#prompt 30 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kybercrystals94 · 6 months

Text

Regroup

(Part 3)

By KyberCrystals94

Read here on Ao3!

[Part 1 & Part 2]

Whumptober 2023 | Day 31 | Prompt 30: “It’s okay to say ‘I’m not okay.’” | Borrowed Clothing

Rating: T

Words: 1,555

Summary: Tech asks Omega about her past.

Omega helps Tech sit upright, then holds up a new shirt. Tech stares at it quizzically, and Omega smiles. “It’s one of Wrecker’s. Something loose.”

Tech makes a face but relents to Omega slipping the borrowed shirt over his head. “At least tell me it’s clean.”

“It was in his drawer.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

Omega releases a tight laugh, and helps Tech find the arms of the shirt as he tries not to disturb the fresh bandages. When she moves to help him to his feet, he realizes how lightheaded he still is, vision going grey. He stumbles forward, and Omega catches him, pressing small hands against his chest to keep him upright. Tech grips the arm of the pilot’s chair. “I will be alright once I’m seated,” he says.

He doesn’t see if Omega nods, but she doesn’t verbally agree. She holds his forearm and steadies him until he finds the chair seat and sits down. His vision clears enough that he can see the waiting message light on the console. The coordinates.

“You will be my copilot, Omega,” Tech says, turning slowly to face forward. “I’ll try to give you clear instructions, but please let me know if you need further clarification.”

He hears the copilot’s seat shift and squeak next to him as Omega climbs into it. She says, “Are you sure you’re alright to fly?”

“We don’t have any other options, unfortunately,” Tech says.

Tech opens the coordinates and transfers them to the ship’s nav system. He can’t quite make out the screen’s ETA reading, his vision still unbalanced, everything shifting in and out of focus. If he hadn’t lost so much blood, this would have been substantially easier.

“Alright, Miss Omega,” he says, putting as much confidence as he can muster into the reedy sound of his voice. “We are going to prepare for the jump into hyperspace.”

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

The Marauder’s familiar output of energy presses against his senses, drawing Hunter’s attention skyward. “Get ready, Wreck,” he says to his brother. “Our ride’s here.”

“About kriffing time,” Wrecker huffs, shifting at Hunter’s side. They’d found unfortunately tight quarters to take cover in while they waited for their siblings to show up.

Tech’s voice filters through their comms. “Approaching your location. Prepare to board.”

“Roger that,” Hunter replies, relieved to hear that some strength has returned to Tech’s voice.

The ship glides into view with the recognizable reckless ease of Tech’s hand at the helm. The ramp lowers, and Omega is leaning out, waving to them. Hunter and Wrecker break from their cover, running for the ship. As soon as their boots are clambering up the ramp, Omega calls out, “We got them, Tech!”

There is a sound of reply, and the ship begins to lift along with the ramp behind them.

“Are you both alright?” Omega asks them worriedly.

“We’re fine.” Hunter takes off his helmet, looking down at the girl with his own eyes. The scent of blood immediately assaults his senses, and his eyes go wide when he sees that her clothes are stained with blooms of deep red. “Are you hurt?” he asks, kneeling to her level to check for himself.

Omega quickly shakes her head, pulling away. “I’m okay. It’s Tech. One of the mercenaries got him in the side with a blade. It wasn’t deep, and I was able to do sutures. But he shouldn’t be flying.” She glances warily toward the cockpit.

Hunter nods sharply, standing and making his way to the front of the ship. He hears Wrecker behind him, double checking that Omega isn’t hurt, his booming voice gentle.

“Tech?” Hunter asks as soon as he comes into the space.

His brother turns his head slightly and slowly, as though even the small movement is taxing. “Hunter,” he says, voice thin, “I think it would be best if you took over.”

Hunter slips into the copilot’s seat, switching over main controls to his side. He calls over his shoulder. “Wrecker! Come get Tech.”

“I think I’m more than capable of just sitting here,” Tech protests.

“How about you let me decide on that, trooper,” Hunter returns firmly. “You’re on bed rest until we can check you over.”

Hunter glances over in time to see Tech weakly roll his eyes, and Hunter knows that he’s going to be okay.

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

“Omega, I wondered if I might ask you a question.”

The words are spoken into a comfortable stillness that has settled over the Marauder. Although Omega still isn’t exactly sure how they pulled it off, their brothers were retrieved, just as Tech had promised. Now, Wrecker and Hunter are in the cockpit, having banished Tech to the bunk room to rest, and Omega has been appointed as his guardian to make sure he actually does.

She sits in a nest of blankets on the floor by his bunk, data pad propped on her knees, reading through the lesson plan Tech made for her a few days ago. Omega looks up at the strange request. Tech doesn’t usually ask questions...he answers them. And the questions he does ask are typically rhetorical.

Omega has a feeling she isn’t going to like this question.

“Sure,” she says, trying to keep her voice light.

Tech hesitates. Another anomaly to his character.

