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managingmymuse · 1 year ago

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Writer's Month

Day 2: Perfume

Fire and Ice Universe

(incidentally, also following on from yesterday)

Anselm found me beneath one of those fragrant trees about an hour before sunset. I'd left off the position of a true penitent in favor of leaning backwards against one of the tree trunks. The moss under my legs was springy and damp, and yet in the heat of the walled garden, it wasn't the least bit cold.

Anselm seated himself beside me, leaning against the same trunk to angle his body slightly away. His shoulder brushed mine, almost in afterthought. "You did well today?"

My eye twitched as the memory of that woman's face swam up in my mind. I scoffed. "Of course I did. I always do."

Anselm cast a glance my way. I pretended I couldn't feel the weight of it against my skin. "You're angry."

"What do I have to be angry about? I have the King's favor, a new assignment. More power than I've ever even wanted."

Anselm said nothing. The perfume of the orange blossoms saturated the air around us, thick and cloying.

I picked up a pebble and tossed it away. "What are you doing here, Anselm?"

"I come here to meditate sometimes. With the King's permission."

I tasted bile. "Of course."

"He might allow you to do the same, you know. If you asked it of him."

I stared up at the canopy of leaves above my head. The shadows of evening were lengthening all around us. Would the lights from the palace shine through the glass and burst the illusion that we really were in some kind of mythical summer garden?

"I don't think so," I said.

We fell into silence once again. Beetles chittered in the nearby foliage. Sweet Ice, the King had even managed to populate his little forest with a host of insects.

"So this is it, then?" Anselm asked. "You plan to never talk to me again?"

"I'm talking to you right now."

"And yet your silences are louder than your words."

I gritted my teeth and let another one build between us.

"We were friends," Anselm said.

"Were we?"

"Weren't we?"

His gaze locked with mine, and a strange wash of emotion roiled in my gut. The heat that had spun through me that night at Castle Eran. The swirl of worry and concern that had followed me for weeks when he'd stayed away afterwards. The pain I'd felt when he'd finally explained that we would not be together. That we couldn't be.

"You're answering questions with questions," I said.

"And you're deflecting."

"I wonder who I learned that from."

His lip curled in a rare flash of emotion. "I miss talking to you."

"There are dozens of people you can talk to, Anselm. You have devotees hanging on your every word."

"And that's the problem," he said. "They're devotees. Foot soldiers. If I asked them to walk into the Chasm unarmed, they'd do it, no questions asked."

"I thought that's the kind of loyalty you sought to inspire," I said. "It certainly matches up with your beloved father figure."

I made a face, and Anselm saw it. "That's it," he said. "That, right there. If I told you to walk into the Chasm, you'd tell me to go fuck myself."

My lips twitched, and I schooled my face into neutrality. "And I'm certain I'd spend the next month moving snow in the lower town."

"After I talked you into going into the Chasm anyway," Anselm said, voice soft. "With me, rather than for me."

I met his eyes again, and the gentleness in them pierced me to the core.

I shifted uneasily against the tree. "So you like me because I flout your authority? That's a cliche."

"I like you because you don't care about my authority. Or my power. When we talk, you see beyond it. You see me."

I looked skyward, shaking my head. "I can't do this. I can't be your confidante again. I can't just step back into that role. Things have changed."

"They don't have to."

"They have," I said. I stood up, suddenly furious. "I told you what I wanted, Anselm. I told you, and I showed you. I made myself perfectly clear. You were the one who ended it. You were the one to push me away."

"I had to," he said. "I'm not... it's not a good idea. Not with what we do."

I tilted my head at him, scoffing. "And somehow all of our conversations were less intimate." I rolled my eyes. "Please."

"Pirja," he said.

I shook my head. "Enough, Anselm. I've had enough. If you change your mind, you know where to find me. But if you don't, then leave me the hell alone."

#writing #my writing #writersmonth #writer's month #writersmonth2023

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writersmonth · 3 months ago

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Day 31: Double | Beach

Important links: Rules | FAQ | AO3 Collection | Discord Server

#writer's month 2024 #prompt #writblr #writersmonth2024 #writer's month #writing prompt #that's it folks #mod kimmy #been a pleasure doing this with you #hope you enjoyed this year's prompts and remember you have a week to catch up #see you at badge claims!

