#flash fiction challenge

[merceyca]

Hold Tight

Andrew and Neil accidentally crash Abby and Wymack’s carnival date.

The fairground was rife with people and noise. Andrew had warned Neil that this would be the case, but the screaming, the music, the crowds; it all had Neil wondering what the appeal of a day at the fair could possibly be.

The day itself was drawing to a close, the sky turning a deep orange and fading to purple at the edges. Andrew had flown in that afternoon, and when Neil picked him up from the airport he happened upon the flyer for the Palmetto State fair.

Although, after spending ten minutes there, Neil came to the conclusion that they should have just had an easy night at home. Murder, She Wrote reruns were a better alternative to this.

Andrew caught him by the shoulders, yanking him out of both his thoughts and the warpath of an ice-cream-wielding toddler. Neil checked himself for stains, but he remained unscathed.

‘Thanks.’

‘Those jeans are designer,’ Andrew informed him.

Neil shook his head, smiling. He opened his mouth to respond when a familiar voice called, ‘Neil! Andrew!’

They both whirled to see Abby hauling Wymack over by the hand. She was beaming, her hair free from its customary ponytail and whipping around in the breeze. Wymack appeared to be reevaluating his life choices.

Neil met Andrew’s amused look with an identical one of his own, allowing Abby to catch him in a hug when they met them halfway.

‘I didn’t know the two of you were coming here tonight,’ she said fondly.

‘The warning would have been nice,’ Wymack added, less so.

Neil fought the childish urge to stick his tongue out at him. Living in the dorms with just Robin was beginning to have an effect on him.

‘We didn’t intend to crash your date,’ Andrew said, sending a meaningful look down at Abby and Wymack’s joined hands.

‘And what noble reason do you shits have for being here?’ Wymack returned.

‘Candy floss hunting,’ Andrew said at the same time Neil said, ‘Breaking in my jeans.’

‘They’re designer, you know,’ Neil continued when Wymack cast his eyes heavenward.

Abby laughed at their antics. ‘Have you tried any of the rides yet?’

‘Er, no.’ Neil tried to think of how best to skirt around the topic of Andrew’s acrophobia, but Andrew beat him to it.

‘I sustained a head injury in last week’s game,’ Andrew lied. ‘No roller coasters for me. So sad.’

Abby frowned. ‘A head injury? In which quarter? We watched the whole game.’

‘You must have blinked,’ said Andrew. ‘I’m going to line up for food if you want to take him on something puke-inducing before we eat. Coach?’

Wymack sighed but seemed to accept that his date had been crashed. ‘Yeah, take the kid on that death trap you pointed out earlier.’

‘The one you said would put your heart to the test?’ Abby asked.

Wymack huffed. ‘We’ll meet you by the tables.’

‘Are you sure?’ Neil asked Abby. ‘If you don’t want to—’

He trailed off when he saw that Abby’s green eyes were alight with excitement. She clutched his arm. ‘Come on, Josten. Don’t chicken out on me now.’

Neil couldn’t help but laugh as she dragged him across the fairground. The years between nurse and striker fell away, and suddenly they were both kids, nervously boarding a ride called The Crazy Coaster that allegedly spun as it sped over the tracks.

Abby’s joyful squeals accompanied the swoop in Neil’s gut at every drop, making him laugh harder. They took the first two dips facing forwards, but the biggest one was coming, and their carriage was turning.

‘Oh, god. Oh, god,’ Abby gasped, her hand fumbling for Neil’s. ‘Neil, we’re backwards.’

Neil managed a hysterical, ‘What do you want me to do about it?’

Abby finally caught his hand and gave it a firm squeeze. Neil held tight to the woman who had patched him up so many times he’d lost count, who kissed his forehead and cheered him on at every game, who brought him on this stupid ride and showed him that surrendering your control to wheels and cogs and gravity could actually be fun.

The two of them shared a pair of frenzied grins as Abby said, ‘Here we go,’ and then they were falling.

[pculrstate]

how the night passes

day 2: prompt #36 (a story all in dialogue)

11:02 p.m.

Can you see in?

Sort of. Angle’s bad.

Can’t pull any closer without being spotted out his front window.

Other side of the street?

They probably have a neighborhood watch. I can practically smell the fuckin’ HOA, dude. We’re already pushing our luck.

It’s fine, I can see enough.

Pass me the thermos?

Yeah. Here.

Shit, Sammy. That’s good. From the motel?

Buy one get one at Wegmans. Whole bean.

Shit. How’d you grind ‘em?

Hand grinder in one of the drawers. Someone must’ve left it.

Well, lucky us.

11:47 p.m.

What’s it been, like two hours? Guy hasn’t moved.

Forty-five minutes, Dean.

Jesus fucking Christ. I hate stakeouts.

12:29 a.m.

You bring any grub?

Trail mix.

Ugh. I assume it’s too much to hope for some jerky.

It stinks up the car.

Roll a window.

That kinda defeats the whole being inconspicuous thing.

