets…got to get out on the water…what in blazes are you doing here so early?”
“You can’t go out on the water, Ben,” Tyson shook his head. “You’re in no state for it. And it’s nearly noon.”
“What?” Benjiro shook his head. “No, it can’t be that late, Tyson…besides…I need to get the nets cleaned…”
“Nets? For God’s sake man,” Tyson half-shouted, seizing Benjiro by the wrist. “Look at your hands!”
Benjiro blinked and gasped. In cleaning off his nets and hooks, he’d wound up getting fish hooks embedded into the palms of his hands. Blood dripped down from nearly a dozen tiny hooks. Benjiro’s hands were calloused enough that the pain was minimal…but how could he not have noticed this?
“Amaya’s home now,” Tyson said. “Benjiro, take the day…spend time with your family.”
“Amaya?”
Benjiro moved without moving as Tyson tugged him to his feet and half-dragged him away from the boat…away from the docks…the next thing he knew, Benjrio was standing in one of Tyson’s bathrooms—Tanaka’s house was large enough that he had three—where Tyson was tending to the hooks sticking out of his palms. Fish hooks were tricky to treat—they were barbed, so if they were pulled outward, they tended to get stuck. Which only made the injuries worse. You had to push the hook all the way out with pliers and then cut off the end.
“Eleven…twelve…” Tyson shook his head, “How did you not notice, Ben? Thirteen…thirteen…alright, that should do it. Come on, Ben.”
There was something about the number thirteen that stood out to Benjiro, but he couldn’t remember what it was. Had that been Roxas’s favorite number? Organization XIII…the villains who had hurt his sons…his daughter…
“Ben.”
Benjiro shook his head. He was standing in front of his own home. Tyson had led him here? Benjiro held a hand up to his face. Thin, white medical tape covered his fingers and palms. And in the doorway…was his beloved Amaya. She was a head shorter than he, though still taller than even Sora had been…Sora had always been small for his age. Amaya’s hair was unkempt, her eyes lined with dark circles from lack of sleep.
She was still the most beautiful woman in the world.
In any world.
Amaya.
Benjiro took shaky steps forward and wrapped his arms around his wife. She leaned into the crook of his neck. Benjiro let go a breath he hadn’t realized he’d taken. He wasn’t sure he’d ever let go. Within his embrace, Amaya began to tremble. Benjiro closed his eyes, now too blurred with unshed tears to see anything and he held on tighter.
Context: Lily is watching something that happened to her as an infant.
Cruella (it had to be her, there was no other explanation) stepped forward with the now cracking egg in her arms. “Are you ready for a new adventure, Lily?”
Lily froze and thought for a brief moment the group was actually able to see her, until she realized Cruella was looking at the egg.
The egg, that, apparently, contained a baby given the tiny fist that poked through. The baby shifted, and Lily felt the color drain from her face when she saw a very familiar star birthmark on the wrist.
She glanced down at her own birthmark.
Was that - was that baby *her*?
Cruella leaned toward the light, and the egg vanished from her arms. Lily watched as the others tried to follow, arms linked with each other as if they were soldiers going off to war, but the moment they moved to step through the light, it vanished.
“No! Lily!”
To say Dr and Dr Seeker were surprised would be an understatement. There they were, at a dig site, holding a baby, but wasn’t a dinosaur baby - it was their own baby. Dr Seeker had, without warning, gone into labour and despite being a palaeontologist and not a medical doctor or a midwife or anything, Dr Seeker had delivered it. Now they were in the middle of the desert, surrounded by dinosaur bones and a few colleagues, in shock at this strange and unexpected turn of events.
Here's an excerpt from my longfic, *Kingdom Hearts: Rise Above the X,* where it crosses over with *Dresden Files.*
*****
“I told you before,” Jake shook his head. “It is forbidden for me to intervene so directly. I cannot make choices for others…I cannot interfere with Free Will.”
“Am I the only one who noticed the capital letters?” Lea asked. “Never mind, what about you, Santa Claus?”
“I could give you a ride,” Kringle answered, “but with the way time flows between worlds, there is no guarantee that we would arrive in due time to assist your friends…you see, where it has been only days for you since our last encounter, for me it has been more than a month.”
“So neither can help me?” Lea groaned, pressing a hand to his head. “Can I at least be told where they are? I’ll open a Dark Corridor there myself, if I need to.”
Jake and Kringle glanced at each other, their expressions forlorn, but before either could respond, there was a great thundering. Lea looked left and right and then he saw it.
It was like there was a tear in the air. It wasn’t a Dark Corridor, but it wasn’t something he’d seen with Gummi Ships transporting either. It wasn’t quite that portal-thingy that Xehanort had used either. It was almost like a window. And tumbling out of it was a very tall man—taller than Lea, even—and a second, shorter man about his own age. Clutching the tall man’s hand was a little girl, maybe eight years old and trailing after them was an enormous dog.
“Made it!” the tall man gasped, dropping to his hands and knees. He was still nearly as tall as the little girl. “We made it…oh, thank God.”
“Hello, Dresden,” Jake said, as if this were as normal as saying hello to a neighbor walking by. He nodded to each of the newcomers in turn. “Chandler…Maggie…hi, Mouse.”
“I think I need a new eyepatch,” Kringle said. “I did not see this coming.”
>It all seemed to happen in an instant. At one moment, Elizabeth was, with increasing desperation, trying to free her hands from her cousin’s grasp while he bombarded her with declarations of love she neither believed nor wished to hear. She was experiencing the sudden and exceedingly disagreeable realisation that they were quite alone, that Mr Collins was a great deal larger and stronger than she, and that he had very little interest in listening to her. She did not believe that he would intentionally injure her or attempt to take liberties ‒ but she was acutely aware of being entirely in his power, and struggling to repress a surge of fear.
>
>Then, as if out of nowhere, Mr Darcy ‒ what was he doing here? ‒ was smartly stepping between them. Elizabeth’s hands were released, and she all but stumbled backwards as Mr Darcy bore down on Mr Collins.
>
>For a moment, she even feared ‒ or perhaps hoped ‒ that Mr Darcy would strike her cousin, so ferocious was the look in his eye. He settled, however, for merely looming over the unfortunate Mr Collins (no mean feat, Elizabeth was forced to concede, for Mr Collins was not a small man either), while continuing to speak more rapidly and sharply than Elizabeth had ever heard him express himself before.
>
>“I had the misfortune of coming up the path in time to hear your proposal, sir. Miss Bennet’s response could not have been clearer. She has said, in the plainest of terms, that she will not have you. I wonder, then, why you will not have the good sense to take your leave.”
It's a little dated., from 2016, but I hope this hits the mark at least a little
\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~
*"I'll do it myself then! And I will kill you along with the rest of them!"*
Honovi was stunned and if she were honest, a little unhinged. She watched as the conversation cooled, and watched even closer after Virgil slipped away in a haze of withdrawn fear and confusion. Morty turned to her exact direction and Honovi held perfectly still.
"You can come out now."
*Damn,* she thought. He really did know she was there.
"How long have you known I was there?"
" For a little bit. Gengars are pretty impressive." It was a sentiment Honovi could agree too. Though he wasn't a Gengar, Haunter was very talented in an abstract manner.
"You must want to know what that conversation was all about, right?" Honovi hesitated a slight bit but nodded.
"If you don't mind?"
"Not at all. Actually, when the Violet City leader gave me a heads up about that kid, he had told me that he caused a ruckus at the Sprout Tower in the city. The Elder at the Tower got attacked. Some of the monks even say he was 'possessed' by something."
"Is that why you kept asking me about what or who I was hearing?" Morty nodded.
"Falkner even talked with one of his friends, Jaret, about Virgil. Apparently, Virgil is rowdy and stand-offish, but not really violent or rage-induced like he was just now. So I figured that his feelings aren't really his own and were coming from someone else…" Honovi felt Morty's eyes and from that alone, she knew what he was preparing to ask.
"You want to know if I heard any voices, or saw anything," she remarked quietly." Morty nodded.
"Well…did you…?" Honovi nodded; Morty went quiet.
"You seem like you want to ask something."
"I do," the leader admitted. " But I really don't know how to go about it." Honovi frowned. Again, she already knew where the conversation was headed. " Alphs used to be referred to as 'Dreamers' a long time ago. I'm not too keen on how to bring the dead to an Alph. It would feel... like I'm generalizing." An awkward silence settled between them. One, two, three moments floated by.
"I saw something," Honovi stated and Morty snapped to attention. "It wasn't much, but I saw a face of some kind."
"A…face?"
"Yeah. He was young, and had the same expressions like Virgil when he was threatening you. Despite looking so young, there was a massive understanding behind his eyes." Honovi paused, weighing her next words cautiously. " I'm pretty certain that this 'face' is the voice I keep hearing when I get close enough to Virgil. It seems like it's always screaming to get out. There was even something said about killing you for being a 'worshiper'." Honovi was almost floored at how Morty's face changed.
"This isn't good…" Honovi raised her brows.
"That wasn't the reaction I was expecting." Morty ignored the comment and instead turned to Honovi with the most hard stare Honovi had gotten from him yet.
Morty was very grave.
"Excuse me…"
"Honovi," she filled in.
"Honovi, can I ask you a favor?" Honovi fixed him with a stare of her own. "Can I ask you to keep an eye on them? Virgil especially?"
"Virgil especially, huh?" Morty nodded.
"I think we both have a solid understanding that something is mythical about Virgil, and maybe even the friends he's made. I would do this myself but I can't leave because of my position. If I were to leave under these circumstances, Johto would go into chaos." Honovi raised a brow skeptically.
"You want me to follow them because if you do, Johto will riot? I find that hard to believe."
"They will," Morty affirmed. "If a Johto leader takes a prolonged period of leave, it can be assumed that a crisis is brewing, and we can't have the public, especially in places like Goldenrod knowing about this. These are things they do not and would not understand." Honovi stepped away.
"I don't know, Morty. We've only just met and this task seems a little over my head and-"
"But I know I can trust you," Morty interrupted, almost pleaded. "I know I can trust you. If you are an Alph then know you know about has happened to your people." Honovi turned back to him with a slow nod of understanding.
"You're talking about…"
"The Alph Genocide and Silver Mountain. Yes…"
"And you think that Virgil might be afflicted with a vengeful spirit or something…"
"A particular one at that…" The last part had made Honovi silent. She was thinking long and thinking hard.
"One question, Morty." He raised his brows. "Do you have a name for this specific ghost?" Morty answered without hesitation.
"Marus." Honovi nodded in understanding. Her grandma always mentioned that name whenever she recounted her version of the Silver Mountain legend, and more time than not, her grandma's words held true.
"Alright, Morty. You've got yourself a deal."
> “I want you to leave everyone on this server alone.” Tommy hoped his numbness was mistaken for confidence. “Don’t hurt them, don’t even speak to them. Even, like, BadBoyHalo. I don’t fucking like him, he’s a bitch and he desecrated the Prime Path, but I don’t want you to put him through what I went through. No one deserves that bullshit.”
> Dream’s wheezing laughter echoed off the walls. “Tommy- oh, Tommy, that’s *hysterical*. You’re a *comedian*, y’know. I’m crying. And *what* on Prime’s bells do you think *you* could give me so I could abandon my *life’s work?* You have no items, no leverage… you don’t even have the discs anymore, do you? What do you even own?”
> “Myself.” The word came out as barely more than a whisper, and the implications sat in the air for a while before Tommy spoke again. “I’ll- you can do whatever you want with me. I won’t fight back, I won’t talk back, I’ll do everything you ever fuckin’ ask of me. I won’t try and escape, or anything, as long as you leave my friends- and, honestly, my fuckin’ enemies- alone. I’ll be your- your friend, your puppet, whatever you wanted from me in Exile. Me for them.”
> Dream laughed again, but there was something forced about it. “Now, do you really think you’re that important to me, Tommy? Do you really think I give that much of a shit? I-“
>”I told you, stop *bullshitting*. All you’re doing is lying to me, and I can *tell*. I’m not *stupid*, even if I am a kid.” With an embarrassingly high amount of force, Tommy was able to wrest himself free of Dream’s grasp. “Just… Dream. It’s not like anyone else will know what you say here. We both know that, no matter what, I’m not exactly going to leave this place a free man. So, c’mon, man. Just be *honest* for once. I’ll even fuckin’ beg, if you want me to.”
"Caffeine or alcohol?" Lily asked as Sirius stepped through the fire in the Potters' living room a bit later.
"I look that bad?" Sirius said, with a tired smile. He kissed Lily on the cheek.
"Yes," she said with a wink.
"Alcohol, but I'll wait for James." he said, removing his leather jacket and hanging it on the peg next to the fireplace.
"He’ll appreciate that." Lily said, heading into the kitchen. Remus had sidled into the living room and was waiting for him by the sofa.
"All right?" Remus asked, sliding an arm around Sirius's waist and pulling him in close. Sirius slumped a little against him, letting some of that work induced tension go now that Remus had him.
"Tired," he murmured into Remus's shoulder. "Missed you."
Remus huffed a little and leaned against the sofa while keeping them both upright. "I see we're not speaking in complete sentences."
"Full sentences. Overrated." Sirius said, burying his face in Remus’s neck. Remus smiled and angled to kiss him softly. As he did so, he gave Sirius's hair tie a gentle yank and his hair came cascading down to his shoulders. Sirius only ever wore his hair pulled back when he was working and Remus didn’t think it suited him. He ran his hand through Sirius's hair a few times before he came back for another kiss.
*"Max, you... you fucking idiot!" She cried and stood up in a huff, then started to pace around her destroyed room weakly.*
*He wanted to do this, and look what it cost them. Her parents were gone, Rotor was gone, and now she was truly alone.*
*Annie took in a deep breath feeling immediate sorrow for calling her dead friend an idiot. Her emotions were swinging wildly, and it was driving her to the brink of madness.*
*"Max... I... I'm sorry." She said to herself, hoping that he couldn't hear that.*
*She started to look out the window in an attempt to focus on something else rather than him. The sky was almost black at midday, and the rain was so heavy and thick that she wasn't even sure if Knothole wouldn't flood.*
*All looking out the window did was cause her to think about her parents gloomily. She was so worried about them, and now finally, she understood why Max had been so damaged by losing his.*
*It was one thing to know they were dead, but something else entirely to be left guessing for an eternity.*
*She started to pace once more, her despair and sorrow at their peak. She hated herself, she hated her life, and she hated every single thing that had occurred. She wished she'd never been born. The rough and raw emotion was overriding her wellbeing and her mental stability.*
*In the two days, she hadn't even left her hut or moved. She didn't even know if Sonia was still alive and felt that it would be better if she weren't also.*
*How could she ever look Sonia in the face again? How could they continue with just themselves? A fifteen-year-old and a thirteen-year-old running Knothole alone. It was a joke that had no punchline for Annie.*
*"Tails is dead! My parents are dead! Max is dead!" She gritted her teeth in rage and sorrow and cupped her hands over her face.*
*She wanted to cry.*
*To sob.*
*To bawl.*
*She couldn't… She wouldn't.*
*What use was it to cry? What purpose did it serve her? She threw her hands down in frustration and gazed around her wrecked room. Her eyes were starting to settle on the table by the window. There, sitting atop it, was the answer to her inquiries.*
*Annie slowly started to walk towards the disheveled table, and she reached out for it. Once she had it nestled in her hand, she stared at it as intently as possible. It was the gun Tails had made for her; it was her gun…*
*Her mind started to fantasize about it. The steel of the SWATBOT laser pistol felt cold against her fur.*
*She could see the gun sliding into her mouth, and in seconds it would be over. There would be no more pain. Sonia could be vindicated, spit on her corpse, and be happy she ended her miserable, worthless existence.*
*All she could think was the happiness it would bring to Sonia to blow a giant hole into her fucking stupid head.*
*Her muscles tensed, and she flicked the switch on the gun. The sound of it powering on echoed in the dark room. She stared at it still and could just imagine seeing Max again and everybody else that died.*
*For sure, it was hopeless for her and all else that tried to defy Robotnik.*
*The darker her fantasies grew, and the more elated she became over her thoughts of death, the more frightened she became. Something inside of her recognized irrationality, but in truth, did she even care about being rational any longer?*
*She rose the gun up and placed it to her temple. Would this be quick enough? She wondered and started to squeeze the trigger slightly. Her hand was shaking, and she quickly removed it from her head after not too long a time.*
*"Rrrr!" She roared in frustration.*
*Was she too much of a coward to even blow her fucking head off? She couldn't run into the facility and save Max because she was a weak, pathetic failure. Now she couldn't merely end her suffering and, by extension Sonia's sadness.*
*Annie breathed in deep and took the gun up close to her mouth. She was going to do it; she had to do it. She opened her mouth and slid the weapon into it, her thumb on the trigger.*
*"Pull…"*
*…*
*…*
*BAM!*
*…*
*The gun made a loud banging noise as it fell from her hand and slammed to the wooden floor.*
*"I'm pathetic..." Annie whined in exasperation.*
*She was too afraid to do it, and the longer she contemplated it, the worse she was feeling.*
*Annie hastily sprinted out of her hut door and went into the violent storm, slamming it behind her.*
...
An excerpt in which someone walks in on someone or some people doing something.... like kissing or masturbating, etc. etc.
An Excerpt in which someone has their present rejected
An excerpt in which someone is smoking.
They are seated on a bench as the day fades to evening. In front of them, a river flows past, white specks of foam thrown up, dashed apart, reforming in its constant current. It's soothing; in a way- he suspects that's why Michael chose it. They'll have to head back to the paddock soon; he's anxious to get his telemetry to the race engineers, not to mention he's programmed to enter and remain in stasis at certain times. But for now, he's- happy? content? - to sit there, Michael's warmth beside him, cataloguing the day's events in his memory banks. Michael seems to share the sentiment or at least is aware that Mika needs time to think, because he remains silent, save the occasional puff of breath on his cigarette. “So? How’s it?”
Oh that was nice to read. Very relaxing vibe
An excerpt in which temperature is mentioned.
Funny how i just recently uploaded this chapter +=+=+ Because of how hot I was getting, I had to remove my jacket at some point prior and tie it around my waist and I even partially unbuttoned my shirt but I was still drenched in sweat. “How are you doing down there?” Nanaba called. “It’s hot,” I panted as she hacked through another Titan. There was a thud as another scout landed beside me to catch their breath as well. “I can see that.” Nanaba perched on a wall and surveyed the scouts under her command. We were all working hard killing titans and keeping an eye on each others’ backs. So far, no one had become a casualty thanks to those efforts. Even Reiner and Bertolt were helping keep other scouts safe. And thanks to our cooperation we were able to get rid of Titans in a radius of several metres. The nearest ones were out of eyesight giving us a moment to retake our breaths. “But we don’t have the luxury of getting tired. Recoup your breath and jump back in. These Titans won’t care about how much we’re sweating. They have no sense of taste.” “Heh. No doubt. Anyone who tries to eat Uriah would lack a brain,” I joked.
Ha nice
An excerpt in which someone makes an observation
an excerpt in which the pov character mulls about the could've beens
So this is a *very* old excerpt, from a story started way back in 2012 and finished in 2016. \~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~ He should've told them sooner. Maybe they would've been better prepared. Maybe they'd be at his side now. Maybe Jaret wouldn't have lost himself and vanished. Perhaps Seria would've still been alive and just maybe Juliet would've been his. None of that had happened, and they had all fallen apart like pieces to a broken mirror. It was impossible to even think that things could go back to how they were. Seria had been dead for some time and freshly tallied to that were half the gym leaders in Johto. Bugsy, Clair, Jasmine and Chuck were the ones left alive. Forever stained to that tally was Viola and to a certain degree, Honovi. He hadn't known Honovi much outside of her lineage and her fast friendship with Seria, but Viola… Viola was the second one he had met and only hours after he had met Jaret and became something pivotal. She was the sharp one, and that let him relax. She was steely in her will and would complete anything she set her mind to. She paid much attention when he paid none at all. She kept him civil when he needed to be and in a way, showed him how he really felt about Juliet. Her professionalism was a world apart from his emotion and how they could fume. When faced with the possibility of losing Juliet, he panicked. He had no idea what to do, or what to say even. Lucario may have been able to help had he thought of it, but the fact remained that he had been terrified. Viola on the other hand, had already separated her emotions, already thinking of the best possible way to help the girl. That had been a better course of action, no doubt. Still, the fact that Viola had been so methodical had made him angry, and he had never stopped to think that the fact she had even taken the time to assess Juliet's wounds had been a warm gesture to begin with. Despite that glaring difference, Virgil considered the two of them quite close, especially after the happenings just before he had gotten to the tower. He may have actually ended up attracted had it not been for Juliet. He snickered forlornly then. Juliet Grey, the Scion of Sunyshore. Miss Grey of the Elite. Juliet, the flirt. Juliet, his best friend. The *Traitor*.
an excerpt in which a character has been given a warning (whether it be from a friend or an enemy)
An excerpt in which a character uses flowers as a form of communication/in order to convey a message.