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joemerl · 3 months ago

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Writer's Month 2024, Day 31: "Beach"

Original fiction/Fantasy romcom Status/Word count: Basically the inciting incident of an idea that I've had for a while. 374 words.

The wind ruffled Bradley's hair and clothes as he stumbled down the rocky beach. He had his camera in his hands, but as he scanned the shore, he couldn't find any of the seals that he had come to document.

Of course, it wasn't a surprise that they were hard to find; pretty soon, this island might not have any at all. Bradley was a photographer for an environmental group, so he was very concerned about their declining numbers. Hopefully, his pictures would help raise awareness of the need to protect them.

Assuming he could take any pictures, of course.

Squinting, he thought he saw something on a nearby rock. Could it be a seal sunning itself? He headed over, raising his camera and using the zoom to see clearer. It looked like a seal. A small one, probably female, possibly sleeping, but...

It couldn't be.

He jogged closer, and sure enough, his worst fears were confirmed. It wasn't a seal—at least, not a full one. It was a seal's skin. There was no sign of the rest of the body, nor the criminal who had done this—just the skin, lying flat and sad on the stone.

Dimly, Bradley wondered why a seal hunter would leave behind the valuable motive of his crime. But he assumed he would be back, to grab and then sell off the evidence.

Bradley stroked the pelt, partly to confirm that it was real, and partly out of some strange sympathy, as if he could comfort the poor creature.

His expression grew hard.

"Don't worry, girl. Whoever did this, I won't let them get away with it."

He looked around quickly, then grabbed the skin, pressed it against his chest and ran back towards town.

***

Iona sighed blissfully as she strolled down the beach, stretching her arms above her head. She had stayed to dance on the shore for hours after her sisters had left, and she felt exhilarated but tired. She was eager to swim home and get some rest.

She reached the edge of the cove, climbed gracefully over the rocks with her agile human limbs—and froze.

Stared. Blinked and look again, scanning around the sand and stones.

"Where's my skin?" the selkie wondered.

#WritersMonth2024 #Writer's Month #Selkie #Then he runs into her and we basically get Ariel and Eric from “The Little Mermaid.”#Possibly even with a makeshift dress made out of a sail or something.#I have another scene from this idea that could work for the other prompt (“double”) but it's too disconnected from this one.

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blueberry-ash · 3 months ago

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Writer’s Month 2024, Day 10 (‘season’)

TKA live action, Wang Jiexi/&Ye Xiu. T-rated (mentions of sex). Wang Jiexi realises he's ready for retirement, then has no idea what to do with that realisation.

(Side note: I refuse to jump down a fact-checking hole for this tonight, so pls just assume that City B has a “tap on, tap off” kinda transit card/app system on their metro buses. Hence WJX just chillin’ on there, and no specific ticket/destination/whatever needed.)

Wang Jiexi had always imagined it would be a slow creep—an experience or emotion to be tracked in small, incremental pieces over time. Except, he’d been wrong. It isn’t like that at all. It’s simply one crisp morning in early spring, the air like ice on his nose but the sun already beaming, and Wang Jiexi… Wang Jiexi simply looks up. At Gao Yingjie, laughing, with an arm slung around Liu Xiaobie’s shoulders and a hand pushing gently at the side of Yuan Boqing’s head. At Liu Fei, walking backward in front of them, snickering at whatever it is that Yuan Boqing has just said.

They aren’t playing Glory. They aren’t talking about training or tactics or upcoming matches.

It doesn’t matter.

Wang Jiexi looks at them, and Wang Jiexi thinks: They’re doing so well. They don’t need me at all. And then, I’m done here.

There are a half-dozen little things on his to-do list, but none of them are urgent. And, anyway, Gao Yingjie is glancing over at Wang Jiexi with that unfairly perceptive expression he’s honed over the past season-and-a-half—like he isn’t going to be remotely surprised if Wang Jiexi stands, stretches, and explains that something has come up and he’s going to be leaving his tasks and the team in Yingjie’s capable hands for the day.

Gao Yingjie… really isn’t even slightly surprised at all.

Probably he’s known for a while now.

Wang Jiexi fetches his coat. He turns up his collar at the breeze, and walks to the nearest bus stop. He boards the next bus that arrives, and decides to stay until he’s had his fill of sitting and watching the city go by. No plan, he thinks, unsure whether the concept is thrilling or unsettling. No responsibilities.