Dread finds a hold, claws digging into the pit of her stomach. Omega knows she isn’t going to like this question.

“I seem to have inadvertently upset you earlier,” Tech begins. He doesn’t look at her face, but something just over her head. “When I commented about your medical training.” His flicker to hers briefly. “I wondered if you might help me understand why that upset you?”

Omega swallows and she finds herself gripping fistfuls of soft blankets, data pad forgotten in her lap. She knows her brother is only concerned about her, wants to comprehend her better; however, the question opens a childhood of secrets she’s tried so hard to keep hidden. She wants to be happy. To forget what was, embrace what is.

Her brothers are her world now.

Not Kamino, not Nala Se. Not anymore.

Telling Tech will cause these worlds to collide, and she will never, ever be able to separate the pieces again. But then words echo back to her, words Tech said just before he passed out, putting his life quite literally in her hands. I trust you.

And she trusts him. All of them. With quite literally her life.

A deep breath. A slow exhale. “I haven’t told anyone this before,” she says, “but I trust you.”

Tech is watching her, and she sees his calculating gaze soften with her words.

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

Hunter finds Tech still awake hours after Omega has gone to bed. He watches him from the bunkroom doorway for a moment, observing the furious way Tech is pouring over whatever he is reading on his data pad.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

Tech visibly startles, then mutters a curse, hand going to the place he was slashed earlier that day. “I was feeling fine until you came in,” he tells Hunter irritably.

Hunter grins apologetically. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t scare me...I wasn’t paying attention and your sudden presence caught me off guard,” Tech responds, voice stiff.

Hunter rolls his eyes, but lets the matter drop, entering the room fully. “You seem upset about something. What’s up?”

Tech’s frown deepens. “Omega and I had a discussion about what her medical training on Kamino entailed. From what she describes...” Tech trails off, looking down at his data pad.

“Tech,” Hunter prompts, dread coiling in the pit of his stomach.

Tech doesn’t look up, fingers gripping the data pad so tight his knuckles pale. “She’s just a child, Hunter. The assignments Nala Se had her complete to practice medical procedures...fully mature medics would be haunted by. She worked with cadavers, Hunter. Deceased clones! She said she still clearly remembers how cold they felt.” Tech is angry. Furious. Hunter can hear the fire eating at the frayed edges his carefully even voice.

It is catching.

Hunter feels the rage boil in his mutilated blood cells, but before he can articulate the words to voice his absolute disgust in their sadistic creators, Tech speaks again.

“And then I so callously called on her to utilize her skills,” Tech says, fevered tone redirected. He distractedly puts a hand back over the wound. “She should never have been put in that position. If I had been more attentive to our surroundings during the mission, none of this would have happened.” His hand curls into a fist.

“But it did happen,” Hunter says, carefully regulating his temper, not wanting Tech to think for even an instant it is directed at him. He sits down on the edge of the bunk, leaning forward to prop his elbows on his knees. “I hate what Omega had to go through before we found her, but I am thankful she was prepared to do what needed to be done to save our brother’s life.”

He hears Tech swallow, a painful, emotional sound. “I am thankful as well…” he admits hoarsely. “Without her, we would not have been able to return to retrieve you and Wrecker.”

“And we have her now,” Hunter says, “she’s under our protection.”

“With our lives need be,” Tech agrees.

END

Author’s Note: Wow! The end of Whumptober 2023! I can’t believe I actually did it…31 prompts in 31 days! But I so very honestly couldn’t have done it without all the kind words and support from those who read, commented, liked and reblogged (both on Tumblr & Ao3) all my crazy, random, traumatizing stories…so a HUGE thank you to all you wonderful people! This community is the best, and I am so happy to have had the opportunity to share my love of writing and Star Wars with you all!

Tag List: @isthereanechoinhere96 @followthepurrgil @amorfista @mooncommlink

✨Let me know if you’d like to be added to the Tag List!✨

#Whumptober 2023 #Day 31 #Prompt 30 #It’s okay to say ‘I’m not okay’#Borrowed Clothing #Star Wars The Bad Batch #Star Wars #The Bad Batch #TBB Omega #TBB Tech #TBB Hunter #TBB Wrecker #Soft Tech #Soft Hunter #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #star wars tbb #fics by kyber

21 notes · View notes

multifandom-disaster · 5 days

Text

Prompt #30

Hero and villain ship where they are legaly married in their civil forms but of course their alternate form are mortal enemies. Cue to in the middle of the battle the villain calling the hero "my love" and the hero blushing like a tomato.

#writing prompts #prompt #prompt 30 #not a quote #writing ideas #writing #otp prompts #otp #otp imagines

7 notes · View notes

perfectpaperbluebirds · 7 months

Text

Sicktember #30

Prompt: Patient 0

Fandom/OCs: The Office (Sick Andy)

Words: 1550

Sicknario inspo: Character faking sick and character actually sick quarantined together from this post.