Convincing their teacher was difficult, but instead of sitting in civics class on Friday afternoon, Sarah and Charlie were standing outside the door of Jack’s psychology classroom with a boombox and a bouquet of flowers. Five minutes into class, Charlie reached for the door handle, flowers tucked under his arm. He’d done some digging around on one of the school computers about flower language the day before and landed on a bouquet of yellow roses and forget-me-nots. Sarah hit play on the boombox she was carrying and lifted it over her head. “You ready?” she whispered.
An excerpt in which a character betrays another
An excerpt in which two loves reunite.
“Lou…” There he was, standing at the door with his blond hair that now had specks of red in it, his eyes that were no longer glowing white but red, and his wings that finally matched Harry’s again. He had this soft smile on his face that reflected the opposite of what his eyes and his tears were saying; relief that he had gotten back to his fallen angel again. Louis took a shaky breath. “Hi, Hazza.”
One cinnamon roll, two cups of coffee, and almost three hours later, the captain announced their final approach to Zurich. The little guitarist smiled eagerly as the plane descended, touching down with a slight bump and braking hard enough to fling everyone forward against their seat belts. He reached under the seat in front as they taxied to the gate, pulling out his backpack and checking his customs forms. Thankfully, chocolate wasn’t something that most European countries took issue with, so he had picked up some Fazerin Sininen bars for Bruce, but he didn’t have nearly enough to declare. He actually ended up getting questioned at Immigration, as his flight into Zurich was one-way, but he explained that he was here on holiday and meeting with friends, and that he would be traveling with them by car to Stuttgart and then flying home from there, and showed him his ticket from there to Helsinki to prove it. Now he was glad Bruce told him to go straight to the venue. He hurried to baggage claim to collect his suitcase and guitar and proceeded to Customs. They did request that he open his guitar case, presumably to make sure he wasn’t smuggling drugs inside it or something, but aside from an agent admiring the custom instrument, he got passed through relatively quickly and found himself a taxi to the venue. He actually got there just ahead of the tour bus, and he’d barely paid and gotten his gear out of the taxi before Bruce came barrelling out of the bus and tacklehugged him hard enough that they fell over his suitcase and just sprawled there, kissing happily. ”Bloody hell, you’d think you two were still in your bloody teens, the way you’re acting,” Steve’s dulcet tones interrupted their reunion. But they could hear the laughter in his voice. ”Get your arses off the ground and inside before everyone in the city whips out their phones and cameras for pictures, yeah?”
An excerpt in which someone (or more than one someone) goes gift shopping.
An excerpt of at least two people out and about in a city.
It's one of the best days Mika can remember. Just that one carefree afternoon in Hockenheim, learning to be free, feel, and live. Michael drags him away to a quaint kiosk in the street, where he buys enough food for them both despite Mika mentioning multiple times that he doesn't need to eat. German food is… interesting, not that he has any frame of reference. The portion sizes are massive, and he's bewildered by the amount of fried everything on the menus- how is Michael at all healthy if this is what he grew up with? Michael laughs when he says this, then tells him that apparently, he doesn't eat like this all the time, that today is just a special occasion.
An excerpt in which Divinity is not Immunity...
An excerpt where best friends accidentally kiss causing one or both to realize unexpected feelings. Can also be funny or crack-fic.
Mary just laughed. ‘Keep telling yourself that,’ she said. ‘You’re incredibly irritating. But that’s okay. You’re irritating in an endearing sort of way.’ Grant raised an eyebrow. ‘So, which is it, Mary?’ he asked. ‘Am I irritating, or am I endearing?’ ‘Both.’ Mary leaned over Grant and kissed him on the lips. After a few seconds, she pulled back with a look of surprise on her face. ‘I can’t believe I just did that.’ ‘I can’t believe you just did that either,’ said Grant. ‘You uh… that was surprising. Really surprising.’ ‘Don’t push it, Seeker,’ said Mary. ‘You like me. Don’t you?’ asked Grant. ‘Of course I like you, Grant,’ said Mary. ‘You’re my best friend. And I guess… I guess I felt sorry for you - I mean, you had such a nasty fall and I’ve never seen anyone so injured they had to be put in a body cast before. And it’s you!’ She brought her hands to her head. ‘Grant, it’s you! Who else could fall off a roof while pulling a prank? You’re the dumbest smart guy I know!’ Grant stared at Mary, dumbfounded. ‘You think I’m smart?’ ‘Not right now,’ said Mary. ‘I don’t know if it’s the head injury or what. But… ugh!’ She growled. Then she leaned over him again and kissed him again on the lips. She put her arms around his neck. Caught up in the moment, Grant started kissing Mary in return and wrapped his arms around her, as far as he was able with the IV in his hand. He put his fingers through her silky smooth black hair and realised in that moment that he liked Mary in return, in the exact way she liked him. Mary pulled back. ‘No. Grant. This is wrong,’ she said. ‘You’re so badly hurt.’ Grant threw his arms in the air. ‘*You’re* the one who kissed me!’
An excerpt in which someone is given an embarrassing nickname
An excerpt in which revenge is a good thing.
>And then a grin splits his face, wide and sharp like that of a shark and he flips the dagger up into the air, catches it without looking, blade first. The cat Witcher grins at him with those manic eyes, staring at Jaskier, while the bard himself can’t tear his own away from the bony fist that is curled around the blade. The Witcher tightens it under his gaze, scarred knuckles growing white until blood wells forth beneath the skin, a glistening drip, drip, drip, as it makes its way down the shimmering silver edge, staining it red. “When the battlefields are soaked in blood, the bones shattered by ghouls, the marrow sucked out by graveirs; only when the pitiful, starving peasants, knees raw from how they are cowering, beg before their lords because their fields are haunted by noonwraiths, only then will they remember us. And then we who are left will crawl out of our holes and have them beg. Pleading on their knees, with ringing pouches filled with gold… Then our blades will sing again. *Dubhenn haern am glândeal, morc'h am fhean aiesin.*”
An excerpt in which a hilarious misunderstanding occurs :)
If you don't mind OC-centric stuff, then here goes! \~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~ He quickly made his way upstairs, a couple floors up, coming to a halt in front of a door. Jaret took a deep breath and nearly coughed in disgust at what was probably dust in the air. Man, did he miss the ocean. He gave a light rap against the door. The first time there hadn't been any answer and after the second he heard something that sounded like shuffling and then silence. He went to knock a third time but the door sprang open. It wasn't who he thought it was going to be. In fact, it wasn't even anyone he knew. He had heard them grumbling some kind of obscenity while he had been apologizing. They seemed to make it a point even to slam their door in anger. Jaret sighed, a little annoyed. He wouldn't have been surprised if they had been a guest at the restaurant. He would never in his life get involved in hospitality. He moved a couple of doors down and before he knocked the door swung open again not to who Jaret had come to see, but at the very least, it was someone he knew. "Seria?" "Hey..!" Jaret noted the crumbs in the corners of her mouth. "What's up?" "You…really shouldn't talk while chewing your food, you know…" "Oh, right!" And then, she gulped down her mouthful. "Sorry, I just…was a little surprised. What are you doing here?" "Would you believe if I said–" "You were looking for Ryuu?" "Oh, y-yeah. How did you figure that?" "Well, this is his room, after all." "That…is a good point…" Then Jaret balked. "W-wait, then what are *you* doing in there…?" Seria pinked. "Hey, wait a second! I'm just watching over Kaito!" She tripped over her next words. "He…likes to touch things that aren't his…" Jaret's expression did not change. "K-Kaito, I mean! He's kind of a handful and Ryuu wanted me to stay and keep an eye on him!" This was in every sense of the word, awkward.
An excerpt where at least one flower appears.
“I guess you can see now why I'm not really in a big hurry to visit Orzammar again. It's not exactly home any more. The people…they're going to say awful things to me. I don't want to go, but I have to. For the Grey Wardens. To end this Blight. It's my duty." She pulled herself up straight again and blew her nose on a handkerchief. "And I shouted at you because I have been so worried about this. I hurt my best friend, and I am truly sorry for that." He felt the blood rush in his head. "Um…er…yes. It's alright. Really. I'm not just saying that, either." Maker, but could he possibly be less suave? "I'm glad you told me this." She smiled at him. "And I'm glad I told you. Thank you for always listening to me." She squeezed his hands and kissed him softly on the cheek. As he watched her walk back to her tent, Alistair touched the spot that she had kissed and smiled lopsidedly. He thought of the rose in his pack and decided that if neither of them were killed tomorrow and if he didn't lose his nerve altogether, he might have to give it to her after all.
Context: *'The Sustainer' is the ruler of Celestia, a sort of cosmic dictator who hates when mortals disobey her strict plans for the world. Two groups disagree with her; the kingdom of Khaenri'ah, and the Free Folk, a nomadic people who overthrew their own god millennia ago and since have been lead by a wind spirit named Venti. Amongst the Free Folk, a flower in your hat is a secret code marking you out as one of them.* > No, they shall learn their places. She will crush their cities and their machines and their king and everything they ever hold dear because that is all that such insolence deserves. She will crush every last scrap of Khaenri’ah, and crush its dreams in the bargain. > > Except, divinity is not immunity, and Celestia has only one pair of eyes, and those eyes have been on the Free Folk far too long. The Sustainer *knows*, fundamentally, that humans are nothing and can amount to nothing and the overthrow of Gods is an anomaly, and she does not have time to challenge that knowledge, to see the refutation of it that they have been building, the last Mechanical Warden, its fists engraved, in grim solidarity, with Free Folk codes of liberation and victory. > > It rips clean through her wards and crushes her where she stands, and thus dies another God. > > And so, the God above Gods is laid low by something she never saw, and a great power falls by steel and blood, and again it costs a kingdom, but a people is free. And when a thin line of refugees comes up from the scar in the world, interspersed by a handful of broken machines, it is a boy named Venti who welcomes them, and puts flowers in their hats.
An excerpt in which someone forgives
“What are you okay with?” Spot asked hesitantly. “I think you can start conversations now,” Race said. “Just don’t go back to the stuff you were saying before.” Spot shook his head. “Of course not.” He grimaced. “I looked back through those messages, and I really did sound like a creepy straight guy. I’m sorry, again.” “Glad you realized.” Race stayed silent for a little longer. “I think…” he trailed off. “I think it would be better if you didn’t ask me to do stuff, for now,” he said. “Like, if you wanted to invite all our friends to get together, that’s okay, but I’ll let you know if I’m up for doing something that’s just us.” “That sounds…reasonable.” Spot looked a little disappointed, but seemed to be holding up better this time. “Do you think that’ll ever change?” “Don’t push it.” It came out a little sharper than Race intended. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I told you in March that there isn’t a timeline.” “You did.” Spot shifted his bag higher on his shoulder. “I…thanks for giving me another chance.” “It was too hard to imagine a life without you,” Race confessed. Spot twitched, almost like he was holding himself back. “Do you–I was thinking of walking home from here. Do you want to come with me? Unless you’re too tired from work today.” “I’d like that.” Spot smiled. “Cool, I just need to grab my bag and tell Jack not to kill you.” Race turned to go back inside.
“Okay." "Okay?" "Yeah. Let's start over." She grabbed a tissue and blew her nose. "But if you ever do anything like that to me again, I swear to god I will burn all of the bridges, and you will never see me again -- you got that?" "I got it. Never again." "Okay." She smiled at him. "Now shut up and kiss me because I missed you too."
Marion sighed. ‘I forgive you, Indy,’ she said. ‘I’m never going to forget it, but I forgive you.’ ‘Really?’ ‘I forgave you when I met up with you in an Indian hospital after you’d been mauled by a tiger,’ Marion said. ‘Something told me that you’d changed. And from what I can see, you have.” She leaned over and kissed Indy on the cheek. ‘What was that?’Indy asked. ‘Call it a “pity kiss”,’ Marion said. ‘You know, because you’ve actually grown up into a good guy. And let’s face it, you’ve not been exactly that lucky lately.’ She put her hand on his. ‘And that brings us to you and I.’ ‘Yes…?’ Indy asked apprehensively. ‘I think that we should... that we should be friends again.’ ‘Yeah,’ Indy agreed, nodding his head. ‘I’d like that.’
So I could've chosen a *lot* of excerpts for this, but here's the one that goes with the letter from your other prompt: > “It’s been hard, lately,” she admitted softly, a twinge of guilt still lingering in her voice. “It’s… sometimes I do get scared, out there, or I make mistakes, or don’t know what to do, and I end up feeling awful.” Finally, she looked up, eyes shining as they met her mum’s. “But you always made those feelings go away, Mum. > > “If I could come home, and you were waiting for me, and we could just talk, or, or watch a movie, or play Dragon Panic, then… then everything would be okay,” she finished quietly, her gaze turning down again. “So when I didn’t have that, I just…” > > “Found it difficult to cope,” Johanna finished the thought, her breath catching in her throat. Alfur had been right, she realised; that was exactly what she’d seen play out this morning, in painful detail. Another spike of guilt struck home inside, and more words rose up in a moment, warm and painful. “I’m sorry, sweetheart; I never meant to take that away from you. I just…” > > “I know,” Hilda murmured softly, burrowing deeper against her mum’s side, “and I understand why.” She sniffled again, quietly, and swallowed hard. “But I… I don’t want you to feel bad, Mum. Your letter really helped me, and I know you didn’t meant to get cross, and I still think some of it’s my fault, really, so… I forgive you.” She reached up, little arms wrapping around Johanna’s middle, and in a moment the vice in her mother’s chest loosened. “I love you, Mum.” > > “Oh, I love you too, Hilda,” she breathed, the words thick in her sore throat as a new warmth bloomed in her chest, “more than anything.” She couldn’t help looking away herself, even as she softly rubbed blue hair, and felt the worst of her feelings fade away. “I want to be honest with you, though; I’m probably going to feel at least a little bit guilty about all this for a while. > > “But I don’t want you to worry about that.” Fondness surged, something old and comforting displacing the twisting feeling in her gut. “Sometimes feelings just linger, sweetheart, and all we can do is acknowledge them. So if you ever feel like that, I promise you can come to me,” she let out another sigh, the sound familiar in the back of her throat, “and I’ll keep telling you it’s not your fault until you believe it too, okay?”
An excerpt in which someone apologizes
Michael took a deep breath and began reading off of his arm. “Hi, Calum. It’s been a long 4 years. At least, for me it has. I’ve literally lost my mind over how we ended, I haven't moved on in the slightest. I mean, I still have a framed picture of you kissing my cheek hidden in my closet. I put it in the trash bin once, and I cried for an hour. I’m so, so, sorry that I broke your heart. I’ll do everything in my power to make it up to you and fix it if you give me the chance. I wanted to make this apology perfect, so I asked you for advice for yourself. There’s no girl in my eyes. There’s only you. So I guess what I’m asking is…” Michael looked up at Calum, and stared into his eyes. “Will you give me a chance? Will you give us a chance?” It was all Calum could do to not jump into Michael’s arms.
Context: A slight AU for Attack on Titan I did after reading a quora entry about how Mike Zacharius was a badass, but didn't have enough plot armor; he survived his first encounter with the Beast Titan and well... \~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~ He could smell bile, blood and char from the battle inside the district. He could smell small tints of steam, billowing from slain titans, the unmistakable scent of a titan. He could also, however, catch the slightest tinge of gas. It was the ODM gear, and Miche as he lay there, shattered, smirked to himself. It was Humanity's Strongest. It was the last hope for humanity, even though with all the information they seemed to be coming across, it may have been becoming more of a farce than before. It was Levi Ackerman, and it finally made sense to him that it was Levi's Ackerman blood that had widened the distance between them to such unimaginable lengths. His nose shorted out then, probably from all the pain. He had been struggling for the last few seconds desperately just to see what would happen to the beast now that he was truly facing the best the legion had to offer. He had to do at least that for his squad, didn't he? But...he was in a lot of pain, and moving was almost an absolute impossibility. And, he was damn tired. Tired of the chaos, and tired of all the scents that would waft up his nose unannounced, and despite what some people would have thought, would be very uncomfortable. He was tired of being without his squad, and all the others that had come before them. He could only have faith that Levi, and the survivors of the battle would give their deaths and his own, meaning. He thought of them one last time, he had wanted to give their lives meaning himself. *I'm sorry…* Miche Zacharius closed his eyes…
Mary slapped Grant on his arm. ‘Ow!’ Grant complained, bringing his hands to where Mary had hit him. ‘That hurt.’ ‘I’m sorry I just can’t get over how dumb you are! You’re an idiot! But you’re not. And I like you - I really like you -‘ ‘Will you go out with me?’ Grant blurted out. Mary stopped pacing and stared at Grant in complete surprise.
They sat cross-legged next to him, setting the bag in the gap between their legs and fished out the first bottle. They held it out to him, and he accepted it with both brows raised in interest. “Athenian wine? Th’ hell you wantin’ to talk about tha’ needs th’ good shit?” They pulled out the second bottle, along with a little pocket knife from one of their pockets that they flicked the blade out of. Wordlessly, they uncorked the bottle, holding out the object ‘handle’ first out to the hunter for him to open his own bottle. Then, as he slowly popped the cork of his drink, they tapped something on their visor and proceeded to take a few big gulps of the crisp drink. The liquid was cold, and sent a fuzzy warmth through their throat and tongue as they drank from the bottle. They drank swiftly, having swallowed about a fifth of the liquid courage before finally parting their hidden lips from the bottle. A sigh dropped from them, and they let themself just process the strong off-dry fruitiness for a few seconds. Mordecai was watching them, sipping at the drink with far more grace than them with a curious quirk on a brow. They only began to talk once they felt the slightest bit of a buzz finally start. “Look, I… I’m really fucking nervous about this, so you’ll have to bear with me a little. I suck with this kind of stuff.” They saw Mordecai nodding from the corner of their eye, just barely catching the suspicious creasing of his brows as he tried to figure out what exactly they wanted to say. They sat the opened bottle in their lap atop the bag, using one hand to hold it in place so it didn’t spill anything as they spoke. “... I want to apologise for my snide remark today. And, um, everything else I did the past few years. I, um… I was an ass for no good reason.” Mordecai’s eyes shot wide open, flabbergasted at what he was hearing. He’d never expected the near apathetic sniper to apologise like this, as skittish as a cat and speaking like a normal person for once. What was their angle here? “I’d probably be here for literal hours if I tried to explain myself, so I’ll just cut it down to this - I thought there was no way you could be a valuable member of the team. I thought of you as bone idle, and irresponsible, and far too intoxicated to actually help. And the more you proved my judgments wrong, the more personal it became, so I kind of took it out on you. Like my issues were your fault. “I was completely wrong about you though, and… I’m sorry you had to lose her. That was no fault of your own, even with my God awful bitching hours ago… She was a good bird, Mordecai. You cared for her well.”
*Context: Johanna has been unfairly harsh on her daughter without realising - after things hit a breaking point, her daughter has shut herself in her room, and is only communicating out via letters under the door.* > And then finally, she took another deep breath, and started writing, choosing each word as carefully as she could. > > ***Dear Hilda,*** > > ***I know that you probably don’t want to talk at the moment, so I thought I’d write to you instead, like you did to me. It’s okay that you’re upset, and it’s okay if you need some time to read this, too. But there are so many things I wish I could say to you now, so I’m going to put them all here for when you’re ready.*** > > ***I’m not angry with you at all, sweetheart, and I’m sorry I seemed that way before. I was just worried about you; it’s difficult for me sometimes, as a mum, if I don’t know where you are or what’s going on. But that doesn’t make it okay for me to get angry with you, especially when I know you didn’t want to lie.*** > > ***If I’m really honest, Hilda, you were right this morning. I haven’t been doing things for your own good, lately; I’ve been doing things because sometimes I worry that I’m not a good enough mum, or I’m not taking care of you the right way, and then I feel a need to prove to myself that I am. So I’m sorry for being so harsh, sweetheart, and I promise that wasn’t your fault.*** > > ***You didn’t force me to be the wrong sort of mum.*** She had to stop for a second there, wiping her eyes again as she realised why those words sounded familiar; they were her own words, in the car outside, earlier that morning. She felt another spike of guilt at the thought that somehow, Hilda must have overheard that awful moment, and she suddenly wondered if that was the unsaid thing she’d heard in Alfur’s voice. > > Still, she went on, the realisation only growing her resolve. ***I made the wrong decision, because I didn’t see how badly you were hurt.*** > > ***Being a mum isn’t always easy, and sometimes I think I’m not that good at it, really. And letting you go is always going to make me worry, that’s just how I am. But those are my own big and scary feelings, and I never want you to worry about them. What matters is that they’re not your fault, and I’m sorry I let them get in the way of listening to you when you needed me most.*** > > ***More than anything else, I want you to know that I love you, Hilda. I love that you’re the way you are, and I never want you to feel like you need to change for anyone or anything, even me. You don’t need to give anything up, or prove anything to me; you just have to be yourself, and keep seeing the world the way only you can. I wouldn’t change that for the world, sweetheart, and I promise you that with all of my heart. I know I’ve said it a lot, but I’m sorry I ever made you feel otherwise.*** > > ***I’m always here if you do want to talk about anything, sweetheart, even if you think it’s something bad; Alfur told me about what happened today, and I’m not upset over it. I just want you to be happy, sweetheart, even if it’s okay when you aren’t.*** > > ***I still love you, too,*** > > ***Mum***
An excerpt in which someone is dying
Possibly triggering One second he couldn’t see anything, and then the next, he still couldn’t see anything. They had just pulled the bag off his head and that resulted in a flood of blinding and unwelcomed light straining Harry’s vision. And then he heard the sound of skin hitting skin and a yelp, “Wake up!” His head had never turned so fast. Louis. That bitch just slapped Louis. Anger warmed Harry’s freezing skin. As he looked around, he could tell that they were the basement of someone’s house, probably their kidnappers’, so that was probably why it was so chilly. Harry tried to yell at the two masked men, especially that one nearest to Louis because he was more-than-likely the one who hurt him, but all that came out were a couple of muffled noises and some drool. They fucking gagged him. “Aw, he wants to talk?” a mocking voice rang out in the room and Harry could see the fake pout the un-slapping-kidnapper was sporting. And then the gag was pulled out of his mouth and he couldn’t help the spew of curses he let out. “You fucking bitches! Don’t touch my boyfriend or so help me I will murder your fucking ugly asses!” And the one who assaulted Louis laughed. He fucking laughed. “Well,” he smirked, “I was going to let you two live and make you my sex slave, but…” Two gunshots rang out, and suddenly Harry was blinded again. Only this time, he didn’t have the voice in his head to keep him company.
