[FF] 100 Situations - MOAR

[Yuiven]

I've always thought of you as a brilliant writer Vyn. Your ability to convey the actions, thoughts and emotions of your characters with only a few choice words astounds me, and you continue to do so with these sets of drabbles.

It's intriguing to read each vignette because we're being given the chance to peek into their minds through their work and into their lives. For example, Xylia's view of a corrupted society which compels her to try to make a difference; Javaid's opinion on Death and the traumatic, life-altering experience of a boy losing both parents; and Parvana's revelation while sitting by Lysaras's grave that life has moved on, and so had she.

I also enjoyed Meecha's narrative. She's an adult in body, but has the mind and attitude of a child. An underlying sadness shows through her overriding sinister carapace, which results in rather manic behaviour.

These four were specifically mentioned because they're my favourites, but all are excellent! <3

11 down, 89 more to go. I look forward to reading the rest of them. Keep up the great work! ^_^b

[Vyn]

Thank you, again, for everyone that's taken the time to read and leave me wonderful comments. They make me stupidly happy, they really do.

[hugs everyone]

Yuiven, the thought and eloquence you put into everything you say astounds me. Even your commentaries leave me envious of your command over words. ^___^ Thank you.~

[scampers off to try and conquer some more<3]

[Vyn]

I apologize for only posting two this time. Finding time to write while I am not dead tired has been hard. @_x but I'm working on it. [fluffs everyone]


012. Blizzard
Char: Wulfram (18), Malachior, and a small appearance from Seth (15)
Word Count: 674

"I think you two will work together just fine," Malachior had droned in his usual boring way before his eyes had narrowed from behind his spectacles and his tone turned acidic as it was prone to doing, "you're both snot-nosed adolescents who think far too highly of yourselves."

And Malachior, frankly, did not feel like venturing all the way out to the Solandrian Glacier to meet with another punk kid who thought he was better than a seasoned professional.

Eighteen year old, fresh to the field, Wulfram was a far better choice for the meeting. Maybe they'd even get along, or kill each other trying, either way he'd end up with a better assassin when the job was completed.

Wulfram, as expected, had been furious.

He was not an errand boy, he did not want to rendezvous with some idiot kid in the middle of "Frigid Wastes, Nowhere", and so on and so forth. Until, in the end, he gave in like he always did because Boss was always Right (especially if you wanted to get paid).

Wulfram scowled as he stomped through the snow, teeth grit to keep them from chattering and his eyes narrowed in thin slits of crimson hatred.

He would kill Malachior for making him do this. He would kill him and make him suffer in a thousand different ways for ever putting him through this frigid hell. Within half an hour his flight into the Glacier had been grounded due to a snow storm, and once he'd landed it had been impossible to find a decent carriage.

Walking was the only option, as useless and stupid of an option as that might have been.

With every hour the snow got thicker and the sky got darker until Wulfram could barely see the road a couple feet in front of him. Everything was wintery and white and Wulfram had never hated that combination more in his entire life. Just as the snow started to morph from awful to outright stupidly dangerous, Wulfram found himself stumbling into a small town. The buildings were brightly lit, probably for dumb idiots such as himself, and immediately he located his destination: A Bar.

Fuck work, his first order of business was at the bar. The crow cut through the room, ignoring the stares from the locals and some of the stifled chuckles at the fact that he was still obviously shuddering even with his heavy clothes, and proceeded to order a bottle of Vodka. He'd start with shots, see how many it took to knock back before his hate for Malachior dissipated, then get something hot to eat and then he'd deal with finding his contact. At least, that was the plan.

