#writing prompt challenge

[clone-wars-winter-challenge]

Last time for a would you rather before the prompts begin!

[localcanadiancreature62]

Hey y'alls. The BillfordWeek2024 event starts TODAY!. And i don't want to be the only entry right now so pspspspsps @cecilscribbles @agothorn @nico-the-overlord @antonymziie @aaabatteryy loook.

[roselynia]

Day 1 of Rose's Silly Creative Challenge:

Prompt #1122: “Well, I did kiss you back, didn’t I?” | @/creativepromptsforwriting | @creativepromptfills

Pairing: OC x Reader [Lukas Grey x Reader]

Word Count: 868

Age Rating: E for everyone. Mentions of a kiss.

[Y/N] is the stand-in for your name. [N/N] is the stand-in for your nickname.

A/N: If this is the only way I can encourage myself to write, so be it! I'll be doing a series with each of my OCs x a gn!Reader, since their original purpose was to be ROs in an IF game, anyway. Maybe I'll alternate between writing and sketching every day? We'll see!😅 ...Also, I want to apologize because my writing language is SUPER flowery, not the best, and adds a lot of unnecessary descriptors—but, it's what I enjoy writing, so...🫠

The library would have been comfortingly quiet, tonight, with the usual faint flicker of candlelight casting dancing shadows on its aged walls...If it hadn't been for that one, particular, person.

Rows of towering shelves loomed over you, brimming with endless secrets you had originally sought to uncover within their dusty tomes—Yet, the studying you'd intended to do was long forgotten. Somehow, as if fate had a personal vendetta against you, you found yourself alone in this spacious library with none other than the famous Lukas Grey.

Again.

He casually leaned against the table you were sitting at, arms crossed over his chest, the corner of his mouth curved into that familiar smirk. You noted that his silver hair caught the candlelight with an uncharacteristic softness, but those piercing gray eyes were locked onto you, teasing and unreadable as always…You had been avoiding him ever since it happened—since the moment you kissed him in a fit of reckless impulse; a moment you couldn't even explain to yourself, much less anyone else.

Lukas, of course, had noticed your avoidance. How could he not?

You weren't surprised to find him cornering you here today. You knew it would be a matter of time before he cornered you to talk about what happened. Honestly, you were a little surprised he didn't do this sooner.

"So, [Y/N]," he began, his voice low and smooth, dripping with smug amusement. "Is avoiding me your new favorite pastime, or were you hoping I wouldn't notice your absence?"

You stiffened slightly, gripping the edge of the book in your hands a little tighter than you meant to. "I’m not— I haven't been avoiding you, Lukas," you shot back, though the faint tremor in your voice betrayed you.

He chuckled at your response, a rich and infuriatingly confident sound. "Oh? Then what exactly do you call the last week of dodged glances and your carefully timed escapes, hmm?" He pushed off the table with deliberate ease, closing the space between you...At least enough to make your breath hitch in your throat. "Look, I get it. Some emotions can be...intense, practically overwhelming, but you don’t have to play coy with me, [N/N].”

You tilted your head slightly, your pulse quickening at his insinuation. You knew better than to lie to him, of course. You knew Lilin–especially Lukas–could feel matters of the heart as if they were their own emotions…but it was easier to play dumb than to confront your own feelings. "Coy with you?"

Lukas mimicked you, in a way, tilting his head to the same side as you. His smile widened into something sharper, more perfect, and effortlessly predatory. "You know exactly what I’m talking about," he said, voice dropping a little softer, a little darker. "Your feelings, that kiss; the one you initiated?"

You opened your mouth to deny it, to brush it off, to say something–anything, but Lukas leaned in before you could form a coherent thought. His face was close enough now that you could count every fleck of molten gold in his stormy gray eyes. "Well, for what it’s worth," he drawled, his hands bracing themselves on the table beside you, "I did kiss you back, didn’t I?"

The words hung in the air, his tone so maddeningly smug that you could feel your face heat instantly. Lukas leaned in closer, his breath brushing the shell of your ear as he added, even softer now, "And if I recall...you didn’t seem to mind."

You swallowed hard, words failing you as his sharp gaze locked onto yours. His lips curled into that infuriatingly perfect smirk, again. That damned smirk that made it impossible to tell if he was toying with you or if he was waiting for you to make a move; the same one that made you kiss him in the first place. 

You knew he could hear, no—feel your heart hammering in your chest. 

"I wonder," he mused, leaning back ever-so-slightly. "Was it curiosity that made you do it? Or…was it something more enticing?" His voice was low and warm again, with that same teasing lilt as before. You shook your head 'no', the action duly noted by him.

Lukas took a step back, giving you space but not an ounce of relief. "Anyways, I’ll leave you to your studies, [Y/N]," he spoke, his voice dripping with faux innocence. "Don’t think too hard…unless you're thinking about me."

He winked—actually winked at you—before strolling off with this air of effortless confidence, leaving you with an unmistakable sense of victory radiating from him. You scowled at his retreating form, the heat in your cheeks betraying the irritation clawing within your chest. 

Why, oh why, did he have to be so annoyingly smug about everything? But, even worse, why did you find yourself looking forward to moments like this? As infuriating as he was, there was no use in denying that there was something so unbearably captivating about him, and his presence, that left your heart racing long after he was gone.