And, sure, it’s not as though he’s actually leaving-leaving; he’ll be back before dinner, he knows. He’ll still be sixth player in the match on Saturday. And it’s been assumed all along that this season would be his last, but—this is the first time he’s truly, really known it.

He has no idea what he’s supposed to do with that knowledge.

He watches the people filing on and off the bus. Everything’s so bustling and loud; everyone’s so busy; hands full of bags or babies or swiftly-tapped phones, or some lively combination of the three. It makes his unusually quiet hands feel more empty than at-rest.

He has—he realises—not the faintest idea what he’s supposed to be doing if he isn’t busy with the team. It’s easy enough when he’s on holidays—family obligations neatly slotting in where team obligations would usually fit—but this isn’t… that. This is him, on a bus, because he felt like it. Because he had a whim, and gave himself permission. This is him, sitting in public with the jarring understanding that he has no idea what he’s supposed to be doing with any of this—himself, his looming retirement, his future, his freedom—because he’s been waiting patiently for some expected soft, slow creep that has been swapped, instead, with the world’s sharpest knowing.

He has no idea how he finds himself standing in front of the Ye family’s ornate gate. He could stop and puzzle it out, but he isn’t really sure he needs to. Besides—Ye Xiu already knows he’s here.

‘Yingjie texted you, didn’t he?’ Wang Jiexi says in a bland voice when Ye Xiu looks up from where he’s smoking on the front steps.

Ye Xiu looks very much as though he’s just rolled out of bed, all messy-haired and squinty-eyed, and handsome despite it. He doesn’t look even a little surprised to see Wang Jiexi. It’s… a thought, though, and a strangely interesting one, to imagine him having woken up specifically for Wang Jiexi. Wang Jiexi supposes he ought to feel more apologetic about the inconvenience, but then—it was Ye Xiu’s choice.

Both to come outside when he’d clearly rather be in bed, and to surrender his contact details to a miscellany of juniors.

Ye Xiu smirks through a puff of smoke. ‘Like I’d ever kiss and tell.’

The sudden image of Ye Xiu and Gao Yingjie kissing makes Wang Jiexi frown. He dismisses it quickly, although not before Ye Xiu has laughed at him in a low, snorting kind of way.

‘Want to talk about it?’ Ye Xiu asks. Not—Wang Jiexi is thankfully clear—about the expression Wang Jiexi had pulled just now, but about how Wang Jiexi has come to be standing outside Ye Xiu’s home rather than busy with the morning’s training.

Ye Xiu stubs out his cigarette, tosses the butt out of sight in the overly manicured garden bed, and waves Wang Jiexi forward with the air of a generous Young Master, rather than a gamer clearly not awake by preference.

‘I can make tea,’ Ye Xiu suggests, while Wang Jiexi is toeing his shoes off inside the front door. ‘We can impress my father with your pleasantly sensible earnestness again.’

The comment is a throwback to the last—and only—time Wang Jiexi had ever been here to visit. It had been a disaster, really, although Wang Jiexi can’t help but smile at the memory from the safety of the present.

‘Maybe later,’ Wang Jiexi agrees. He thinks about the busy people on the bus, with their hands full of things they care about. He thinks about what he’d like to be doing, since he’s giving himself permissions. He frowns at the tiles for a while, unbothered by the knowledge that Ye Xiu is leaning against the wall and watching openly. ‘I think…’

Wang Jiexi looks up. He watches as Ye Xiu smothers a yawn then smiles at him.

Wang Jiexi suddenly wonders. He says, ‘Actually, you’re welcome to go back to what you were doing before Yingjie so rudely woke you up. If you’d like. I can’t remember the last time I was in bed this time of morning.’

Ye Xiu’s surprised hesitation is so brief that Wang Jiexi barely sees it, despite actively looking. Wang Jiexi wonders whether he’s crossed too significant a line; at least, until he sees the slightly furtive way Ye Xiu glances down the hall, as though to check whether they’re still alone or not.

‘Bed for mid-morning naps and laziness, or bed for…?’ Ye Xiu lifts his eyebrows in a suggestive way that somehow manages to perfectly express the unspoken portion of his question.

