#i wrote based on a prompt

[reallygroovyninja]

Lexa and Clarke ambled down the quiet city street, their fingers lightly brushing against each other's as the world moved around them in a blur of muted sounds and color. As they passed by a myriad of storefronts, one in particular caught Clarke's eye, causing her to halt in her tracks.

It was a quaint art gallery, its window displaying an abundance of beautiful paintings. But one painting stood out to Clarke — a magnificent tapestry of colors, embodying emotions that spoke to her deeply. "Lexa, look at that," Clarke whispered, her voice filled with wonder. Lexa followed Clarke's gaze, and for a moment, both women were lost in the strokes and hues of the artwork.

The world around them was muted, the distant hum of the city blending with the subtle rustling of trees. Gathering her thoughts, Lexa turned to Clarke with a vulnerability in her eyes that wasn't often seen. "Do you ever regret it?" she asked hesitantly. Clarke looked at her, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Regret what?" she probed. Lexa exhaled, searching for the right words. "Not pursuing your love of art," she finally voiced out. Clarke's gaze drifted away for a moment, lost in a whirlwind of memories and dreams left behind.

As they stood there, the weight of Lexa's question lingered in the air. Clarke took a deep breath, her eyes reflecting the moon's gentle glow as she met Lexa's gaze. "No," she replied with unwavering certainty, "I don't regret it."

Seeing the surprise in Lexa's eyes, she continued, "When I chose to follow you to Polis University and pursue medicine, it wasn't just about us or about abandoning my passion for art. It was a calling. Something deep within me knew that this was where I needed to be, what I needed to do." She reached out, holding Lexa's hand reassuringly. "My love for art will always be a part of me, but walking this path with you, healing and helping others, feels just as right."

The stillness of the street enveloped them, amplifying the sincerity and depth of Clarke's words. As they resonated within Lexa, a rush of emotions welled up inside her, a concoction of admiration, understanding, and overwhelming love.

She looked deep into Clarke's blue eyes, seeing not just the woman she loved, but a soul filled with passion and purpose. Overwhelmed by the profound connection and the gravity of the moment, Lexa bridged the distance between them.

Gently cradling Clarke's face, she pressed her lips onto hers. It was a kiss that spoke volumes, a silent acknowledgment of their shared journey and the sacrifices they made for each other and their dreams. The world around them faded as they lost themselves in the kiss, a testament to their unbreakable bond.

As their lips parted, Clarke and Lexa remained close, foreheads touching, and eyes still closed. The cacophony of life around them — the chirping crickets, distant conversations, and soft rustle of leaves — seemed distant, as if the world had taken a pause to honor their bond. With a shared smile and intertwined fingers, they stood, ready to face the challenges and joys the future would bring. Both women had made choices, faced regrets, and confronted fears, but together, they found strength and purpose. And as they walked away, side by side, it was evident to anyone who saw them that they were not just two souls in love, but also partners on a journey of growth, discovery, and unyielding commitment.

[beevean]

[krenenbaker]

Trick or Treat~!

Pairing: Che'nya x Floyd (could be read platonically or romantically)

Summary: It's finally Halloween night, but Floyd is in a bit of a slump. However, the arrival of a curious companion may just make the Halloween party a bit more interesting for him.

Notes: This is my first attempt at something following a prompt - specifically, "Trick or Treat" for the 2023 TWST Rarepair Halloween event. I'm trying to get more comfortable/practiced with writing prose (which is why this wasn't posted on the 30th... oops), and only vaguely ended up following the prompt. I'm fairly happy with how this little piece turned out, though!

Tags: @dove-da-birb, @azulashengrottospiano, @inkybloom-luv, @eynnwwyjth, @officialdaydreamer00 (please let me know if you'd like to be included or excluded from future writing of mine, or only want to be included in specific types of creations)

Floyd wanted to take a break. 

It was Halloween, and all he had done the entire week was work, work, work. Getting costumes ready, decorating, helping with their dorm's presentation, plus cooking and serving at the Lounge, all on top of normal classes? 

Sure, it was fun, especially getting to show off Octavinelle's cool setup, and 'taking care of' those misbehaving visitors. But now? Everything felt draining and boring, and Floyd simply wanted to leave, which sucked because the actual Halloween party had just started!  

Maybe he should just ditch and go back to his dorm; being in a funk when everyone else is having fun around you is not enjoyable.  He slumped down on a bench and unwrapped a sweet he had picked up earlier, before wrapping it up again. Ugh, not even in the mood for that candy he wanted only a few minutes ago. 

As he shoved the sweet back into his pocket and was about to get up from the bench to leave, Floyd heard a rustle behind him. Someone was quietly humming, and… laughing? The sound gradually moved to his side, towards the empty side of the bench.  