Author’s comments/background: A fandom I only write by request generally, but one that is always fun to revisit and good in a pinch for a writing challenge, since there’s so many characters. I have a love/hate relationship with Andy, and I’m not sure how great his characterization and dialogue is, but I suppose you all can be the judge of that.

~~~***~~~

It was the semi-annual HR training day, and the employees of Dunder Mifflin, Scranton branch all shuffled in looking as if it was their execution day. They showed up, though, every single one. Truancy on training day had been a huge issue for a long time, so the corporate HR bigwigs had implemented this policy years ago: Mandatory attendance on training day, no doctor's notes accepted. A no-show meant automatic enrollment in twenty-four hours (the equivalent of three working days) of makeup online training. It was a brutal policy, but an effective one. No one missed training day anymore.

All was normal until Andy Bernard showed up with a head cold from hell. Dressed to the nines as always, his clothes seemed to be the only thing holding him together. He was a sneezing, coughing, achy, miserable mess. The only thing that kept the rest of them from sending him home was the fact that he didn't have a fever. He would have insisted on staying, though, even if he was feverish. He had gone through all the trouble of getting here and he wasn't about to go home and do online training now.

The rest of the employees vehemently opposed him joining them in the training room, though, visibly shedding contagion as he was. They came to a compromise after much discussion: Andy would be quarantined in the break room with a laptop for the training and still get credit for attending without infecting everyone else, an arrangement everyone felt was satisfactory, even though Kelly, Angela, and Oscar kept giving Andy dirty looks and muttering about having to decontaminate the break room that evening.

Michael was fashionably late that day and missed all the hullabaloo. He arrived just as Andy was getting settled in the break room and, after much pestering, the boss learned what was going on. Everyone saw the gears turning in Michael’s mind as they prepared to go into training, and they wondered what new foolishness was in store.

Sure enough, about five minutes before the start time, Michael announced that he had an announcement, visibly shaking around a handful of tissues, which he'd been using to scrub at his nose for several minutes beforehand, making it a passable red.

"I wasn't going to say anything, but I'm sick too," he said, with a fake, congested tone. "I didn't want to worry you all. But if you all are really so worried about getting sick, I'd better go in with Bernard too, just to be safe."

The staff exchanged looks, wondering if they'd heard correctly. This seemed too good to be true.

"Well if you're sick, Michael, then you should definitely go in with Andy. We don't want to be breathing in your germs all day," Phyllis said.

"I'm definitely sick. I tried to hide it when I first got here, but I guess the cat's out of the bag. I'm really not feeling so good. Guess I'll have to go relax in the break room for a few hours," Michael said, trying to sound convincingly pathetic. "I'm not sure how much of the training I'll hear. I might have to take a nap at some point."

"Whatever you need to do. As long as you feel better and stay away from us," Pam agreed.

"Okay, then I guess I'll head on in there… you guys will bring us lunch at noon, right? Since I'm sure you don't want us going through the buffet line, being so sick and all." He rubbed at his nose with a loud sniffle for emphasis.

"Oh we'll make sure you're taken care of," Stanley said.

"I'll be standing guard by the door, Michael," Dwight said. "We can't have you escaping to shed your germs to the rest of us. The office would be in chaos."

One glance at Dwight showed that he believed Michael was truly sick, and Jim and Pam shared a secret smile at this realization. But he was playing right into what the rest of them wanted.

"Dwight is right, Michael. You'll have to stay in there all day. Can't be too careful," Jim said.

This made Michael pause, but they all knew he was in too deep now to backtrack. "...Okay," Michael said at last. "For the good of the team. I'll sacrifice my freedom for your health. I hope you're all thankful." He scrubbed at his nose again to make sure it stayed pink and itchy, giving them all a martyred look.

"You better get in there. You're breathing your germs all over us every second," Kelly said.

"Okay, okay, I'm going. I'll see you all on the other side," Michael said, with an attitude of going off to war.

Once the door was closed behind him, the staff shared a triumphant smile. A whole day free of Michael, and no chance of him making the training any worse than it had to be. It felt like Christmas had come early, at least as far as work could go.

~~~

Michael steeled himself as the door shut behind him to turn and face the visibly sick Andy. A whole day alone with Bernard would have been bad enough, but a sick Bernard would be a special sort of torture. Michael had a fleeting thought that getting out of training might not have been worth it for this, but there was no turning back now.

Andy was clearly surprised to have company, but Michael erupted into a fake coughing fit before he could speak, then carried forward into a loud, fake sneezing fit. When he emerged from his handful of tissues (with plenty of scrubbing at his nose for good measure), Andy's gaze was sympathetic.

"So you've got the crud too, huh? That's tough luck." Andy sniffled now, and it was far too wet-sounding to be fake, not to mention his glistening upper lip. "I wonder which one of us was patient 0."

"Huh?" Michael made his way to the sink, feeling the need to wash his hands already.

"You know, which of us got the other sick. Patient 0. The source of an infection."