In reality, he made it through five shots before a young, but undeniably masculine, voice cut through his drinking game. "So I'm working with you?" The crow closed his eyes, did his best to block out the boy's voice, and knocked back his next shot. "You'd better not freeze on me, I sure as hell don't wanna drag two corpses back for confirmation." Wulfram's eye twitched, but he remained intent on his alcohol. It was just the typical Solandrian Xenophobia that was being spouted out of the boy's mouth, but it did nothing to lessen Wulfram's hatred of the damnably cold place. He knocked back another shot, felt the hot liquor burn its way through his frozen innards, and finally turned to face the fluffy bat he was supposed to be working with.

Young, but he'd started young too. The crow glared, but the liquor was already smoothing out some of his frustrations. "You've got nothink to vorry ebout, zhere's no vay I'm goink to be taken out by e vittle snow." Not that he intended to go frolicking in the blizzard either. "Let us get down to business, shall ve?"

Wulfram motioned to the seat beside him and poured the bat a shot.

He'd make this stupid job work, because that's what put money in his pocket, but he'd be damned if he ever let Malachior talk him back into this frigid wasteland.


013. Stoic
Char: Malachior (22), and mention of Anwen
Word Count: 393

What was he doing in this crowd?

Originally he had come to take part in what had been called a meeting of Gentleman -- fellow Spade Elitists and members of mom families that came together to discuss business or other agendas. Today, however, they had come to some sort of disagreement and Malachior was left watching a rabble of what he certainly did not consider gentlemen.

In fact, out of all of them, he could see only one composed, stoic face and it belonged to a woman no less.

Her face was an emotionless mask of mild disinterest that rivaled Malachior's own, and as he tapped his foot on the cold store floor he noted that she tapped her pen against her binder. She was the only worthwhile creature in the room.

However, as manners would dictate, there would be no casual socializing until this matter had been dealt with and the so-called gentlemen were only arguing and nothing was getting done. Frankly, it was enough to truly press Malachior's buttons.

The King waited, adjusted his tie, and waited some more. Nothing. Across the room the clock ticked a monotonous drone and the composed woman put her pen away and shifted in a manner that might have signified she was read to leave... were anyone paying attention to anything other than their childish complaints.

Malachior had enough.

Slowly he stepped forward, adjusting his glasses as he cleared his throat. He kept his composure in check, never allowing his tone to be anything but calm though it was loud enough to break through all of the bickering.

"Gentleman, let us get down to business..." His spectacled gaze moved around the room, narrowed slightly behind the lens. "With all this bickering you'd think this place was run by children, if you want the problem solved then let us do something. Now." It was funny how, after all the yelling, everyone simply shut up when he spoke. They glared and glowered and muttered indignant threats, but no one said anything the wiser. However, if he was correct, he believed he saw the faintest hint of a smile briefly touch the woman's features. He returned to fleeting hint of emotion before retreating behind his stoic mask. "Very good."

They were a motley crew of so-called 'gentlemen', but if she would be there than perhaps it'd be worth his while to work with them after all...

[Lucca]

Oooh. Very good additions. I especially like Wulfram meeting Seth, haha. XD

[Vyn]

014. Steal
Char: Kaden
Word Count: 201

"Kleptomania," the school counselor was saying, "is a very serious problem." but Kaden just didn't see the big deal in it.

He'd been lifting things since he could remember. Back in the first years of grade school he'd discovered a love of snatching his classmates' quills when they weren't looking or nabbing a teacher's unsupervised lunch (not that he ever ate them, as his mom always made considerably better meals).

There was a thrill in every act and, on occasion, the additional perk of getting to share his spoils with his friends.

As the years went on, however, simple things like quills and bag lunches became less intriguing and he'd moved up. Sneaking into the teacher's lounge to pocket answers for the next week's exam or picking off the principal's coin purse while he was distracted.

He wasn't caught until his first year of intermediate school when he discovered that teachers were more savvy to hooligans than he'd been aware. Not that he was trying to cause trouble, but everyone got their feathers in a bunch when he got caught lifting.

Luckily, that was a problem easily solved: stop getting caught.

The pure thrill of the challenge alone almost made the thrill of stealing pale in comparison.