“Trick or treat~”

Floyd turned to face the voice. "Listen, man, I'm not in the mood to—” he froze, staring at the figure beside him. “Hang on a second, where's your body!?"

A toothy smile came to the face of the head that currently floated beside Floyd. "Oh, it's here.... or maybe it's there." A pair of hands materialized on either side of this boy's head, followed by the rest of his body. 

“I'm just kidding. Mind if I take a seat? I’d like to rest up before I keep purrowling around and startling people.”

Floyd blinked, then raised an eyebrow. “Uh, go for it.” 

This guy was... weird, and it was hard to tell if he'd be annoying, or interesting. "You don't go here, do ya? At least, I’ve never seen you before. And you’re no ghost, either.”

The cat-like boy shook his head, his jewellery jingling softly. "I'm just passing through for the festivities and collecting treats. Scaring some people, too. That’s loads of fun. And it's always nice to see my friends let loose." 

Floyd had a vague memory surface. "Ohh... you must be that RSA boy who's friends with Sea Turtle and Goldfishie." 

"'Sea Turtle' and 'Goldfishie', hey? Those are good names for my green and red friends. Cats are known for liking fish." He leaned forward, his grin growing. “Artemiy Artemiyevich Pinker. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Floyd nodded, “Floyd Leech. It's nice to meet you, too.” He looked curiously at the boy beside him, taking in his shaggy hair, piercings, and impish smile.

"You're not what I expected.” Floyd smiled, "But you seem fun, Catfish. I didn't think Goldfishie would get along with someone so... interesting."

Che'nya's eyes lit up slightly. "Catfish? Heh heh heh, most people call me Che'nya, but I guess that works. And I’ve heard some… interesting stories about you, too."

He stretched his legs out in front of him, leaning back with his arms behind his head as he sighed. "But yeah, I don't think Riddle could shake me if he tried." 

"I'm almost jealous." Floyd tipped his head slightly. "Most of the time, Goldfishie likes to swim away before I can play with him."

Che'nya laughed, "Well, if you're wondering, he 'swam off' that way." He pointed off to the side. “Just don’t be rough with him. I don’t like people mistreating my friends.”

Floyd looked off into the crowd where he had pointed, and let out a small laugh. “Alright, good to know. Maybe I’ll find him later, if I feel like it”, he smiled and sat back. “And Goldfishie’s stronger than he looks, but I guess you’d know that.”

Che’nya nodded, then leaned closer with a mischievous glint in his eye. "You know, I bet we could do something that would really surprise him.” 

Floyd turned slightly towards Che’nya, and flashed a smile. “Yeah, we probably could. I think we should talk more in the future, Catfish. You seem pretty fun.” 

Che’nya grinned, “You seem pretty fun, too.”

"Well,” he stretched his arms above his head. “I think I’m going to go and find some more treats… and play some more tricks tonight. I'll catch you around, Floyd." 

With a haunting giggle echoing in his ears, Floyd watched as the boy beside him faded into nothingness, just the same way he had arrived. 

What a weird guy.

Floyd unwrapped the candy he had pocketed earlier, then popped it into his mouth. Maybe this party was worth staying at after all.

[cassiebones]

'15. I'm your gift this year' for the Agathario writing prompt, please!

Four Days to Christmas

"When are you coming home?"

Agatha sighed. Her son's eyes were visibly wet on the other side of the Zoom call, his bottom lip protruding as he gave her his sad puppy dog look. The only difference now was that she could tell he wasn't using the look to get something he wanted from her and was genuinely sad that she wasn't there with him this time.

She was in California this week, working on a last-minute work 'emergency' they'd called it, but honestly she could have probably done this via Zoom and remote access to somebody's computer. Men were just highly incompetent, it seemed. She vowed that her son would never be this incompetent, though.

"Soon," Agatha promised. "I'll be home before Christmas, I swear. I just have to finish up a few things here and then I'll be on the next plane home. Maybe I'll even hitch a ride with Santa Claus."

That didn't get the giggle she had hoped it would. Nicky's face was still somber, a tear leaking out from the corner of his eye. Agatha's heart ached.

This was the first holiday season in his short six years of life that she wasn't home to help him and her wife put up the tree or decorate the house or bake Christmas cookies. She'd had to watch them do all that while on Zoom as she put out fires at the California office that her inept colleagues had set nearly every day this month.

At this point, she swore they were doing it on purpose just to keep her away from her family - or to avoid their own families.

She was putting out feelers at other companies, one based closer to home, with the understanding that she was not available to travel this far away, especially during the holidays. As soon as she found another job, she was putting in her resignation, cashing in her PTO, and leaving these imbeciles in the dust.

"I will make it home to you," Agatha promised again. "You have my word."

She didn't know if she could make that promise. It was four days until Christmas and she didn't even have a flight booked, but she would spend any amount of money just to see that little face in person.