"Oh! Oh it was definitely me. Yeah, I've been feeling sick since last Thursday or Friday."

"Wow, that's a long time. Yeah, then I guess it was you. I knew I shouldn't have let you sit at my desk for so long the other day." He clearly wasn't upset though and reclined in his chair, coughing and blowing his nose intermittently, never once washing his hands and leaving his tissues heaped up beside him.

Fifteen minutes passed, then thirty, and still the laptop screen remained blank, saying they were waiting for the presenter in the lobby. It seemed they were having technical difficulties down the hall. Clearly bored, Andy stood and began to dig through the drawers idly.

"Hey, a deck of cards! We should play something," he said, sitting back down at the table and pushing the laptop aside, beginning to shuffle.

"I don't know… are you sure that's a full deck?" Michael asked, unable to pull his eyes from Andy's germy hands touching every card.

"Eh, who cares. We'll figure it out," Andy said. "C'mon, what are you, chicken? You think you can beat me even though I'm sick? No one ever beats Andy Bernard at cards. Just name the game."

Michael started to smile. "You know what, you're on, Bernard. Prepare to eat your words."

~~~

Andy's cold had a fast incubation period apparently, because the next morning it was Michael who arrived a sick, contagious mess. (Andy himself called in now that the threat of HR training had passed; apparently it was a long lasting cold too.) Michael announced his entrance with a violent sneeze that made everyone turn to look, wondering if he was continuing the charade. No such luck, though. There was no fake scrubbing needed to make his nose red and drippy, and there was no faking the wet, chesty coughing. There was also no mistaking the mischievous look in Michael's eyes as everyone was forced to witness the inevitability of this cold.

"Michael, why are you here when you're still clearly sick?" Dwight asked in alarm.

"Oh it's not that bad. I can still work. Besides, if I had to get sick from Bernard after being trapped with him for eight hours, then the rest of you should be sick too. I am patient 0!"

"No, you're not…." Jim said in irritation. "Andy still is. You just said you caught this from him. That makes him patient 0."

Michael glared at Jim and was trying to think of a good response when Dwight stepped between them.

"Oh no. I will not allow this, Michael." Pulling out gloves from somewhere on his person, Dwight began to shove Michael toward his office, with Michael protesting the whole way. Once Michael was inside, pounding against the door, Dwight posted himself as a guard outside just as he had the previous day.

A sullen-looking Michael shuffled to the window of his office to gaze forlornly out at them, wiping the back of his hand under his nose. The staff turned away one by one to return to their work, leaving their sick boss to stew in the consequences of his choices.

#sicktember 2023 #skt 2023 #the off/ice #sick andy #prompt 30

10 notes · View notes

thenicestthingiveseen · 1 year

Text

prompt 30: goodbye (ver. 1)

female!Harry. CW: REFERENCES TO DOMESTIC ABUSE. [119 words]

written for @hinnymicrofic

If you asked anybody, Hallie and Ginny were inseparable in secondary school. This is why, it shouldn’t have been shocking that even though she was married, Ginny was Hallie’s emergency contact and she dropped everything to take the first train in when she heard she was in the hospital because of her no-good husband.

As they sat in Hallie’s hospital room, Ginny held her hand and simply said, “he’ll pay for this.” The tone of her voice was ice cold but it made Hallie feel a warmth she hadn’t felt since she’d married Ethan.

A few weeks later, they’re deep in the woods, toasting each other over a mound of freshly turned dirt as they say goodbye to Ethan.

#frank ocean once said i got two versionsssss #and so do i #hinny microfic #hinny #microfic #goodbye earl or i guess goodbye ethan #prompt 30 #version 1 #female!harrypotter #female harry potter

26 notes · View notes

cadrenebula · 7 months

Text

Prompt #30: Amity

Ronove had accepted Sahji's invitation to lunch. Far be it for him to turn down a meal. He was often hungry and easily swayed at offers of food. Food was good but sometimes didn't quite kill the edges of hunger. Plus he loved any chance to grab spicy foods to eat. Or fish. As long as they weren't the kind he kept as friends in a fish tank.

Well it was about more than the food. Huffing softly as he waited where they had agreed to meet. Running his fingers over the small object in his pocket. He was attempting to make friends with Sahji and Stefan lately. At least Sahji had forgiven for trying to harm him the last time they'd had tea and chatted.

He took the little misshapen clay object from his pocket. He'd asked Fen to help him learn to work with clay. So far it wasn't turning out quite how he wanted but he knew these things took practice. He'd tried to make a small fish out of clay. Sadly it had come out as a rather comical mess that sort of looked like a fish. Man... He couldn't offer that as a friendship token. Sahji would probably laugh at it. Tucking the fish back into his pocket. Maybe he'd try again to make a better one for next time.

Thankfully he'd tucked it away in time to avoid his poor attempt at being seen. Sahji was just walking up to him.

#FFxivWrite2023 #FFxivWrite #Prompt 30 #Prompt Amity #About Ronove #Ronove and Sahji #Something short and sweet to finish things #Cause I've been having a bit of insomnia the last two days