015. Adore
Char: Thallak, Xylia, and Oddr
Word Count: 347

It was in the way she spoke and all the subtle, varied ways she opened her hearts to everyone. So full of passion, and kindness, and determination.

It was in the graceful way she moved, like a dancer on the stage. Her every move was poised, controlled, perfect. Her breathing was even, concentration complete though she must have known he was watching.

He adored her. How could he not?

It was hard not to lover he when she gave everything to every task she undertook. Flawed, as everyone was, but more perfect than anything he could ask for.

Soulful black eyes turned to him, an exhausted smile playing over ebony fur. "You're staring again, Thal." There was laughter in her voice even though he could feel that she was exhausted. It made his heart swell with pride, with adoration, every time he looked at her but there was no way to tell her that. She knew the feelings pounding in his heart, just like Oddr knew them, but none of them spoke about it.

So he smiled casually and laughed loudly to cover the beat of his heart. "Of course I am! You're bloody brilliant out there, Xyl! Keep at it!" Friends, just friends. Like they all were.

Because he wasn't the only one who adored her.

It was the unspoken truth, the secret hidden in broad daylight: Thallak coveted his precious Knight just as Oddr adored her and neither of them could face the other to admit the desire beating in their breasts. So they sat on the sidelines and watched what they couldn't have until she noticed their stares and they were forced to brush it off with smiles and jokes until she thought nothing of it.

One day there would come a time when they would have to face one another and accept -- or resist -- the feeling they each held for the woman that they had, simultaneously, desired to be one with. From the day they had chosen her as their summoner, they had desired this, they simply hadn't known how intense it would be to truly fall in love.



016. A Close Shave
Char: Vesper
Word Count: 165

Swing and miss.

Somehow that seemed to be the proper words to describe her life. Right from the beginning her life was on a collision course but, somehow, she was still alive, still swinging... and after every close shave she was just the same as before.

Nothing stopped, nothing moved forward. Everything stayed the same no matter what she did.

Swing. Miss. Swing. Miss.

And then, out of the blue. Hit.

For so long she'd stopped believing that, when it finally happened, she didn't believe it. A childish swing in the dark and suddenly everything stopped, everything changed. It was everything she'd ever wanted, ever asked for... and yet, when she looked into the mirror she still wasn't happy.

All her life she'd blamed it on the way she was, the way she'd conveniently been born, but when push came to shove that wasn't it. Even though the mirror changed, she hadn't. Vesper had thought she was gaining a new life, but in the end all she'd lost was an excuse.



017. Threat
Char: Xylia, Nico, Jovan, and the boys
Word Count: 229

Danger had never been so real until Nico was born.

Xylia had always lived life a little recklessly, always the first to step out into something new and to start exploring, but with the birth of her delicate little boy all of that changed.

The first many trips to the doctor, the home calls to the specialists. Everything piled up within those first years that when, eventually, he began learning to walk and all those imagined threats became a terrifying reality.

Danger was everywhere, in misplaced toys or uneven cobblestones. In time it would become rambunctious siblings who didn't understand why their brother couldn't play the same games as they could or, worse yet, was the eventuality that he would become his own greatest threat.

That threat became a reality on countless occasions when, in the brief seconds of a turned head, he attempted to learn to fly off of the couch, or the table.

An answer came in a very unusual surprise after Nico's most recent attempt to fly: Jovan announced that he'd never let Nico break again. They were only 8 when it happened, but the boy stood before them with a look of precocious solemnity. "I won't ever let Nico break like that again. Never." There was no way you could deny something like that, and even though they protested at first, Xylia and the boys were filled with relief.

[Yuiven]

Superb stuff as usual, Vyn. Let me take the opportunity to say again how much I consistently enjoy your writing.