…For as much as you wanted to fight it, you knew that one thing was for certain: Lukas Grey would always be impossible to ignore.

[drgnrder82]

Fictober (belated) Day 4 - Scallywag

Summary: Asher (again) is not happy following Seren as she embarks on a new stupid plan.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1018

Original Fiction

Based on characters from my fantasy WIP Triton's Sanctuary.

Prompt - "No, we're not doing that."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“He will murder you. As in kill you before you utter a solitary word,” Asher whispered urgently. He felt them. Salty, drunken, vicious eyes followed them. The sneering men waiting with knives—or hooks! What if they have hooks concealed?—ready to tear their innards from their skin…

“You’re being dramatic. I’m just here to talk with the man.” 

That tone never meant Seren was just going to talk with someone. “Stormeye,” Asher swallowed and nodded at a scraggly-haired man, false eye somehow peering straight into Asher’s terrified soul as they passed by. “He won’t go easy on ya. You’re nothing—no, less than nothing. Less the dirt and worms… and… he’s not going to talk with you! You’re not one to just ‘talk’ anyway! No! We’re not doing that! We are turning around now and getting out of here ALIVE!”

They’d entered the Seafarer’s Fortune during the dinner rush. Asher’s mom told the tale that when Red took over the Seafarer’s Fortune, he’d not wanted the hassle of keeping an inn, and he’d let his friends, all the worst of the worst pirates, pilfer the rooms and tear them apart. The ceiling swept skyward, laden with nets and bits and bobs from ships amid the last debris of the former inn rooms. A piece of a mast, a crow’s nest, torn sails. It felt like living in a ship on land. And it would be far cooler to see in person was death not waiting upon the next words Seren uttered.

And here Seren was, walking through a proverbial sea of scoundrels and scallywags in her finest frock, feather bouncing in time with her rushed step. 

Asher hadn’t meant to fall behind, but he had. Fingers grazed his pants near the pocket, and he slapped a hand over the pocket to keep it closed. Pickpockets were everywhere, but a bar catering to the rogues of the world? Putting on his best glower, a young corsair grinned mischievously back. Asher and the young man both tugged at Asher’s pocket. Once free, though, Asher found Seren had called out, “Two ales.” 

Before Asher could make it even another step, she’d struck up a chat with Red, complete with friendly banter and giggles while Asher elbowed his way through, earning at least one foul-tempered grab at his arm. “Blimey,” he complained.

“Oy! Ya spilt me ale and runnin’ runt? Ain’t got no backbone, do ya, you scurvy runt!” 

And there was the other problem of walking into a bar full of the dregs of society. 

“Didn’t realize spilling ale was a capital offense…” 

Carrying two brimming mugs, Seren gracefully kicked out the stool from under the man, grabbing Asher without spilling a drop of ale. “Oy! Hands to yerself.”

“Oh, don’t tell me.” Asher sighed. “You’re gonna drink, too?” 

The man who’d lashed out, grabbing Asher when all he’d done was innocently bump the man’s back, jabbered silently for a moment before mumbling, “You wit her?”

Inexplicably, the man cast his gaze away from Seren’s and he froze on the floor.

“You really ought to,” Seren offered one of the mugs to Asher, ignoring the bumbling man on the floor. “Calm yer nerves, why don’t ya?” 

Asher shook violently, seething. “I have a right mind to leave you here.” 

“Alright,” Seren grinned, taking a swig. “Ah, there’s the man I need now!” 

“Oh, for the love of the sea…” Asher groaned, turning to see Bram ‘Stormeye’ Vane telling some tale to a rapt group of seadogs. “Just go home, Asher. You’re being too dramatic, Asher. Fine! I’m being dramatic. Let’s see you get the business end of a rapier in your face, Seren!” The man who’d tried to pick Asher’s pocket stared wide-eyed back at him. “What?” 

“That bit o’ coin you got is yours. You’ll need it sooner rather than later.” 

“Eh, Stormeye!” Seren shouted over the dinner rush, cutting the hustle and bustle down just as effectively as Seren cut through the crowd of dogs. Pausing, Seren took a long swig of her mug, then held the other out for Bram. 

Straightening his collar, Bram stood from his stool, pulling out a charming, if slightly rotting, smile. “Aye, miss. Did ya bring a gift fo’ me?” 

Seren’s eyebrows raised higher, a grin hiding behind the way she gulped down the ale. Finally, she lowered the mug and graciously said, “I did.” 

The entire bar stilled, all eyes flicking between Seren and Stormeye, like sharks circling their prey. 

Before Stormeye could take the mug, Seren threw its contents at him. Then came the crack. Seren smacked him with the mug, knocking Bram ‘Stormeye’ Vane into a bleeding heap. The seadogs scattered to the edges of the Fortune, eyes aglow, waiting to see what happened next. “Get up, ya scurvy, rat… and try explaining to me what you did to Miss Runa.” 

“Eh, Ser,” Red called from the bar. “You owe me another coin for the mug if ya break it!” 

“Noted!” Seren said, dropping the empty mug with a thud on Stormeye’s face, then took herself down to one knee, digging it into the man’s chest. Bram ‘Stormeye’ Vane, the scourge of the Dilah Sea, former second in command of Red’s fleet ship, The Bloodstained Horizon, let out a piercing wail and clutched his red-streaked face. 

“Why ain’t anyone beating on her?” Asher moaned.