Nicky's chin quivered, and Agatha's heart cracked just a little bit more.

Three Days to Christmas

"How are things going over there?" Rio asked. Agatha groaned, flopping down onto her hotel bed. "So good then?"

Agatha let out a snort. "I don't know how I ended up at a company so full of idiots," she said. "I swear to Goddess, babe, I don't know how these men have survived this far in life without walking straight into traffic. They are so dumb. And now they're going to make me late for Christmas." She felt tears spring into her eyes.

"It'll be all be okay," Rio said, soothingly. "Everything will work out like it should. You just focus on showing these idiots up and making them realize what they're going to be missing when you're gone. Speaking of, have you heard back from anywhere?"

"Several places, actually," Agatha said. "I'm going with whoever offers me the first contract. Which seems to be...Kale Kare. I'm not really into their products, but I can be if Jen Kale can get me back to New Jersey before Christmas Eve." Christmas Eve was in two days.

"Good luck with that," Rio said with a chuckle. "I believe in you, babe."

"I love you," Agatha replied, her voice soft as she turned over on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. "Tell Nicky I'm going to be there."

"I will," Rio promised. "I love you, too."

Two Days to Christmas

Agatha was going to end up in prison on Christmas. She was going to be using her one phone call to speak to her son, to apologize and tell him that she wouldn't be making it home after all because she couldn't keep herself from strangling three grown men with her bare fucking hands.

If she had been allowed to handle everything on her own, without their ineptitude slowing her down, Agatha would have been home weeks ago, but these morons were fucking everything up with their cocky attitudes and unwillingness to ask her for assistance until it was nearly too late.

Agatha's resignation letter was sitting in a draft in her email, waiting for Jennifer Kale to send the contract for Agatha's signature. It was taking her a minute, but Agatha knew that she had to make sure that everything was ironclad as her lawyers looked over it.

Jen Kale's operations were based in New York, just an hour outside Westview, and while she had operations in other states, it was in Agatha's contract that she would not make Agatha travel anywhere more than a three-hour flight away too close to any major holiday or birthday in her family.

Also, her company was 95% female-led, which would be a refreshing change, and she could match Agatha's current salary.

All she needed to do was sign on the dotted line.

Jennifer's email found her after midnight. Agatha spent most of the early hours of Christmas Eve reading through the contract, checking everything off her list, then signed and sent it back. She fired off her resignation letter to the CEO after that, placing her phone on Do Not Disturb before buying herself a ticket home for Christmas.

One Day to Christmas

All flights were delayed.

Agatha wanted to cry. It was six hours until midnight. She was at the airport, running on three hours of sleep, grumpy as all hell. Her wife wasn't answering her phone or texts, and her flight was delayed indefinitely due to a snowstorm in Newark the fucking night before Christmas.

Tears stung her eyes as she paced the terminal, waiting for the inevitable announcement that her flight would just be straight-up cancelled.

Nicky was going to be so upset.

"Ladies and gentlemen," an announcement said above her head. Agatha's heart sunk. "We regret to inform you that flight 1674, from San Francisco to Newark, has been delayed until 11 am on December 25th. We are so sorry to have disrupted your holiday plans. You will all receive a voucher for a complimentary meal, as well as discounted rates at the nearest hotels. Once again, our apologies. Happy Holidays."

"Fuck," Agatha whined, plopping down into a seat. "Fuck."

"That's a bad word."

Agatha nearly jumped out of her skin, spinning around to see her wife and child standing just feet away. Tears sprung to her eyes as she ran to them, dropping to her knees in front of her son and pulling him into her embrace, squeezing him tightly as though he would vanish into thin air if she let him go even for a single second.

"What are you doing here?" she huffed, looking up at Rio, who was just as misty-eyed as she stared down at them. "How did you get here? Isn't there a snowstorm?"

"Just missed us," Rio said. "We left before it started."

"How did you know I wouldn't make it home in time? Did you have so little faith in me?" Agatha stood, hefting Nicky onto her hip, holding him close to her body.

"Oh, sweetheart," Rio said, stepping closer to cup her cheek in her hand, "it had nothing to do with that. My lack of faith was in your incompetent business partners." She rolled her eyes. "I bought Nicky and myself a couple of open-ended plane tickets. The fact that we were able to get a flight so last-second is a minor miracle in itself. But I knew when I saw the weather report this morning that you'd never be able to make it home, by no fault of your own. So...here we are, bringing Christmas to you."

"Babe," Agatha breathed, pulling Rio in by her scarf, pressing her lips to the other woman's. Rio wrapped her arms around Agatha and Nicky, sinking into Agatha's kiss. "I love you so damn much," Agatha whispered against her wife's lips.