Whatever. Just gimme the bag.

12:57 a.m.

Stop yawning.

I can’t help it!

Take deep breaths.

How’s that different from yawning.

Are you kidding me?

It’s too warm in here, that’s the problem. Turn the AC on.

Can’t. It’s making that rattling sound, remember?

Dammit. Forgot I was supposed to look at that.

Just take your jacket off or something. Oh, don’t—don’t make a fucking strip tease joke, Dean. They’re not funny.

What are you talking about? I didn’t say anything.

I saw your eyebrow.

What about my eyebrow.

Nothing.

How’s that saying go? He who smelt it dealt it.

Shut up. Your voice is making me nauseous.

1:13 a.m.

Remember when we used to play I Spy? In the car?

Ha. Yeah. Dad was the best at that.

You’d always pick something green. Every time.

Cause there was a lot of green!

Yeah, but even when there wasn’t. And then it’d be something barely green, like. Like the reflection of my sock in the window.

Dad would make up colors. Charfuchsia. Ceruleaneon.

Jeez, how do you remember those? Charfuchsia. Yeah. Man.

I don’t know. But it was kinda weird, right? That he did that. Not like he was very creative.

What? Yeah he was. Had to be. Keeping two rascals entertained for fifteen hours straight? He was always making up games. Shit like that.

I guess.

Hey, Sam?

What?

You wanna play?

2:07 a.m.

I don’t think he’s coming out, man.

He has to. It’s the only time he can feed.

Maybe he’s fasting.

Yeah, I don’t really think they do that.

Maybe he ordered in.

Nice, Dean.

Bet he keeps a stash in the freezer or somethin’.

A stash? They’re people. Try exercising a little tact.

Sorry. Just saying it seems like he’s down for the count.

It’s still early.

Alright then, you good if I close my eyes for a few? I’ll take next shift.

Okay.

2:31 a.m.

You still asleep? Dean?

God, your snoring. You know, when I first got to Stanford I couldn’t sleep for weeks ‘cause my room was so quiet. My roommate slept like a corpse. I hated your fucking snoring. And Dad’s. Used to lie in bed thinking that one day I was gonna have my own room with my own bed and a pillowcase that didn’t smell like mildew and it was going to be perfectly silent, so silent that I’d be able to sleep through the night. You wouldn’t kick me awake. You wouldn’t drool on my shoulder. And then I finally got it, so many years of wishing, and those first weeks, it was…awful. It was so awful. I hadn’t been scared of the dark since I was a kid, but that dorm room. I still— Fuck, I can still remember the feeling. The black and the quiet. And I wanted it back, more than anything. You and Dad. Sometimes you sounded so alike if I wasn’t looking I couldn’t tell who was who. I almost called you so many times.

3:11 a.m.

Hey, sleepyhead.

Anything?

Nope. Still quiet.

Damn, I had a weird dream.

Strippers or Hula dancers?

Ha ha.

Bad?

Not bad. Just…weird.

Wanna tell me?

You gonna sleep?

I’m okay.

Okay. It was like…we were in the Roadhouse? Sort of. You know how that shit is in dreams. It was the Roadhouse but it wasn’t really. Ellen and Ash were there.

Not Jo?

Maybe. I can’t remember. We were all drunk. Like, plastered. Even Ellen. I kept asking her to look for me.

To look for you?

Yeah, I don’t know. I just kept saying that. You have to look for me. And she told me she would but I could tell she didn’t get it. What I was really asking.

What were you really asking?

Oh shit, Jo was there. Yeah, she was there. It’s coming back. ‘Cause every time I told Ellen to look for me Jo would come up behind her and say, What do you think we’re all doing?

Huh.

Yeah.

And what was I doing?

I don’t really…

What?

That part’s fuzzy.

Try.

I don’t know, Sammy. You were drunk like the rest of us. You never— Whenever I dream about you, it’s like. You’re never fully real.

What the hell does that mean?

It’s hard to explain.

How often do you dream about me? Dean?

Most nights. I don’t know.

Most…?

Alright, can we change the subject.

I’m never…fully real.

Like when I try to touch you you’re just air. And your face is blurry or something. Never mind. I shouldn’t’ve brought it up. Just a stupid dream.

Well how did it end? This one.

It didn’t, really. We were just there in the Roadhouse drinking and I was saying that to Ellen and Jo was saying that to me and you were looking at me the whole time but I couldn’t feel you. Whatever. Then I woke up.

Sorry.

What’re you sorry for?

Just—

It’s fine.

Dean. I’m real.

I know, Sam.

3:33 a.m.

We’re going out for the biggest fucking breakfast you’ve ever had in your life after this. Get ready, Sammy.

You sure you’re gonna make it that long?

Hangin’ by a thread. For a monster this dude is fuckin’ boring.

I mean, you think he slipped past us? Back door or something?

You wanna knock and find out? That’s what I thought.

I’m sure we got the timing right. Full moon thirty days before the solstice. Has to be tonight.