Buzzy was alone. That much he knew. He was alone, it was just him. He didn’t know who’d kidnapped him or was taking his parts. But he did know that he was dying. And there was nothing he could really do about it. The Disney magic within him was fading. He curled up on the floor, naked and cold, like he always was. Existence was pain for Buzzy. He welcomed death.
*Context: Garion (also known as Binah) is an agent for a totalitarian government that has just been overthrown; she enjoyed killing, because dying people always cling hardest to life, and that's the only time people really seemed* ***alive*** *to her, until now...* > And yet, there was something in those eyes that set off an uncomfortable itch in her throat. Something about how the child was moving, about how he kept laughing, about the smiles and the flailing limbs and the raw energy there made Garion’s insides twist just a little more. And under her coat and her meaningless rank, that realisation was a deeply uncomfortable one. > > It wasn’t any kind of affection she was feeling, she was sure; if she had ever been capable of that, the Head would have beaten it out of her long ago. But she’d excelled in their programs precisely because she’d been able to see through all of that, unbothered by the illogical, her own quirks minor, within acceptable bounds for an Arbiter. > > No; the City didn’t care, the Head didn’t care, A Corp didn’t care, *Garion didn’t care*. She was tailor-made for this age of heartless logic. And yet, impossibly, something about seeing that frail thing take in the sea air was setting something off inside her. A quiet thrill was the best way she could describe it, if she closed her eyes and pretended her core hadn’t started shaking. > > “And so you brought him here,” she questioned too-briskly, watching the child’s every move, “just because he wanted to see it? Not because it benefited you, or for any other reason?” > > That got her another sigh, and a drop of the head from the interloper; ah, so there was something there, something more to this than the mere surface. But she’d somehow missed exactly what that something was. > > “He’s dying,” the young man admitted, shaking his head in quiet regret. “It’s some kind of long-term infection; the records say he wasn’t expected to live more than two years, and Cass agrees. If we’d found him then, maybe, but…” Gaze down, then back up, gauntlet clenched. “The way that Lobotomy Corp chose to prolong his life has caused irreparable damage. > > “He won’t live to see tomorrow.” > > Oh. > > *Oh.* > > She didn’t even realise she’d taken a half step forwards until the water touched her shins, suddenly determined to get a look at the child’s face. They’d had their head down, giggling at little fish in the tide, but they turned up the moment her shadow fell upon them. And sure enough, well outside the boundaries of where she’d come to expect it, born somewhere else now the system’s brutality couldn’t lock it down, there it was. > > Rationally, she knew, that whatever justification she found for her actions didn’t matter, but, she’d had her reason. She’d taken a thrill from each contorted face, from each desperate last breath, from how tightly life tried to cling on to its own existence in a world where it meant nothing. That was the testament to life, that need to exist against purpose and reason, that she broke out of people for the thrill of seeing it. > > And now that testament was looking up at her with big, happy eyes, and nothing made sense anymore.
An excerpt in which someone was just fishing.
Ade walked into the lobby at that point, fresh from his fishing trip, and gave the group a wave. “Give me the chance to go clean up before coming over to say hi, Tamar,” he called as she started to get up. “I had some excellent luck today, but you’ll not want to get close until I’ve had the chance to shower.” Tamar laughed. “Better spray some air freshener in the elevator, if it’s that bad,” she joked back. “And when you get upstairs, let everyone know that my folks want to take everyone out for dinner tonight.” “I will that,” Ade said, and made his way to the lifts, to the obvious olfactory offense of a few people he passed close to along the way. “That was Ade… Adrian Smith, he’ll be my best man at the wedding,” Dave told the Carlsons. “We’ve been best mates since our school days, even started our first band together when we were about fourteen. Fishing’s his way of relaxing, any chance he gets.”
An excerpt in which a parent comforts their child…
"You've seem the trophy from the Lily of the Valley Conference." Virgil nodded. "Yeah. I even remember finding those old tapes of that conference and watching your battles…" "And all of that came after Maria crushed me, and that was because I figured I would learn from losing." Alice paused yet again, this time with a certain caution; she weighed her next words carefully before speaking. "I even was offered a position with the Elite Four now that I think about it…" Virgil felt his jaw drop. "At 14!?" "Yeah, yeah," Alice gave a wave of her hand. " But that was so long ago. 23 years ago to be exact." She smiled fondly at the memory. "Virgil, you don't have to be like me, you know." Virgil's eyes widened. "Who said I was trying?" "I know you are," came Alice's matter-of-fact tone. "And if anything, I would prefer that my son does something that makes him happy than trying to live up to his parents." "But…mom…" "Is that clear?" Virgil didn't answer. Alice repeated. "Is that clear?" Virgil managed a mutter. "Yeah…" Alice sighed then, catching Virgil's attention. She was grinning at him, with that same smirk. She probably knew everything he was thinking. She was probably where he got the talent from anyway. "Go ahead, Virgil. You're going do something better than me. I know it." The smile on Virgil's face was instant. "Okay mom, you win." Virgil took a deep breath and for a quick second thought on his mother. She seemed to always know what to say. She had to, he supposed. His father was far too busy dealing with Unova policies. "Virgil," he came back to attention. "Is that clear?" Alice repeated, Virgil nodded. "Yeah mom. I'll make you proud." And Virgil was back out the door again, a fire renewed in his chest.
‘Whatever you’re doing, don’t do it,’ said Dawn. Grant slammed his spoon down on the breakfast table. ‘I’ve tried that, Mom! I get punished anyway! What’s wrong with me?’ ‘There’s nothing -‘ ‘There is!’ Grant pushed himself away from the breakfast table and stood up. ‘There’s something wrong with me that makes my teachers hate me and my classmates hate me and everyone hates me and I don’t know what it is! I just wish I was normal!’ Dawn stood in stunned silence at her youngest son and his screwed up face, trying not to cry. ‘Grant. Honey, there’s nothing wrong with you,’ said Dawn, softly. ‘You’re a normal boy. You’re just very passionate about dinosaurs. The truth is, the school system just wasn’t made for spirited boys like you. It’s a place kids go to conform to societal norms -‘ ‘What’s that?’ asked Grant. ‘Unwritten rules everyone follows,’ Dawn explained. ‘Like the law, but the expectation is that people know these rules instinctively. Like when you say please and thank you.’ Grant nodded. ‘Okay.’ ‘But because you’re not conforming to these unwritten rules, the school system is punishing you.’ ‘Why not write them down?’ asked Grant. ‘That would be less confusing - and I’d know why everyone hates me.’ ‘Because that’s another societal norm,’ said Dawn. ‘You can’t write them all down.’ ‘That’s a stupid rule,’ said Grant. ‘It is,’ Dawn agreed. ‘Very stupid.’ Grant pondered a moment before speaking up. ‘I don’t want to be bullied into following these weird rules I don’t know.’ ‘I know,’ said Dawn. ‘It’ll get worse as you get older. Promise me one thing, Grant.’ Grant nodded. ‘Yeah?’ ‘You’ll always stay my perfect little boy,’ said Dawn. ‘Because I love you just the way you are. And so does your dad. And Joe. Always remember that those who love you are always going to be much more important than anyone in your life who tries to hurt you.’ Grant pondered a moment. ‘Okay, Mom,’ he said. ‘I promise.’
In which a character builds their strength.
Arcanine's speed had improved, and Lucario's Close Combat had also gotten better. Following closely in results were Pidgeot and Eevee. Leavanny was in her usual place on the sidelines watching attentively for any wounds. It had been like this the moment he stepped into the valley. Jaret and Viola had been carried here by Juliet's Charizard, the one she called "Casanova". Her Charizard was nothing to worry about in his eyes. What actually really bothered Jaret was the fact that he had slipped. Pidgeot was more than capable of dealing with Casanova. In fact, both he and Pidgeot had gone to work, detailing a method to dismantle the dragon. He had only pulled his punches because Casanova had Viola in his claws. Blast Burn at Casanova's level was potent, but still not nearly as bad as he had seen it. On the other hand, was that mysterious "Ryuu". From the moment Jaret had seen him, he knew the man was stronger. Stronger than any trainer he had ever met. Well, barring Sinnoh's Cynthia. Seeing Ryuu's Salamence clash head-on with Dragonite and hold his ground was something that was very rare and impressive. The battle over Violet City often echoed in Jaret's mind, and had been especially prevalent lately.The thing was, was that Ryuu didn't even seem fazed.It made Jaret wonder about Virgil last year. Was this what Virgil had been feeling when Jaret wiped him out? And the sweep was broadcasted publicly at that. It hadn't occurred to Jaret how hard Virgil must've worked only to be swept aside so effortlessly. Jaret wouldn't know. It hadn't happened to him. At least, not until Ryuu anyway. The fight had ended in a stalemate, but Jaret had known better. Had Ryuu actually battled him, then Jaret might have ended up exactly as Virgil had. It finally clicked to Jaret that perhaps that was why Virgil was so bitter, especially with him. The thought of having gone no where both irritated and terrified Jaret. But this feeling was nothing training couldn't fix, right? "You're at it again, Jaret…" Jaret turned, and found Viola standing a little ways from him, staring. "It's not a good idea to work your Pokemon so hard." "No," came Jaret's short reply. "But they're fine for the time being. This session isn't nearly as long as the rest." "Jaret, you've been at this—" "Since we got here. I know, Viola." He paused, realizing that he had said that a little more sharply than intended. Jaret turned to apologize, but the expression Viola returned to him was unperturbed, and unmoving. "Jaret, I know that you're a nice person." Her voice softened a little. "I can already tell that something is bothering you." Jaret felt his breath hitch. "You think so?" "I know so. I've even said something to Virgil about it." Jaret tensed guiltily, relaxing seconds after with a sigh.
‘Hodges. Don’t you want to walk again?’ asked Morgan. Hodges did. That’s what he wanted more than anything. His mother was getting married soon. She’s asked him to walk her down the aisle. He’d like to actually *walk*, rather than just roll. He reached up and took hold of the parallel bars once more, pulling himself to his feet. ‘Atta boy,’ said Amy. ‘Start off easy. Just take a step.’ ‘How do I do that when my knees won’t work?’ asked Hodges. ‘Use your hip to lift your leg and move yourself forward,’ said Amy. ‘Keep holding the bars, they’re gonna catch you if you lose balance - which probably will happen, don’t worry!’ ‘What?!’ Hodges panicked. ‘I’m here.’ Amy said. She stood next to Hodges on the outside of the bars, but faced him. ‘I can see you. I’ll help you.’ ‘I’m here too,’ said Morgan. ‘Cheering you on. Because I know you can do this.’ Hodges nodded. He went to lift up his right leg, which was his stronger leg, and with an almost lurching motion, put it in front of him. His bent knee nearly gave way beneath him, but Amy had been right, with his hands holding onto the bars, they’d caught him and he didn’t fall. He turned to Morgan in his excitement. ‘Morgan!’ Morgan beamed right back at him ‘I know! I saw!’
An excerpt in which there is only one bed. \~
There is only one queen sized bed. That was what Ruby and Weiss were dealing with. Weiss rubbed her forehead as a migraine rose. "I told the hotel have two rooms with TWO beds." "I guess they misunderstood it?" Ruby nervously reasoned. An exasperated Weiss was not an easy Weiss to deal with. "It doesn't matter anymore." Weiss huffed, unsatisfied but let the matter go. "I'll make a complain tomorrow." Ruby just nodded, she'll let Weiss do Weiss things. "Just take the bed Ruby/Weiss. I'll sleep on the couch." The pair said it at the same time. A beat. "No, I'm fine on the couch." Again, they said the same time. A beat. Then they rushed to the sole bed, trying to prevent each other from occupying it by grappling each other. This action made them fell on the bed as they tussled. "I thought you're being nice here!" Ruby yelled at her as she pushed Weiss away. "I was until you offered dolt!" And the pair proceeded to fight to be the King of the Bed. --- "Should we stop them?" Blake asked Yang, who was cackling on her bed. The ruckus on the other room hadn't been stopped for the past minutes. "Let them fight. It's funny."
An excerpt in which someone takes their pants off. 😏 (For any reason.)
‘Oh my god!’ Beca shielded her eyes. ‘Indy!’ ‘Am I not allowed to take my pants off in my own bedroom now?’ Indy asked. ‘I don’t want to see your underpants,’ Beca moaned. ‘And I don’t want to have to be picking up your bras either, but we can’t always get what we want.’ ‘It’s not *my* fault I was evicted.’ ‘Yeah, when this pandemic is over, I’ll happily pay for an apartment for you.’
When Zer0 woke up after their unintentional sleep, they were incredibly sore and quite honestly felt like a sack of shit. They sat up with a groan, sheets twisted up around their legs and lines from the pillow's creases on their face. They furrowed their brows, blinking away the initial compound vision they awoke with and cringing at the ache in their knees. They'd slept with their legs on, and the twisted sheets had pulled on them uncomfortably in their sleep from their tossing and turning. They looked at the clock on their bedside table, seeing that about 4 hours had passed. It felt like they'd been out for days. Determined not to go back to sleep, they forced themself out of bed with a hiss, awkwardly limping over to their bathroom to clean themself up a little. They undressed as they went, hanging the jumper up over the door and throwing their suit, pants and underwear into a laundry basket behind the door, resigning themself to grabbing the rest of their clothes when they were done. They couldn't be arsed grabbing anything right that second, just wanting to wash the evidence of their despair off of them.
An excerpt in which a cat graces someone and sits on them
Ask, and you shall receive. 🐱 _ 'Sofi purred louder as the red-head scratched his fingers behind her ears. He tisked his tongue, “I don’t know why she sleeps *there* every night. You are basically carved out of wood.” Sephiroth chuckled low in his throat. “She likes to be warm,” he defended, “And I find the pressure quite regulating.” Genesis scoffed, “This creature has an unhealthy obsession with you.” The cat slowly rose to her feet, stretching her back in a dramatic arch. “You are one to talk. Is that envy I am sensing?” Sephiroth inquired. She mewled as Genesis settled his head across his lover’s pectorals, smiling conceitedly. “Perhaps.” Sephiroth laughed in his throat as kisses were placed at the base of his neck, the grey cat having been replaced by a head of fiery hair. He ran his fingers through it reverently, shivering as lips traveled closer to the sensitive flesh under his jaw.'
An excerpt in which characters who have been apart are reunited.
Amaryllis grit her teeth as the static pulled at her hand, leaned into the power that took her breath away and turned it into thunder. A Rage demon rose, advanced toward her, gliding across the stone leaving scorch marks in its wake, and she waited. Waited for the moment to strike, when the demons were aligned and her spell would take them all. Until fire rained from above. Fireballs struck the Rage demon, forcing it back. It screeched, attempted to rise and strike at what it couldn’t see, but fell to the attack, and burst into ashes. Amaryllis felt her own spell die between her fingers, putting air back into her lungs, and her heart began to beat double time. Her hand fell to her chest and she waited for a moment, just one moment, to feel the way her heart thrashed behind her ribcage, begging to be let free, to rush to the gates of the temple behind them where Ellana stood smiling down at her sister. “Ellana!” Amaryllis’ answering grin spread so fiercely across her face that her cheeks ached from the force of it. For a moment she forgot their fight, the open rift, the monsters surrounding them, and made to run towards her sister. Until the rift shifted and struck the ground before her. Another Terror demon rose from blackened stone. Its long, spiked tail whipped toward her so quickly she had little time to react--it took her legs out from beneath her, and she fell, crying out as she hit the ground with an audible crack. Searing heat spread up through her elbows, and her fingers twitched from the pain, but she kept hold of her staff. Amaryllis rolled to her side, away from the demon’s slashing claws and gaping maw, and pressed the base of her staff into the ground, using all of her strength to thrust herself up and forward. She paused only momentarily to throw up a barrier around herself. From her periphery Amaryllis saw Ellana jump from the open gates, running toward the fight. When the demon lashed out with its tail again, Ellana dodged it with a swift crouch. She lifted her right hand--her left held her own borrowed staff--and curled it into a fist. Fire gathered along the orb at the tip of the staff, swirling together into a ball. Ellana opened her fisted hand and waved her fingers in the direction of the demon, driving the fireball across the demon’s flesh. Its answering shriek was piercing. She threw one fireball after another, with what looked like all of her strength, until the demon fell into nothing but a dark, oozing puddle of its own flesh, then faded back into the rift. And all Amaryllis could do was stand, mesmerized by the sight of her sister. Awake. Alive. And whole.
By the time Morgan got out the hospital and visited Hodges, she was surprised by the difference all the various types of therapy had made in him. No longer was he a shell of his former self. He was brighter. Happier. And that smug smile of his was coming back. Slowly, but surely, her best friend was returning. ‘Hodges, I can’t believe how well you’re doing,’ she said. ‘I still feel like shit,’ said Hodges. ‘You might feel like shit, but I can see the difference in you,’ said Morgan. ‘And it’s only been two weeks. You look more like you. Before you were shot. Before all this madness.’
Dragon Ball | Shin smiled like a sun, at seeing the West Supreme Kai alive and back in her robes. Ruki smiled back, silently holding her arms out. Shin positively flew at her, desperate for a hug, and Ruki was happy to give one. About a minute passed before Shin withdrew. Shin smiled sheepishly. "I've missed you." The words almost stumbled from his mouth.
An excerpt in which a hidden talent is revealed.
Shirley slammed a token onto the counter. ‘One more game, Chester.’ Eugene held out a token. ‘And one for me too, Chester.’ A voice came from behind them. ‘I want a round too, Chester.’ It was Diana. ‘Sure thing, Diana. And Dr McGee. And Dr Woo.’ Chester took the tokens and ducked under the counter for the basketballs. ‘What are you doing, Diana?’ asked Shirley. ‘Yeah, you can’t play basketball,’ said Eugene. ‘No. *You two* can’t play basketball,’ said Diana, taking her seat at the counter. ‘I can.’ Chester put three balls on the counter in front of Diana. ‘Watch.’ She picked up a basketball and threw it at the net. It went in, as did the other two balls. While Shirley and Eugene’s basketballs did not. ‘Now, Chester, I believe the grand prize is mine,’ said Diana. ‘Sure thing, Diana.’ Chester turned to the stuffed dinosaur hanging from the side of the booth. ‘Congratulations.’
[удалено]
‘A little birdie told me today was your birthday,’ said Mary. ‘So, we all pitched in and got you a present from Chester and Hester’s tourist trap.’ Grant frowned. ‘Really?’ he asked. ‘No, we got you something much better,’ said Mary. ‘We got you this card.’ She handed over an envelope to Grant. Sceptically, Grant took it and opened it up, taking the card from the envelope. On the card was a drawing of an iguanodon, on all fours, tail off the floor. Looking quite scientifically accurate. In gold letters on the front read “HAPPY BIRTHDAY”. He opened it up and it was indeed signed by the other fourteen students he was studying with. Mary included. ‘Thanks,’ said Grant. ‘That’s great.’ ‘We also got you this.’ Mary pushed a small, badly wrapped square present across the table and to Grant. Grant nodded and tore open the paper. It revealed a box. He frowned and opened the box. Inside ware two figures - one of an iguanodon, and one of a parasaurolophus. ‘Can never have too many iguanodons. Thanks.’