"That's also a curse," Nicky piped up, eliciting a snort from Agatha and a laugh from Rio as she pressed a kiss to the crown of his head and poked him in the side. Nicky giggled, pressing his face into Agatha's neck.

"Come on," Agatha said, already reaching for her suitcase. "Next flight isn't until eleven AM. Let's go find a hotel and get something to eat."

"Sounds good to me," Rio said, slinging her arm around Agatha's waist as they headed in the direction of the exit.

Zero Days to Christmas

"Mami! Mama! Wake up! It's Christmas!"

Agatha groaned, pulling her wife more closely to her body. It had been three weeks since she'd last seen the other woman in person, and they'd barely gotten four hours of sleep after finally getting Nicky to sleep the night before, his excitement for Christmas practically having him bouncing off the walls into the early hours of the morning.

They had set the expectation that Santa probably wouldn't find them in the hotel, on the opposite side of the country, in time for Christmas, but all his gifts would almost certainly be under the tree when they returned home to Westview, which would no doubt be covered in several feet of snow. Nicky was ostensibly fine with that.

But now he was acting the way he'd acted every Christmas since he realized what the holiday meant for their family: like he was about to find a pile of gifts under the tree with his name on them.

But there was no tree this year, not in this hotel, anyway. There was nothing to unwrap. They'd do all that when they got back to Jersey.

"Come on!" Nicky huffed, tugging the comforter off of their huddled bodies, exposing them to the cold. "Get up!"

Agatha groaned, shoving her face into Rio's neck.

"I brought a few things," Rio whispered in her ear, so low that Agatha almost missed it. "Just so he'd have something to open."

"Whyyyyyy?" Agatha moaned, wrapping her body more tightly around Rio's. Rio chuckled in her ear, pressing a kiss to her temple.

"Stay in bed," she said, extracting herself. "I'll make you some coffee and be right back. We'll bring the gifts here."

"I love you so fucking much," Agatha all but whined, pressing a kiss to Rio's lips before letting her go.

"Alright, buddy," she heard Rio say. "Show me where the gifts Santa left you are."

"Why isn't Mama coming?" Nicky asked.

"Because somebody kept her up until nearly two in the morning," Rio snorted. "You're lucky Santa brought you anything at all after that. She needs coffee."

Rio shut the door behind them, leaving Agatha in peace for a few moments. She found herself drifting back off to sleep almost immediately, so exhausted from the previous night and the entirety of the last month away from her family. She didn't sleep very well without her human pillow, Rio, or the little bundle of energy they'd made together (sperm donor or not, there was no way to convince Agatha that Nicky wasn't biologically Rio's son, not when they shared so many similar features.)

Her ex-colleagues had been trying to get back in touch with her since she'd emailed her resignation, insisting that they could increase her pay if she would just stay with the company. Agatha refused to even entertain the idea. There was no amount they could pay her that would justify her doing 85% of the work in a team of four people. And they were all local while she had to fly across the country for it? No way.

She hoped Kale Kare would be a better fit. She was almost certain it would be. And Agatha would happily watch her old company sink like the Titanic in the meantime.

She was awoken next by a soft kiss on her cheek. Agatha's eyes fluttered open to see Rio standing above her, holding a steaming cup of coffee in her hand.

"Morning, my love," Rio said, "again. Coffee?"

"Marry me," Agatha sighed, sitting up as she took the offered cup.

"We're already married," Rio laughed.

"I was talking to the coffee," Agatha huffed, making Rio bark out a laugh. She bumped the other woman's shoulder as she sat down on the bed next to her, her own cup of steaming tea in her hands. Nicky was at the end of the bed, holding his red and green striped stocking, stuffed with as many gifts as Rio could fit into her backpack without arising suspicion from the boy.

"Santa Clause brought me my stocking!" he told them. "He said that he realized we weren't home, so he decided to just bring this, but all my other gifts are under our tree."

"Well, that was nice of him," Agatha said. "We should send him a thank you letter for being so thoughtful."

"Yeah!" Nicky said. "He didn't bring your stockings, though." He shrugged, sympathetically.

"That's okay," Agatha said. "I'm sure we'll manage until tonight."

"Open your presents," Rio encouraged. "Show us what you got!"

Nicky got some toy figurines from his favorite show, a mini bunny squishmallow, two toy cars, and goodie bag of his favorite candies. He let out a squeal for every gift he unwrapped, hugging them all against his chest as he bounced on the bed with excitement.

"Wow, if that's just what Santa brought you in your stocking, I can't imagine what he has under the tree for you," Agatha said.

"We may need to take out a second mortgage," Rio whispered in her ear. Agatha snorted, pressing her face to her wife's shoulder.

"Can I go play with my new toys?" Nicky asked, already jumping off the bed with all his goodies in his arms.