I’m thinking short stack. Bacon AND sausage. Home fries. Couple over-easys. Fuckin’ gallon of coffee. Damn. Pants are getting tight.

You’re disgusting.

Maple syrup dripping down my fingers. Shit is erotic, what d’you want from me? You seen that typa porn? Oh, wait, what am I saying. You get off to the History channel.

I do not!

Nothing to be ashamed of, Sammy. Those corset dress things? Hot as fuck. I don’t blame you.

I don’t do that.

Okay, kid. Whatever you say.

3:58 a.m.

Just go to sleep, Sam, I got it.

Not…tired.

Real convincing.

I can see the moon. Out my window.

How nice.

Waning—waning gibbous.

I bet it is.

Hey, Dean?

Yup.

Can you.

Huh? Can I what.

Never mind.

No, what?

I was just gonna say can you— Remember that song you loved, the one about moonlight. Dad had it on cassette.

Uh…

You sang it to me. When I was little.

Verging on delirious, dude. Go to sleep.

You remember. I’d be so scared in the middle of the night if Dad wasn’t there. Or when I was sick. You sang it to me. Say you remember.

I remember, Sam.

Can you…?

Oh, come on, I don’t—

Please.

We’re on a fucking stakeout. Waiting for a dude who eats people.

Dean. Dean?

Ugh, fine, just—just shut up. Don’t look at me. And I swear to God if you laugh I’ll take your head off.

Won’t laugh.

Okay. Okay.

Sam? Sammy? Man, that really works on you, huh? Just like— Yeah. Just like back then. Haven’t listened to that song in years. Surprised I even remember the words. There were nights when you were at school, Dad was on a hunt. I’d get shit faced off fuckin’ cask wine. Put down two or three bottles and then park in some field and lay out in the back seat and just. I’d listen to that song a hundred times in a row. And I’d think about you all alone, and Dad all alone, and me all alone. Why the fuck did we let that happen, Sammy? We were supposed to be together. Always. The three of us, and it wasn’t— Hey, did you wake up? Sam wears women’s underwear…

Look, I’m not saying—

It’s not that I—

It just sucked. It sucked so fucking bad. And I’m glad—

Anyway. Whatever. Sweet dreams.

4:47 a.m.

You ate all the M&Ms from the trail mix.

Yeah? And?

Five year old, I swear to God.

4:56 a.m.

Well those are spaghetti westerns, which don’t even count as real westerns.

What are you talking about they don’t count? Of course they count. The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly?

Okay but spaghetti western? Seriously?

Oh, don’t start with that it’s racist crap, Sam. Times were diff—

Times were different back then, yeah, I’ve heard the speech.

They’re good enough for Clint they’re good enough for me.

Still don’t think anything beats El Dorado.

Hell yeah. I’m with you there.

5:13 a.m.

Hey, did I—did I say anything? In my sleep?

Nah, you were out.

Oh. Okay.

Why?

No reason.

You having those freak vision dream things again?

No. Not since.

Yeah. Okay. But you’d tell me, right?

Course.

5:16 a.m.

Sun’s coming up soon. What the hell happened? Why didn’t he come out?

I don’t know. Maybe I read the book wrong. Missed something.

We only got one shot at this.

I know, Dean.

5:23 a.m.

Why Ellen? Of all the people who would look for you. Why her? I mean, we don’t even really know her that well.

Beats me. Wondering the same thing.

And what does that mean? Look for me?

It was just a dream, Sam.

Yeah, but what you said, about me—

Please, I really don’t wanna talk about it.

About me not being real.

It’s not. It’s not that you’re not real. It’s just that I can’t, like. Grab hold of you.

Grab hold of me.

Shit. I—

Like I’m gonna run away.

Sam.

That’s what you’re fucking worried about? All this, everything that’s happened. You’re still— Even in your sleep.

I can’t control what goes on in my head, Sam. You of all people should get that.

You’re a fucking asshole.

You asked.

5:31 a.m.

Don’t let me forget to look at the AC later, yeah? Sam? Oh, what, you’re gonna freeze me out now?

5:36 a.m.

It was a shitty thing to say, okay. I Spy a very sorry brother. I Spy a jerk who’s saying stupid shit because he’s hungry and tired and sick of the fucking car. I Spy—

I’m here, Dean. I’m real. I’m here. Do you get that? Where else would I go?

Okay. I know. Yes. I know.

6:02 a.m.

Dean. Dean! He’s coming.

Ow, fuck, you don’t have to hit me, I see him.

Man, he really waited till dawn. Wonder why? Nothing in the lore about that.

Well he’s a mold breaker, Sammy. Who woulda thought. Let’s just hurry up and ice him so I can have my fucking breakfast.

[cleighwrites]

Back to December

SPN Fanfic

Characters - (choose your) Winchester x Reader

Summary - The reader remembers her time with a Winchester

Word Count - 100

A/N - This is another one for @justagirlinafandomworld's Flash Fiction Challenge round 5! This time my prompt was Back to December (Taylor's Version) by Taylor Swift!