‘I don’t know,’ Wang Jiexi says, because it’s the truth. He supposes he’s meant to have a strong opinion on the matter, but he doesn’t. His feelings about that kind of intimacy—like his feelings about retirement—are something he’d always assumed would be built piece-by-careful-piece. Now, he finds that he’d been wrong all over again. Of course, it isn’t as though Ye Xiu has actually offered sex; still, now that Wang Jiexi has imagined it, he finds he isn’t actually against the idea. He’s curious, mostly—and maybe slightly distracted by the vaguely absurd question of whether unexpected mid-morning sex would be more, or less, indolent than unexpected mid-morning naps.

He says, feeling quite certain that Ye Xiu will have seen the heat colouring his ears and already reached his own conclusions, ‘I might be okay with either, I think.’

Ye Xiu watches him sideways, then pushes away from the wall and shrugs comfortably. ‘Come on, then. There's no rush. You can figure it out when we get there.’

And maybe that’s the answer Wang Jiexi was looking for, actually; maybe that’s what he came here to hear.

Wang Jiexi leaves his shoes and his coat by the door, and his phone in his coat’s pocket, and follows Ye Xiu down the hall.

#writer's month #ash's fic stuff #WangYe #the king's avatar #IDK what i'm doing with these two but i'm vibing and they're vibing so it's fine i guess

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badassbutterfly1987 · 4 months ago

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Day 5: choice

Kell/Holland, pre-canon

As much as he despised Arnesian excess, it was a relief to be away from the Danes. It was bittersweet to see something other than a starving world. A gluttonous party in honor of a prince’s birthday.

An honored prince who had seemingly disappeared from his own party without anyone taking notice.

Mostly for the sake of not ruining the celebration, Holland went looking for him. It had nothing to do with his own worry; the other Antari meant nothing to him.

He found Kell by an isolated balcony half-leaning over the railing.

“I hope you aren’t planning to jump,” Holland called out.

He startled, turning to look at him with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. The boy, or man now supposedly, swayed in place. Gods, he was tipsy from drink.

Kell brightened significantly, the way he always did when the other Antari gave him any attention. “You came looking for me?”

Holland cringed internally. It was better not to indulge the boy’s naïve crush, even if it was pleasant to not be hated or treated cruelly for once these days. “I was passing by. You ought to appreciate what you have been given.”

“They don’t really love me, you know?” Kell gestured in the direction of the loud celebration with a bitter smile. “Not like they love Rhy.”

Briefly, Holland wondered whether he meant Red London’s citizens as a whole or his royal parents in particular. “It is better than nothing.”

The boy slumped, giving a glum look to the city stretching out before them. The conversation trailed off into silence.

Original goal accomplished, he was just about to leave when the princeling perked up again.

He stepped out of range when Kell tried to reach for him. “We could run away together!”

Oh, he was that drunk; too drunk to remember that he would never leave his brother, or that Rhy would never leave his people. Too drunk to consider why Holland wouldn't join him.

Holland prayed to a nameless god he didn’t believe in to give him patience.

“We can leave, we can make something better- “

Make something better. A lump in his throat, old grief like claws digging into skin.

The Soul Seal burned against his skin. There was nowhere for him to go. Something in his chest clenched. It didn’t matter.

Holland’s voice hardened. “Why would I ever want that?”

Kell’s hopeful smile faltered.

He pressed harder. “What could you possibly offer me?”

What could you give me that I have not already lost? The bitter truth remained unsaid, a confession that could never be spoken. Holland turned on his heel, not wanting to see the hurt he had caused.

#shades of magic #fanfic #writer's month

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daughterofhecata · 1 year ago

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Btw, da wir ja wieder August haben, ihr findet jetzt wieder jeden Tag ein Drabble (oder vielmehr, ein Double Drabble, dieses Jahr) zum entsprechenden @writersmonth Prompt entweder hier auf ao3 oder hier auf ff.de!

#writer's month #writer's month 2023 #drei fragezeichen #we're starting the month off with some titus/mathilda fluff!#kaj rambles #my stories

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sincerely-wyvern · 2 years ago

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Writer's Month: Day Twelve

I posted and backdated my drabble for day twelve of the Writer's Month challenge I'll be there. This is a gen piece focusing on Fred and George Weasley with background mentions of George/Hattie Potter (female!Harry Potter).