"Go ahead," Agatha said, "but leave the candy here. No sweets before breakfast."

"Okay," Nicky groaned, dropping the bag onto the bed, before running around to Agatha's side, throwing himself into her arms. "I'm glad we could be together for Christmas," he murmured into her shoulder. Agatha felt tears spring to her eyes as she hugged him back, pressing a kiss to his hair.

"Me too, baby," she said. "Now, go play. We gotta start getting ready to head back to the airport in a couple of hours."

"Okay!" Nicky exclaimed, already running back to the door, pulling it closed behind him as he entered the main room of their hotel suite.

Agatha took another sip of her coffee and sighed as she leaned into Rio's side. "I didn't get a gift for you this year," she said, regretfully. "I didn't have the time. I'm sorry."

"You did get a gift for me, actually," Rio said, taking her mug from her hands and placing it on the bedside table next to her own. "You are my gift this year, my love. And I'm yours." Agatha smiled as Rio pressed her lips to hers, Rio's arms encircling her waist as she pulled her closer.

[ghostinthegallery]

Whenever I see someone raving about a 40k character or faction or event or concept that I do not like or just fine incredibly boring, I remind myself that the odds are good we both have entirely different ideas if what those characters/factions/events even are. We may legit not be talking about the same things.

I'm not talking about having different tastes (which also happens). Between the books, codexes, more books, white dwarf, books, and fanfic it's so easy to get wildly different impressions about literally everything in 40k. Half the shit is made up by fans and the official stuff is contradictory. Nothing is canon, everything is true, the only constant is that your blorbo is a war criminal.

[spinnysocks]

mini kiburi x ushari fic :3

Every muscle in Kiburi's body ached. Scar just had to call a meeting after he, Janja and Reirei had their tails handed to them by the Lion Guard for the thousandth time.

The only positive thing about the sundown meeting was Ushari. While Scar berated them as usual, the snake gave the crocodiles the benefit of the doubt - they were being sent on nearly every mission lately and were likely overtired, of course they couldn't fight as well. The firey lion didn't like to hear that coming from his second-in-command, but it was better than having to hear his prolonged reprimanding.

“Tomorrow morning, you will attack Ukuni Woods, where there will be less backlash from the Pridelanders.” Scar announced. He set his gaze on Kiburi, then looked at Ushari who gave him a nod. “Kiburi, you and your float can rest, as long as you fight better.”

The crocodile leader stood tall. “We crocs can fight just fine. We won't lose next time.”

“You better. Now, all of you go and prepare for tomorrow… And I don't want to hear any excuses again.” The ghostly lion threatened before disappearing into smoke.

Kiburi sighed deeply and let his eyes close for a second. He hadn't been allowed to sleep properly in who knows how many days. The news, although extremely small and insignificant, was a relief for him and his float.

“Kiburi?”

He opened his eyes and glanced to see Ushari slithering towards him. They were the only two left in the volcano now. The atmosphere was strangely peaceful for once.

“I thought you might fall asleep there.” The cobra was joking, but there was something more in his voice that he couldn't quite pinpoint.

Kiburi turned to face him, feeling every sore muscle as he moved. He stared back at Ushari, for once in his life unable to think of a comeback due to his fatigue. “I should get back to my float before they start thinkin’ we’ll be on tomorrow's mission.”

He began walking down from the volcano’s ledge, each step slower than usual. Ushari caught up and matched his speed.

“I’ll accompany you.” The snake insisted in his ever-so-casual tone. Kiburi continued walking as he considered it. He supposed it wouldn't hurt to have company but he had to play it off.

“Don’t you need to return to your hollow for the night? It's getting dark.” As they exited the volcano, he looked up at the darkening sky where stars were beginning to show. At least it was a pretty night.

“I slept during the day. Scar usually has his best schemes in the middle of the night.”

Kiburi snickered. “Sure. What I meant was, why are you escorting me? I'm not some weak, pathetic animal who needs protection.” The words came out his mouth a little ruder than he intended.

“Of course not. You're the farthest from that… when you're not falling asleep on your feet.” Ushari responded, smirking as Kiburi snapped his weary head back up at the comment.

The crocodile leader stopped. “So you are here to protect me—”

“Relax. All I'm doing is making sure you don't walk into a rock on your way.”

The pair resumed walking. Kiburi smirked slightly. “Sounds like something my float would do. They’re a bunch of fish-for-brains.”

Ushari watched the expression on his face closely with curiosity. The crocodile barely ever smiled, but it was nice when he did. “But you like them?”

“Like them? Ha! They're my only friends.” The somewhat sad response sounded positive coming from the crocodile. Maybe it was just the fatigue.

The cobra raised an eyebrow at him, a smug smile on his face. “Am I not your friend?”