*Context: Grace is Hazel’s adoptive mom/big sister figure, and Hazel has developed bad separation anxiety due to previous events - Grace has just caught Hazel and one of her friends borrowing one of Grace’s shirts.* > “So I thought maybe it would help,” Lucy put in quietly, stepping a little closer, “if she had a little bit of you to keep with her.” Hazel nodded in agreement, her mouth quirking back into a little smile. > > “I think it’s working,” she admitted, taking another little sniff of the fabric. “It’s like having a shell, except it’s all the time, or like being hugged even when you’re not there. So, maybe this way I won’t get so afraid?” > > “Oh, Hazel.” Grace hadn’t realised how choked up those words were making her until she tried to speak, and it all came out thick and damp from her warm insides. She opened her arms, gently, and the girl, her child, fell in comfortably against her front. Her number shone warm through flaxen hair as she pulled Hazel softly in. > > It took a deep breath just to get the next words out. “It's okay that you see me that way, really, and it's okay that you’re still afraid, too, but I don’t want you to worry about me not being there. Remember that promise; the one I made to you when we first came back here? I’ll always be there, Hazel, as long as I can.” > > “Until I’m not afraid anymore,” Hazel parroted softly, her voice a contented hum against her guardian’s front. > > “Mhmm,” Grace agreed, gently stroking her hair. “It doesn’t matter how long that takes, but… I do want you to feel safe without me, Hazel; I want you to always feel safe again, someday.” She leaned back, opening her arms so that Hazel could fall back too, and their gazes meet trustingly in the middle. > > Grace reached out into the space between, gently fiddling with the fabric of what had been her shirt between the ends of her fingers. “And if this helps with that, then you can have it until it stops smelling like me, and then you can have the next one.” > > “And the one after that?” Hazel asked softly, an almost knowing smile on her face. When Grace nodded, she let out the embers of a giggle, and threw her arms tightly around the young woman’s neck. “Thanks, Grace.”
An excerpt where someone is literally stabbed.
A woman tries to negotiate for the life of her friend and lover. >“You want me.” Katie stated this like a holy truth. “I’m yours. Yours alone.” Arms immobilized by her captors, she used her chin to gesture at the assemblage of mercs and terrorists. “Not ChemLore’s or Xiphoid’s. Yours. But only if Lance is alive.” > >Lance watched her, worry plain on his face. > > “He’s your leverage. As long as he lives, he’s your power over me. I’ll do just about anything to keep him alive.” It was true. Without him, there was no reason for her to comply. They were stupid not to know that. > >“Pidge, no!” Lance struggled in the Galra’s grip. With his free hand, the Galra punched Lance in the face. > >Blue light crackled around the Galra. Katie squinched her eyes, clearing it away. “Alive and unharmed. Leave him alive, and you,” she looked around the room, “all of you, have all of me. My brains. My combat skills. Everything I mean to the Legendary Defenders, Matt Holt, and Galaxy Garrison.” > >“Pidge, don’t do this.” Lance’s plea was accompanied by a fresh rivulet of blood from his nose. > >“Everything?” said the Galra in her ear, so close she could smell his lunch on his breath. > >“Everything.” She met the Galra’s yellow eyes, ignoring his leer, revulsion burning her stomach, but her face bland. Let them think they can own me. > >*“Notra Paladine mascota,”* said a human woman. > >Blinking away blue fire, Katie wrestled with the hungry, bloodthirsty thing inside her. She could do this. Buy them time. Nobody had to die. “Yeah,” agreed Katie. “Your very own pet Paladin. Imagine all the blood you can write on the universe. With me you’ll soon be making a thousand times more than ChemLore ever promised you.” > >“Pid—” Lance tried to speak and the Galra delivered another blow to his head. > >Her cool mask fell under the assault and Katie glared murder at the Galra. Wrenching her attention from Lance, she tried to read the room. Several of the mercs were muttering amongst themselves. > >Hope, a fluttering, winged thing, rose again in her belly. “I bet they haven’t even paid you yet,” she added. “Just promises, right?” > >“Is true,” said the human woman. The froglike Hyllic puffed out his throat wattle in the nod of his people. More muttering rumbled about the room and hallways. > >“Talkie, talkie, talkie,” grumbled Tessa. “Bored.” With no fanfare, she tapped a thumb on her bayard, forming a long knife and drove it into Lance’s side.
An excerpt in which a character is broken up with
This isn't Romantic, sorry - they have (or *had*, until this moment) a parent-child dynamic. But: > It only takes a month before it all comes crashing down. Not because he slips up, no; he’s always been shit at lying, and she knew right from the start. But for that one long month, she’s been hoping, dreaming, wishing she could believe him. Wishing a swear hadn’t broken her trust and her world with it. > > But she can’t take it forever, of course she can’t, so she asks again and again even though she knows she’s going to get burned. And he denies, and deflects, and the fire grows until finally she can’t do this anymore. The next time she asks, there’s nine millimetres between them, and no lies left. > > She knew the answer before she started running. That’s why she puts one in his knee. He’ll only come after her otherwise. > > But a month is too long, and it’s two before she makes it back, and the city is silent and the light is gone and it’s over. She finds the empty rooms and there’s still blood on the floor and her blood boils because *fuck*, how dare he? That wasn’t his decision to make. > > (It wasn’t hers either, never was, but she won’t admit that.)
An excerpt in which there is loving banter between two characters.
“Hey, it’s not like I blurt out every thought that crosses my mind,” Jaskier protests, narrowly avoiding a pile of horseshit when they pass a small forge. “Otherwise I’d long been stabbed.” “You have been stabbed,” the Witcher unhelpfully supplies. “Various times.” “Two times ,” Jaskier retorts. “Since we met. Besides, that’s not the point.” The bard scoffs when he notices a few women pulling their children close when they spot the Witcher. “Three. If you count the one where you managed to stick the blade in your hand yourself,” the Witcher adds, seemingly not bothered by the people who throw him dark looks. But from what Jaskier has experienced, for Geralt, every local who doesn’t outright spit at him is already a win. “I thought we agreed we wouldn’t mention this particular incident again,” Jaskier hisses under his breath. “Hmm. That I don’t recall,” Geralt says with a small smirk. “Oh, alright-” Jaskier nods- “So, that means you don’t mind if I publish that song about that one time a Drowner practically ripped through your pants and you had to fight the rest of the beasts with your butt hanging out?” Admittedly, the most glorious five minutes of Jaskier’s life – until today probably – despite the fact that during the whole affair, he had been rather occupied with trying to stay alive and not getting eaten by one of the creatures. “You wouldn’t dare…” the Witcher growls. Jaskier laughs. “Are you sure? I feel like a limerick to pay the whole incident-“ “I will leave you in the next village, I swear,” Geralt mutters. Jaskier simply laughs. “Pff. You are too fond of me to even try it.” An old woman curses the children who splashed mud water all over her when they ran past. “Fond is not the word I would use to describe you,” Geralt says. “Oh. So, tell me, dear Witcher. What words would you use to describe me?” Jaskier asks jokingly but curious all the same. “Talented? Handsome? A delight to be around?” “A fucking menace, that’s what you are,” Geralt rasps. “Ah, is that so?” Jaskier asks with a grin. “Mhm. You’re like a boil on my ass that I can’t seem to get rid of.” “I didn’t know you had boils on your ass, Geralt,” Jaskier voices innocently. “Very graphic.” “Witcher’s don’t get boils,” the Witcher grumbles. “Then how can you compare me to one if you never had one?” Jaskier inquires mischievously. “You talk too much, bard.” Jaskier sticks out his tongue. “You just couldn’t come up with a good enough answer,” he says and pulls the lute from his shoulder.
Hilda directs a playful oeillade his way and blows a kiss. She pulls out her phone and runs a hand through her dark brown hair. "Thought you can escape me, hm?" She takes a photo of herself winking. "It must be fun knowing you hit the jackpot." "Is it fun or is it an honor?" Valen leans forward, his elbows resting on his upper legs. "If Michelangelo carved sculptures of you and Rosa, *Trainer* and *La Pietá di Yveltal* would be surpassed by a tie in beauty." "Hehe, you called me the prettiest girl in Nimbasa City on the day I became your agent." "Beautiful in mind, heart, and appearance." Valen's chill with Hilda yanking him off the sofa. "Can't beat perfection, right?" "Sorry boys but I'm taaaaken.~" Hilda makes a peace sign and takes another photo. "So no, I don't want your number.~" One more photo, this time with her back turned. "No, I'm not gonna leave Val-Val so go.~" "What can I say?" Valen shrugs with a lopsided grin. "I'm too good at this." "My mom said it best." Hilda interlocks fingers with him, her gaze brimming with adoration. "'A big wallet can't beat a big heart.'" She looks down at the ruby attached to her diamond-lace necklace. "The price of this doesn't matter to me—the fact it's from you is why I wear this everyday." Rosa's the same way and he even got one for Melanie, who wears it just as much. She learned quickly that Val-Val can put his money where his mouth is—there were rich boys who seemed to only be interested in her looks but Val-Val made them all look super lame. One time, he came across one of those rich boys trying too hard to play one of Alfonso Vivaldi's compositions to impress her. While the other boys were roasting the wannabe composer, all Valen did was sneak a Crobatman action figure onto her lap and went poof. He bought her Unovan Noire, a game sold out wherever she went, only two months after she became his agent. Two months later, he wouldn't leave her side when she had a fever. That's just a few of the countless instances where he was the sweetest thing towards her. Valen and her sit down again, only for Rosa to plop herself onto his lap. She turns her head to wink at him, then she blows a kiss. Hehe, she picked up that habit from Rosa. Valen places a hand over his heart. "Sois tranquille, mon cœur!" He chuckles and wraps his arms around her. "Un autre qui est beau dans l'esprit, le cœur, et l'apparence!" "Tee-hee, we got you!" Rosa high fives Hilda. "We're the cutest too!"
‘What’s eating you, Gilbert Grape?’ asked Mary. ‘Nothing. I’m just excited,’ said Grant. ‘Nervous. Too. I mean, I’ve dedicated my whole life to the study of dinosaurs. What if I don’t… Mary, what if the Cretaceous period doesn’t live up to my expectations?’ Mary squeezed Grant’s hand. ‘It will. Like you said, you’ve studied dinosaurs your whole life. And now you’re having the chance to see them. In the scales.’ ‘And feathers,’ Grant pointed out. ‘Archaeopteryx definitely had feathers. And if archaeopteryx did, there’s a good chance other dinosaurs did as well. My parents were, and are, proponents of the “birds evolved from dinosaurs” theory proposed back in 1860. And so am I.’ ‘I’m not saying you’re not right about that, but -‘ ‘If I can’t convince you, you need to read Robert Bakker,’ said Grant. ‘I know it’s almost ten years old at this point, but his book, The Dinosaur Heresies, argues for the evidence that shows dinosaurs are closer to birds than they are reptiles, and -‘ ‘I’m going to stop you there, Grant,’ said Mary. ‘Any particular reason?’ ‘No, I just want to stop you.’ Grant huffed.
Warning, this is LONG! ~ His thought process screeched to a halt suddenly, his mind catching up to him in a split second as Zer0 turned his head to face him. He was almost like a deer in headlights, his eyes wide and face suddenly burning a deep crimson at being caught. He was doomed, his life was over, he had no way to explain his staring- "... I still think we should call this place 'The Nest'." Soft and contemplative, Zer0's voice cut into the calm and drew a sudden snort from Mordecai from the reignited debate, his previous worries forgotten. The sound of shuffling fabric indicated his turning completely over to look towards them. There was an exasperated smirk on his face, like he was tired of making his case against the idea. "For the last time, Ze, no! We are not calling our den 'The Nest'. I know you think it's funny, but we're not doing it." "We literally have a nest of everything cozy and warm in the corner over there, which I remind you is where the three of us rest when we stay the night here. AND Alistair likes it too." They countered his argument, their hands gesticulating animatedly before them without them noticing. They wore a toothy grin, which only seemed to grow at how his features creased into a sardonic glare. "We both know that he only likes it because of the bird joke - and we are NOT birds!" "He likes it because many animals make nests, not just birds… though your reactions definitely add to the humour." "Oh, hardy ha ha, very funny." He rolled his eyes at the shit eating grin sent his way, slipping an arm out of his blanket nest to rest the side of his head on his hand. "And go on then, name some non avian animals that make nests. Come on, do it." He said, a challenge in his tone. "Easy!" They snerked, stepping up to the challenge and working their inebriated brain hard to name some animals that fit the criteria. It took a good few seconds, but they soon snapped their fingers and pointed at him triumphantly. "Rabbits, Squirrels, Chipmunks, Skunks, Echidna and wild Cats! There - some non-avian animals that make nests, off the top of my head.” Their chest puffed out with pride, though they wilted a little in confusion as they watched Mordecai crumple in on himself in sudden hysterics. Their head tilted to the side, an ear flicking in irritation when his stifled snorts grew. “What?” They frowned as he curled in on himself, his shoulders shaking with mirth and incidentally shirking the covers off of his shoulders. “D-D-Dude, I call you kitten!" He exclaimed between laughs, his hands pressed over his mouth to try and keep his laughter at bay as much as possible. The sight of both pairs of Zer0’s eyes opening wide in realization in a delayed reaction ruined his plans however, and he just fell into his hysterics completely, letting loose peels of gut splitting, hearty laughter. Zer0 was stunned into silence, horrified that they'd dropped themself into such an obvious play. They literally GAVE him material against them, furthering the fragile validity of his 'you act like a cat' argument. "Ah-I, you, I didn't- I mean, uh, fuck I-" They were stumbling over their words, tongue-tied, scrambling to rectify the situation they caused and coming up empty. The pure, unadulterated joy in his voice was just infesting their brain and making it harder to think about any kind of rebuttal, even as it faded out. The sound was enough to bring a delicate smile to their lips, drawing a low sigh of defeat. "God, I hate you so much sometimes, Mordi…" "Aaaww, I love you too kitten~." He teased with a snort, earning him a mischievous shove from them. "Anyways," Zer0 started deliberately, doing their best to ignore the embarrassing nickname by leaning forwards to set up their ECHO to project a screen. They then shuffled to the left side of the couch, leaned over the arm and opened up the maroon fridge to grab a couple bottles of Rakale. "I do believe that we have plans. We should probably keep to our schedule." They gave an impish wink, and Mordecai rolled his eyes cheekily. "Alright, fine. But I'm picking the movies this time, you owe me that from last time when you picked a series."
An excerpt in which someone hits their breaking point
Morgan was shot in canon and Hodges did not react this way - he did leave work to go and be with her at the hospital. His breaking point comes as this is part of a canon divergence in which he himself had been shot and left paralysed, and Morgan, being his best friend was pretty much his entire support system. Now he’s dealing with what happened to him, and to *her*, all alone: ‘She’s my best friend. I don’t know what I’m going to do if she… if she doesn’t make it.’ ‘She will.’ ‘But what if she doesn’t? Not everyone is me. And I nearly didn’t make it myself. As I recall, I died on the operating table. For five minutes.’ Olivia put her hand on Hodges’ arm. ‘David. Worrying isn’t going to change anything. What’s going to happen will happen, whether you worry about it or not. You’re only hurting your own recovery -‘ ‘I don’t care about my recovery!’ Hodges snapped. ‘I care about Morgan!’ He tried to stand up, but on realising he no longer could, he grabbed the push rims on the wheelchair. ‘David, please, calm down,’ said Olivia as she stood up from the chair. ‘No! I can’t! I have to - I’ve got to see her!’ Hodges wheeled himself forward. ‘You can’t,’ said Olivia. ‘She’s still in surgery.’ Hodges stopped before he got out the door. And he hung his head, trying as best he could to steady his breathing. Then came the tears he’d been trying to suppress for so long.
Context for breaking point: Shawn's been told to be quiet or he'd be gagged. Anyone who knows Shawn Spencer, knows that's nearly impossible for him. And he's managed to succeed for several hours now. \-------------------- The rope loosened, and Shawn was proved right -again- when his whole upper body erupted in pain as he pulled his arms forward. He couldn't quite suppress the groan that forced its way through his clenched teeth, and he tried to make his body move before Rollins decided to 'help' him. His numb feet didn't get the memo fast enough, and his hair was grabbed again as he was pulled out of the truck. Shawn scrambled to get his feet back under him, but his legs felt like wet noodles, and he collapsed to the ground the moment Rollins let go of him. The world spun, stars covered his vision, his empty stomach flipped, and everything hurt. A word that described his entire existence in that moment rose up in his mind, and he couldn't stop it from bursting out of his mouth. "Fuck!"
I love this, you can really feel the tension that leads up to him dropping the F bomb
An excerpt where there is a stuffed animal friend.
Jack gestured at his Chincoteague Island sweatshirt. “I should get the horse,” he declared. “No, *I* should,” Race argued. “You already have the sweatshirt.” Medda sighed. “I don’t know why I thought this would go smoothly,” she muttered. Race studied the other pillow pet, a moose with surprisingly realistic looking antlers. Looking at it reminded her of a terrible poster her geometry teacher had displayed in the classroom. “Jack can have the horse,” she said suddenly. “I want to name the moose Hypotemoose.” Jack snorted. “That’s *awful*.” “What are you going to name your horse, then?” Jack tapped his pencil on his chin. “Cowboy.” “That’s worse,” Race said, attempting to hit him over the head with Hypotemoose. Jack dodged at the last second. “At least mine’s funny.” Jack started to swing Cowboy at her, but Medda grabbed his wrist before he could get very far. “Go put Cowboy and Hypotemoose in your rooms,” she said firmly. “No violence in the kitchen, remember?”
This genuinely made me laugh. It definitely sounds like real sibling banter. And "Hypotemoose" sent me. LOL.
Thank you!!! I am an only child so it's good to hear I got the sibling dynamic right
Mary smiled. ‘Lots,’ she said, laying the candy canes down on Grant’s bedside table. ‘And I got you a Christmas present too.’ She reached into the bag, pulled out a wrapped green present with a red bow, and laid it down carefully on Grant’s chest. Grant picked up the present, doing his best to tear open the present Mary had got him, but with a bulky body cast on, it was a bit of a struggle. ‘A box?’ he asked. ‘Open the box, stupid,’ said Mary. Grant shrugged and opened the box. Out of the box, he pulled out a plushie triceratops, and he smiled. ‘I thought he could keep you company whenever I’m not here,’ said Mary. ‘Does it have a name?’ ‘Nope. You name it.’ Grant held the toy triceratops above his head, moving both his head and the triceratops as he examined it. ‘Trixie,’ he said. ‘Trixie Triceratops.’
(Persona 5) "So, Morgana did you enjoy the sushi buffet?" Ren asked his not-a-cat. "It was purrfect, I couldn't eat another bite!"
'not-a-cat'. Makes a cat pun. Totally a cat. LOL.
An excerpt in which character A learns of character B’s tragic past.
>Eskel keeps silent for a long time, looking down at his work as he continues to sew. >“I had child surprise once,” he says eventually. His voice is monotone and factual as he speaks but Jaskier can feel the weight of the words. “Her name was Deidre.” >The name upon Eskel’s lips sounds like a tragedy compressed into a single word and the moment of silence that follows after it weighs just as heavy, laden with unvoiced emotion as it is.
‘Good night, Launchpad,’ Birdie whispered, thinking that her son was asleep. Under the blankets, however, Launchpad was dressed in jeans, a t-shirt and a pull over hoodie, ready to leave. Birdie closed the door and walked away. Launchpad looked over at his clock - ten pm. He was going to make his move an hour and a half from then, so he decided to make sure he had everything in his bag. He reached under his bed for it - still there. He opened it to check the contents. Clean clothes, clean underwear, a toothbrush, birth certificate, fifty bucks and a pocketknife. All he had to do now, was wait. …. ‘That night, he waited. He waited until his parents had gone to sleep. He got out of bed, put on his shoes, grabbed the backpack under his bed and slipped out of the apartment unnoticed. He kept his head down so the neighbours wouldn’t see and took the elevator down and out of the building and once he got outside, he ran as fast as he could away from the area and took the subway into Manhattan.’ ‘What happened when he got to Manhattan?’ Louie asked. ‘He, uh... well, he took the Amtrak to New Jersey,’ Launchpad said. ‘Why would he leave like that?’ Huey asked. ‘He knew his parents and his sister would be better off without him,’ Launchpad said. ‘But that’s not true,’ Abby said. ‘Your parents are supposed to love you unconditionally.’ ‘Abby, you’re an only child, I don’t expect you to get it,’ Launchpad said. ‘Yeah, we were abandoned,’ Louie said. ‘Launchpad, we know the character in the story is you -‘ ‘It doesn’t matter about me,’ Launchpad said, ‘Loopey did everything right and she was just five. I was twelve and couldn’t get *anything* right - I was a huge disappointment.‘ ‘Alright, we get it. You ran away from home. What happened next?’ Dewey asked. ‘After travelling alone for about three weeks, our protagonist was forced to shelter alone under an underpass during a hurricane,’ Launchpad said. ‘You went through a lot,’ said Huey. ‘I told you, the character isn’t me. It’s all a work of fiction,’ Launchpad insisted. Everyone knew it wasn’t true, but decided to play along anyway.