“She’s yer friend, ain’t she?” the scallywag, who’d been ready to beat Asher for bumping him, balked. “You know how crazy she is.” 

“Your bloody pirates! And you’re scared of her?” 

The man—and so Asher too—glanced back at Red standing idly at the bar, drying a clean mug. Questions formed, but at the same time, Asher feared plausible deniability may be the better tactic should Admiral Minuit question him. “Tell Seren I’ll be outside when she’s done.” 

“Now,” Seren’s voice clearly carried across the whole bar. “Tell me, what you did to Miss Runa. Before I’m forced to jog your memory.” 

“What’s the worst that could happen, being friends with little Seren Minuit,” Asher mimicked his mother’s tone. “She’d never bloody believe me.”

[theladyofshalott1989]

Writing Prompt #2: Poppy Sweeting x Imelda Reyes

Thanks to @celestial--sapphic for providing the second prompt:

Poppy attending one of Imelda's Quidditch matches

Poppy Sweeting x Imelda Reyes

Word Count: 1328

Rating: Teen

[ AO3 link ] ✨✨✨

Poppy’s first Quidditch match as Imelda’s paramour was going exactly as expected. Splendidly. Imelda was in top-form, directing her teammates confidently, as the Slytherin Quidditch Captain should, and chasing her opponents with a singular focus, like a Hungarian Horntail pursuing its prey. 

Now, if only Poppy knew more about Quidditch…

Seated in the stands with her fellow Hufflepuffs, sporting a very conspicuous Slytherin scarf that drew some pointed glances - though she couldn’t have cared less, especially since Hufflepuff wasn’t even playing today - she tilted her head back, squinting against the sun’s harsh rays. There, amidst the whirl of the other players, she watched Imelda soar by on her broom, a vision of grace and finesse, her ebony ponytail trailing behind her. 

Poppy sighed wistfully. And to think, just yesterday afternoon she had been straddling Imelda on her broom as Imelda deftly maneuvered one of her old broom trial courses from their fifth year, the year Professor Black banned Quidditch. It had been quite a remarkable experience, the wind in her hair, her body pressed tightly against Imelda’s lithe but muscular frame. Poppy didn’t doubt that one day Imelda would realize her dream of joining the ranks of the Holyhead Harpies. She was that good, and oh so passionate. 

Her attention was diverted by raucous cheering coming from the Slytherins in the stands across the way. While it seemed like Slytherin was winning, Poppy couldn’t exactly say for sure. She was too distracted by Imelda’s outrageously talented self, and, well, to be totally honest, Gerald the Puffskein, who was currently squirming around on her lap. In fact, he was humming very loudly, so loudly that Poppy was worried that someone might overhear. She technically wasn’t supposed to have taken him out of Professor Howin’s class, but she couldn’t help it! He had seemed down and she thought a rousing Quidditch match might cheer him up. 

Fortunately, Professor Howin was seated among the other professors in a stand further down the way. There was no chance they’d be spotted together. Unless…

A Bludger streaked across her field of vision, and then, in an unexpected turn of events, zipped back directly from whence it came. The crowd erupted into startled cries and gasps of alarm as they ducked down. Poppy followed suit, shielding Gerald beneath her, her reaction slightly delayed but thankfully swift enough to avoid a potentially deadly blow.

Well, Quidditch was quite exhilarating, that was for certain. Poppy hadn’t been entirely sure, this having been only her second game ever, the first having been back in her first year. She hadn’t found her first particularly thrilling, so she hadn’t bothered attending any more matches since. But now, she had a reason to be here, and a captivating one at that. The mere thought of Imelda caused her cheeks to flush. 

As Poppy regained her composure, adjusting herself back into a comfortable seated position, she whispered, “Are you okay, Gerald?” Gerald remained in her lap, covered in a blanket she’d brought specifically for him to ensure he didn’t catch a chill in the crisp fall air. He wiggled in her lap, snuffling at her hand. “Alright, you.” Poppy pulled a treat out of her pocket and offered it to him. As expected, he gobbled it up immediately.

Poppy soon lost track of time entirely. Tending to an adorably mischievous Puffskein would do that. Every so often she’d steal a glance at Imelda, only to be preoccupied once more with Gerald. She vaguely registered the sound of more cheering, although she couldn’t pinpoint its origin, and then, before she knew it, her classmates began bustling around her, scooting past her as they exited the Quidditch pitch. 

Was the game over already? Who won? Imelda would certainly expect her to know who won, wouldn’t she? Merlin! She should have paid better attention. 

“See this crowd? All my doing,” Poppy heard before Imelda stumbled into view before her, a bit unsteady on her feet. Imelda’s grace on a broom didn’t always seem to extend to solid ground. Poppy suppressed a smile. She would never say so aloud, but she found this quirk oddly endearing.

“You’ve got good flying technique, I’ll give you that,” Poppy teased, lifting Gerald, blanket and all, and cradling him gently in her left arm as she rose to her feet.

“Hello, Gerald,” Imelda said, tugging on the strap of her broom across her shoulder. “Dare I ask?”

“He wanted to go on an adventure!”

“And did he enjoy himself?”

Poppy flashed Imelda a coy smile. “Hmm, perhaps,” she replied. How long could she delay Imelda from finding out she wasn’t quite certain who won the match? A minute? Five?

“Hmph,” Imelda huffed, placing a hand on her cocked hip. “And you? What did you think?”