Kiburi looked back at him with a blank face. “...I like you enough. For you to be my friend, I mean.”

“I assumed we already were. Perhaps making friends with crocodiles is different from snakes. Although, a crocodile liking me is high praise to me.” Ushari hissed.

Kiburi glanced away, refusing to let the sudden redness on his face be seen. Even in his sleep-deprived state, he wouldn't let himself be uncharacteristically flustered. He could play it cool.

“Another reptile respecting me is high praise to me. I liked you from the moment we met.”

Ushari chuckled. “Not enough to be unspoken friends?” The hint in his voice was just like that of their first meeting — smooth and casual and yet producing so many feelings in the crocodile.

Kiburi dared to look at him again — if he was brave enough to fight, then he was brave enough to look at Ushari's face. “Oh, I don't think we're friends, Ushari…”

[go-whump-in-the-night]

a whumper tormenting a tied up whumpee and his healer caretaker. Caretaker can magically resurrect Whumpee from the dead...and Whumper knows this. "How many times can you do that?" Whumper asks, before running their sword through Whumpee for the third time.

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

Landlocked: A Rohan Secret Santa Ficlet

This is for you, @hastyhobbit !!! All of your prompts were intriguing, and I wish I could have done them all justice. I went with the prompt on the sea (what do the Rohirrim think of it? Do they have stories or legends about it?) and wrote you a Théodred and Éowyn story.

The fic is here on AO3 or below. It’s Théodred being the ultimate good cousin/big brother figure by giving teen Éowyn some life advice on a trip to the beach. Big thanks to @celeluwhenfics who read an early draft and whose wise and prompt feedback saved me many hours of staring at it!

Note that Storhaern is the Rohirric name for the ocean to the west of Middle Earth and just means “great sea.” In this story, Éowyn is 14, Éomer is 18, and Théodred is 31.

🐚🦀🐚🦀🐚🦀🐚🦀🐚🦀🐚🦀

Coast of the Storhaern, T.A. 3009

“Do you not want to feel the surf, cousin? Even just to wade a little right here at the shore?”

Théodred splashed his foot back and forth in the turquoise shallows, sending a light spray of water in Éowyn’s direction, but she barely looked up from the little shell she was turning idly in her hands. In fact, she had barely looked up since they arrived on the coast earlier that morning, plopping down a few yards from the water’s leading edge and keeping quietly to herself despite Éomer’s numerous entreaties to join him in the waves. She still sat in that same quietude, though she had moved steadily back as the advancing tide claimed more and more of the beach, and she held her silence even as Théodred walked over now to take a seat next to her in the coarse, warm sand.

Shielding his eyes from the sun, he squinted out at the rolling swell, an endless rippling expanse that blended gradually into the blue of the sky in the farthest distance. “They say that out there somewhere is the land where the elves go when they’re ready to leave Middle Earth,” he said, nodding toward the wide vista before them. “Eventually, they all feel the call and sail off to spend the rest of eternity beyond the horizon in a land that can’t be found by any mortal traveler.” He nudged her gently with his elbow. “What do you think of that?”

She glanced up at him just long enough to frown before returning her gaze to the shell in her hand. “It makes no difference to me. I don’t even know any elves.”

“Me neither. But I still like to think about it sometimes.” He stretched out his legs toward a small crest that swept up the sand to lap at his toes before disappearing back into the shoals, leaving clumps of colorful sea grass in its wake. “How might those other shores look? Do they have the same problems and sadnesses that we find here? Do the people there ever miss Middle Earth once they’ve sailed away from it? There are no answers in our songs and poems.”

She gave a listless shrug. “Thinking about all that serves no purpose. Even if that land exists, you’ll never see it.”

“You may be right.” He gave a mild smile and then arched a brow. “But then again, you may not. Lots of things happen in life that we don’t expect, and there’s no telling where you may end up.”

This time she merely sighed in response, and when it was clear that she would say nothing further they sat in silence, listening to the rhythmic washing of water back and forth over rock and sand and the echoing cries of the gulls and terns.

He watched her from the corner of his eye as they sat, marveling at how she had both the fresh face of inexperienced youth and the grave aspect of one who had already endured much. He had worked hard over the years to lighten those somber tendencies, to give her a place of loving stability and protection so that she could reclaim a little of the carefree childhood that she deserved, and his efforts had not been entirely in vain. He had looked on with pride as she slowly transformed from a mournful and subdued little girl into a bright and spirited young woman, full of enthusiasm and mischief and quick both to action and affection. But lately he could see this hard fought progress eroding, wearing gradually away like the boulders that lined the edge of the bay and broke the hardest of the surf. She laughed and smiled less frequently, and she had become prone to long periods of contemplative quiet, holding herself apart from people and things that she loved and reappraising it all with a sharper, more critical eye.