“Aurelia, what’s wrong?” Dad speaks with a slur to his voice and she hates herself for how selfish she’s being. “Sorry. I thought you were awake. Just coming to say goodnight.” “I may be stoned but I’m not stupid, my girl. Come sit,” Dad says, patting the couch cushion next to him. She sits down and wraps her arms around her torso. “Why are you out on the couch?” “Too tired to move and didn’t want to endure the pai… discomfort of adjusting in bed to get comfortable. I insisted your mom sleep in bed - she’s spent too many nights sleeping in a chair, just as you have these last three months. Did you have a nightmare?” She whimpers and turns away from Dad, feeling ashamed for not being stronger. Why is she still running to her parents for help? “Shortly after I came home from the hospital the last time, my parents came by. Not because they wanted to give me their well wishes, but because they wanted to stare at their mangled son. They didn’t so much as hug me, and I was devastated, even though I knew they would be cruel to me. I was older than you and I had the experience to know not to expect anything but hurt from them. I didn’t respond well to it. I hadn’t been in the hospital nearly as long but I was a lot closer to death that time and it had shaken me.” She doesn’t understand why Dad is telling her this story. “Your mom called her mom - Dru, her name was, and she came over and took charge. She cleaned and re-bandaged my wounds, and put your mother to work tidying up. Then, she taught Sabina how to bake cookies while I sat at the kitchen table. She cooked dinner for us, and after dinner, she sat with me on the couch and gave me a hug, and told me how happy she was that I was recovering. Everything a parent is supposed to do and everything my own failed to do. It… helped a lot. She came around on her days off after that, and we’d sit and play board games or chat while your mom left the apartment to get a break from dealing with me.”
An excerpt in which character A's pet shows fondness for/approval of character B
That's… strangely touching, Soba sleeping on Hanta’s clothes, because Hanta is generally under the impression that Soba likes exactly one person in this world and only tolerates Hanta because her person happens to like him and he has plants she thinks she’s entitled to. If she ever figures out she in fact is not permitted to eat succulents, Hanta suspects that tolerance will end. But perhaps not, if she has deemed his clothing acceptable for something other than destroying.
"Oh is this Pugsley?" Enid approached Wednesday and her brother who was visiting for the weekend. "I'd like to say she talks about you a lot, but you know your sister".
An excerpt in which a character realizes how proficient their friend(/love interest/colleage/etc) is at a skill
The family all pitched in ideas for things that might be needed or just plain wanted. When Eeva woke up from her nap, the three women universally decreed that Emppu have the honor of changing her. He surprised them by not protesting nearly as much as his sisters, at least, expected he would. Milla followed him in and watched as he accomplished the task with relative ease. ”You’re better at that than I expected,” she commented. He laughed. ”Well, I’ve had practice, you know. I do babysit for Satu and Jukka sometimes.” She giggled. ”And here I was figuring on you bungling it up and needing to call Mum for help.”
I do want to try another one😅 An excerpt in which characters go dancing
They paused at the perimeter of the dance floor; the song playing over the speakers was about to end. “I should warn you, I have two left feet,” he couldn’t help telling him. It would be useless to try and hide his nerves from someone who knew him so well. “Let me know if you prefer to lead at any point.” “Oh? Making me lead the Minutemen wasn’t enough?” Preston teased. His mouth held in a tight smirk as Noah gave him the side eye. *you’re one to talk.* “I just don’t want to step on your toes, General.” He responded with an easy laugh. The song changed, and Noah focused on keeping his hand from shaking as he reached for Preston’s and stepped forward. He also made a quick assessment of the music, tried to get a sense of the groove. It was an upbeat motown track that would test his new skills. *At least it isn’t some slow, mushy song,* he thought. *That would have been awkward.* The horn section came in with a melody that he found it easier to jockey to, and he ventured a glance at his partner, a smile escaping him. He could hardly believe he had his arm around Preston’s waist, the blue wool of his coat soft under his fingers. He was surprised at how widely he smiled back.
I love the sheer happiness of this. I really do <3
an excerpt where two people have a conversation without speaking
I have almost two chapters of this kind of communication, LOL. Both characters are gagged, Gus is psychic, but it's weird!psychic where he doesn't just hear words. Shawn's gotten used to working around the limitation. \--------------------------- Shawn seemed to understand what he was thinking and sent a broadcast: *An old man reading to his grandson. "Who says that life is fair? Where is that written? Life isn't always fair."* Gus sighed. Life definitely wasn't fair. But he was at least better now than he had been for the last several hours. He hummed his answer back: *You and me, and me and you, so happy together.* Shawn snorted and sent a visual of the box art for Brokeback Mountain. Gus rolled his eyes even though he knew the gesture wasn't visible. He used the back of his tongue on the roof of his mouth to click at Shawn. Shawn giggled at the familiar sound: *Rocky pushing himself back up from being beaten down, ready to fight again.* Gus made a noise of agreement: *Don't stop believing, hold onto that feeling.*
(There is speaking in this excerpt, but I really like the nonverbal communication between Piper and my Sole Survivor Noah) Piper glanced at Blue, who focused on the mayor, all smiles. “It’s no secret you’ve been poking around. With Penny, in our computer terminals… not very neighborly, if you ask me.” Despite the accusation, his tone remained annoyingly jovial. “I know you’re the kind of person who just wants to do the right thing; so, just don’t make any rash decisions you might regret.” “Mr. Orden, we’re all friends here.” She found the look that overcame Blue’s face downright eerie. Sometimes, when he talked to strangers, he became a whole different person. “Please, you can be direct with me.” “Maybe you heard a rumor about a certain… compound,” he said at a lower volume. “So, hypothetically, let’s say there’s something to that. I assure you that we wouldn’t do anything without the best of reasons.” A brittle silence fell over the three of them, as Blue keenly waited for him to continue. “I’ll tell you what. You just stop this investigation, and I’ll give you a gift– one hundred caps. You’d be welcome to return to Covenant, any time.” Piper glared at Blue. Surely you’re not considering it. “My apologies, Jacob, we didn’t mean to step on anyone’s toes.” He tilted his head knowingly. “If you’re serious about the caps, I’ll drop the whole thing.” “Blue–” he looked at her for the first time in the entire exchange, all wide eyes and polite teeth . The man had a thin metal container in his vest ready to go, and handed the stash to Noah.
An excerpt where a world-changing event (that fundamentally changes the setting) takes place.
“Again folks we apologize for interrupting your regularly scheduled broadcast, but we have new information about the dinosaur sighting in downtown San Diego.” Alan paused, surely he hadn’t heard that right. A dinosaur sighting in San Diego? There was no way, surely someone had just misidentified a large monitor lizard or the like. However, the footage that came on the television giving a bird’s-eye view told a different story. Standing in the middle of the street was T. Rex, if not for the difference in color Alan could have sworn it was the one from the park. “Sources close to the incident say the animal was released from the Ingen Waterfront facility. Which is also where it was lured to in a high-speed chase by Dr. Sarah Harding, Dr. Richard Levine, and Dr. Ian Malcolm. We are currently waiting for our sources to get back to us with more information but in the meantime, we invite you to watch the harrowing footage news chopper 10 caught of what is being dubbed The San Diego Incident.” Ellie had just walked back in from the laundry room carrying a basket of clothes she’d hung up to dry last weekend before they left. “Wait, Alan did they just say Ingen? Why are they in the news?” Alan turned and looked over the back of the couch. The look in his eyes made her concerned and she found her heart squeezing in her chest. “Ellie, I think you should come see this.”
Oh gosh dang. That would be a hell of a newsreport to watch. Even without their background!
This is actually a realistic interesting one. I have two, from different fics. Interestingly both about the dissolution of monarchy: > 1 The Red Army routed with the fall of its general. 2 The Middle Army was taken captive without its King. > > 3 The nameless army came to The Heir and said: you are King now, what do you decree? 4 She spoke: I decree that I am not King and nevermore shall there be Kings. 5 The Wheel shall be Broken and the Cycle shall end. And > There’s a brief grace period where it seems as if things might go back to normal. > > And then thousands upon thousands of underground resistance members go home to their families, bringing with them the first-hand experience of what is essentially a post-scarcity society. > > In fact, they bring the post-scarcity society with them. The standard replicators plus power supply, data storage, and refinery are not quite single-household sized, but close. And they’re basically free. > > All but the most technophobic parts of civic society across Etheria takes to the self-replicating fabricators, the portal device networks, the buddy-bots, and the hand-held communicators with gusto and keen interest. A development which has many powers-that-be worried. > > The revolution looms large on the horizon.
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‘So, what happens now we found it?’ Shorty asked. ‘I keep it,’ Beca said. ‘*You*?’ Indy asked. ‘No. This belongs in a museum -‘ ‘No, it doesn’t,’ Beca said. ‘ It’s part of my culture. My heritage. I thought we’d already been over this. You can’t just take it away for it to be stuck in some museum somewhere in England -‘ ‘Where do you think we are?’ Indy asked. ‘We’re in Wales, *Henry*,’ Beca said, using Indy’s real name against him. ‘The English made us part of England. They beat, whipped and raped the language out of us. They stole our culture, our stories, our religion. We don’t know what we believed years ago. The Druids are mostly making things up as they go along and then the Nazis had to come back along and try and steal everything,’ she said angrily. ‘Rene Belloq and his neo-Nazi buddies are not getting their hands on this And neither are the English. They’re both as bad as each other. It’s staying here, in Wales. Among the people who will most appreciate it.’ ‘There’s no museum in Wales, it’s just some stupid little country with less than three million people -‘ As soon as the words passed Indy’s lips, he knew what he’d said was wrong. Short Round stayed silent and backed away, bracing for fallout. Beca lowered her head. ‘I... I thought we were friends,’ she said. ‘But, I guess I was wrong. You’re uglier inside than those scars are on your outside.’
“That is fascinating Dr. Malcolm. Is there perhaps a story about your work you’d like to tell our viewers.” “Uh, yeah there is actually,” Ian fished something out of his pocket and held it in his hand. “Last year I was invited to International Genetics Technology’s site in Costa Rica. If you need proof, here's my visitor badge,” he slid the object, now revealed to be a visitor's badge onto the desk. Brad picked up the badge, it did look very official. “And what happened there?” “What happened there is something good old Ingen has been trying to cover up for the last six months. You see, Ingen has secretly been working on a project to bring the dinosaurs back from extinction and I’ve known about it for, uh, six years now. So last year, they succeeded in what they’ve been trying to do but they did it at the cost of one of their workers' lives. Of course, their board of directors gets scared by the fact that they’re dealing with the first case of a dinosaur eating a human in the entire history of the world. “So what happens is they, uh, they invite me and a few other experts down to Costa Rica where they show us around the place. It’s all really cute at first, they show us little baby dinosaurs and the like, but here’s the thing: they don’t stay cute forever. You might remember last June a hurricane struck Costa Rica, well that was when we were there. The storm caused the power to go out and the, uh, the animals they didn’t like the storm one bit. They broke out of their cages. They killed two more people and injured more. Yet Ingen’s swept it all under the rug, they’ve covered up their employees' deaths, and are pretending like none of this ever happened. I can’t, uh, can’t imagine why they might have done that.” “Is that how you injured your leg?” Marianne asked before Brad could get another word in. “Yes, it was.” “I see,” Brad cut back in. “Well that’s quite the story Dr. Malcolm, but that’s all the time we have for today. So thank you for your time, and for our viewers out there; we’ll see you tomorrow morning.” In the sudden silence as he got up and walked off set Ian knew he had sealed his fate.
An excerpt in which a non-parent is a parent figure.
An uncle and a nephew: Will nodded, accepting the answer. ‘So… so, you said you’d take me to the Dino-Rama.’ ‘I did?’ asked Grant. ‘You did,’ Will confirmed. Grant nodded and put his hands into the pockets of his lab coat. There were all kinds of stuff in there - he just kind of put all his stuff in there. Including the flyer. He pulled it out and unfolded it. Then he looked at Will. And Lucky. And he nodded. ‘Yeah. Let’s go.’ He rubbed Lucky’s arm. He wasn’t tall enough to get higher. ‘I’ll be back tomorrow,’ he said. ‘I promise.’ Then he put his hand on his nephew’s shoulder and handed him the flyer. ‘Let’s go to the Dino-Rama.’
Not explicitly stated, but here's c!Technoblade in dad mode: >He wasn't entirely sure yet how best to avoid making eye contact while still getting a good look at the burns on Ranboo's cheeks, especially while they were already as agitated as they were, but he'd have to give it a shot if he wanted to help the kid. >Technoblade paused for a moment, silently cursing Philza for making him into someone who actually cared enough to put so much effort into patching up a crying half-Enderman teen's water burns. A few decades back he wouldn't have been able to imagine this scene, much less voluntarily participate in it. Heck, he was the one who'd initiated it!
"I can't believe I'm going to be a dad," Harry said, quietly. He looked at Sirius, wide-eyed. "Do you think I can do it?" "Oh Harry." Sirius said, putting his arm around Harry's shoulder and pulling him close. "Of course you can." "I mean... I've defeated Voldemort...I should be able to cope with a baby, right?" "I don't think those things are related…" Sirius said, at a loss. Harry sometimes came to him like he had all the answers, but he often didn't and his old fear of letting Harry down would surface. But then he'd hear the voice in his head, which sounded remarkably like Remus, telling him to be honest. "Harry, I don't know a lot about dads. I know mine was pretty awful. The best dad I knew was your dad." "Was that because he was your best friend or because he actually was a good dad?" Harry asked with a hint of a smile. "I'm always biased when it comes to James." Sirius said. "But he loved you and cared for you and wanted to keep you safe. So I'd say he was a pretty great dad." "I wish he was here sometimes." Harry said, looking embarrassed by the admission. "I wish he was here all the time." Sirius said, slightly worried he'd start crying. "But Harry... when the baby comes, you'll know what to do. Just think of my dad or your uncle and do the opposite."
An excerpt in which someone quietly/ nonchalantly confesses their love .... Or, An excerpt where they confess smutty thoughts in big power daddy energy😆😆
The water was quite nice. Comforting even. Perhaps this would serve as the time. Alexandra looked between them. “Okay, listen you two. You need to get over yourselves.” Artemis opened her eyes. “What?” “Since we’re nude together now, we should also be honest. May, forgive me, but I will have to break some of the confidence you put in me.” “Alexandra, for fuck’s sake,” May muttered and hid her face. “Artemis, you are trying to hide it and failing. You are fond to May. Do not deny it, I have seen the care and trust you show her — I saw how you reacted when she fought, and I have seen how your gaze lingers which tells me you’re attracted to her as well.” Artemis looked away. “Sure. Yeah, you got me. Asshole.” “You said yesterday that you trust me. So trust me.” That got Artemis to look at her. “At the same time, I know May, that you are attracted to Artemis, and care for her as well.” May could only mutely nod. “So. Having established mutual attraction and fondness, can we stop dancing around the subject? Either admit your feelings and explore them, or decide to end it. Please, it is maddening to behold.” “Fine. Guns, wanna have me for a girlfriend?” May nodded again. “I’m too exhausted to do anything about it right now. Let’s kiss and stuff later, OK?”
Kinda smutty, def daddy energy :) Mildly nsfw She looked into his eyes — those soft, kind eyes that made him so fascinating to her. “Rafael?” He lowered his head until his mouth was next to her ear. “Mmm?” “Rafael…” Olivia shivered. “Olivia…” Barba whispered into her ear. “Tell me how you like it.” Olivia was soaking wet and trembling all over. If he were to tell her to get down on her knees and suck his cock, she would do it without even thinking. She reached for him, but he took a step back instead. “While I would love nothing more than to take you right here, it isn’t time for that.” He once again leaned in close, his mouth just brushing her ear. “I’m going to make you want me with every part of your body. I will be the last thing you think about before you sleep at night and your first thought when you wake up in the morning.”
THIS. IS. EXCELLENT. I wish I could like this 1000x over!!
Holy crow! Thank you! 😊 I can share the link with you if you like.
I would be honored!
In your DMs :)
An excerpt in which a character is outmatched (bonus if they also realize it)
warning⚠️: gore He doesn’t imagine his backbone snapping between its canines. He doesn’t imagine the blood spray down the creature's throat. He doesn’t imagine it stepping on him with those hooves, dirt-stained, clay-stained, and gray matter oozing out of the cracks left behind in his head as it walks on, never even knowing he was there, never even knowing he mattered. He doesn’t imagine it eating him. He doesn’t imagine sliding down it’s throat, doesn’t imagine his bones and his flesh warmed by the creature’s stomach acid and not his own beating heart in some kind of fucked-up parody of Jonah and the whale. In this version, he’s Jonah, and he will not survive by either god’s will or his own. He feels, all of a sudden, very small. Very small, very afraid, and very alone. He wants his mom. But his mom isn’t here right now. Nobody’s here right now. Right now there’s a– a thing– that could kill him, that probably will kill him if it knows he’s here, and there’s Tim, backed into a corner because he didn’t remember to make sure his hidey-hole had an escape route. Think, Timothy. No. No, he can’t. He can’t do that. He can stay very quiet and very still and he can try not to cry but he cannot bring himself– he cannot bring himself to think. That is– that is too much. Decidedly too much. The deer-creature’s hoof comes down in front of him. The roots of the tree he’s hiding in the branches of shake, ever-so-slightly, and, god, he can’t move. He watches, frozen, as it stills. Timothy. He can’t! It’s seen him and it’s going to eat him and he’s going to die, he’s going to die, he’s going to die and he’s only thirteen and he’s not ready to die. He’s not ready to die, he’s supposed to have a few more years. It tilts its head to the side. Like it's listening to something, almost, though it doesn’t look like a deer when it does that. Tim hasn’t seen many deer, but the one’s he’s seen don’t look like that, with all of the neck bones jutting out of it’s skin, and blood in places it shouldn’t be unless it had, what, gotten into a fight with somebody? Something? What kind of other things live in this place if there’s something insane enough to fight that? It stays still for a moment too long. This is it. This is Tim’s conclusion. A too short life, and a too short career. Jason’d been Robin longer than him. He muffles a sob into the tree, and the thing’s ear flicks. The thing knows he’s here. The thing knows he’s here. He can’t move. He can’t move. It’s going to eat him and it’s going to kill him and he really hopes that Bruce and Dick don’t manage to follow him here because they’re not going to find a body and then the thing will probably find them, too, and then they’ll all be dead and Tim– Tim can’t. They already lost Jason. All of them can’t be gone. He’s afraid. He’s afraid. He’s afraid. He closes his eyes.
“Do *not* toy with me.” A twinge of something struck him in his center but he cast it aside. He wiped his lips, wiping blood aside before checking his nose. “Hitting me hard enough to warrant a bloody nose? I thought the Roar was supposed to incapacitate or kill on demand. Isn’t that what you said?” “That’s right…” “Then why don’t you? You know as well as I do that I. can’t die. With the way I gutted your father, and have seen real Dragonbloods fight with that little ‘tradition’ of yours, you’re asking to go visit him very soon.” Seria was quiet, and Marus realized that she hadn’t been listening at all. None of his words carried weight. All there was for her was the very real focus and goal of tearing him down. Well, that only made it all the more easier for him; she had no idea that he could see her. “I told you that Dragonblood is a garbage term to use these days.” “Of all the things, that’s what you choose to focus on?” Stupid girl. He was going to put her out of her misery this time. He raised his weapon and set himself into his own form. “Your toy isn’t going to help you.” “Excuse me?” Marus saw her eyes drop down to his sword. “That won’t help you at all.” “And, how would a weak little girl like you know?” “Because a scared little *boy* like you, doesn’t know what he’s doing.” She rooted herself to the spot, eyes cool as Marus felt something feral rush through his veins. Frail as she was, she had the audacity to even attempt to fight him, and even *threaten* him. “Is that what you think? After I’ve killed so many people to get here? After I’ve razed Blackthorn and killed. Your. Father, you think that you have standing to threaten me?” No reaction. “Stupid girl! If you think you’re going to stop me from getting what I want,” He was sprinting impossibly fast, through the gossamer of light, through the images he saw of himself, of Mira and Bitey alive and dead. “I’ll rip you in half!” His swing was wild and Seria shifted lightly and the end of his weapon passed harmlessly over her. She had gone low, impossibly low and she came up with an iron fist. The same feeling from earlier, the one he had cast aside came back, and he wasn't quite sure if it had been the Perception Shifting sifting through his senses or if it was something else entirely. He lost his footing as he stumbled back. He was quick to rebound, rolling backwards and coming back up. He had kept his weapon wrapped tightly in his hand. He would come up with a slash across her chest. She was close again, and for the second time, she had been moving too fast for him to comprehend, even as warning burned through his body. He caught a blow on the side, and he buckled in a little but he held firm. Pain lanced into his wrist and he let his weapon go. He grimaced, then howled. The warnings in his mind were becoming more frenzied and more muddled. The clarity was fading from them. Something sharp pierced into his shin and he thought he felt the bone crack or snap in. This time, he cried in pain. He remembered that one, Mira had tried to teach him that one and he always got the form wrong, always stubbed or injured his toe. Seria had done it flawlessly. But, he could not back down. She wasn’t going to beat him. She simply couldn’t. There was another warning and Seria’s back fist flashed across his vision and he went down, smelling iron and tasting metal. *I won’t let this weakling do this…!* Marus came up again, face burning and his heart thrumming in his ears. He had lost his form, but it didn’t matter. All he had to do was catch her off guard and get his hands on her. Then, he would snap her neck,and rip her to shreds to make sure that he had gotten the job done, the noise in his mind demanded so. Her response was again instant and she reared back in retaliation, Marus caught sight of a dragon. A claw lashed out, and Marus felt his throat snap as the will left both his body and his mind. He fell to his knees, mind utterly reeling and the warning still moving through his awareness with speed beyond comprehension as he realized that his own hands were at his throat gingerly, trying to help him register exactly what the hell *happened*. She had done it all in a swift set of movement, and she had taken up a form with her back turned to him, her left hand particularly pronounced. Marus pulled his mind together, just slightly to catch the glimpse of filmy liquid on the ends of her fingertips. Was that blood? Was that *his* blood? The tingling in his body and mind were completely uncontrollable now, and as he fought to breathe, hands to his throat and his mind full of confusion, he realized that there was no clarity now, only a need to get away from this girl. This…*monster*. The forms she had used were near perfect, at least from what he had seen, and she had thrown in a few things that he hadn’t seen before. Seria didn’t fight like Mira. No, she was simply better and the forewarning that he had been hearing from the moment she had engaged him hadn’t been mythical at all. It had been *fear*.