Poppy weighed her options. Realizing she had a fifty-fifty chance, she decided it was worth the risk. “A well-won victory, I must say,” she ventured, resisting the urge to cross her fingers behind her back. 

At first, Imelda remained stoic, giving away nothing. She was a stubborn mask of solemnity. Then, unexpectedly, she laughed. It was a glorious turn of expression that warmed Poppy to her core. 

“Not bad, for a Hufflepuff,” Imelda finally said.

“Hmm?” Poppy questioned, trying her best to play it cool.

“You were too distracted by Gerald, weren’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her cheeks warmed, presumably flushing, which would inevitably betray her lie.

Imelda surprised Poppy yet again with a playful smirk. “Honestly, some people should be re-Sorted. And you were correct, by the way. We won. Good guess.” 

Poppy let loose a shy smile. “You’re not cross with me?” she asked, rubbing the back of her neck with her free hand.

“Maybe a little,” Imelda admitted. “But this was only the first match of many. I fully expect you to make it up to me.”

“Oh?” 

“And now you can’t say no to my next suggestion.”

Poppy raised a brow. “Your next suggestion?”

“It’s about time you got your own broom.”

“A broom? But I have Highwing!”

“And that’s all well and good, but Highwing needs a rest every once in a while.” 

Poppy glanced down at Gerald who had fallen asleep in the crook of her arm. “Let’s say I agree with you. What’s in it for me?” she teased.

Imelda grinned. Her brown eyes twinkled mischievously in the sunlight. “You. Me. In the air. Flying side by side.” 

“Oh, I don’t know…I’m not much of a flier.”

“If you’re worried about technique, don’t be. I’ll make you better, don’t you worry.”

Poppy brought a hand to her chin in mock contemplation. She took a breath. “Alright, it’s a date. When do we start?”

Imelda swiftly pulled her broom out from behind her back and straddled it. She gestured for Poppy to join her. “We start now. I’ll take you to Spintwitches.” 

Poppy chuckled. “Why’d I even ask?” she muttered, mostly to herself. “Gerald,” she said, shaking her arm gently. “Are you up for another adventure?” He opened one eye, made a movement with his head that seemed like an assent, and then snuggled back into her chest. She’d ensure she kept a firm hold on him in the air. 

Giving Imelda a curt nod, she said, “Gerald says yes.”

“Oh good, if Gerald says so.” 

“Hold on, not so fast.” Poppy strode purposefully forward. She didn’t give Imelda time to react before smacking a kiss on her perfect lips. 

Once she stepped back, she reveled in Imelda’s wide-eyed stare. “What was that for?” Imelda asked.

“Does a girl need an excuse to kiss her ladylove?”

“Pfft, hardly,” Imelda replied, a fleeting hint of affection softening her features before her customary mask of seriousness settled back into place. “Now pop on, Hufflepuff. I’m not the patient sort.”

Poppy did as commanded, tamping down her sudden urge to snog the living daylights out of Imelda. There would be time for that later. Yes, later.

[allthistrashtalkmakemeitchin]

30 Days of November!

--

dawg i forgot to tag people, oops: @partiallypearl

2. Memories

A box under her bed had collected dust over the years. Late at night, when she couldn't sleep, Ronnie would pull the box out and look through it. And tonight was one of those nights.

She'd been struggling with a new song for Big Time Rush, having a creativity block. The box was covered in dust, which she wiped away with the end of her sleeve. It was a simple shoe box. She took the lid off and set it aside. Inside the box were photos, letters, and random things her mother and father had collected on their travels. Ronnie loved looking at their memories from when they would travel the United States. One photo in particular that was her favorite was of her mother and her in Washington. Her father took the photo.

It was a sunny day. Ronnie was so tiny. She couldn't have been older than five. She stood on the edge of the fountain. Her arms shot out on either side of her, her mother holding her hands. She gingerly brushed her thumb over the photo and smiled. She may not remember much of her childhood, but photos preserved it. One day, she planned to return to Washington and recreate this picture with her child. She'd get to create new memories of traveling the country.

She looked through the contents of the box for a while. Eventually, she felt her eyelids droop, and she stifled a yawn. Setting everything back in the box, she slid it under the bed and climbed back under the covers. Maybe she could write a song about asking parents to marry their son, or in the case of Big Time Rush, they would be asking to marry the parent's daughter.

But that's something for her morning brain to be concerned with.

--

[tyfinn]

Day 10

For Day 10 I'd like to thank @daily-prompts and @creativepromptsforwriting for the prompts they provide. Sometimes we all need a jumpstart to get the juices flowing. I personally love the monthly daily prompts for when I want to challenge myself with a daily flash fic series. Sometimes I just want someone to give me the idea so that I can run with it.

[chaos-is-neutral]

One of my followers on Bluesky gave me the title Always You to work with for a fun activity so I thought I would post the little bit I wrote! (I need to post thread stuff on here too)

Katsuki is a prince about to inherit the throne. Both parents want to step down within the coming years. Katsuki though is scared of the thought of becoming king. One night he goes to the local gentleman's club to blow off some steam.

As he sits down he mets a fellow man playing poker. The younger man is wearing a hat and jacket despite being inside. Katsuki though knocks it down to it almost being winter. Katsuki is a pro at poker. He is getting in his groove when the new man lays down his cards. "That's a flush," the guy grumbles. Something is off about his voice, but Katsuki is too fucking angry! How dare someone beat him.