#my writing #posted on ao3 #gen: Weasley family #fanfiction #writer's month #2022 writer's month

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self-proclaimed-chaotic-good · 2 years ago

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Welcome to the Forgotten Realms | Hawkins Crew

Prompt: Going Inside a Book/Story

Words: 3166

Fandom: Stranger Things

A/N: Writer’s Month is over, but I’m still going to try and finish this, just three more prompts to go. I’m drawing from my limited knowledge of DnD 5th edition and light research on 1st edition, so if some of it isn’t accurate, how many people would actually know the difference between 5th and 1st? Also, while trying to wrap up the ending, it gave ‘Welcome to Jumanji’ vibes and I pictured a Nigel character popping up, but still looks like Rhys Darby. Lol look at me creating lore for a world that I might not visit again. Or won’t I?

Summary: The older group decides to play DnD, much to Eddie’s delight. A sudden storm cut off the electricity in the middle of a session, but when they looked around to find that they weren’t in Hawkins anymore.

Eddie rubbed his hands together gleefully like an evil mastermind as his new friends finished their character sheets. He had minis that he had painted in his spare time that were close enough to what they wanted their characters to look like, each of them standing right in front of each player.

Nancy was more familiar with the mechanics since the kids usually played in the basement, having picked it up quickly and helping the others when they needed it. Jonathan had admitted that Will spoke about their campaigns but never really broke down the mechanics unless he asked him. Robin was catching on, piecing her character together in no time. That left Steve who was frowning at his sheet before sliding it over to Eddie. Dustin had actually helped him build his character beforehand, but he wasn’t sure how to play him.

“Does this look… right?” Steve asked after filling out his character’s backstory.

Eddie leaned over, eagerly scanning through his character sheet and smiled. “Steve, Stevie, Steve-O. I feel like you’ve thought this character through before.”

“Ah, well,” Steve muttered sheepishly, scratching the back of his head with his pencil. “Henderson’s always wanted me to play with them, so… the roleplaying part is kind of… I don’t know.”

“Embarrassing?”

Steve nodded. “This is why I didn’t take drama, man.”

“Well, you should have, or else you wouldn’t be having this problem,” Robin said, giving him a pointed look. “And maybe you would have been less of a douche in high school.”

“Thank you so much, Robin, I appreciated your needed input,” Steve replied sarcastically.

“Hey, everyone’s gotta start somewhere,” Eddie said, patting Steve’s shoulder. “This is everyone’s first game, so we’re gonna take it easy and learn how the game works together. Don’t be afraid to ask questions. DMs love questions, unless they’re dumb.”

“I guess Steve can’t ask anything then.”

“You know what, Buckley, I’m not going to be driving you around anymore.”

“Nice try, dingus. This whole time you still drove me to school and work when you thought I had a license. There’s no way you’re going to suddenly stop giving me rides.”

“Anyways,” Eddie interrupted, “Superior Wheeler. Big Byers. How are your characters coming along?”

“We’re just about finished,” Nancy said.

Jonathan nodded. “Yeah, we figured that it’ll be easier if our characters know each other so we’d have someone to bounce off on.”

“It’s a very common method to do and helps with backstories,” Eddie said, nodding in approval. “What race and class are you?”

“Nance is a high elf ranger and I’m thinking of being a drow rogue.”

“Interesting. Very interesting.” Eddie folded his fingers together and rested his chin on them. “Drows are usually lawful evil aligned, but for my campaigns, I’m not too strict on those things as long as it creates a good story. To have a high elf and a drow know each other, that’s really interesting. Buckley.”

Robin held up her character sheet and shook it. “I think I’ve made it more complicated than it had to be. I made a Forest Gnome Wizard. It’s complicated for me because I just realized how many spells I have to manage. But we’re just level one, right? So, it shouldn’t be that bad for now, but, like, I’ve done this whole backstory that is too similar to Batman.”

Eddie nodded sagely. “Many players, no matter how seasoned they are, have done this. It’s an easy trope to fall on, but if you add your own twist to it, it could work.”

“What if when she talks to animals, instead of the high pitch tone people use, it’s gruffy like a heavy smoker?”

Jonathan snorted. “Is your voice going to be okay after that?”

“See, I made it harder on myself than it should be.”