7 notes · View notes

lire-casander · 1 year

Text

#30 accepting & living with their quirks

accepting and living with their quirks original prompt list here

TK has learned to live with Carlos’ quirks just as much as Carlos has learned to live with TK’s. He isn’t sure how much his peculiarities can affect Carlos’ life, but he thinks they can't be as frustrating as Carlos’ tendency to double-check and even triple-check everything.

It's not only the lock when they leave the house, or the faucets in both the bathroom and the kitchen. It's not only that Carlos sends three different emails to the hotel where they will be spending their honeymoon asking for the same thing with three slightly different wordings to make sure he gets the same reply every single time. TK has accepted that Carlos is wired that way, and there's little he can do to change it — and he doesn't want to change it. The quirks make Carlos who he is, and TK loves all of Carlos.

But the triple-checking of security measures has reached a limit in TK’s opinion. Carlos spends at least twenty minutes before going to bed checking that the alarm is set up, that the extinguishers are fully equipped, that Lou The Second's terrarium is completely locked, and that there's no way the lizard can escape. And that TK can understand — the innate fear of disaster that has always loomed over their heads can take its toll on anyone, even stoic police officer Carlos Reyes. What he can't understand is that Carlos checks everything even when TK reassures his fiancé that he's already done the rounds.

And that stings. It feels like Carlos doesn't trust him with security, and at times TK thinks Carlos might believe that previous disasters had been TK’s fault — the fire, Lou The Flesh Eater blending in with the environment.

When he bites the bullet one night, after having begged Carlos to stop checking things and go to bed, he breaks down and ends up voicing his fears. But Carlos’ response steals the words out of TK's throat.

"It's not that I think it's your fault," Carlos says, pain in his voice. "It's because I know it was mine. We almost died once and it was my fault. I should have checked it."

"So what, you're now making up for lost time?" TK manages to finally say. He cringes as the words leave his mouth, but there's no way of taking them back.

"I'm trying to keep you safe," his fiancé mutters. "It's my job now, and I've failed at it before."

"Hey, hey, baby," TK says as he approaches Carlos and hugs him. "It's my job to keep you safe now, too. And that's what I'm trying to do, okay? You've checked the extinguishers twice now. They're fine. Let's go to bed."

In the end, he convinces Carlos to follow him to the bedroom. But he remains awake for hours after that, thinking about how mistaken he's been about Carlos’ motives. He hasn't been extra careful because he thought TK wasn't being careful, but because he wanted TK to be safe.

And if that isn't wedding vows material, TK doesn't know what else could possibly be.

Right before falling asleep in the safety of Carlos’ embrace, TK makes a silent promise to his fiancé.

I'll always take care of you the way you take care of me.

#lire's 40 to the 40s #prompt 30 #prompt 30: accepting and living with their quirks #tarlos #tk strand/carlos reyes #carlos reyes/tk strand #911ls #911 ls #911 lone star

12 notes · View notes

kay-elle-cee · 1 year

Text

Jilytober prompt 30: "Wearing each others' clothing."

Thank you for the prompts, @jilytoberfest!

"I don't care if she threw a hex at you first, there' s no magic allowed in the corridors. You should have alerted a professor or a Prefect." Lily pushes an errant strand of hair out of her face as she reprimands the two third years she and James had caught attempting to duel in the Charms corridor during lunch. What they were doing in the Charms corridor during lunch (or rather in the secret passageway that lets out to the Charms corridor), well...that's not important.

The students, for their part, at least had the decency to look a little embarrassed. Though the Head Girl could definitely detect some annoyance as well. And some...amusement?

"She's right," James spoke from beside her, and she swears she'll never get over the idea of him chastising younger students for the exact behavior he used to display. She knows he detests it, deep down, but she finds it incredibly funny. "Next time anyone throws a hex, you alert one of us or a Prefect. I don't care if it's a jelly-legs jinx or something more serious, there are just too many unintended consequences that can happen, and we need to make sure this is a safe environment for everyone."

He ends his long-winded speech and waits for an agreement from the two girls, who for all their fighting five minutes ago, are now exchanging surreptitious glances with one another, smiles breaking through their remorseful expressions. James throws Lily a quick bewildered look and fixes his gaze once again on the third years.

"Do you understand?" he asks expectantly.

The two girls nod, attempting to sober up their expressions, and Lily sighs. "Alright. Get to lunch. Five points from Ravenclaw each."

The girls bustle away and Lily and James share a confused look.

"What was that?" She asks.

"Hell if I know," he shrugs, holding out his hand. "But I know we're late to meet the group."

In the Great Hall, they quickly take the empty seats at the end of the table, next to their friends.