Warning - angst

It was October and a chill was starting to creep into the air. As soon as the bodies started to pile up, she knew he'd be coming into town. 

She thought back to December, the last time she'd seen him. She had made a decision, one he hadn't been happy with, but it was the only option she could see. 

She'd had good times with him, laughing as he drove through town, music blaring, neighbors staring. But she wasn't cut out for his life, nor he for hers, so she'd said goodbye. 

Then she heard Baby coming down the road.

[luckylolabug]

I was supposed to work on some other stuff today, but spent a few hours writing this instead. Flash Fic challenge for @lockwoodandcoff! Making up for the last one that I missed by making this one extra long, I guess! (Also because Im incapable of writing less than 1500 words I am so sorry)

Angsty Locklyle but it still has a happy ending I swear.

[ksbrooks]

Flash Fiction Writing Prompt: Time Traveler

Image copyright K.S. Brooks. Do not use without attribution. Use the photograph above as the inspiration for your flash fiction story. Write whatever comes to mind (no sexual, political, or religious stories, jokes, or commentary, please) and after you PROOFREAD it, submit it as your entry in the comments section below. Welcome to the Indies Unlimited Flash Fiction Challenge. In 250 words or…

[writerbeemedina]

(Read from bottom to top)

⟳ Best soup recipes

⟳ Bone broth recipe

⟳ Is burning clothes bad for the environment

⟳ How to get rid of stains all the way

⟳ How to remove pig head video

⟳ How fast do sleeping pills work

⟳ Sleeping pills

⟳ Kitchen knives amazon

Write a horror story in the format of an Internet search history

[susanwritesprecise]

3TC MM25 | Shattered

Welcome to the daily Three Things Challenge.Use your imagination and creativity using one, two or all three words that may or may not be related. There are no restrictions regarding length, style, or genre, though please keep it family friendly. Tag your responses with 3TC, #threethingschallenge or TTC, and you can add Di’s logo if you wish. Looking forward to reading your responses. Your…

[tchistorygal]

SCD Flash Fiction Challenge: "Winter Storms" by You

Story Chat Digest got off to a great start, featuring Amanda Forestwood’s story of Henri’s terrible faux pas at dinner with his boss. This week we postponed Philip Cumberland’s great story because he is having cataract surgery right before and again during the week of comments. SCD Flash Fiction Challenge Last Tuesday, I introduced the Story Chat Digest Flash Fiction Challenge that Colleen…

[ekingston]

Friends! Lovers! Writers of fan fiction, foe fiction and original fiction alike! Are you drowning in WIPs? Do you find yourself procrastinating instead of writing? Do you abandon all of your current projects every time you think of a shiny new idea? Fear not! I’m here to make your problems even WORSE by bringing you a

The following picker wheels will randomly assign you a genre, a premise, a trope, and a subject (an item, concept or character that has to come up in your fic in some way).

The challenge is to write a fic up to 1000 words long.

For extra credit, make it exactly 100, 250, 500, 750 or 1000 words long.

Please reblog with the prompts you were given, and if you’re up to the challenge, link to your work in the comments!

If you like, you can add your work to the collection on ao3. It’s categorized as multi_fandom_flash_fiction.

I’ll also be regularly updating the masterlist here.

Have fun & thanks for playing!

[eqt-95]

Easter put together an amazing flash fiction challenge that I've finally gotten around to attempting incorrectly*:

Genre: crack

Premise: sentenced to community service

Trope: in vino veritas

Subject: paint samples

*it is definitely longer than 1,000 words. my hand slipped.

also on AO3

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

Luthor Green

HOUR 1

"This would go a lot faster if someone picked up the tempo a bit," Alex said with a side-eye.

"Superspeed won't teach us any valuable lessons," Kara explained, carrying an armful of painting supplies.

Alex's side-eye became an eye-roll. "Listen, we aren't some rag tag group of teenagers who graffitied the centennial monument-"

"The Tag Teens," Nia whispered.

"-we are superheroes who-"

"Who caused seventy-three million dollars in damages fighting off an illusion," came a stern but familiar voice from behind Alex.

"Lena!" Kara exclaimed. Her hands sent the supplies sprawling across a drop cloth as they lifted toward the LuthorCorp CEO.

"It's Ms. Luthor, Supergirl."

The same hands fell lifelessly back to Kara's sides. Nia grinned mischievously. Alex was already over the entire thing.

"And she's right, Agent Danvers: powers won't teach any valuable lessons nor are they permitted," Lena continued, heels crisply clacking across the empty lobby floor. "Court orders."

"Rich coming from a Luthor," Alex mumbled, knuckles whitening as they tightened a paint roller to a long reach pole.

"But that'll take all weekend," Nia scowled.

"50 hours, actually," Brainy advised.

"Good thing you're getting an early start," Lena offered cooly. "Friday nights tend to be rather quiet around here-"

"I'm sorry, what?" Alex said, eyes fluttering with disbelief. "As in five-zero?"