She had declined his many invitations to talk about what troubled her, leaving him only to speculate. But the timing of this change in her bearing — coinciding, as it did, with Éomer’s assumption of his first official duties — spoke volumes to Théodred. He had long perceived that she had the mind and mettle to match her brother deed for deed, though she had yet to voice the inclination and perhaps didn’t even believe it to be a thought worth putting into words.

It was partly for that reason that Théodred had brought her here in the first place. Away from the confines of her daily existence and the familiar plains and valleys whose every golden field and glittering stream she already knew by heart, he’d hoped that she would open up. He hoped she would allow herself to be as boundless and unpredictable as the foreign ocean that was now before her in all its glorious might, so much wider and more mysterious than their own land that was tightly bounded by mountains and rivers. He wanted her to see that her life need not always be the same, and she needn’t always be hemmed in by borders, real or imagined. She could carve a new path — he would help her to do it — if she only trusted herself enough to try.

He knew from experience that she could maintain a silence more stubbornly than anyone, and so after a time he ventured to speak again, putting a hand on her arm and squeezing lightly until she looked up at him at last.

“I’m glad that we’re here,” he said. “I know the sea doesn’t mean much to our people. Most Rohirrim will never even set eyes on it, nor feel the need to, and we get all that we require from the Snowbourn or the Entwash or the Adorn. But there’s a reason I wanted you to see it, cousin, and not just for its beauty. The world is a very big place, much bigger than you can imagine, and even the seemingly endless Storhaern is just one small part. It’s a reminder that there is much still to explore and learn and accomplish out there.”

She laughed, a hollow, mirthless sound with a bitter edge that seemed to speak unsaid words. Not for me. Her eyes flashed in the midday sun but a tremble in her lip tinged her bitterness with sorrow, and she turned aside from him, dropping the shell to the ground with a dull thud. “I’d rather be alone again, cousin, if you don’t mind. Just come and fetch me when Éomer is done having his fun.”

He stifled a small sigh of defeat and made ready to honor her request, but the flat, tired tone in her voice tugged at his heart like the tow of the bay’s undercurrent and he found that he couldn’t walk away without first trying to offer something that might be of comfort. As he groped for the right words, he stared down at the discarded shell, a pearlescent spiral of soft pink with bright whorls of red and orange, and picked it up, tracing a finger across its smooth, hard surface. A memory began to slowly emerge from the depths of his mind. A memory of another delicate shell in a hand much like Éowyn’s. A memory from long ago that told him exactly what he wanted to say now.

“May I share just one more thing, cousin? And then I promise that I’ll leave you to your thoughts.”

She nodded without turning.

“When I was a small boy, I once found a shell just like this one that you’ve been toying with. We were visiting Grandmother’s family, and Aunt Théodwyn took me for a special day at the beach, just the two of us. We swam and watched the boats coming into the harbor, and she buried me in the sand until only my head and my feet were still visible.”

Her back was still to him, but he could tell by the slight tilt of her head that she was listening, caught as always by any reference to her mother.

“My favorite part was digging around in the tidal flats for clams and snails and other creatures hiding in the silt, and we discovered a small crab living in a little pink and orange shell. That shell was meant to protect him and give him a place to rest and grow, and it seemed to do its job well. But your mother told me that it wouldn’t always. As the crab got older and bigger, the shell would start to feel uncomfortable to him. It would restrain him from doing everything he wanted and needed to do, becoming a hindrance rather than a help. And so he would change it. When he felt ready, he’d crawl out and find a new one that suited him better and made him happy. He didn’t have to be trapped forever in the shell he started with. He just needed the courage to claim a different one.” He leaned over to place the shell back in front of her before hoisting himself to his feet. “Sounds pretty smart, if you ask me.”

He dropped a kiss on the top of her head as he straightened up and then left her as promised, heading out to the surf line where Éomer and a few of his guards were gleefully allowing themselves to be battered by the incoming tide. He took only one quick look back to see that she held the shell in her hand once more, staring at it with new intensity, and when she quietly slipped it into her pocket, he smiled.

[lumpywhump]

"Betrayal is definitely the worse emotion I've felt so far. So..." whumpee blinked back tears. "why would you make me feel this?"

[smallidarityfan]

self-indulgent smallidarity edit of Joel being weird (based on the themed guess the build video and the statue commission) (I MISS THEM)

[whumpetywhumpwhump]

A lawyer sickie who turns up to their court case with a steadily building migraine, keeping up appearances despite how awful they feel. They make it through about fifteen minutes of the case before it's their turn to speak, and as they stand up, their usual verbose defence just... isn't there. In fact, they can hardly even speak at all, the words turning to mush inside their head.

Of course, this is incredibly inconvenient, and lawyer sickie apologises to the judge, shaking their head as if to clear the fog and clearing their throat to carry on... only to feel their knees buckle as they pass out right in the middle of the crowded courtroom.