He challenges the guy to another round and again Katsuki loses. By the end of the night he has lined this man's pockets. He bids them a good night, but Katsuki follows him. "Hey how did you beat me?! No one every has?" The young man kept his head down, so not much of his face could be see. Katsuki noticed he had some round cheeks for a man. "You have a tell when you're about to lose," he said. Katsuki crossed his arms, saying 'well tell me'. The man though just walked away. Katsuki would have chased him but he was stuned by the audacity this young man had.

The next night he comes, but the young man isn't there. He doesn't show his face for a whole week. Katsuki was about to say that he just imagined that night, because clearly no one could beat him until he walked in and saw the young man again. He sat beside him, "Didn't think you were real? Got scared I'd beat you." The young man just laughed as he looked at him. Those dark brown eyes had his heart racing. "My lord you will never beat me at poker. You are too easy to read!"

Katsuki's eye twitched as he slammed his hand down. "OH YOU'RE SO ON!"

And Katsuki lost…horribly.

Though as he played he did talk to the young man. It was weird how even though he fucking aggrivated the fuck out of him, he was so easy to talk to. His name was Haru and he only came on Sundays. Some how Katsuki would find himself going every Sunday to play with this man. Months went by and they grew closer. "Are you attending the ball my mother is throwing?" he asked. The young man shook his head no, "I will be out for family business. I am sorry." For some reason this made Katsuki sad.

The night of the ball, he walked around sulking. He made his way around before retiring to the game room. Men and women were all playing and he plopped down next to a brown haired woman. She turned to face him and gave him a smile. "My lord! I did not know you played," she said. Katsuki knew this woman from somewhere, but he could not figure it out. Those chubby cheeks were ringing something in his head.

"I casually play."

"Would you like to join? We just finished this game!"

Katsuki shrugged but agreed. It wouldn't be the same as playing with his friend. The match seemed to go on awhile until he looked at his cards. HA, a winning hand, he thought. "And that's game!" the brown haired woman said and laid down a winning hand better than his. "HOW DID! WHAT!?" The woman laughed and again Katsuki thought he knew it from some where. "Did not know the prince was a sore loser," she said. "I am not. I was…I was just taken by surprise a woman could be good a poker." That was definitely the wrong thing to say. Those brown eyes glared at him as if trying to burn him.

"Let's go again. I bet this woman can beat you," she said cofindently.

"Bring it!"

Katsuki lost five times.

The woman, who he learned to be Ochako, chuckled as she gathered her money and got up to leave. Katsuki quickly followed her. "How the hell did you do it!?" he asked. Ochako turned to him and gave him a smile, "You have a tell when you're about to lose. My lord you are too easy to read," Katsuki suddenly had a flash of dejuvu. As she walked away he remembered where he heard that laugh. Haru…Ochako had the same laugh as Haru.

[starry707]

Day 7 - Crossover

An Electric Dreams (1984) x FNAF crossover on my AO3 or below the cut

A little embarrassing, but that's the point haha

A blog that I followed for DCA content started fixating on Electric Dreams (1984), so I watched it and became a simp got hooked too. I wanted to write a full story and tag them, but I think they fell out of it already? Oof... oh well

Anyways, cringetober by @icryink

A New Dream

Summary:

As an employee at Fazbear's Mega PizzaPlex, you're no stranger to highly functioning AI that borderlines sentience. But what will happen when you you bring home an old computer from the 80s that longs for company and affection?

An Electric Dreams (1984) x FNAF Security Breach crossover because I apparently have a soft spot for silly sentient AI characters that cause chaos.

☆☆☆

Chapter 1

"Sorry, Vanessa. Help Wanted will need to wait for another couple paychecks..."

You get back to your apartment in the early morning after another graveyard shift at Fazbear Entertainment's Mega PizzaPlex. It was surprisingly uneventful. There were no major potential lawsuits that needed fixing, and the cleaning aspect of your job was largely overtaken by staff bots after the recent mass human-employee layoff. They only left the workforce with the bare minimum: an underqualified security guard that's seemingly always at the Plex, an elusive daytime technician, and a general staff member (you!). Probably so they have someone to pass the blame on in case something goes horribly wrong with the animatronics. Either way, there wasn't much for any of you to do nowadays. But, hey, at least the pay was good, and the quirky animatronics never fail to entertain you.

After a couple hours of sleep and some lunch, you decide to go into town before getting ready for tonight's shift. You had met the security guard, Vanessa, for the first time the other day during your rounds. Despite being new, she seemed invested in the company and its history, even suggesting (rather insistently) that you check out Fazbear's VR game. You saw there was a recently released flatmode version on PC, but Vanessa specified that it had to be VR for the best experience. So there you are, browsing around at a local GameStop for the game and a VR set.

As you're debating the hefty price tag on the headset, you notice a man walk in with a large box. A closer look as he passes by reveals an old, shattered pinecone computer. With a heavy thud on the counter, the man asks the employee if he could trade in the machine. You eavesdrop in as he explains.

"Inherited it from my parents. I have no idea why they kept it for so long. It was destroyed even before I was born. Whenever I asked, they just said it had 'sentimental value' to them." He stops for a sigh. "But dad shot down any offer to get it fixed for whatever reason. Almost sounded scared... or guilty..."