"Correct," Brainy nodded. "Assuming no breaks except for the advisable pause between paint coats. That, and we should each average 300 square feet an hour for the base layer which is approximately 50% faster than the average professional painter - aggressive, but I have confidence in us. It also requires 20 square feet an hour for the rather intricate mural Ms. Luthor's marketing team has requested; however, I have gone ahead and simplified it to project as a paint-by-number scheme which seems quite popular among-"

"Mural?" Alex gawked. "No, no, we did not agree to a mural-"

"You agreed to paint LuthorCorp's lobby in preparation for the NC Science Summer Camp we are now hosting because a rag tag group of superheroes destroyed its original venue," Lena interrupted, gaze stern and voice in a tone that felt like an undressing. Alex glanced toward Kara whose chest was puffed out like she was jealous it wasn't directed at her.

"But I had plans," Nia huffed, eyeing the red cooler she was sitting on.

"That's hardly my concern and frankly, the task hardly fits the crime," Lena replied, fingers tapping against her crossed forearms. "If it were up to me, you'd be reinstalling the LuthorCorp signage you destroyed as well."

"It wasn't a crime," Kara grumbled. "And you were replacing that anyway."

"There's scaffolding in the corridor," Lena continued, "try not to turn this into a total circus."

HOUR 4

"What are you shaking? Is that spray paint?" Kara asked from the top of a questionably supported ladder.

"We can use spray paint?" Alex called from the other end of the wall.

"Interior use without proper ventilation is frowned upon," Brainy chimed in from his own end of the wall.

"Relax. It's a shaker," Nia answered.

"For what?" Kara asked.

"From what?" Alex added.

"Court orders said nothing about doing this sober."

HOUR 9

"Here champ," Nia said. A hand offered an ice cold beer.

"No thanks; I don't plan on being here that long," Alex replied stubbornly.

Nia examined an imaginary watch and shrugged. "Suit yourself," she continued before turning toward the questionably supported ladder: "Hey red, wanna do shots? I've got rum."

HOUR 10

"I'm telling you, it's the wrong color," Kara repeated.

"And I could care less-"

"Couldn't," Nia corrected. A drop of condensation fell from her latest concoction as the scaffolding creaked under her movements above.

"I don't care," Alex said, eyes narrowed toward the blue-booted feet dangling from overhead. "If they gave us the wrong paint, that's on them."

"But-"

"And it's 2am. Name a paint store that's open at 2am."

"If I just hop over to Europe and-"

"Oh!" Nia exclaimed, head peering out overhead. "That's a great idea. Maybe you could grab some scones-"

"No, nope. No powers," Alex glared at Nia who pouted and retreated from view. "I am not about to get called out on a technicality by a Luthor."

"She's just doing her job," Kara defended with flushed cheeks that screamed Kara was at least two shots deep.

"Are we just ignoring the whole trapped-in-kryptonite bit now?" Alex gawked.

"I just think we need to take a different perspective: new timeline, new me, you know?" Kara offered.

"Perhaps when we're between coats Supergirl can acquire the correct paint," Brainy suggested.

Kara's eyes widened and head nodded like a bobblehead. The only thing missing was a lolling tongue. Alex lungs expelled in a slow, centering sigh Kelly taught her. "Fine. New us, whatever."

HOUR 15

"You missed a spot."

"And you could help," Alex muttered, pressing her forehead to the extension pole dripping SW 6364, Eggwhite. "New us," she whispered until her eyes caught sight of something giant and purple: "Is that a bean bag chair?"

"Can't," Nia explained from within the giant purple bean bag chair that also arrived just as mysteriously as the Mary Poppins cooler offering up an endless stream of drinks. "M'waiting for my section to dry."

"There are other sections."

Nia shook her head. "Uh-uh," she managed between handfuls of popcorn. "Those are Supergirl's."

"She isn't back yet?" Alex balked. "How long does it take to get paint?"

"Maybe she's stopping by Noonan's for some sticky-buns," Nia said dreamily.

Brainy cleared his throat: "Accounting for typical Saturday morning traffic and the quantity of paint to be mixed-"

"And don't forget she'll want to learn how the paint mixer works-" Nia added.

"Fair point," Brainy replied and gave due thought to his recalculation. "With that in mind, my estimates indicate she is twelve minutes overdue."

HOUR 18

"Where the hell are you?" Alex hollered the moment Kara picked up.

"They were insisting it's right," came Kara's voice over speakerphone.

"Which is exactly what I told you eight hours ago. Now get back here-"

"So now I'm trying to get them to tweak the recipe and-"

"Absolutely not, Supergirl."

"But-"

"Get back here. That's an order."

HOUR 23

"Hey, Supergirl, help a girl lift that bean bag chair up here, will ya?" Nia called out.

"You've got paint in your hair," Brainy said from Alex's left.