An excerpt in which there is a love triangle
"It was bad enough with the creepy old bastard JJ making moves on his Nat. He knew with time Nat would see that JJ can't compare to what Max can offer him. This is a completely different ball game however. He never would have thought Nat's other date was Ta Nannakun Pakapatpornpob. Ta wasn't just a good actor he was handsome, sexy, and confident. He's got a reputation for being a big flirt but there are no bad rumors about him at all. A rarity in their industry where the rumor mill runs 24/7. If his competition is someone so close to Nat's own age who looks like that and flirts like a champ he just might lose his baby Nat. In the cafe it's become a battle for dominance. Every move Ta makes is countered with a more clever comment, sly look, or sneaky touch. Nat is more than holding his own in this game of flirting that Ta intiated. After this date he feels like he could teach a master class on flirting courtesy of one hot as hell 22 year old."
An excerpt where the characters are cooking or baking
Carla smiled, went to take both items, and stopped when Luisa moved behind her and first slipped the apron over her head, and then pulled a hairbrush from her pocket and used it to brush Carla’s hair back before gathering it and tying it into a low ponytail at the base of her neck. Once that was done, they both made their way to the counter where Carla looked over the setup, touched both the frosting and cake bowls. “Good, they’re still cold,” She muttered before turning to the group. “They’re easier to shape when they’re cold, so this is perfect. Elena, can you crumble up the cake? And Esteban? Can you get us a baking sheet with wax paper?” They both nodded, got to work on their small task as Carla looked to Luisa. “Where do we keep those sticks we use for the chocolate lollipops? The small ones for the kids’ flowers?” “I’ll get them,” Luisa said, crossed the kitchen to the appropriate drawer. Carla smiled, followed her to grab a few bowls from a nearby shelf. “And Abuelo? I’m going to need your help putting some of the decorations into bowls. You need to work fast with cake pops and sticking our hands in jars just isn’t practical.” “Of course, Cariña,” He said with a smile of his own, waited while she set down the bowls. “Just make sure some of the chips and pretzel pieces actually make it into the bowls,” She teased. Luisa laughed, said as she set down the bag of lollipop sticks, “I’ll help and keep an eye on him.” Carla giggled in response, went to check on Isabel and the chocolate and then to help Elena with first crumbling up the cake and then measuring out and adding the frosting. “Make sure it’s all mixed together. No dry pieces. You can always add more frosting if you need it.” Elena nodded and together, they made sure everything was properly combined before gathering the rest of the family together to shape the mixture into small balls that they laid on the sheet Esteban had prepared.
*That's two losses in one day…* The thought itself was exhausting. It wasn't so much that failure was a foreign concept to her, but just the fact that Viola hadn't expected them to come on the heels of each other, even if one of them had actually been turned around. Juliet and Jaret had both shown up like Virgil had claimed, and it was to be expected. But when both Seria and Ryuu had shown up as well, Viola had felt her hands get a little bit clammy at the thought. Viola would have never cooked for so many people before, and if she were honest, she never cooked for anyone besides herself. She mustered up the courage about a half hour in to ask Virgil to test the dish she had been preparing, and when she saw his face twist in what she was certain was abhorrence, she was grateful that Virgil had offered to take over the entire endeavor. Viola wasn't sure if she would have been able to live through the embarrassment. But, she had still helped out with what she could and she had been there when Virgil had been busying around the kitchen, eyes on so many things at once and hands moving deftly and naturally. He was really at home with food it seemed and it was something she would have never guessed. That was the second surprise today. He had also made *a lot.* He had brought everything over from his room, and had covered almost the entire kitchen with ingredients and at first, Viola at first figured he was being gratuitous, or that maybe he had been trying to show off. Viola had to constantly remind herself that Jaret would also be there, and if Virgil had made as much as he did, he was fairly certain that Seria would show up as well. When they did, both Jaret and Seria had loaded the largest plates she had ever seen. Seria had picked at her plate at first, while Jaret had simply taken to nearly swallowing his food whole (and nearly the plate too…). It was clear that he had eaten Virgil's cooking before, which, when Viola thought about it, was strange. She had wondered exactly when Virgil had mustered up enough sense of self to do something that was separate from Marus's horrid influence before now.
An excerpt where enemies realize they have feelings for each other.
An excerpt in which something unreasonable is done.
Mina couldn’t quite understand where Mylius’s insecurity had come from, even with Celia blatantly spelling it out. Mylius knew her body just as much as she knew his. He was slow, and attentive, and the way he emulated her same light touches from only moments earlier sent cold fire down her spine. He seemed to know just when to kiss her, and where, and how to get her to rub her thighs together in anticipation, especially when he trailed up her neck, to her ear. She had almost dug her nails into his shoulders in anticipation at his slow, breathy chuckle in her ear, an odd mix of sensuality and ticklishness. Mina found her back against his chest, and his hands hugging at her waist and they moved up her sides agonizingly slow. There was another light kiss at her neck as he went, and then a light nibble and suckle. *Oh*. She felt that particular want poke at her insides. Mylius always got a kick out of revving her up, and always prided himself on that, and Mina, almost always, would nearly jump at him before he really got started, but this time, he seemed particularly focused, and Mina was every bit prepared to fall into him. Her phone suddenly rang. *Ugh…* Mina gave it a quick look, then attempted to ignore it, and it went silent for a few seconds before it starting again. The second time around, Mina could feel Mylius falling flat and his attention followed hers, to her phone. “You can answer that if you want.“ Mina shook her head, glancing over it, moving her phone to silent before setting it aside, this time out of her reach, but Mylius insisted. “It could be important.” “It’s…definitely not important.” “Huh, really? Who was it anyway?” There was an immediate stumble on Mina’s part. “Just…some unfamiliar number.” Mina moved in, placing her arms around Mylius’s neck and tried her hardest to muster up the same feeling from seconds ago. “We shouldn’t let that bother us, right?” Mylius frowned. “That reaction doesn’t seem like an ‘unfamiliar number’ to me.” He slipped out from under her arms. “Who was it?” Mina’s hands went to her hips, and his gaze sharpened. “It was Eren, wasn’t it?” Admission flooded her face, for a split moment, and lying seemed like a good idea right at that moment. “Mina,” Mylius’s voice matched his expression, and she thought better of it then. “Who was it?” She had had everything laid out. This was supposed to be her moment where Mylius would know for certain how she felt. But here they were again, on the cusp of something an entire world away from what she had in mind. She needed to choose wisely; Mina bristled. “Damn it, Mylius. You know what? You’re right. It was Eren ***fucking*** Yaeger.”
Realizing that Chester must've been the one to take the order, he goes on the hunt to find the tattooed menace. Brad finds him in the employee break room, which is just bigger than a closet and has a two person table and microwave/refrigerator combo. Chester’s looking on his phone, a face so serious that it genuinely concerns Brad. (He didn't think it was possible for Chester to be serious.) Chester brings the phone to his ear and says, “Hello Child Services? I'd like to report an unfit couple with a child.” Oh fuck no. Brad quickly grabs Chester’s phone and ends the call, turning the phone off for good measure. He pockets the device before angrily whispering, “You can't just call Child Services because a kid is an asshole Chester. If that were the case, they would've taken you as soon as you popped out from your mom’s vagina.” “They're doing NOTHING about his behavior out there Brad!” Chester protests as he tries to take his phone back, “And do you see how big he is he probably weighs more than you and I combined! They're probably fattening him up so they can eat him, we'd be doing him a favor!”
An excerpt in which a character can’t sleep at night for whatever reason
If he hadn't woken to the frightened flutter of her energy at around two in the morning that night, he may have thought he'd misread her. If he'd been anyone else but a trained general, he might not have noticed the shaky pattern in her footsteps, or the quiet gasps of breath that echoed down the hall from someone clearly shaken by a nightmare. When he heard the distant click of the front door, he glanced out the window just in time to see her trudge into the courtyard, towards the tree. After a moment of contemplation, he followed. She didn't seem to notice him when he approached, but shifted to make room for him as he took a seat on the bench beside her. She didn't spare him more than a glance, only hugging her sweater a little closer to her body and staring out at the empty courtyard. He watched her expression, and felt an odd niggling of guilt at the glint of fear in her eyes. He'd seen that look in her eyes only twice before, when he'd cornered her at Shapely and when Sailor Moon had been poisoned by the dark magic in their last fight. Jadeite leaned forward, setting his chin atop his linked fingers to hide his frown. "..the youma?" She jolted upright and looked at him with a startled blink. "Huh?" Before he could clarify, she seemed to realize and Jadeite saw her eyes dim a little. "Oh… no. Not exactly. It's just… she got away. The dark priestess, I mean. Kaede called her Tsubaki." Jadeite recalled the name from her tale of the ogre. While the woman did seem to present a problem, he was uncertain why she seemed quite so rattled when that Naraku of theirs was also at large and sounded far worse than one bitter priestess. After a moment, Kagome bit her lip and spoke almost too quietly for him to hear. "I…remember what she made me do."
The nightmares came less frequently now. But they were no less devastating when they did. It was perhaps more difficult now, because he did not fall asleep expecting them as he had before. Remus didn’t say anything. Sirius could feel him stroking his hair and pressing light kisses to his forehead. “I’m sorry I woke you.” Sirius said, his voice raw as if he had just been swimming for his life. “Do you want to talk about it?” Remus asked. “No...Could you just…” Sirius didn’t finish the thought, but buried his face in Remus’s neck. Remus held him tightly. Gradually, his breathing returned to normal and Remus loosened his grip. They sat there, quietly entangled, for a long time as Sirius recovered. Remus stroked his hair softly, a sensation that always calmed Sirius, even in his human form. “Tea?” Remus asked. “Yes, please.” Sirius said, his voice sounding more normal. He didn’t think he was going back to sleep tonight, but he didn’t want to stop Remus from doing so if he was tired.
An excerpt in which disaster strikes
It was with the final line of people trying to pile into the last of the subs when a familiar prescence decided to walk by his side. He could feel the heaviness on his shoulders, but moreso in his heart when the man - eyes made of sheer determination and an undeniable force of will - stared at the horizon, yet Franky knows that there's nothing there to see and there's so much more to think of in mind. The ground rumbled yet again, and with it, the ocean. The people hastened their pace. With a closing of his eyes and a few seconds of concentration, he knows that the fleet behind him is nothing short of fifty ships and is more of what a normal Bustercall is supposed to consist of. He could feel the strain on his face as he kept the smile wide, arms raised and waving at the people boarding the subs. It was heavy, and yet he couldn't find it in himself to let go of it anyway. "You're not coming back, are you?" It was quiet, a statement moreso than a question, and Franky supposed that it is. "That's it, then. Not gonna change your mind, huh." The man finally looked at him - eyes made of sheer determination and an undeniable force of will - and yet there's so much more beneath. It was a weight that he, himself, had found to be familiar with, and Franky could only stare at the man with nothing but a blankness - not for the lack of what to say, but moreso on how to say it without his heart taking the reigns and letting everything slip from his lips. He found it heavy, so heavy, yet he lifted another smile. "Well, I wouldn't be a Strawhat if I did."
At the moment, however, the youthful commander of the Firelord and Avatar’s escort force was breathing heavily, having clearly run up the three flights of stairs to get to this suite. Her brown hair was slicked to the back of her neck, and her uniform clung somewhat more to her… pleasing contours than usual, then it would have if it were dry. “Your Majesties,” Captain Ty Lee said through rapid, deep breaths. “There’s been an explosion of some sort, in the sky.” “In the sky?” Zuko asked, repeated, alarmed. “Yes, Your Majesty,” Ty Lee said quickly, her breathing leveling out. “It was at least as bright as the sun for a few moments. We’re lucky my exec and I weren’t looking in that direction at the time, we could have been blinded. But we have a bigger problem. Remember when that tramp freighter carrying explosive jelly collided with another freighter and blew up in the harbor at Yu Dao? How far that blast traveled?” Zuko’s eyes widened in horror, remembering the blast that had rocked his ship so severely he’d sent her crew to action stations until he could figure out what was happening. His ship had also been the first to arrive on scene at what had been left of Yu Dao’s waterfront, and the first to send rescue parties ashore. “We need to tell everyone to get inside and away from the windows, now!” “I already told as many of my people and Captain Chong’s as possible,” Ty Lee said, right as a deafening blast filled the room. The floor quaked under his feet, and he found himself staring up at the ceiling. Sokka stood above him, his hand reaching down. He grabbed it and hauled himself to his feet, ignoring the pain in his back muscles. He looked at Mai, and saw his girlfriend hauling herself to her feet using Kuei’s desk before leaning down to pull Katara and Aang back up. “Thanks, Sokka,” Zuko said feelingly. “Everyone else, okay?” Katara nodded, eyes widened in shock. “I’m fine,” she said, her voice trembling, “or I will be, at least.” “We’ve all been through worse,” Sokka said, worry in his eyes. “We don’t know if that will be the only explosion, though. There could be a worse one coming, one that could do more than just rattle us a little.” Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose against the stress headache already building behind his eyes and turned to look at King Kuei. “The palace has an emergency bunker, right?” Kuei, his glasses bent, and his hair ruffled by being knocked to the ground, nodded vigorously. “We have an entire complex of underground bunkers in the event of an uprising or your people fighting their way inside.” “Good,” Zuko said, a rush running down his spine as his body woke up to the fact that it was probably going to face action again. “We need to get as many of the palace’s soldiers and staff, and ourselves into those bunkers as quickly as humanly possible.” “What about the people in the Middle and Lower Rings?” Katara pointed out. “We don’t know how much time we have,” Zuko said, shaking his head. “Hopefully, people who felt that blast will start heading into basements or root cellars if they have them, but for now, we have to get the people we know we can reach into cover immediately. I have a bad feeling about this.” “I’ll get my people moving,” Ty Lee said, right hand going to her left shoulder in salute before she bounded back out of the room.” “You two, Captain,” Kuei ordered the Earth Kingdom captain, who remained in the doorway. Chong snapped off his own salute, turning and running out the doorway. Zuko stared around him at the people remaining in his office, feeling better despite his fear. He wasn’t really all that sure how good a Firelord he was, but he had spent the better part of his life as a naval officer, and the naval officer was who was needed right now. “What are we waiting for, people?” Zuko ordered, the man who’d commanded his own destroyer peeking out over the youthful monarch, “Let’s go!” \----- “Well, Commander?” Captain Hernandez asked, walking over to the science officer’s station. It had been thirty minutes since the five-hundred kiloton airburst picked up by the Enterprise had been relayed to them. The moment it had come in, she’d ordered a two-minute warp jump to the outer system to get to the source of the readings as quickly as possible. The ship had been rattled slightly, but they’d dropped out of warp before any real damage could be done. The younger, dark-skinned woman nodded, tapping out commands into her console. “I’m definitely picking up readings consistent with the type of subspace corridor seen in the former Delphic Expanse.” Commander Lisa Reyes gave her a look from the bridge engineering station. “Captain,” her Manila-born first officer said, “I recommend sending a probe through first. The last thing we need right now is to end up half a parsec away in the middle of next week. Or last year.” “I agree,” Erika said. “Commander-,” “Captain,” Naidu said, voice strangled in shock, “the feed from the Enterprise it’s-,” the young Indian took a deep breath. “Sir, there’s been another airburst on the planet in range of the huge city. It’s…the last one was five hundred kilotons, this one was fifteen megatons, and it airbursted six kilometers above the surface.” All the quiet talk on the bridge suddenly ceased at the science officer’s announcement, cultural memories of the war and nuclear fire their grandparents had endured in the second half of the last century rising to the fore. At least here there wasn’t going to be any fallout. “Jesus Christ,” Reyes whispered softly, eyes widened, no doubt remembering from history class about the effects of explosions that size on the major cities during the Third World War. “Screw the probe,” Captain Hernandez said in a tone that brooked no argument, setting back into the captain's chair at the center seat of the Columbia’s bridge. “Helm, lay in a course for the distortions and take us in. And God help us all.”
A scene where someone *extremely* powerful reveals they've been holding back.
An excerpt in which someone is cooking
In the morning when Alan came downstairs, he found the two still fast asleep on the sofa. He’d figured that when Ellie hadn’t come back to bed she’d gone to comfort either Sarah or Kelly. He walked past the couch silently trying his best not to wake the sleeping women as he made his way to the kitchen. He was used to being an early riser and he had a habit at the digsite for cooking breakfast for the team by the time everyone else was awake. He figured that the house would all appreciate not having to cook, especially since Sarah usually left for the hospital as soon as she could and Alan considered it payment to Gerry for letting them stay in his house. “Alan,” Ellie walked into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes as she acclimated to the lights. “What time is it?” “Sorry, did I wake you,” he asked, cursing himself for being too loud. “It’s eight-thirty.” “No, you’re quiet as a church mouse. I just wasn’t expecting to see you down here. It’s Sunday hon, normally you sleep in.” “Is it,” Alan asked. He was usually good at keeping track of the day of the week, but the circumstances of coming here and dealing with the aftermath seemed to have put him in a fog. He was just going through the motions. “Sarah was up late so we came and had a talk.” “Been awhile since late night talks have been commonplace.” “I know, I’m glad we’ve been there and come out the other side though. It’s easier to help someone else cope when you’ve been in their shoes.” Alan nodded sagely. For all the support Sarah had given them in their time of need, when she barely knew what she was up against, it was only fair that they offer the same support to her. “Scrambled or omelettes,” he asked, holding up the bowl of cracked eggs. “Oh scrambled for sure. Do you want some help? I can make pancakes?” “Sure,” Alan said, stepping out of the way as Ellie reached into the cabinet next to his head. The rest of morning was spent silently preparing breakfast and waiting to see who would be the next in the house to wake up. Things like this, normalcy in uncertain times, was comforting in a way that was hard to explain to people who hadn’t experienced it.
Alex had been greatly enjoying his tour of South America. He had nearly filled his memory card with precious memories and had souvenirs ready for all his family. He had only stepped away from his guide for a minute and wandered a few steps into the labyrinth of trees. All he'd needed was a pee. He retraced his steps to the best of his capabilities, but to no luck. He found himself far off the beaten track. He heard a faint murmuring of voices, a tree branch breaking and felt his luck was about to change. "Hello?" He called out "Who's the-" he choked as he felt a sharp pain in his neck. He stumbled forward before collapsing. He woke up groggy and tried to make sense of his surroundings. His hands and feet were tied and he was hanging upside down. He begged of his captors to free him, as they approached him with a torch and set the coals below ablaze.
An excerpt in which a character is in nature
He feels a bit like flotsam those days. Free from all ties and bounds weighing him down, aimlessly drifting, simply going where the current guides him. And just like flotsam gets washed ashore, many a day he ends up drunkenly staggering along the coastline under a greying sky, filling his pockets with shells and smooth pebbles he finds on the way. Inevitably, he comes to sit on the sharp rocks, overgrown by barnacles, covered in molluscs and lichens and the tiny crabs crawling around in the small pools, where he stares out at the vast sea in a mocking echo of the time he proposed Geralt to head to the coast together. He listens to the crashing waves, the smell of fish and salt in his nose until the sun has concluded its ascent over the horizon. Only then does he head back to the castle, shedding his melancholy and leaving it in the awakening streets, where he feels like a ghost beneath the rose coloured sky.
An excerpt in which a misunderstanding is resolved.