That definitely piques your interest. You discreetly examine the computer as the worker behind the counter takes it out and observes its state.

"Sorry, sir," the employee says flatly. "The serial number isn't legible from the damage it suffered." They put it back in the box on top of what you assume to be wires and accessories. "We can't accept it."

"I guess that's to be expected. Thank you anyways," the man picks the box up in defeat and heads towards the exit. "It was worth a shot for some extra cash before bringing it to the dump."

"Excuse me," you call out as you catch up to him before you could think about it. Something in you didn't want to imagine such a device ending up in a trash heap. Maybe all the time you've spent with the animatronics at work made you look at technology differently in ways other people normally wouldn't. "I couldn't help but overhear your situation. I'd be happy to take it off your hands if you're willing."

"You want this old piece of scrap?" he asks with raised brows.

"Yes, I'm something of a computer technician." You try to stifle the knowing grin tugging at your lips. If only he knew what you worked with. "It looks like an incredible model. I'd like to fix it up as a personal project. Of course, I'd be willing to pay you for it, too."

You make your totally not shady exchange in the parking lot. The man gives you the box after you send over the money. Safely tucking it into the seat of your car, you make your way back home, thinking about what parts you might need to repair the machine. Now you'll have something to look forward to during the days while you wait for your next shift.

[inspiredwriterstory]

Writing prompt challenge!

"WHY THE HELL WON'T YOU JUST DIE!?"

"BECAUSE I DON'T KNOW WHEN TO QUIT! >:D"

[enchantingepics]

Story Prompt 66

She watched him from across the crowded room, her heart skipping a beat as his familiar blue eyes met hers. There was a problem though—he was too familiar. She couldn't shake off the feeling that she knew him from somewhere, maybe another time or another place.

Their gazes lingered, a silent exchange of recognition passing between them. She could almost feel the weight of his stare, as if he was trying to unravel the same mystery that plagued her mind.

He finally approached her, his footsteps echoing in the hushed ambiance of the room. "Hey," he said, his voice soft yet filled with an unspoken tension.

She swallowed, trying to compose herself. "Hi," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

He studied her for a moment, a hint of uncertainty flickering in his eyes. "Do I know you from somewhere?" he asked, his brows furrowing in confusion.

She shook her head, her heart pounding in her chest. "I… I don't think so," she stammered, trying to suppress the rush of emotions flooding her mind.

He nodded slowly, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Strange," he mused, his gaze never leaving hers. "You just seem so familiar."

She forced a smile, her mind racing with unanswered questions. "Maybe it's just a coincidence," she offered weakly, hoping to brush off the inexplicable connection she felt towards him.

But deep down, she knew it wasn't just a coincidence. There was something about him that stirred a long-forgotten memory within her, something that defied logic and reason.

[clone-wars-winter-challenge]

Welcome to The Clone Wars Winter Spectacular Prompt Challenge 2024 hosting by @hanaaishi and @callsign-denmark. This event runs from October 6th to January 5th.

Weekly Promots:

Week 1: *Peppermint* *"I Feel Cold"*

⭐special⭐ Alpha 17

•••••••••

Week 2: *"At Ease"* *Midnight Snack*

••••••••

Week 3: *Polar Plunge* *Holiday Cookies* ⭐special⭐ prompt: Domino Squad

•••••••••

Week 4: *First Snow* *Fluffy Blanket*

••••••••

Week 5: *Hanging Christmas Lights* *Snowball Fight*

•••••••••

Week 6: *First Date* *Hot Cocoa*

•••••••••

Week 7: *Snowman* *Sunset*

⭐Special⭐ Prompt: Captain Rex

••••••••

Week 8: *Karaoke Night* *Eggnog*

••••••••

Week 9: "Your hands are freezing" *bonfire*

••••••••••

Week 10: *coffee break* *Northern Lights* ⭐ Special ⭐ 1: The Bad Batch* *⭐Special⭐ 2: Mistletoe

•••••••••••

Week 11: *Gingerbread house* *Christmas vacation*

•••••••••

Week 12: *Gift Wrap* *Jingle Bells*

••••••••••

Week 13: *Happy New Year* *baby it's cold outside* ⭐ Special ⭐ Prompt*first kiss*

Rules:

You must tag this page and use the hashtag #theclonewarswinterspectacular2024 in order for your story to be rebogged.

If you write a NSFW story, you MUST mark it as so with an 18+ warning.

You can mix and match prompts from any week, but ⭐special⭐ prompts can only be counted with the week they are posted with in order to earn a badge.

You can write for any clone in this Challenge, but if you write Clone × Clone Ship (clonecest), it will not be reblogged (it's just not a thing we do here)

Please be respectful and kind to the hosts and others joining into the challenge, this is a fun and safe place.

[localcanadiancreature62]

Hey y'alls guess what. I made another event lmaoo,but for Dipper this time. There's Forduary,there's Stanuary,but what about the children?. The reason why it starts at 6 instead of 1 cuz uhh,i wanted this to be for the whole month but then i realized midway that it's not the 1st anymore 💀.

@strawberryshortcake1495 @rizzemwiththetism Dipper lovers pspspspsps. Also other people @nico-the-overlord @aaabatteryy @wind-tail @cecilscribbles @moronic-validity @thecluelessdoctor @misteria247 @tigersharktheautisticseawing @s1llyg0th

RULEZ

• Don't fucking do nsfw with this little boy unless it's for a older teenager/young adult version. I beg of you.