"Gee, I wonder how that happened," Alex said, glancing up between the slats of scaffolding where Nia was humming the latest pop sensation and taking long sips of her self-named mixed drink.

"Initial deduction would indicate it's coming from-"

"I was being sarcastic."

"Ah, right."

HOUR 34

"Where did you get that?"

"Dreamer," Kara explained after a pull. The bottle sloshed with far too little liquid. A paintbrush lay forgotten on the floor. Paint drops were everywhere but the wall they'd been sentenced to complete. "I wonder if she still has any Red Vines. Ooh, or maybe Goldfish."

Alex's gaze scanned for the youngest superfriend who had most recently been adlibbing science puns about the phallic-looking test tube Brainy had painted. It was purgatory bordering on hell.

"And what if someone sees you? Did you think about that, Supergirl?"

"No one works this late on the weekend, Alex," Kara slurred, rubbing at dripped paint on her cape, "'cept Lena." A hiccup followed. The cape was now stained a moss green. "Lena," she continued in a sing-songy way that made sober Alex want to hurl.

"Dear god," Alex sighed, reaching for the bottle of Alderbaran Rum. "Give me that. You're done-"

"Not unless you admit the color is wrong," Kara pouted. Another hiccup. More spilled paint. Mrs. Fischer was going to be pissed.

"Do you ever think maybe we shouldn't be allowed to operate life-saving missions?" Nia posited from her perch two storeys up.

HOUR 39

"Ok, the Pewter on the beaker and microscope is finished. With any luck we can all be home by dinner. How are we doing with the rest?"

"The Polished Concrete has been applied to the shaded regions," Brainy advised. "I will commence outlining with the Charcoal Dust to the mitochondria and rocketship."

"Beautiful. Dreamer, how is the African Violet and Passionate Purple coming along?"

"Well…" Nia began from the depths of her cooler, "the DNA, bunsen burner, and solar system would be done," she continued, reappearing with a bottle of neon blue liquid.

"Would be? What do you mean 'would be'?" Alex asked, jumping with a thud from the scaffolding to take in the three-storey wall.

"I can't exactly do my portion until someone finishes her part."

"Finishes?" Alex repeated.

"'Start' would be more accurate," Brainy corrected, swirling his own Nia-Nal-authored cocktail.

Alex didn't have time to give that a double-take. Instead she backed up to survey the progress. Sure enough not a single paint stroke of green had been applied. A forefinger and thumb found the bridge of Alex's nose. The slow exhale didn't work as well this time.

"Supergirl?" she called and waited. And waited. "Supergirl? Super- where is she?"

"Follow the paint splotches," Nia answered before the rattle of a shaker interrupted further conversation.

HOUR 45

Alex let her brush drop into the empty pail. She rolled her shoulders and cracked her neck before checking the time and letting out a tired sigh. So much for dinner at home.

"How are we looking?" she called warily. "Any chance we'll be finished before the sun sets?"

"Nearly there," Nia called, somehow uninhibited by the conveyor belt of drinks she'd been knocking back all weekend.

"I've begun disassembling the scaffolding," Brainy affirmed, slightly more inhibited by the string of beverages he'd been knocking back.

"And Supergirl?" Alex asked. It was met with silence. Alex's hope vanished. A grimace took its place. "Supergirl?"

"This still isn't right."

Alex looked upward. To what, Alex wasn't sure - heaven was too far away because this was most definitely the last level of hell. "What isn't?"

Kara waved a handful of paint chips at the group. "This green - the paint sample still isn't right."

"How?" Alex huffed, landing with a thud from the scaffolding. She glanced between the chip and the sample they'd been given. "Looks right to me: foreboding, villainous, manipulative; it's 'Luthor' in color form - it's even written on the can. See? SW-6921, Luthor Green."

"And there's only one?" Kara continued, ignoring Alex's running commentary.

"Maybe it should glow in the dark?" Nia offered through the crunch of a cheese puff.

Kara's frown deepened. "I'm going to mix our own."

"Supergirl, hang on, no; and Dreamer will you please stop mixing drinks and pick up a paintbrush - Brainy, a little help here?"

"Far be it from me to tell Nia Nal what to do," he slurred from what was the vacant bean bag.

"Guys, can we please focus. I want to go home."

"And I want to run…" a hiccup, "run this to a head."

"She means 'ground'," Nia clarified before the sound of ice cubes jingled into an empty glass.

"Is that another bottle of Rum?" Alex asked. "Nia!"

HOUR 53

"Ok, guys, I'm close."

"To finishing?" Alex begged. Her head hadn't left her hands in an hour. "Close to finishing, right?"

"I've narrowed it to four different shades for the left half. I'm working with greys and purples which like, isn't ideal, but I think it's close. Now, the right half will be a bit trickier-"

"It's one color!" Alex erupted. "It's a single green. Why are we talking in multitudes when it is one - one - color," she shouted, stretching one extended finger for emphasis.

"Perhaps Supergirl is simply considering the lack of color neutrality coming through the glazing due to the slight tint of the low-e coating," Brainy postulated.