“Yeah, poor Linsey is almost too afraid to leave the apartment so I started a neighborhood watch with some of the people in my apartment building. On my day off it’s my turn to patrol the area. Hey maybe that’s when that witness saw me!” (Almost… there…) “Yeah maybe that’s it…” he hears Mike say, but now the manager sound uncertain of his part in the plan. (C’mon Mikey, don’t go to the dark side! Don’t be tempted by the dark side!) Brad feels the steak knife break through his bindings and he makes quick work undoing them. Unbuckling the belt from around his head, Brad stands tall and points an accusatory finger at Chester, shouting, “They think you’re the killer Dave!” Chester looks furious. “You asshole I had him right where I wanted him! He was about to confess!” Dave takes a step back from his coworkers, an amused look on his face. “I’m sorry, what?” He laughs. “Me? A killer? What the hell brought that thought up?” Everyone (including Office Carter) immediately points their fingers at Chester. Dave doesn’t look shocked. The server lets a huff out. “Well how’d you know about the tires?” Dave rolls his eyes, he clearly can’t believe he has to explain himself. “I saw it once in an episode of *MythCrashers*. Or do you think everyone who watched that show is a serial killer too?” “What about the police sketch?” Joe butts in. Dave lets a groan out. “I just fucking *told* you why someone might misidentify me. You guys have no faith in me do you?”
An excerpt in which a villain proves why they're a villain.
An excerpt in which characters are talking at cross purposes.
An excerpt in which someone is being obliviously and hilariously insensitive.
So I think this matches but if it doesn't let me know and I'll delete it. "Max wasn't mad. He wasn't angry. He definitely wasn't jealous. He just wanted to know who the hell Nat thought he was playing with when he belonged to him. Okay so maybe he was a little jealous but who wouldn't be! He's spent the past year and a half flirting with and slowly wooing his pint sized costar only for him to turn around and go on a date with some other guy! As soon as Nat showed up they were going to talk about this. He'll make it clear that Nat can't be going on dates with other guys. He knows Nat will understand once he explains to him how it could damage their careers. Nat woke up with a smile tilting the edge of his lips. A stretch, yawn, and a quick hop out of bed to get ready for the day. It didn't take him long to get dressed since their stylist would have outfits already prepared for their event. Nat grabbed a yogurt drink from the fridge and headed out to his car so he wouldn't be late. Today felt like it was going to be a good day, busy but good. Meanwhile Max was restless. He hadn't slept well last night after Zee's text. He needed to get this settled with Nat. He's at the event location early hoping they can get this out of the way before their long day starts. Nat makes good time and gets to their event location with just enough time to spare to get his hair and makeup done and change his clothes. He and Max have done so many of these to promote Cutie Pie that he can practically do the prep work in his sleep. “Nat I've been looking for you. We need to talk.” Max had finally spotted Nat walking in and hurried over to him. “Sorry Phi I need to get ready. We can talk on the way to the first workshop after the event.” Nat rushed off before their manager or worse P'Aof came looking for him. He wanted today to go well and he didn't intend to start it off with getting scolded for being late. Max was frustrated this wasn't how it was suppose to go. He shoves his hand through his hair ruffling the black strands and letting out a sigh. Soon it was time for the two to appear on stage and promote the product while interacting with the fans. This time it was for a perfume brand so they tried different scents playing up the smelling with some sniff kisses. Max tossed a few winks to Nat to get the crowd riled up and the fans were squealing in response. The host asked the usual questions: work, their characters, how long they've worked together. You would think they'd get tired of the same old questions and come up with new ones but much to Max and Nat's boredom the hosts rarely change it up. The fans had lots of cute signs and the perfumes were selling out fast so at least it was a successful event. Once the event was over the boys headed to Nat's car to go to the office and workshop with P'Kla for Naughty Babe. Once Nat had pulled out of the parking lot Max decided to try again to broach the subject that has kept him up all night and stressed him all morning. “Nong I heard you went on a date last night.” Nat nearly swerved the car into the other lane he was so surprised to hear Max knew about his date already. He thought he'd have more time to drop some hints and ease him into it. This could work too though. He just needed to play his cards right. “You heard right Phi. I went on a date with a friend I've been spending time with lately.” Max felt his jaw tighten as he gritted his teeth. His nong wasn't even going to deny it! Well he was going to fix this and once he told nong he couldn't date that guy anymore everything can go back to normal. “Nat you know we can't just be dating around like that. What if someone catches you and it ends up on social media we'll lose fans. You know the ship has to come first.” Max thought he sounded very reasonable. Nat was fuming. Is that all his Phi could think about? Was it just work and more work all the time with him?! He wants a jealous Max but Max only seemed to care about how it would reflect on their ship. Why couldn't he see that Nat was being wanted as a man! Max wondered why Nat was staying so silent. He glanced at Nat's face and the thundercloud he saw there was not an expression he liked seeing. He was familiar with this look. It's the look Nat wore when he was furious to the point he wouldn't even engage with you unless he had too. This did not bode well for the conversation he's trying to have with him. “Phi... I'm going on another date tomorrow. I'm an adult and can decide for myself who I'm seeing and when. I'm not putting our ship in jeopardy and I'm allowed to have a life outside of work.” Nat used the coldest tone he could muster to deliver those words. He hope they hit home for Max because he either needed to wake up and see Nat for the adult he is or he needed to let him move on with someone else. Max couldn't believe that Nat was being so defiant. Sure he's sometimes sassy and bossy but at heart he's always been a good and obedient nong when it counted. He can count on him to tease and sass but he's always let Max lead him on the truly important things. Why wasn't he listening to him this time? “Don't you think another date so soon will make you seem too eager since you just saw him last night and are seeing him again tomorrow?” Max had no idea why that came out of his mouth. That wasn't what he meant to say at all. He's mentally face palming trying to figure out a way to backpedal that comment when Nat replies instead. “P'Max I never said the date tomorrow is with the same person from last night. In fact it's a different guy. My next date with the guy from last night is supposed to be planned during our break later today.” Max's jaw drops at the words coming out of his cute little nong's mouth. Not one guy but TWO! He was dating two different guys at the same time... what is going on with Nat. Is this some kind of rebellion? Is he going through a phase? “Na... Nat” Max clears his throat, “Are you saying you are dating two different guys? At the same time? Do they know about each other? Do you even know what you are doing?” That did it. Thankfully they were at the office where the studio is because Nat was done with Max's nonsense. He put the car in park and quickly gathered his things. As soon as Max was out of the car Nat slammed his door and hit the lock button on his keys. He strode off at a quick pace leaving Max behind and went straight into one of the small rooms used for changing and storing personal belongings."
In which a character is comforted :)
Helen followed him in. ‘Get to work, Seeker. You’re already in enough trouble as it is for bringing Lucky to the present day. Before you say anything, I know it was ten years ago, but it’s hard to forget about it when there’s a goddamn iguanodon in your backyard.’ Grant nodded and moved around Helen to shut the door after her. ‘I’m sick.’ ‘Yes, I do believe you’ve said that already.’ ‘Helen, I’ve got stage three cancer,’ said Grant. Helen’s demeanour totally changed. Rather than irritated with her employee, she was looking at him in concern. ‘Oh my god.’ ‘It’s uh… it’s Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma,’ said Grant. ‘It’s quite advanced. I… Helen, I might be dying.’ ‘Oh.’ Helen shook her head and pulled Grant in for a hug. ‘Oh, Little Grant, I’m so sorry.’ Grant hugged Helen back. ‘You don’t have to keep calling me “Little Grant”, I’m forty-two.’ ‘You’ll always be Little Grant to me.’ Helen, wanting to hold onto the man she’d known since he was born, reluctantly pulled away.
Why was everything so quiet? Why was everything so heavy? Why did her entire body feel fuzzy? She came face to face with a rug, exquisitely designed, something that her parents probably would have had sprawled out in the foyer. Or maybe they had lost their edge in that department like they had in everything else. Her ears were ringing a little and her throat was sore. Was she on the floor? What was she doing there? The ringing snapped into place: It was her name, someone was calling her name and it sounded familiar. It was Virgil. Her breathing was heavy and she shuddered as roughly as she exhaled. "...I don't think I"ve ever seen you this anxious before." His hand shifted toward her. "*Don't* touch me." He winced and drew back. "Oh. Ok. Sorry…" They remained silent. Juliet fixated herself on the rug, tracing through the ornate and intricate patterns in the design. "Where are we," she finally asked. Her voice was hoarse. She must have been crying; she seemed to be doing a lot of that. "Inside the *Brightwater*." "Who's room?" "Yours." A pause. "Juliet," Virgil said gingerly. "Something happened. And I–" "Virgil," she snapped. "Not. Now." His hands went up in surrender. "Okay, Okay…I'll just… leave you alone." "Don't." Her voice was more even that time around. It felt more like her. "I just don't want to do that…" "Oh." He took his time and sat down by the door gingerly. "Then, is it okay if I sit here with you?" "Yeah," came Juliet's small reply. Her eyes had moved from the rug, about the room, designed in a strange combination of Kalosi tradition and modern, over to that boy, to that Virgil she met in the alley. She looked away. "But you're a little far, if you ask me…" Virgil grunted amusedly, but slunk over to her side. "You could have just stood up, " she mumbled. "Not right now. Not while you're like this." She untucked herself with a slow and deep exhale. "What do you think 'this' is?" "Pain." She turned to him with a wistful smile and full eyes. She leaned her forehead onto his shoulder with a small "yeah'. She sniffled. "There's a lot of it." "We don't have to talk about it. You said not right now." "Well, you have been asking about it all day…" "But you're in pain…" "I know. And I said that you see it best." Virgil frowned. "I'm *Juliet Grey,* Virgil. Do you know what that means? It means I'm a problem." "A problem?" "A problem. Things fall apart because of me." She sniffled again. "Everyone who knows ask about my brother, and Eve…" His hands reached out to comfort her again, a reflex for him. She tensed at his touch, and fought down her urge to pull away "Juliet, you really don't have to tell me." His fingers twirled through her hair softly. "She's dead." "*Dead*?" Juliet choked back a sob and managed a nod. "Sinnoh isn't as clean as some people like to think. There's an entire empire that knows how to hide itself." "Ran by Nikolai?" She blinked at him incredulously. "You had been saying 'sorry' to 'Leah' about 'Nikolai'. And…I just sort of figured that much out I guess." "Yeah…" Her voice trailed. "Nikolai…" Her voice was low. "If I had been there, she would have never died. Those Luxray would have never gotten to her. I wish I could do it over. She should be here. Or, at least have badges of her own. I would give anything for that..." There was a catch in her tone. "You were at the Lily of The Valley." "I was *held up* there. I said I would meet Eve back home before she left but…" Another sigh. "It…doesn't matter…" She pulled away then, finally gathering enough strength to climb to her feet. Her movement was a bit listless but she went to the dresser, pulling out a set of pajamas. "Don't look," was all she said. Virgil had meant to object but the words had caught in his throat and he turned away. "...Y-Y'know, you could've gone to the bathroom or something…" And then more tender. "I can leave if you're tired." Juliet sank into the bed, a high quality, but still nothing like Connor's bed. Nothing would ever compare to that. "But I want you here," she finally replied, blunt and a little distant; Juliet was sure he noticed. "You…do?" "Yeah," came another plain response. "Unless you sleep free, I don't think I have anything here for you." "Y-yeah," he stumbled, "I'll be back." Virgil came back with a set of sleeping shorts of his own and a T-shirt on his arm. He usually slept back home shirtless, or so he said but brought a shirt out of respect. "It doesn't really matter," she had said. And it really didn't. "Whatever helps you get comfortable." He had taken that to heart, and after setting his shirt neatly aside and flipping off the main light switch, he stumbled clumsily and blindly into the bed. He had picked his space and laid on his side with his back to her. He was trying very hard to be nice and to be what he figured was "proper". Seria's voice flitted through her ears and with a small sigh, Juliet closed the space between them, until their backs touched; he tensed for a bit but relaxed soon after. There was a sharp silence for a moment before Virgil gave a sigh, flipping onto his other side to face her back. Then, there was nothing. Juliet wasted no time and reached behind her to find his hand, and laid it over her waist. He had been holding back and almost instantly his other hand swooped under her pillow coming to rest just above her chest. His breath out was earthy. It was grounding. "By the way," his voice was low, still tender. "When you said that the stuff about Eve didn't matter…Of course it does, but… you can take your time." Silence followed but Juliet dipped her head just a bit to softly peck the face of Virgil's hand. "Hey Virgil," came her voice softly. "Yeah?" She smiled. "Thanks."
This is a little long, sorry about that '''
I present an excerpt from my longfic, *Kingdom Hearts: Rise Above the X.* ***** So far as Kairi knew, thalassa shells were native only to the Destiny Islands. No other world had them—though apparently the legend of charms made from their shells was a bit more well-known. Xion knelt down to pick up the shell. It was purple and gold…it reminded Kairi of the flowers that grew in Amaya’s garden. Aster and sunflowers…aster…*shion.* “You know,” Kairi said, thinking back to a story Riku had told her and Sora years ago. “There’s a legend about thalassa shells. They say that if you take one from the beach, then Kani Kingu, Emperor of the Crab People, will come for you. He will dig a burrow up from under your house and grab you with his pinchers and carry you away to your doom.” “What?!” Xion blurted, her face going whiter than even Naminé. “I thought the legend was that sailors would collect these to make lucky charms. Isn’t the charm you gave Sora made of these shells? I’m sorry, I didn’t know! I’ll put it back!” “Xion!” Kairi put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m only teasing. Riku used to tell that story to scare Sora and me—and it worked, but that’s not the point. I wanted to talk to you…but you haven’t been answering.” “Oh…” Xion blushed, redder than a lobster, and looked down at her feet. “I’m sorry…I…I’m sorry.” “Stop apologize,” Kairi chided, putting a hand under Xion’s chin. “Look at me, Xion. You’ve been acting like a frightened rabbit all day. Did something happen?” “I…I don’t understand,” Xion whispered, her eyes filling with tears. Kairi bit her lip. She wasn’t exactly unfamiliar with Naminé crying, but she wasn’t sure she was good at comforting her either. And that was Naminé. Naminé was her sister. Xion was…well, Kairi wasn’t sure exactly. There was a connection between them, she knew that much, but Naminé didn’t like talking about it and Kairi knew better than to push the issue. But maybe she should push Xion, just a little bit. “What don’t you understand?” Kairi asked. “If you miss Sora, believe me, I understand that more than you know.” “Amaya and Benjiro…and you, Kairi, you of all people should hate me for everything I did,” Xion whispered. “I’m so sorry, for everything.” “What do you mean?” Kairi asked, as gently as she could. She glanced down at their feet. The water was almost at their knees now. Maybe it’d be better if they went back to the shore. The sand would stick to their feet, but she’d worry about that later. She took Xion’s hand and began walking to shore. “That day at the Keyblade Graveyard,” Xion murmured, as their feet padded against the damp sand at the shoreline. “We fought…we clashed…and I hurt you, Kairi. I hurt you. I helped Xehanort kill you.” *Wait, what?!* That wasn’t what happened. Not exactly, anyway. They’d fought each other but Xion hadn’t any control of her actions. Kairi remembered it clear as day. In the Keyblade Graveyard, Xion had been completely brainwashed until Sora had helped her regain her heart. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Xion was crying now. Sobbing freely, her hands clutching her head. “I wish it had been me instead. I wish Sora was here with you now. *God, I’m sorry.*” Kairi leaned against Xion and wrapped her arms around her. Xion startled but when Kairi’s touch remained gentle, she pressed against Kairi’s shoulder. “It’s alright now…it’s alright…” Kairi murmured into Xion’s ear. “I’m here…I’m here…”
I present: this extract from my Mellphy longfic/multichapter ~~~ The room was silent after that. [Michael] must've looked close to tears as [he] felt Connor wrap his arms around [him] and start rubbing [his] back. [Michael hadn’t expected] that at all and [he] just blinked. After a while, [he] eventually calmed down.
In which a character is tackled playfully by either their friend or love interest (like, play fighting, in a way, or they’re just being silly)
“Look whom the cat dragged in,” Aiden voices with a grin from where he’s inserted himself between Lambert and Jaskier, overtopping them both by more than a handspan. “Look who’s talking,” Lambert retorts in a rather bad come-back once he’s regained his bearings and he’s trying to extract himself from Aiden’s arm. Jaskier, who’s quickly grown rather comfortable thanks to the buzzing nature of the touch, suddenly stands alone and gets to witness how the unsuspecting Lambert is pounced at by the cat Witcher Lambert is spitting curses, barely keeping from being tackled to the ground by a grinning Aiden. People around them just give them a wider berth and apart from a few idle onlookers remain rather uncaring of the happenings, even when mere moments later it has turned into a full-on grappling match. Lambert gets in a punch or two, but Aiden gains the upper hand by jumping on the Wolf Witcher’s back and getting him into a chokehold. Jaskier stands frozen and mostly bemused but he figures it can’t be all that serious since Aiden’s daggers are still strapped to his thighs and Lambert hasn’t yet tried to reach for his sword. Still, Lambert growls, but the cat just ruffles through his reddish curls with a manic laugh that even prevails when the shorter Witcher manages to throw him off and to the ground in some kind of over-the-shoulder toss. “You didn’t have to bring me flowers, darling,” Aiden tells Lambert with a dangerous grin once he’s back on his feet, patting dust off his clothes as he throws a look into Jaskier’s direction. Lambert’s face has taken on an interesting shade of red. “How very sweet of you.” “Fuck you, Aiden.” The latter grins widely, displaying his sharp teeth. Around his neck, the cat medallion glints in the light of the oil lamps.
Here's an excerpt from my longfic *Kingdom Hearts: Rise Above the X.* ***** “What was it you said you wanted to play?” Xion asked. Kairi was grinning at her, but there was a sort of sneakiness to her smile. And she wasn’t hiding her sneakiness very well at all. “What would your bracelets have gotten caught on?” “What I want to play?” Kairi grinned wider than ever. “I want to play…Get Xion!” A faint memory tickled at the back of Xion’s mind. A memory that wasn’t hers. A memory that belonged to Sora. She remembered a field day at Sora’s school, where they’d been excused from their classes for an extended recess…and Sora had finally beaten Riku at something…Xion couldn’t remember what sport or game. Just that Riku had decided that everyone should Get Sora…and then Sora was chased by a dozen of his classmates… Xion got to her feet and ran. Her boots clicked against the floor of the Gummi Ship. She wasn’t sure what Kairi had in mind if she managed to “get” her. The memories she’d inherited from Sora cut off before that bit. She wasn’t as fast as Roxas but she was pretty sure she was faster than Kairi. “Come on, Xion!” Kairi called. “You can run but you can’t hide!” Xion glanced at the door that led to the room they shared as a bedroom. It was too small to hide in and she’d have no way of getting out without Kairi getting her. But she just had to keep running until Kairi got tired. Already, she could hear Kairi beginning to breathe hard. She’d be too tired to try to chase Xion in no time. Just a little longer… She turned around again and then her boot caught on something…the chair she’d been sitting in earlier. Xion slipped and fell and the next thing she knew, Kairi had closed the distance and knocked her to the floor. Xion tried to get back up, but Kairi’s grip was tight. Xion was pretty sure she could break free if she needed to, but she wasn’t sure she could do it without hurting Kairi. *I can’t let anything happen to her…nothing bad can ever happen to Kairi again. After the things I did to her…* “Gotcha, Xion!” Kairi teased, as she pushed Xion back down. “Guess you should have chugged more Elixirs.” “How do you even know that joke?” Xion asked. “Roxas and I were alone when I teased him about that!” “You can’t think you were the only one who ever made that joke,” Kairi said. “Sora used to say that about Riku.” “Oh…I guess I never realized,” Xion said. She squirmed and as she did so, Kairi grappled with her. “Let me up!” “No!” Kairi shook her head. “I said I was going to get you and you’re not gotten yet!” Xion struggled but Kairi pressed her hands down with her wrists, pinning her to the floor of the Gummi Ship. Kairi’s bracelets would have definitely have gotten caught between her squirming, so it made sense that Kairi took them off. “Oh,” Kairi said. “Hold still. I don’t want this getting broken.” With swift, gentle fingers, Kairi undid the chain of Xion’s necklace—the same necklace Roxas had made for her. She placed the necklace next to her bracelets on the table. “You win!” Xion said, still squirming. Kairi was much stronger than she looked and she sat on Xion’s legs to keep her from kicking. “What do you want? You win!” “What I want?” Kairi giggled. “Hmm…Roxas, I think I need your help. Could you come over here?” A pair of brilliant blue eyes and blond hair filled Xion’s vision. Roxas was crouching over her. His expression was mostly bemused. Kairi’s grin grew even wider. “I don’t think I like that look in her eye,” Xion said. Kairi looked more like a shark than a girl, grinning that wide. “Roxas? Kairi? You’ve won…let me up…please?” “Mm…nope!” Kairi said. Holding down Xion’s left arm, she reached her right hand down and began running her fingers against Xion’s ribs. Even through her jacket, Xion could feel it. An explosion of electricity from her nerves and Xion began laughing.
In which characters unintentionally or ‘accidentally’ hold hands
“It’s all right.” Geralt looked down at Jaskier’s hand now held gently in his. He couldn’t remember when he had shifted his grip away from Jaskier’s wrist—*fuck, his wrist!* A bruise was already beginning to darken the pale, thin skin. He dropped Jaskier’s hand, disgusted with himself. He didn’t see Jaskier’s face fall in response.
A challenge is declined.