[missnatzooie]

Pearlina nose boop

[whumblr]

Think of a Whumpee enjoying their freedom again. They escaped, or they were rescued, let go... whatever, but they're finally settling back into old routines.

One day they receive a notification on their phone, from their own calendar app. It's for an appointment they didn't schedule themself. An invitation, including the time and place; tomorrow.

And their stomach just sinks. They know who it's from.

"Let's talk," it merely says.

[districtone]

annie cresta week | thursday | #sorryimlate

Annie doesn’t know what it’ll be yet, but it’ll be something.

They’re at the beach and she’s dragging her finger slowly through the sand. Feeling the grains part, feeling them grind against her fingertip. If you do this long enough - like the old women who make seashell necklaces - your skin turns rough and hardened and you can withstand any of it. Hers used to be like that - calloused fingers and hardened feet, from walking barefoot as a child - but the stylist team removed it all, made her hands slippery and soft. She didn’t like it. She didn’t like them, grinning with white teeth.

It’s making her feel all queasy. She takes a few short, deep breaths and tries to smell the sea. Salty. Fishy. Seawood, floating somewhere out there. Then she dips her finger again into the sand and draws.

“So…” 

Treiza can’t think of anything to say. It’s obvious, the way she flicks her eyes around the beach and fiddles with the hem of her trousers and keeps breathing out her nose. She’s been told to keep Annie company - guard her, in other terms - and she just isn’t good at it. Finnick is her favourite guard. At least he knows when to be quiet and when to talk.

Treiza is impatient. Treiza thinks that Annie is stupid and that she can’t tell when someone is annoyed with her. It’s sort of alarming, that she can’t make them go away, no matter how hard she insists. And can't do anything otherwise - can’t change herself, can’t convince them that she’s fine on her own, can’t pretend. 

“You know,” she tries, quietly, for the thousandth time, “I can be alone. I’m fine.”

Treiza blinks. “Well. Actually. Y’know. I like the beach.”

No, she doesn’t. It’s a nice lie, though. Annie frowns. “I don’t want you here.”

That gets a huff. Annie drags her finger in a circle. It wasn’t meant to be - like - that. Only honest. Treiza just lowers herself backwards, lies back on the hard sand, and rakes her fingers through it. That’s - hm. Too much to think about. Treiza’s arena was desert-like. And Annie’s was full of water. Drowning. Swimming. Treading waves.

She laughs. Not properly, just a huff of air.

Treiza looks over. She’s thoughtful. “What’s funny?”

Annie doesn’t thinks she should say. She smiles shyly.

“No, really,” says Treiza with a small smile, like they’re sharing it. “I could do with a laugh right now.”

“It’s not really funny. I was thinking about the arena.”

The smile freezes. It slowly, slowly creeps upside-down. Annie feels a hideous, sinking pain. Why does she always say the wrong thing? Or, they hear the wrong thing. She wants to go back to her drawing. It’s running away with her and she has to turn her back on Treiza to see it, to lean over and continue it.

For a while, Treiza is quiet. Then she sits up, brushes her hands together to get rid of the sand. It falls all over her legs. “Go on, tell me what it was about the - that.”

The sweeping lines are starting to connect. “I was thinking… that it’s so different here.”

“Yeah. It is.”

She feels eyes over her shoulder. Observing, and then seeing. “Hey. That’s real nice, Annie.”

“You’re looking at it upside-down.”

“It has a right way up?”

“Yes.” Obviously. Unless you’re in it, under it, all the way around, with no way to know where is where. Then, maybe, it’s hard to know if it has a right way up. “It’s a wave.”

She glances over her shoulder, to see Treiza look at it again. Her face - microbladed and stuck fast, her skin botoxed, contacts filtering her eyes from ugly grey to lucious brown - shifts, just a little. All those swirling patterns. All the lines coming together. Annie thinks that she could do this forever, all the way up and down the beach. “Oh. A wave. I see it.”

The tide is coming in. The waves will swallow each other.

And her special doodle will be washed away. It's funny. You can laugh.

[deepwaterwritingprompts]

Deep Water Prompt #2986

I am a paramedic, and the man below me is bleeding out. “Let me tell you my name,” he gasps. I’d rather die than learn another true name, so I nod, and slip my earplugs in. 

[beaft]

apologies for offering unsolicited advice but I know where you MIGHT be able to find copyediting work if you are interested

oh i am definitely interested! admittedly i'm kind of jaded at this point - i worked for the same editorial and translation agency for 7 years, only to get dropped without a word when the companies that typically commissioned us started pivoting to ai translation - but copyediting is still like,, the one thing i'm qualified to do lmao. please feel free to send me any pointers you have in these troubled times