"Right," Nia snorted. A used lemon wedge sat in one hand and a salt shaker was held in the other. "It's the quality of the Sherwin Williams Luthor Green that Kara's all hung up on."

"What do you mean?" Alex pressed.

"I mean that-"

"I realize your limited competence lies in your powers, but I honestly thought you'd all be further along by now."

Alex looked up to find Lena standing, once again, in the middle of the lobby. "It is midnight on a Sunday, Luthor."

"Precisely. In less than eight hours this lobby will be bustling with children, their parents, and a hoard of my employees. This is what you've got to show for a weekend of work?"

"Look, see?" Kara exclaimed, finger pointing toward Lena. She stumbled to her feet, cape tangled around her and other hand gripping a dozen paint-filled brushes.

"See what?" Alex shouted. Her wits had ended hours earlier.

Kara marched toward Lena who lifted a single eyebrow in silent judgement. "It's not just one!" Kara slurred. "It's… a lot."

Alex looked between Lena and Kara's outstretched hand of brushes with dawning realization.

"Hang on: you thought 'Luthor Green' meant Lena Luthor's eye color?" Alex fumed.

A quiet 'ohh' from Brainy was interrupted by a howl of laughter from Nia.

"Um… yea?" Kara confessed, expression sheepish and confused.

"'Luthor Green' is part of LuthorCorp's marketing color scheme," Lena clarified curtly though her cheeks flushed red.

"Wait, it's not…" Kara started, nose scrunched in thought. "But why not? It'd be so much prettier. See? Lena, don't you think it'd be so much prettier?"

Alex's mouth fell open. "What?"

"I expect this finished before registration opens tomorrow," Lena continued through a crack in her voice.

Kara nodded eagerly. "So does that mean-"

"Use the 'Luthor Green', Supergirl."

[navybrat817]

First Christmas

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Summary: Steve gives you a gift for Christmas.

Word Count: 100

Warnings: Fluff. Not much else.

A/N: For @justagirlinafandomworld 's Flash Fiction Challenge. 100 words max! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

When Steve Rogers went under the ice, he didn't think he’d get to celebrate another Christmas. But life gave him another chance. The man out of time never asked for anything though since it was the season of giving.

Sitting with you by the fire, mistletoe hanging from the mantel, your lips against his, he wondered how he spent a single Christmas without you. He wanted to spend a lifetime with you. So for Christmas this year, your first Christmas together, he gave you a precious gift: his heart.

“I love you, too, Steve.”

Steve had never felt more whole.

Short and sweet. ❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Steve Rogers Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[pculrstate]

day one

prompt #2 (a single long sentence) combined with prompt #37 (a single paragraph story)

***

You stared at me, stared through me, and you said, You look like someone I know, and I said, I am someone you know, but I knew even as the words were coming out that they weren’t registering, because you were there but you weren’t, eyes bloodshot and glistening, bruised all over, food crusted in the corner of your mouth and that bald spot, angrily swollen but not bleeding, and I tried to pull you to sitting and you were like jelly, shapeless, I was panting with the effort, sure my lungs would shatter if I inhaled the stinging cold air one more time, I’d pull you up and you’d follow for just a second before melting back into the ground, I’m your brother, I said, I’m Jude, I would’ve taken anything at that point, a groan, a scream, I didn’t even need you to remember who I was, I just needed you to not be silent, your silent gaping mouth, and I kept waiting for something to come out of it, the snow seeping into my pants and collecting at the open ankles of my boots, and by then I no longer felt like an active participant in my body, and I watched you, and I waited.

[cleighwrites]

Christmas Party

SPN Fanfic

Characters - Sam x reader

Summary - You take Sam to a Classic Christmas party

Word Count - 100

A/N - This is another entry for @justagirlinafandomworld's flash fiction challenge round 5. My song prompt for this one was Eartha Kitt's Santa Baby with Henri Rene & His Orchestra.

Warnings - none

“Why are we dressed like gangsters?” Sam asked.

“It’s a classic Christmas party, we’ve gotta look the part!” 

Sam grumbled but opened the door for you then followed. As you entered an orchestra accompanied Eartha Kitt as she sang Santa Baby. 

Other couples were dressed up in vintage outfits, and a champagne glass tower was set up on the table. Live garlands lay draped over every surface and the candle’s flames danced everywhere. It was a truly magical Christmas atmosphere. 

You and Sam drank and danced the night away.

“That wasn’t so bad,” he said as you left at dawn.

[mercurial-chuckles]

Wise Men Say!

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader Warning: Fluff | Kiss Word Count: 99 (proud of myself) A/N: This is for the Flash Fiction Challenge 5 hosted by our lovely @justagirlinafandomworld Thanks, Yvette, for hosting the event and spreading some much-needed holiday cheer! Note: Do not Steal, Copy, or Plagiarize any part of my work! GIF credits to @chris-evansimagines Divider credits to @buck-star Thank you :) Check out my other works: Masterlist

Flash Fiction Challenge Masterlist

Indulge Away!