"Where have you two been?" Remus asks smugly, eyes darting to where Dorcas is mindlessly nibbling at a bite of roast chicken, her eyes wide and jumping from the two newcomers to anyone else in their group who would meet her gaze.

"Snogging in a broom cupboard, obviously," Peter laughs into his drink before being slapped in the back of the head by Sirius.

"Oi, show some respect," Sirius orders before a grin breaks out. "Their spot is the passageways, not the broom cupboard." He takes a sip of his pumpkin juice, eyes shining with laughter as they fix on Lily. "Evans here is allergic to the dust."

Her attention snaps to the boy next to her and she sees James' eyes close in pain. "I'm sorry," he whispers to her.

The table bursts into laughter and Lily feels her face heat up. James places a comforting hand on her thigh and looks around at their friends.

"If anyone cares to actually listen," James' voice thunders over the cackling of the group, a blush creeping up his neck. "We were actually busy with some Heads business."

"Mhm," Lily agrees, grabbing an apple from the center of the table. "Magic in the corridors. You lot know all about that," she cuts her eyes at the three boys across the table from her. Her brow furrows as she takes a bite of her apple, looking next to her where James sits. "Though it was weird—they seemed preoccupied instead of, you know, apologetic. Like it was some sort of joke."

Remus snorts into his drink and the table goes silent, all their friends looking between each other. Lily sits a little straighter, her curiosity piqued.

"What?"

"Lily, darling," Dorcas starts gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Your badge is a little crooked."

"Oh!" She looks down, a little more flustered than what is probably called for for such an innocent observation, and goes to straighten her Head Girl badge.

Only the badge says Head Boy.

She lets out a strangled sound and turns to James again, her eyes falling to her badge, her robes on her boyfriend's frame.

Merlin, the robes were relatively unisex in fit but he was at least half a head taller than her—how had they not realized their mistake before hurrying out of the secret passageway to reprimand some third years?

"What?" James asks her worriedly, still oblivious.

"Give your girlfriend her clothes back, Prongs," Sirius answers for her, smirking.

Lily lets out a groan and drops her head into arms, letting her embarrassment swallow her whole. She feels Dorcas prodding her side teasingly and almost misses James' voice declaring that he meant to wear her robes to better show off his quidditch calves.

"You've got it so bad, mate," Peter remarks from somewhere above her head.

"Yeah, I do," James says, and she can just hear the smile in his voice.

Other Jilytober drabbles here.

#kelsey writes #jily #jilytober #jilytober2022 #drabbles #ficlets #31 prompts #prompt 30

31 notes · View notes

tricksterfiction · 7 months

Text

Prompt #30 Amity

In the Name of the Wind - Auri

Wind. A constant companion, a guiding hand, and true source of strength. Breathing in, breathing out. She was sinking into a meditative state, repeating words of wisdom from one, Tragghyr Doerdyrfsyn.

"Carry this weight with pride, a sharp mind and sharper blade. Remember, you cannot walk this path alone."

Alone she was not. Faces, so many faces gathered in her minds eye. From past loves, family, and friends alike. Her heart beat, her hands skilled, and her will to live and keep on living was in strong pillars of constant support.

Her heart swelled with gratitude, love, and peace.

Even if loss were to come find her again, or the fates would deem her too fortunate and knock the pillars away.

Air would still be in her lungs, the wind in her soul, and memory in her heart. She settled as her mind cleared, understanding she may feel lonely but never be truly alone.

#ffxivwrite2023 #ffxivwrite #ffxiv #writing prompt #prompt 30 #Amity #Sen: be your own friend first

4 notes · View notes

promptsbytaurie · 6 months

Text

prompt #30: with a twist!

Write a children’s story, with a twist: it’s a story from an alien species. How would the myths, themes, and warnings be different from humans’?

#prompt 30 #writing prompt #with a twist #writing suggestion

6 notes · View notes

chocoblep · 7 months

Text

#30: The Hangover

Rhyle stood at the base of the tree beneath which he’d made his temporary home in the shroud, a hand on its giant root. Since he’d gotten his bladed staff shoved through his leg the night previous, he’d been stiff and sore when walking, and at this rate he might as well be poacher bait. Not to mention he had a headache from the alcohol he’d drunk too much of as well. That had been rampaging all day, and though he remembered the events of the night, trying to recall them with clarity was difficult.

Wood take him, he should just go back to bed and sleep away the head pain. He had nothing to do today.

As if perhaps sensing that he was considering unconsciousness, his linkpearl chirped at him. He reached up and connected the link. There was only one person who had his linkpearl information, so he simply answered.

“Asana.”

“Don’t you mean ‘Little Flame?’” she asked, amusement in her tone already. “How are you feeling?”

Rhyle squinted as he descended into his burrow. Had he called her that? Well, it was fitting, he supposed. “Yes. And I feel as if I have been trampled by at least five chocobo. Localized to the head and the leg.”

“Oof, I knew you had had too much when you got all touchy-feely with me. You want me to come bring you some hangover remedies?”