• @ me so i can see your entries :]

• Both Writing and Art entries are encouraged. All genres are welcome.

• It's okay if you skip out on some of the prompts,i won't get mad. Art is hard sometimes.

• Tag your entry with #Dipcember2024.

• Oc x canon is welcome. All ships except for Billdip are welcome (ok you can do that one but don't @ me in it lol. ion' like it)

• Have fun :D

[roselynia]

Day 2 of Rose's Silly Creative Challenge:

Prompt #643: "You can't hate him for that." / "But I can hate him for a lot of other reasons." | @/creativepromptsforwriting | @creativepromptfills

POV: Third-person

Pairing: None

Original Character(s): Sebastian Sinclair, Theodore Sinclair | Mentions of Sylas Grey

Word Count: 960

Age Rating: E for everyone

A/N: I received some amazing feedback yesterday and decided I'd try writing from the third-person POV today. I also wrote this same story from a second-person, MC/Reader, POV since that is my usual writing style. I will post that as 2.5 tomorrow. ♥ I'm also adding a tag list (thank you, Rou) if anyone is interested in being tagged in what I write/draw for the month!

Tag List: @rou-luxe

The soft glow of Rothmore’s ever-lit lamps cast thin bands of light across the common lounge of The Phoenix Nest this evening; warm, golden tones reflected against the polished marble floors and the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the quiet campus. The lounge was spacious enough for all dorm members, but it felt strangely suffocating as Sebastian sat in one of the cushioned armchairs, leafing aimlessly through the pages of an ancient celestial tome while his brother, Theo, paced in simmering silence a few feet away.

“Honestly, Theo,” Sebastian began, lifting his gaze from the, currently, half-read page. His voice was its typical quiet, neutral tone, even though he could practically feel his twin's frustration as his own. “You can’t hate him for that.”

Theo paused mid-pace, running a hand through his artfully tousled hair. He exhaled slowly—like he was trying not to unleash an entire sermon of frustration to his brother. “But I can hate him for a lot of other reasons,” he retorted, his electric-blue eyes flashing with a carefully contained fury that didn’t suit his typical warm demeanor.

They both knew exactly who they were referring to: Sylas Grey—the Lilin who had effortlessly stolen the show in that afternoon’s mock duel for Advanced Combat Theory. Theo hadn't quite expected him to pull off a series of pinpoint strikes the way he did—swift and calculated, brimming with a dangerous expertise that he wouldn't ordinarily show.

The part that stung Theo wasn’t the fact that Sylas had bested him.

No.

It wasn't that simple.

It never would be.

Instead, it was the silent understanding that neither of them had really used their full power; that they never do.

For all Sylas’s cunning and skill, Theo could have responded in kind. Should have, even. However, certain…constraints...kept him from unleashing the brilliance that lurked just below his calm exterior—the same way Sylas’s father likely kept the demon on a tight leash, compelling him to conceal the full extent of his own abilities.

Sebastian shut his book with a gentle snap, setting it aside on a table beside the armchair. He noted how his twin’s glow—an aura that always reminded him of sunrise—was tinged with a tense, jagged edge now. “He beat you in a fair fight,” He pointed out, calm and measured. “He didn’t cheat. You know Professor Alstrom’s wards would have caught any foul play.”

Theo’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I know,” he admitted, exhaling. “That’s not what bothers me.” A pause followed, charged with unspoken thoughts. “It’s the way he looks at me, Seb. Like he knows I’m—We're hiding something…like he sees right through the façade.”

A brief flicker of concern passed over Sebastian’s face. “We all are,” he murmured. “Hiding something, I mean.”

Theo glanced at his brother, jaw set, unintentionally ignoring his murmured words. “He’s manipulative. He’s arrogant. He has no respect for boundaries, no—” He forced himself to stop, breathing in deeply. “He tries to provoke me, pushes me to show everyone what I can really do.”

Despite his brother’s frustration, Sebastian couldn’t help but empathize. "Maybe it’s because he’s in the same predicament, Theo," he suggested softly. "Bound by his father’s will. Forced to posture and hide his real self. You two are more alike than you’d ever give credit." He knew Theo hated hearing that, hated the suggestion that he and Sylas might share anything in common...but Sebastian could see the parallels as clearly as the glow of their shared bloodline. Sylas’s careful manipulation, Theo’s calculated charm—they were two sides of the same coin.

Theo scoffed, rolling his eyes at his twin's words. "Us? Alike? Hardly." But his voice lacked any true conviction. A flash of memory flickered in his mind—Sylas’s steel-gray eyes locking onto his mid-duel, sharp and searching. To Theo, it was as if Sylas seemed to see right through him—as if they were playing a dangerous game of chess where every move could expose the other to a checkmate.

Running a hand over his face, Theo sighed, frustration lacing his words. "I know exactly why he’s trying to provoke me. He’s testing me—trying to figure out who we really are. He knows we don’t belong here, not in the way everyone else thinks we do, not in the way everyone else does. He wants leverage, and he’ll get it if I let my guard down."