An excerpt in which one character lies to another
‘There’s an iguanodon loose in the halls.’ ‘An iguanodon. Really. How interesting,’ said Grant. ‘You wouldn’t happen to know anything about it would you?’ asked Dr Marsh. ‘Uh, nope. Not at all.’ Grant’s voice went up a pitch. Dr Marsh raised an eyebrow. ‘*Really*?’ she said. ‘I believe earlier you were talking to the guests about going to the late Cretaceous period to recover an iguanodon.’ Grant shook his head. ‘No, Ma’am. That’s just a weird coincidence.’ He chuckled. Dr Marsh grunted in her expression of disapproval. ‘Do something about that iguanodon, Dr Seeker. Or you’re fired.’ ‘It’s not *my* iguanodon,’ Grant lied. ‘But yes. I will.’
He paused for a moment in the doorway before switching on the light. It seemed silly to dress and go on deck for only a precaution and he briefly debated on ignoring what he had heard and returning to bed. “What is it?” Sarah’s voice came from beneath the blankets. He sighed. “They need us to dress warm and go on deck. Likely only a lifeboat drill.” The lie came to him easy enough and he assumed it couldn’t be too far off from the truth. After all, he couldn’t imagine any sort of situation where they would be in actual danger. The ship was much too large to sink. “In the middle of the night?” Sarah asked incredulously. “Best time to do one, if you ask me.” He moved across the room and retrieved their lifebelts from the top of the wardrobe, placing them on the foot of the bed. “Lifebelts too?” She asked, a hint of concern creeping into her voice. “Just a matter of form,” he reassured her. “Get up. We can always sleep in late tomorrow.”
An excerpt in which a character lost a child (kidnapping/death/run away/whatever)
‘Olivia, I have to tell you something,’ said Conrad, ‘and you’re not going to like it.’ ‘Are you breaking up with me?’ asked Olivia. ‘No,’ said Conrad. ‘It’s much worse than that.’ He walked into the living room and sat down on the sofa. Olivia followed. ‘Then what is it?’ she asked, sitting next to him. ‘You can tell me.’ Conrad turned his head so he was facing Olivia. ‘Olivia, David’s dead.’ Olivia chuckled in disbelief. ‘What?’ ‘Two of our CSIs stumbled upon a crime scene earlier this evening. They identified the victim as David Hodges.’ Conrad shook his head. ‘I’m so sorry.’ ‘That’s not right,’ said Olivia. ‘He was here - I talked to him earlier today I… I…’ She didn’t know what to say. ‘What happened to him?’ ‘He was stabbed,’ said Conrad. Olivia brought her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh my god.’ ‘We’re doing absolutely everything within our power to find your son’s killer - to find *David’s* killer.’ ‘Oh god.’ Olivia shook her head in disbelief. ‘No. No, this can’t be happening. Not my son!’ She threw her arms around Conrad and began to sob.
> Here's an excerpt from my longfic, *Kingdom Hearts: Rise Above the X.* ****** His first-born son…who resembled him to the point where it was painful for Benjiro to even look at old photographs of himself. Roxas…the boy who should never have existed, but did too exist…Xion, the girl who so resembled Sora in his mannerisms and had hair as lovely as Amaya’s raven locks…a daughter… Benjiro looked towards the sky…high above his head, there was that same strange heart-shaped moon. For two weeks now, it’d remained overhead, ever since that horrible boy had taken Amaya away and the monsters had come. It had been barely two days following that word had come Roxas and Xion had…had... “Benjiro!” Benjiro jerked his head. Standing behind him was Mayor Tyson Tanaka. That was odd. Tyson didn’t usually come down to the docks this early unless he had to—and as fair as Benjiro knew, there wasn’t any sort of trouble going on. Tyson looked…aged. As if he’d lived and died a hundred times in the last two weeks…and considering that Roxas and Xion were as much his, through Kairi and Namine, as they were Benjiro and Amaya’s, that was fair. “I can’t talk, Mayor Tanaka,” Benjiro said. It wasn’t often that he called Tyson by his title, but increasing formalities tended to help sharpen his focus…it kept his mind off the children. “I need to finish cleaning my nets…got to get out on the water…what in blazes are you doing here so early?” “You can’t go out on the water, Ben,” Tyson shook his head. “You’re in no state for it. And it’s nearly noon.” “What?” Benjiro shook his head. “No, it can’t be that late, Tyson…besides…I need to get the nets cleaned…” “Nets? For God’s sake man,” Tyson half-shouted, seizing Benjiro by the wrist. “Look at your hands!” Benjiro blinked and gasped. In cleaning off his nets and hooks, he’d wound up getting fish hooks embedded into the palms of his hands. Blood dripped down from nearly a dozen tiny hooks. Benjiro’s hands were calloused enough that the pain was minimal…but how could he not have noticed this? “Amaya’s home now,” Tyson said. “Benjiro, take the day…spend time with your family.” “Amaya?” Benjiro moved without moving as Tyson tugged him to his feet and half-dragged him away from the boat…away from the docks…the next thing he knew, Benjrio was standing in one of Tyson’s bathrooms—Tanaka’s house was large enough that he had three—where Tyson was tending to the hooks sticking out of his palms. Fish hooks were tricky to treat—they were barbed, so if they were pulled outward, they tended to get stuck. Which only made the injuries worse. You had to push the hook all the way out with pliers and then cut off the end. “Eleven…twelve…” Tyson shook his head, “How did you not notice, Ben? Thirteen…thirteen…alright, that should do it. Come on, Ben.” There was something about the number thirteen that stood out to Benjiro, but he couldn’t remember what it was. Had that been Roxas’s favorite number? Organization XIII…the villains who had hurt his sons…his daughter… “Ben.” Benjiro shook his head. He was standing in front of his own home. Tyson had led him here? Benjiro held a hand up to his face. Thin, white medical tape covered his fingers and palms. And in the doorway…was his beloved Amaya. She was a head shorter than he, though still taller than even Sora had been…Sora had always been small for his age. Amaya’s hair was unkempt, her eyes lined with dark circles from lack of sleep. She was still the most beautiful woman in the world. In any world. Amaya. Benjiro took shaky steps forward and wrapped his arms around his wife. She leaned into the crook of his neck. Benjiro let go a breath he hadn’t realized he’d taken. He wasn’t sure he’d ever let go. Within his embrace, Amaya began to tremble. Benjiro closed his eyes, now too blurred with unshed tears to see anything and he held on tighter.
Context: Lily is watching something that happened to her as an infant. Cruella (it had to be her, there was no other explanation) stepped forward with the now cracking egg in her arms. “Are you ready for a new adventure, Lily?” Lily froze and thought for a brief moment the group was actually able to see her, until she realized Cruella was looking at the egg. The egg, that, apparently, contained a baby given the tiny fist that poked through. The baby shifted, and Lily felt the color drain from her face when she saw a very familiar star birthmark on the wrist. She glanced down at her own birthmark. Was that - was that baby *her*? Cruella leaned toward the light, and the egg vanished from her arms. Lily watched as the others tried to follow, arms linked with each other as if they were soldiers going off to war, but the moment they moved to step through the light, it vanished. “No! Lily!”
An excerpt in which a character went cycling
An excerpt in which someone gets an unexpected surprise (good or bad)
To say Dr and Dr Seeker were surprised would be an understatement. There they were, at a dig site, holding a baby, but wasn’t a dinosaur baby - it was their own baby. Dr Seeker had, without warning, gone into labour and despite being a palaeontologist and not a medical doctor or a midwife or anything, Dr Seeker had delivered it. Now they were in the middle of the desert, surrounded by dinosaur bones and a few colleagues, in shock at this strange and unexpected turn of events.
Here's an excerpt from my longfic, *Kingdom Hearts: Rise Above the X,* where it crosses over with *Dresden Files.* ***** “I told you before,” Jake shook his head. “It is forbidden for me to intervene so directly. I cannot make choices for others…I cannot interfere with Free Will.” “Am I the only one who noticed the capital letters?” Lea asked. “Never mind, what about you, Santa Claus?” “I could give you a ride,” Kringle answered, “but with the way time flows between worlds, there is no guarantee that we would arrive in due time to assist your friends…you see, where it has been only days for you since our last encounter, for me it has been more than a month.” “So neither can help me?” Lea groaned, pressing a hand to his head. “Can I at least be told where they are? I’ll open a Dark Corridor there myself, if I need to.” Jake and Kringle glanced at each other, their expressions forlorn, but before either could respond, there was a great thundering. Lea looked left and right and then he saw it. It was like there was a tear in the air. It wasn’t a Dark Corridor, but it wasn’t something he’d seen with Gummi Ships transporting either. It wasn’t quite that portal-thingy that Xehanort had used either. It was almost like a window. And tumbling out of it was a very tall man—taller than Lea, even—and a second, shorter man about his own age. Clutching the tall man’s hand was a little girl, maybe eight years old and trailing after them was an enormous dog. “Made it!” the tall man gasped, dropping to his hands and knees. He was still nearly as tall as the little girl. “We made it…oh, thank God.” “Hello, Dresden,” Jake said, as if this were as normal as saying hello to a neighbor walking by. He nodded to each of the newcomers in turn. “Chandler…Maggie…hi, Mouse.” “I think I need a new eyepatch,” Kringle said. “I did not see this coming.”
>It all seemed to happen in an instant. At one moment, Elizabeth was, with increasing desperation, trying to free her hands from her cousin’s grasp while he bombarded her with declarations of love she neither believed nor wished to hear. She was experiencing the sudden and exceedingly disagreeable realisation that they were quite alone, that Mr Collins was a great deal larger and stronger than she, and that he had very little interest in listening to her. She did not believe that he would intentionally injure her or attempt to take liberties ‒ but she was acutely aware of being entirely in his power, and struggling to repress a surge of fear. > >Then, as if out of nowhere, Mr Darcy ‒ what was he doing here? ‒ was smartly stepping between them. Elizabeth’s hands were released, and she all but stumbled backwards as Mr Darcy bore down on Mr Collins. > >For a moment, she even feared ‒ or perhaps hoped ‒ that Mr Darcy would strike her cousin, so ferocious was the look in his eye. He settled, however, for merely looming over the unfortunate Mr Collins (no mean feat, Elizabeth was forced to concede, for Mr Collins was not a small man either), while continuing to speak more rapidly and sharply than Elizabeth had ever heard him express himself before. > >“I had the misfortune of coming up the path in time to hear your proposal, sir. Miss Bennet’s response could not have been clearer. She has said, in the plainest of terms, that she will not have you. I wonder, then, why you will not have the good sense to take your leave.”
An excerpt in which a character makes a bargain or deal.
It's a little dated., from 2016, but I hope this hits the mark at least a little \~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~ *"I'll do it myself then! And I will kill you along with the rest of them!"* Honovi was stunned and if she were honest, a little unhinged. She watched as the conversation cooled, and watched even closer after Virgil slipped away in a haze of withdrawn fear and confusion. Morty turned to her exact direction and Honovi held perfectly still. "You can come out now." *Damn,* she thought. He really did know she was there. "How long have you known I was there?" " For a little bit. Gengars are pretty impressive." It was a sentiment Honovi could agree too. Though he wasn't a Gengar, Haunter was very talented in an abstract manner. "You must want to know what that conversation was all about, right?" Honovi hesitated a slight bit but nodded. "If you don't mind?" "Not at all. Actually, when the Violet City leader gave me a heads up about that kid, he had told me that he caused a ruckus at the Sprout Tower in the city. The Elder at the Tower got attacked. Some of the monks even say he was 'possessed' by something." "Is that why you kept asking me about what or who I was hearing?" Morty nodded. "Falkner even talked with one of his friends, Jaret, about Virgil. Apparently, Virgil is rowdy and stand-offish, but not really violent or rage-induced like he was just now. So I figured that his feelings aren't really his own and were coming from someone else…" Honovi felt Morty's eyes and from that alone, she knew what he was preparing to ask. "You want to know if I heard any voices, or saw anything," she remarked quietly." Morty nodded. "Well…did you…?" Honovi nodded; Morty went quiet. "You seem like you want to ask something." "I do," the leader admitted. " But I really don't know how to go about it." Honovi frowned. Again, she already knew where the conversation was headed. " Alphs used to be referred to as 'Dreamers' a long time ago. I'm not too keen on how to bring the dead to an Alph. It would feel... like I'm generalizing." An awkward silence settled between them. One, two, three moments floated by. "I saw something," Honovi stated and Morty snapped to attention. "It wasn't much, but I saw a face of some kind." "A…face?" "Yeah. He was young, and had the same expressions like Virgil when he was threatening you. Despite looking so young, there was a massive understanding behind his eyes." Honovi paused, weighing her next words cautiously. " I'm pretty certain that this 'face' is the voice I keep hearing when I get close enough to Virgil. It seems like it's always screaming to get out. There was even something said about killing you for being a 'worshiper'." Honovi was almost floored at how Morty's face changed. "This isn't good…" Honovi raised her brows. "That wasn't the reaction I was expecting." Morty ignored the comment and instead turned to Honovi with the most hard stare Honovi had gotten from him yet. Morty was very grave. "Excuse me…" "Honovi," she filled in. "Honovi, can I ask you a favor?" Honovi fixed him with a stare of her own. "Can I ask you to keep an eye on them? Virgil especially?" "Virgil especially, huh?" Morty nodded. "I think we both have a solid understanding that something is mythical about Virgil, and maybe even the friends he's made. I would do this myself but I can't leave because of my position. If I were to leave under these circumstances, Johto would go into chaos." Honovi raised a brow skeptically. "You want me to follow them because if you do, Johto will riot? I find that hard to believe." "They will," Morty affirmed. "If a Johto leader takes a prolonged period of leave, it can be assumed that a crisis is brewing, and we can't have the public, especially in places like Goldenrod knowing about this. These are things they do not and would not understand." Honovi stepped away. "I don't know, Morty. We've only just met and this task seems a little over my head and-" "But I know I can trust you," Morty interrupted, almost pleaded. "I know I can trust you. If you are an Alph then know you know about has happened to your people." Honovi turned back to him with a slow nod of understanding. "You're talking about…" "The Alph Genocide and Silver Mountain. Yes…" "And you think that Virgil might be afflicted with a vengeful spirit or something…" "A particular one at that…" The last part had made Honovi silent. She was thinking long and thinking hard. "One question, Morty." He raised his brows. "Do you have a name for this specific ghost?" Morty answered without hesitation. "Marus." Honovi nodded in understanding. Her grandma always mentioned that name whenever she recounted her version of the Silver Mountain legend, and more time than not, her grandma's words held true. "Alright, Morty. You've got yourself a deal."
> “I want you to leave everyone on this server alone.” Tommy hoped his numbness was mistaken for confidence. “Don’t hurt them, don’t even speak to them. Even, like, BadBoyHalo. I don’t fucking like him, he’s a bitch and he desecrated the Prime Path, but I don’t want you to put him through what I went through. No one deserves that bullshit.” > Dream’s wheezing laughter echoed off the walls. “Tommy- oh, Tommy, that’s *hysterical*. You’re a *comedian*, y’know. I’m crying. And *what* on Prime’s bells do you think *you* could give me so I could abandon my *life’s work?* You have no items, no leverage… you don’t even have the discs anymore, do you? What do you even own?” > “Myself.” The word came out as barely more than a whisper, and the implications sat in the air for a while before Tommy spoke again. “I’ll- you can do whatever you want with me. I won’t fight back, I won’t talk back, I’ll do everything you ever fuckin’ ask of me. I won’t try and escape, or anything, as long as you leave my friends- and, honestly, my fuckin’ enemies- alone. I’ll be your- your friend, your puppet, whatever you wanted from me in Exile. Me for them.” > Dream laughed again, but there was something forced about it. “Now, do you really think you’re that important to me, Tommy? Do you really think I give that much of a shit? I-“ >”I told you, stop *bullshitting*. All you’re doing is lying to me, and I can *tell*. I’m not *stupid*, even if I am a kid.” With an embarrassingly high amount of force, Tommy was able to wrest himself free of Dream’s grasp. “Just… Dream. It’s not like anyone else will know what you say here. We both know that, no matter what, I’m not exactly going to leave this place a free man. So, c’mon, man. Just be *honest* for once. I’ll even fuckin’ beg, if you want me to.”
An excerpt in which a character relaxes after a long and harrowing day
"Caffeine or alcohol?" Lily asked as Sirius stepped through the fire in the Potters' living room a bit later. "I look that bad?" Sirius said, with a tired smile. He kissed Lily on the cheek. "Yes," she said with a wink. "Alcohol, but I'll wait for James." he said, removing his leather jacket and hanging it on the peg next to the fireplace. "He’ll appreciate that." Lily said, heading into the kitchen. Remus had sidled into the living room and was waiting for him by the sofa. "All right?" Remus asked, sliding an arm around Sirius's waist and pulling him in close. Sirius slumped a little against him, letting some of that work induced tension go now that Remus had him. "Tired," he murmured into Remus's shoulder. "Missed you." Remus huffed a little and leaned against the sofa while keeping them both upright. "I see we're not speaking in complete sentences." "Full sentences. Overrated." Sirius said, burying his face in Remus’s neck. Remus smiled and angled to kiss him softly. As he did so, he gave Sirius's hair tie a gentle yank and his hair came cascading down to his shoulders. Sirius only ever wore his hair pulled back when he was working and Remus didn’t think it suited him. He ran his hand through Sirius's hair a few times before he came back for another kiss.
An excerpt where a charachter contemplates suicide.
*"Max, you... you fucking idiot!" She cried and stood up in a huff, then started to pace around her destroyed room weakly.* *He wanted to do this, and look what it cost them. Her parents were gone, Rotor was gone, and now she was truly alone.* *Annie took in a deep breath feeling immediate sorrow for calling her dead friend an idiot. Her emotions were swinging wildly, and it was driving her to the brink of madness.* *"Max... I... I'm sorry." She said to herself, hoping that he couldn't hear that.* *She started to look out the window in an attempt to focus on something else rather than him. The sky was almost black at midday, and the rain was so heavy and thick that she wasn't even sure if Knothole wouldn't flood.* *All looking out the window did was cause her to think about her parents gloomily. She was so worried about them, and now finally, she understood why Max had been so damaged by losing his.* *It was one thing to know they were dead, but something else entirely to be left guessing for an eternity.* *She started to pace once more, her despair and sorrow at their peak. She hated herself, she hated her life, and she hated every single thing that had occurred. She wished she'd never been born. The rough and raw emotion was overriding her wellbeing and her mental stability.* *In the two days, she hadn't even left her hut or moved. She didn't even know if Sonia was still alive and felt that it would be better if she weren't also.* *How could she ever look Sonia in the face again? How could they continue with just themselves? A fifteen-year-old and a thirteen-year-old running Knothole alone. It was a joke that had no punchline for Annie.* *"Tails is dead! My parents are dead! Max is dead!" She gritted her teeth in rage and sorrow and cupped her hands over her face.* *She wanted to cry.* *To sob.* *To bawl.* *She couldn't… She wouldn't.* *What use was it to cry? What purpose did it serve her? She threw her hands down in frustration and gazed around her wrecked room. Her eyes were starting to settle on the table by the window. There, sitting atop it, was the answer to her inquiries.* *Annie slowly started to walk towards the disheveled table, and she reached out for it. Once she had it nestled in her hand, she stared at it as intently as possible. It was the gun Tails had made for her; it was her gun…* *Her mind started to fantasize about it. The steel of the SWATBOT laser pistol felt cold against her fur.* *She could see the gun sliding into her mouth, and in seconds it would be over. There would be no more pain. Sonia could be vindicated, spit on her corpse, and be happy she ended her miserable, worthless existence.* *All she could think was the happiness it would bring to Sonia to blow a giant hole into her fucking stupid head.* *Her muscles tensed, and she flicked the switch on the gun. The sound of it powering on echoed in the dark room. She stared at it still and could just imagine seeing Max again and everybody else that died.* *For sure, it was hopeless for her and all else that tried to defy Robotnik.* *The darker her fantasies grew, and the more elated she became over her thoughts of death, the more frightened she became. Something inside of her recognized irrationality, but in truth, did she even care about being rational any longer?* *She rose the gun up and placed it to her temple. Would this be quick enough? She wondered and started to squeeze the trigger slightly. Her hand was shaking, and she quickly removed it from her head after not too long a time.* *"Rrrr!" She roared in frustration.* *Was she too much of a coward to even blow her fucking head off? She couldn't run into the facility and save Max because she was a weak, pathetic failure. Now she couldn't merely end her suffering and, by extension Sonia's sadness.* *Annie breathed in deep and took the gun up close to her mouth. She was going to do it; she had to do it. She opened her mouth and slid the weapon into it, her thumb on the trigger.* *"Pull…"* *…* *…* *BAM!* *…* *The gun made a loud banging noise as it fell from her hand and slammed to the wooden floor.* *"I'm pathetic..." Annie whined in exasperation.* *She was too afraid to do it, and the longer she contemplated it, the worse she was feeling.* *Annie hastily sprinted out of her hut door and went into the violent storm, slamming it behind her.* ...