Tony's off-key singing fills the room as he twirls a giggling Pepper, both super drunk.

You're doubled over, laughing, barely able to breathe, when Steve's intense gaze catches yours. He strides over, one arm winding around your waist, the other gripping the back of your hair, pulling you close.

"Guess Tony's onto something," he murmurs, his roguish grin stealing your breath.

"Ste..." Your gasp vanishes as his lips capture yours, firm and toe-curling, leaving you reeling, and from somewhere, Tony's voice cracks mid-song. "Can't help fallin… what the fuck, CAPSICLE?"

"Come with me, doll," Steve whispers, leading you out.

If you wanna be tagged in my works, add yourself here. <3 Please send me a message if you wanna be removed from the Tag list. :)

Tag list: @nekoannie-chan @salvatoreitmeanssaviour @bitchy-bi-trash @theallknown213 @tripletstephaniescp @rogerscut @greatenthusiasttidalwave @zaraomarrogers @shadowrose13-blog1 @king814318 @yiiiikesmish @steviebbboi @bernelflo @saiyanprincessswanie @blushingrn @looking1016 @jvanilly @mimisweetz @navyhua23 @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @shadyloveobjects @alexxavicry @astheskycries @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @patzammit @soelstress @8crazy-freak8 @stellar-solar-flare @stuckysgal @bval-1 @slowlyshycomputer @rogersbarber @avengersfan25 @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @thiquefunlover63 @blackhawkfanatic @notsostrangerthing @awkwardgiraffe726 @iamtamera @pebbles20 @ayayaeyato @starsrfun @harrysnovia @gingerplague @read-just-cant

[ksbrooks]

Flash Fiction Writing Prompt: And Toto Too

Image copyright K.S. Brooks. Do not use without attribution. Use the photograph above as the inspiration for your flash fiction story. Write whatever comes to mind (no sexual, political, or religious stories, jokes, or commentary, please) and after you PROOFREAD it, submit it as your entry in the comments section below. Welcome to the Indies Unlimited Flash Fiction Challenge. In 250 words or…

[writerbeemedina]

Roxanne leaned against her friend's front door, tapping her foot. Just a minute! Darlene had called down. It had been eight. What was she doing up there? She couldn't possibly be giving goodbye kisses to every single bat, rat, and snake in the house.

Through clenched teeth, Roxanne called upstairs, "Dar! We have really, really have to go now, hon!"

No response.

"Darlene! I'm coming up!"

The werewolf girl ascended the stairs and crossed the hall to Darlene’s bedroom. She knocked before entering. "Hello?"

The gothic bedroom was void of any sign of her vampire friend. Roxanne lifted one pointed ear and detected a sniffle. The source: a sheet mound huddled against the corner wall, quivering slightly.

"Oh, hells! Dar! Are you okay?!"

A sob rang out.

Roxanne rushed across the room to Darlene’s side. Kneeling to the ground, she grabbed the sheet with one massive paw. The vampire snatched it back before Roxanne could lift it. The vampire hissed. "No! Don't look at me!"

"Honey, I'm here for you. What in the world is the matter?"

"Nothing! Just go to the party without me. Please."

"Pht, you think I'm just going to leave you to whatever disaster you're dealing with? I don't think so. Hon, you got to let me know what's wrong. Let me help you."

A sigh escaped from the mound. Darlene threw off the sheet in one swipe. Streaks of color ran down and across her face. She looked like a portrait that had been smeared by the hand of a frustrated artist.

"Oh." This was highly unusual for Darlene. The vampire was known for wearing ruffly dresses with puffed sleeves, for wearing her hair in crowned braids, but she never touched makeup. "Oh. Oh, sweetie. You think you're the first vampire who's struggled with their makeup? I can set you up with some of bloodies I know who can give you some tips."

Her head hanging low, Darlene gently reached for Roxanne's wrist.

Roxanne smiled slightly. "Would you like me to help you fix it?"

Darlene sniffled wetly and nodded without looking at her. She crawled to the stool in front of her vanity and sat down.

"I almost never go out to monster gatherings," Darlene began as Roxanne cleaned her face with a wet rag. "I just wanted to look nice."

"You already do look nice, silly."

"It's just -- It's been so long since I've been alive . . . What if I'm uglier than I remember?"

"I hope you don't believe that."

". . . I don't know," Darlene said dejectedly.

In silence, Roxanne added bat-winged eyeliner, pink eyeshadow, a life-like blush to her cheeks, and blood red lipstick to her lips.

"What do you think?" Roxanne put her hands on her shoulders.

Darlene’s reflection couldn't be captured in the mirror, but the designs had, seeming to be floating in midair.

The vampire reached her hand to the werewolf's wrist. "I'm finally beautiful, aren't I?"

"No," said Roxanne. "You always were."

You help your vampire friend put on makeup because she can’t see can’t see herself in the mirror.