“What if you made your character’s normal voice high pitched and when you speak to animals it's at a normal pitch?” Steve said, holding back a smile.

Robin scrunched her face. “That’s even worse.”

“I am not going to sit through a two hour session with that voice,” Nancy said firmly.

“Thank you, Nance.”

“Oh! Why didn’t I think of this?” Steve said, facepalming. “The kermit voice!”

“No! I told you to drop that already!” Robin shouted. “What’s your character anyways, dingus? I bet it’s boring.”

Steve glared at her from across the table. “Human Paladin,” he muttered.

“See. Boring.”

“Hey, now. We haven’t started playing yet,” Eddie tried to mediate. “If everyone’s ready, we can begin.” He held his hands out, eyeing them all. When they all nodded, he clapped his hands. “Alright, let me set the scene for you, adventurers.”

“Uh, guys, I don’t know if we should be going in a super scary tower without a plan,” Robin pointed out.

“Haunted, too,” Steve added.

“Yeah. Super scary haunted tower.”

“The guy at the tavern said that something strange is happening here. There’s people going missing and no one has ever used this tower in years until now,” Jonathan said.

Nancy nodded her head. “Exactly. Seeing light in the tower around the same time the first disappearance happened? There’s got to be a connection. We have to at least try.”

“Okay, so what do we know about this tower?” Robin looked down at her character sheet, then at Eddie. “With my wizardry background, would I know anything about this place?”

“Roll me a history check with advantage. You’re quite studious and one of the top of your class,” Eddie said, pointing at the D20 in front of her.

Robin nodded, shaking her hand and tossing the dice carefully. She grimaced, then rolled again, the corner of her lips turning up. “That’s an unnatural 20 for history.”

“Good. Yes, you have heard a considerable amount about this ancient wizard’s tower during your studies. He was a promising wizard that grew his power at an exponential rate. The academy was once proud to call him their own, but now they use him as a cautionary tale.”

Everyone leaned forward as Eddie unraveled the lore of the tower’s creator, Nancy furiously taking notes and Jonathan jotting down what stood out to him. Steve sat, memorized, as Eddie’s soothing voice wrapped around him, painting the picture in his mind. Robin nodded along with his words, pausing when she saw Steve staring at Eddie intensely, marking that down in her mental notes for later.

“He realized that the academy was limiting him. The prospect of harnessing dark magic grew more and more tempting by the day, haunting his dreams at night. It became too much when the academy was attacked. Their mistake was thinking that if they shielded their students from the darkness, they would never be harmed from it. As it were, you cannot protect yourself from something you have no knowledge of. The students fell one by one, overcome by power that they could not understand.”

He paused for effect, a thunderstorm with bad timing rumbled outside, causing the lights above to flicker. They all stiffened, looking up until the lights steadied. The younger kids were at Sinclairs, so they weren’t worried about them galavanting. After their stunt last time with the whole Vecna thing and running from the police, the parents of the Party made it a point to take turns having movie or game night at their houses. This also encouraged the older kids to spend more time together.

Eddie exhaled slowly, seeing the others doing the same as they tried to get back to the game. “Until, finally, our wizard fled into the restricted section of the library and poured through its knowledge. He casted a spell so great that it destroyed all of his surroundings, killing every enemy and every friend. There he stood, in the middle of the rubble, without a scratch on him. Though, he felt his blood boiling, his veins turning black, nails extending into claws, and his eyes bleeding. For a moment, his heart stopped. Within that moment, the power of the darkness took over and flooded his body with unsurmountable power.”

“Who is he?” Robin asked quietly, not wanting to break the atmosphere.

Eddie’s brown eyes scanned over the players as he smirked. Just as he opened his mouth, the power went down. There was a collective gasp around the table and shuffling as they reached over to each other to ground themselves.

“The backup generator isn’t kicking in,” Nancy said.

“You guys have a backup generator?” Robin asked incredulously, feeling Nancy stand up next to her. “Where are you going?”

“My dad was so paranoid about Russians stealing electricity all over the country that he bought this expensive generator thing,” Nancy explained, “He’s kind of late on that, though. There should be extra flashlights and candles somewhere over here if the kids hadn’t gotten to them yet.”

“Here,” Jonathan said, flicking on his lighter.