Rhyle froze. Touchy-feely? Did that mean what he thought it meant? He wracked his brain, trying to think of times when he’d touched her, and came up short. Either his mind hadn’t cataloged it as important and he hadn’t remembered, or he had completely blanked on a section of the night. But he remembered all of it, right? Getting there, the fight, the drinks, watching Asana win her fight, and then leaving to go home.

He decided not to ask about the touchy-feely part, and instead said, “If I give you directions, would you be able to find it? There is no sign out front, or an obvious front door.”

“I could always call you if I get lost,” she said, chipper, and he sighed and gave her very thorough directions.

When he’d dropped the connection, he looked around him. Things were a bit of a mess; he’d tossed his armor and his staff on the floor when he’d gotten home and just flopped on his little pile of sleeping furs. He was rumpled and probably smelled like sweat and whatever the hell else had rubbed off on him from the tavern. Should he bathe? He hadn’t done that like he’d said he was going to last night, and as he scurried around his little burrow, tidying up, he wondered to himself if this self-consciousness was what it was like to have friends.

#FFxivWrite2023 #FFxivWrite #Story #Rhyle Moonreed #Prompt 30 #Amity

6 notes · View notes

midcinmancave · 1 year

Text

"I know what this looks like."

It’s always something. Complete Story Source

Fictober Story #21 Fandom: Midnight Cinderella Featuring: Albert Burckhardt, Nico Meier, Byron Wagner Warnings: None Rating/Genre: General Audience, Comedy Writer: KoW Writer Project

#Fictober22 #fanfiction #Midnight Cinderella #30 #Albert Burckhardt #Nico Meier #Byron Wagner #Kingdom of Wysteria #MidCin #イケメン王宮 #Prompt 30

13 notes · View notes

my-lovely-writing · 1 year

Text

An: trying my hand at a bigger piece! hope y'all like it. also the character is a girl because I personally characterize her that way—you do what you want.

Cw: fighting, bullying, unconsciousness, general confusion, supernatural elements. Many wouldn't consider it light, but it's definitely not the heaviest thing in the world either.

One minute [Teen] was walking home from school and the next they were racing towards a fight. Two (unfortunately familiar) bullies restrained the new girl while their leader reared his fist back at her face. As [Teen] approached, they could see that she was relaxed, as if these bullies were nothing more than puppies baring their teeth.

They barely caught her brief flash of newfound panic or the bully's fist but the next blow caught them, right on their jaw, and then the dirt did.

When [Teen] blinked awake, hot fear for the girl rippled through their body, bolting them upright. They winced with searing pain—

...that wasn't there.

[Teen] blinked again. They rubbed their eyes They were in their bed. Their alarm clock glared at them, reading "3:33 A.M., you idiot."

Huh. It had all really been a dream, but it felt so...real. Even now, adrenaline raced through their body, their thoughts floating as if clouds, skimming their horizon's surface without crossing it.

Curious feelings grew while [Teen] waited for their eyes to adjust to the darkness, then moved to the mirror and twisted their face at every angle, trying to catch any hint of a bruise. They rubbed at it.

Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

They could swear their eyes shined a bit brighter, their skin tighter and smoother, but finally laughed it off. Hopefully by the morning, their head would be out of the clouds and the clouds out of their head.

5 notes · View notes

perfectpaperbluebirds · 2 years

Text

‘Get Back in Bed’

@sicktember 2022 Prompt #30

Fandom/OCs: Vicar ‘Verse OCs

Title: And So It Goes

Words: 1213

Inspiration: this post about a cold-confirming sneeze, this post about a cold showing someone is awake from a nap, and this post about being due for a cold. Read the first vicar fic here!

Author’s comments: It is very fitting to me that this ended up being the last fic, since the first Vicar fic was where I really got established here on snzblr, at least in my mind. This is set a few years after the first story. You’ll see Nicholas has softened a bit here and is more receptive to Lydia’s caregiving, though still focused on propriety above all else. Still, a slightly warmer Nicholas was lovely to explore. I hope you all enjoy this one as much as you seem to enjoy the original!

Nicholas and Lydia sat at breakfast together, reading their individual books as always. Lydia was distracted from her reading on this particular morning, however, because her husband would not stop sniffling– wet, fitful sounds from a dripping nose that was clearly irritating him.

"Mary, you can leave us for now, please," Lydia said after some minutes of this. With a little bow, the maid did as she was told. Once they were alone, Lydia turned to her husband.

"Are you quite well, dear? You sound as if you're catching cold," she said quietly, so that only his ears could hear.

"No, no, I'm fine," he said dismissively, trying to be nonchalant. "Just some minor irritation." However, his body betrayed his words. On the last syllable, his breath began to hitch. His eyebrows jumped to his hairline as he took a great, gasping breath:

“Ehhd-DESZHHhue! Hihh– HIHHDESHhue!”

The sound was rough and scraping, seeming to come from deep in his chest. Lydia raised her own eyebrows knowingly.