Sebastian studied his twin’s profile: the regal lines of his face, the faint shimmer in his pale skin, the identical halo of golden hair whenever the lamplight caught it at the right angle. There was something in Theo’s intensity that reminded Sebastian just how much responsibility he carried. "Maybe because he knows you’re playing a role, just like he is," Sebastian said gently. "And maybe he knows what it would mean if you found out his secrets before he found out yours."

Theo shook his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. “I’ll give him credit for being sharp, but I’m not giving him an inch, Seb." For the first time this evening, Theo's gaze met his twin's own. "Not until I find out everything he’s hiding and make sure he doesn’t get the better of us first.”

With a slight nod, Sebastian sighed, “I understand.” He picked up his discarded tome again. “But please, remember that we have to spend the rest of the year in the same suite with him. Don’t let your hatred blind you to the bigger picture.”

Theo looked away, arms folded over his chest. “Fine,” he said, quieter now. “I won’t start a war in the common area.” A pause, then a reluctant half-smile tugged at his lips. “But if he pushes me again, I will show him a hint of what I can do, Seb.”

Sebastian returned that same small smile to his stubborn older brother, even though he wanted to roll his eyes. “Sylas probably wants that, Theo. You shouldn't give him the satisfaction.” He glanced out the window briefly, but his attention quickly went back to the tome in his hands, returning to the page he left off on.

Knowing there was nothing left to be said as his twin returned to his 'studies', Theo simply nodded to himself, giving a faint hum of acknowledgment. He let his gaze linger on the darkened corridor that led to their shared suite area.

He understood all too well that the demon’s hidden potential possibly rivaled his own.

To others, it seemed as though the public humiliation of losing the duel was what unsettled Theo today—but in truth, it was the unspoken fear that Sylas might one day see through the carefully constructed appearance he and his twin had so meticulously crafted.

...Because if Sylas ever uncovered the reality behind their light...

Then, one day, Theo might have to show him exactly why the Seraphim of Elyrion are meant to be feared and revered—even if it meant exposing the true reason he and his brother had come to Etrealis in the first place.

[drgnrder82]

Fictober - Day 3 - Should have known better

Summary: Asher is not expecting Marina to accompany Seren... and he makes it known.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 568

Original Fiction

Based on characters from my fantasy WIP Triton's Sanctuary.

Prompt - "I know you better."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Ach! Her again?” Asher bemoaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You literally know the whole of the Lower Quarter, and you bring her?” 

Seren glanced at Marina, leaned in to sniff her, and then repeated the process with Asher. “Marina doesn’t smell like fish.” 

“I don’t mind things that smell like fish…” A wicked smile sliced across Marina’s face. 

“You said you had something to do. I thought you were bringing Fenton.” Asher jammed his cap further onto his head, cheeks reddening as people around the square began to stare. 

“Fenton?” Seren tugged at the snug vest, catching her reflection in the butcher’s window. “I’m sixteen. I don’t need—” 

Asher cleared his throat loudly while Marina threw her head back, cackling.

Turning on both of them, Seren raised an eyebrow, eyes glistening in irritation. 

“I’m sorry,” Marina choked on the words, trying to stifle the laughter. “You don’t need what? A—” 

“A babysitter,” Asher grunted, knowing just the response Seren would have given.

“I,” Marina scoffed, “never thought she needed a babysitter. She needs a friend. Someone to bail her out.” Each word clipped as her frustration mounted. 

“Bail her out? Bail is the right word.” Asher turned his pockets out. “Neither one of us has the cash to do that!” 

Seren returned to her reflection, fingers tapping on her painted lips. A sly smile crept up.

“Exactly! So she needs someone to keep her from getting thrown in the brig in the first place!” 

“Stop enabling her! You’re the reason she started gambling at the balls!” 

“Seren won back my money fair and square. Those officers didn’t want to lose their shady winnings… maybe they shouldn’t have gone around conning the patrons at the Gilded Reef. Which you should have taken care of! It’s your mother’s establishment!” 

Face reddening, Asher clenched his hands tightly. “I take care of what I can! But I’m also a Cadet in the Ishma Naval Academy, or did you forget? I can’t take care of every little squabble.”

Discreetly, Seren pulled a pocket watch out to check the time.

“What is the point of babysitting Seren, huh?” 

“Because I know what she’s capable of!” Asher’s voice spiked loudly, drawing even more attention. “Tell her, Seren! I know you better. Right?” 

Legs planted wide, Marina jabbed at Asher’s shoulder. “Excuse me! You know her better?”

Squaring her shoulders, Seren saw him. The man who’d hurt Bella, a young girl she’d long ago recruited off the street to serve drinks at the Gilded Reef for Asher’s mom. 

“I literally grew up with her! How can you possibly say you know Seren better?” 

Seren ducked through the crowd, blending with shoppers, workers, and children despite her viscerally vibrant hair. 

“Yes! I do! Tell Marina, Seren.” Asher wheeled around to see the butcher pulling down a carcass from the window. “Seren?” He shot Marina a freshly sharpened look. “Where is she?” 

All Marina did was smile sweetly in return. “Now, who knows Seren better?” 

Searching the crowded street, Asher only saw a sea of people, none of which had Seren’s signature red hair or her garish hats with fluffy feathers. “Come on…” 

“You’re cute when you’re angry,” Marina giggled directly in Asher’s ear. 

A strangled cry came somewhere ahead, deeper in the Lower Quarter. “Ah, blast it all,” Marina sighed dramatically while Asher ran off toward the scream without a second glance back at her.