He found Nancy and helped her look through the cabinets for the emergency supplies. Their eyes adjusted to the dim light, not finding anything familiar in their surroundings. Nancy frowned, reaching out to touch one of the side tables. Her fingers touched something and she tugged on Jonathan’s sleeve to come closer. She had found a candle and he quickly dislodged it from the table and lit it up.

“What the hell,” he muttered, touching the wall that was no longer covered in wallpaper, but cold stone bricks. “Guys?”

He turned and saw that Nancy had done quick work in finding the other candles, handing each of their friends one. Steve scanned the area, scanning the dark corners of the room before announcing that it was clear. Robin ran her hands along the walls until she found a wooden torch hanging from a metal sconce. Eddie, being tall enough to pull it out, brought it over to her to light up.

Now, with a brighter light source, the party could see what had become of the room. Eddie stumbled back with wide eyes, convinced for a moment that he had fallen asleep on the couch of the Wheelers basement and would wake up at any minute. Steve stepped towards the table that they were playing at, frowning as he lifted the object that was now on his chair. A sword. A frickin’ sword.

“We’re not in Hawkins anymore,” Eddie mused, looking at Robin.

“No shit,” she muttered, “What is this? This isn’t the Upside Down. No creepy vines or particles in the air.”

“It’s like we were taken into a dungeon,” Jonathan said, joining Steve at the table where he found a traveler’s pack and knives at his seat.

Nancy looked at the new items on the table, their character sheets and minis gone and replaced with their character items and clothing. She gingerly picked up her new crossbow, testing its weight and how to hold it. She turned to Robin who was flipping through a book filled with runes that she couldn’t understand. Robin’s blue eyes widened, her jaw dropping as she scanned through it.

“I understand what this is,” Robin said in disbelief, “I can read this.”

“Holy shit,” Eddie muttered, “Are we in the game? Not the type of level of immersion I was imagining. I was thinking more like LARP or something, but…”

His eyes caught the sight of a thick leather book, replacing his DM notes and Monster Manual. He ran his fingers along the embossing of the cover, a shiver running down his spine as a whisper tickled the back of his mind. So, the others were their characters, he presumed. Steve was a paladin, Robin a wizard, Nancy a ranger, and Jonathan a rogue. He usually played a bard, but this? This screamed warlock. So, who was his patron?

A noise from above jolted everyone from their state of shock, Steve taking position in front of the group with his great sword held at the ready. Nancy grabbed the nearest bolt and took a minute to figure out how to load the crossbow.

Footsteps neared the top of the stone stairs ahead of them, a warm glow leaking underneath the wooden door. Steve gripped the hilt and planted his feet in anticipation before the footsteps moved away. He exchanged a look with Nancy and Jonathan before moving towards the stairs. Robin jerked forward.

“Be careful, dingus,” she hissed.

Steve grimaced and gave her a nod, making his steps light as possible as he ascended. As he drew closer to the door, he began to hear bustling and chatter outside, like a bar or something. He turned to look at the group with a frown, lowering his sword to peek through the crack of the door. It was a bar. Well, some medieval bar. Tavern, as Eddie would describe it.

He made his way back down and described what he saw. They agreed to go up together, changing their outfits and packing their things before moving. With all the weird shit that they had dealt with throughout the years, they knew it was best to just roll with it and find out what’s going on to stop it. Steve was at the front again with Eddie, Robin, and Nancy in the middle, and Jonathan at the back. They pulled over the hoods of their cloaks and walked out, the sound of the tavern hitting them full force.

“Ah, adventurers!” A man with a full blonde mustache exclaimed, getting up from his table with arms spread open. “I’ve been awaiting your arrival. I am Sir Arthur Calthorn.”

“Have you?” Eddie asked, stepping forward.

“Oh, yes, indeed, Edmund the Banished. I’ve sent a letter to your guild for aid. Have you read it?”

“Guys?” Nancy held out a piece of parchment that appeared in her hand towards them.

“No fucking way,” Eddie muttered as Robin took it from her. “This is the exact letter I wrote out for you guys at the start of the game.”

“So, what? We gotta deal with this evil wizard again?” Jonathan asked.