"Minor irritation, was it?" She stood and moved to her husband's side. He frowned, guessing her intentions, but was resigned to his fate. She ran her fingers across his forehead, letting her palm linger for only a breath to gauge his temperature, then went on to caress his cheek and neck for the briefest moment. He would have pulled away anyway, had she let their skin touch for too long outside of their bedroom.

"You're not feverish, so that's a blessing," she murmured. "Yet it still seems to me you've taken a chill."

He sighed, giving up the charade as his breath caught in a slight cough. "I likely have. So it goes this time of year. I suppose I was due for a cold. I'm still feeling mostly well, though. Perhaps it will be mild."

"Let us hope so." Lydia pressed a quick kiss into his hair, then walked back to her chair and sat, rearranging herself so it was as if she'd never left it before ringing for Mary to clear their breakfast dishes. Nicholas had softened over time and allowed her to show him some affection more freely now, but he would still never allow such things in front of the servants.

The day passed as usual with both of them seeing to their usual duties. There was one notable difference, though. This upcoming Sunday there was to be a traveling preacher speaking at their parish, so during the afternoon hours when Nicholas would usually lock himself away to prepare the sermon, he instead elected to retire to bed for a rest, though he asked permission of her before he did so. Lydia bid him go gladly, mentally applauding him for this rare showing of self-preservation, for he was looking more and more run-down as the day progressed.

He was hardly in the bedroom twenty minutes, though, when she heard his step on the stairs. She turned to see him peering at her in a dazed sort of way, his hair disheveled and his face flushed.

"Can I help you, my dear?" she asked.

He rubbed an eye, yawning and clearly not fully awake. "Need to go prepare the sermon. How long did I sleep?" he mumbled, patting his pockets as if looking for a pen, or else a handkerchief.

"Not even thirty minutes. I'd wager you could do with a much longer rest than that. Go on back to bed and close your eyes, Mr. Lennox. There will be no sermon this week, and tea won't be ready for hours yet."

"Oh? Hm. If you're sure. Perhaps a few more minutes, then…." With a hoarse cough he turned and retraced his steps up the stairs on shaky legs, leaving a puzzled Lydia in his wake. She wondered if he had been sleepwalking, for she'd never seen him like that before. He really was quite unlike himself when he was ill.

There were no further disturbances, and he slept long, much longer than she would have anticipated. When she had not heard a sound from him in several hours, she decided to go up to check on him. When she was just outside the bedroom door, she was startled by the sound of a sleepy, gasping breath, which led right into a pair of heavy sneezes:

"Huhh'EIHDSSZ'ue! hhh'HIDZSSHuue!"

A trumpeting nose blow followed, and at that point Lydia decided it would be safe to enter. She poked her head in to see Nicholas sitting on the edge of the bed, scrubbing at his face and looking tousled and bleary, his handkerchief dangling limply from one hand. Upon seeing her, he quickly tucked it out of sight under the pillow.

"You've woken from your nap I see," Lydia laughed, shutting the door behind herself and going to his side. "Did you sleep well? You were rather restless early on." She carded her fingers through his hair.

"Was I? Well the sleep was fine," he yawned. "Though it doesn't seem to have helped this cold in the slightest." He lowered his head into his hands as if it were too heavy to hold up any longer, rubbing at his sinuses.

"Unfortunately that is the way with colds, especially the way you tend to catch them." She let her fingers brush over his forehead as she had that morning. "Perhaps you're warm from the pillow, but it feels to me that you may be starting a fever after all."

She saw him shift to the side as if he were going to lean against her, but stopped just shy of it. "Poorly as I'm starting to feel, I assume so also. As I said earlier, so it goes." He sniffled, then coughed fittishly, scrubbing at his nose again.

"Poor dear, you're so pale already. You and your horrendous colds. Well, never fear, I shall nurse you back to health as always. Shall we start with tea? I can already see you starting to shiver."

"Tea would be lovely," he agreed.

"Very well. Shall I ring for it up here?"

"Oh no, I'm not at the invalid stage just yet. I'll accompany you downstairs for it. I prefer to not drink tea in bed if I can help it."

"Have it your way,"Lydia laughed. "Let me help you get there, then."

She offered her arm, and he grasped it, standing slowly, though a look of mild, if fond annoyance crossed his face. “I can manage perfectly well on my own, dearest. I don’t need help standing."

"Be that as it may, I'm already here, and I'm taking the opportunity to walk arm in arm with you, since such opportunities are rare."

"As you say," he chuckled as they began to move toward the stairs. "I suppose I'll not argue with the person that will be nursing me back to health."

"Wise man. This way I shall make sure we get to our tea unscathed, you see, for tea is crucial in curing a cold."

“Ah, of course. I cannot argue with such logic.”

They shared a smile as they made their sedate way down, and even in the midst of a blooming head cold, Nicholas sighed in contentment, knowing he would be well looked after, and perhaps might get some enjoyment out of this cold after all.

#sicktember 2022 #prompt 30 #vicar 'verse OCs #sickfic #everyone is hotter with a fever

27 notes · View notes