“Precisely, Pentaxl, known by many circles as Ghostwalker for his quiet deposition and silent and quick movements. Nance Swifttaker, the deadliest and most precise shot of all the realms, a pleasure to see you as always. Magenta Silvertongue, genius polyglot and one of the most powerful spellcasters to ever grace the academy.” The man, Calthorn, nodded over to Nancy and Robin before clapping a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “And the brave Steven Oathkeeper, slayer of beasts and protector of man.”

“Why do you guys have cool introductions?” Eddie whined under his breath. Nancy smacked him in the shoulder, shaking her head.

“You must help us with the darkness that threatens to spread throughout the Forgotten Realms. If the darkness spreads, then all of humanity is lost.”

“Cool. This isn’t crazy at all,” Steve muttered, sharing a freaked out look with Robin.

“And what realm are we in exactly?” Robin asked.

“Abeir-Toril,” Eddie answered before Calthorn could say anything. “One of many planets that exists in the Torilian System or the Realmspace.”

“Sharp as always, Edmund the Banished,” Calthorn said, snapping his fingers.

Eddie grimaced. “Don’t call me Edmund.”

“We need to get back home,” Nancy said, bringing back the situation at hand. “We’re not from here.”

“Of course, Miss Swifttaker, but in order to return to your homeworld, you must complete this mission,” Calthorn said, nodding to the letter. “And a key will be granted to you to take you back. Now…”

He clapped his hands and the group was teleported outside of the tavern where horses and a carriage awaited them. They looked around at the bustling and seemingly thriving city that they found themselves in, a steady traffic of carriages through the main road, market stalls lining the other side of the street, layers upon layers of districts passed that, leading up to a grand building in the middle.

“Now, come along,” Calthorn urged, climbing into the carriage. “We will be needing to meet with the counsel before you five set off.”

“Uh, normally I wouldn’t get in the car with strangers, so what’s the call here?” Robin whispered.

“He said that we will be given a key once we stop the darkness or something,” Nancy said, “And it’ll take us home. Unless we find some other way to get back without having to deal with all of this… whether it’s some kind of dream or whatever, we just have to keep moving and stick together. That’s all we can do for now. If we gain more information about this place, we’ll know where to go next.”

“See, this is why Wheeler, sorry, Swifttaker, is the leader,” Eddie said with a grin.

Jonathan nodded sagely. “So, who’s going in the carriage with the guy?”

“I’ll take one of the horses,” Steve offered, “I’m assuming that carriage can only fit four people, so…”

“I’ve got the crossbow, so I’ll take the other horse,” Nancy said.

“Okay, cool, but do you guys really think that we’ll be attacked in the middle of the city?” Robin asked, looking around. “Do you guys even know how to ride a horse?”

“I learned when I was little,” Steve said with a shrug.

Nancy nodded. “Me, too. It was during a rare Wheeler family vacation.”

“Ugh, rich people,” Eddie teased with a roll of his eyes. “I guess us peasants will take the fancy carriage, then. After you, m’lady.”

He held a hand out to help Robin in and did the same for Jonathan, much to his amusement, after Jonathan squeezed Nancy’s hand and kissed her on the forehead. Eddie turned to Steve and smiled.

“Guard the carriage for us, won’t you, big boy?” he said with a wink.

“I don’t know, am I getting a kiss on the forehead, too?” Steve played along.

Eddie’s grin widened. He leaned forward and planted an obnoxiously wet kiss on his forehead before patting him on his reddening cheek. Nancy raised an eyebrow at Steve who looked dazed until she nudged his shoulder. Once everyone was in the carriage and the other two on the horses, the group set off for what Calthorn called the Guild Quarters.

“God, I feel like I’m going to wake up any minute, having fallen asleep because of how boring the campaign was,” Robin said, her eyes darting around out the window.

“Hey, you guys were totally enjoying it!” Eddie protested.

Jonathan sighed. “Just when I thought I’d seen everything.”

The carriage merged into the traffic, being carried away towards the center of the city. Nothing looked familiar to anyone except Eddie, who’s eyes kept getting impossibly bigger the deeper into the city they traveled, seeing the map he made come to life right before him.

“Well, whatever is happening, hopefully this is a cool send off for you three before you leave for college, huh?”

Eddie turned away, feeling something pinch in his mind. A low growl echoed through his brain, a cold feeling like tentacles wrapping around him made him flinch.

“Eddie,” a familiar voice purred.

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