The title for Situation 15 is very appropriate because not only do Oddr and Thallak adore Xylia and each other, but I adore them too! <3

This ménage à trois isn’t a traditional union, but it's obvious to everyone else that Xylia, Thallak and Oddr care for and, most importantly, each respects the other. With that said, they've been hiding their true feelings. I wonder how long until anyone decides to take any action and admit their feelings. Such arrangements are full of challenges...as well as delights!

[Lucca]

Oooh, very nice batch. ^^ I am enjoying reading these a lot!

[Vyn]

I've been meaning to write this fic for a long time and it was rather unintentional that it came out to this word prompt. XD I blame Jenn (in the best of ways) for getting Hatter talking about his opinion on other Jokers right as I stumbled onto this prompt.

Alas, due to it's length. You only get one this time around while I work on the next set of prompts. X3 Enjoy!


018. Answer
Alternate Title: How Hatter Met Alice :3
Char: Hatter (18 - 20)
Word Count: 958

Am I alone?

There was once a time when I truly hadn't cared, when I'd been content to explore and experiment and make friends with the wide and wondrously varied world of Cards. Whether or not there were other Jokers like myself mattered so little, because there was everyone else, there was Doorie, and I knew that secrets like mine were meant to be kept, which meant everyone else must be keeping secrets as well.

There wasn't really a point in searching for Secret Answers, right?

...And then I met Him.

Marchie had been one of the best things to happen to me in my young life, my personal piece of a fairy tale that had stumbled into my own backyard. He was a great friend, my March Hare, and we could talk for hours over Tea about Life and Cards and Science and Rabbits... but Marchie also had Questions.

He asked me a lot about the Secret Answers that I had learned not to look for, he asked me repeatedly: Why am I alone? Are there no other Rabbits to play with me? Why are there only Cards here?

I had reassured him of my logic of Secret Answers, which can't be answered because they're made by Secret People like ourselves.

My answer was enough to put his mind at peace for the remainder of tea, but from that day onward I felt an inkling of curiosity and maybe even longing in a place where it had not been before. Marchie remembered nothing, no family and no home... So where had he come from? Was he alone? And could that mean that I too was more alone than I'd realized? There were hundreds of Cards in the world, but none of them were like me... Not that I'd met. What if he and I were both happenstance fairy tales that had somehow escaped into a world where we didn't truly exist, just like everyone had always said. Maybe there was another world full of upright rabbits and Cards with no suit?

And everyday the unanswered Questions grew stronger until I felt suffocated by their weight and by their unanswered emptiness and, finally, I left to prove to myself that my worries were wrong. Neither Marchie nor myself were Alone, we were just Secrets. I was determined to make this true.

I searched... and searched... and was reminded countless times again that the world was Vast and Full of Cards but that none of them were Like Me. After a time I had traveled into the wild, untamed parts of the world and discovered that, to my surprise, there were those like Marchie. The Society of Rabbits were secretive and vague and, by the time I left, I left with only the certain knowledge that Marchie was not alone and that I had been given a great deal of untruths. Rabbits were interesting creatures.

Now Marchie had his Answer, but I was still left for wanting.

I had no choice but to keep looking. I just had to keep moving, through countless regions and wild wilderness and crowded cities... It was exhausting and, for a while, I gave up entirely. What hope was there to find the secret people like myself? To find my proof like I'd found Marchie's? Just a sliver, a faint promise... Anything?

If there was no one to Answer my Question then that in and of itself was my answer: I was alone.

So I stopped trying but I kept wandering. My feet maintained a determination that the rest of me had not, pulling me toward some greater goal as my heart sunk in my chest. For so long I'd been happy without knowing, without trying... I'd been happy just to be a part of this bustling society of mine, but now I felt separated and utterly alone. Not even the thought of Marchie or my dear, precious Doorie could bridge the lonely hole in my chest.

I walked myself to exhaustion and it was when I felt I couldn't go any further that She, most unexpectedly, found Me.

It was a marvelous sort of moment, that first meeting. She, my Lady from the Looking Glass, stood before me and smiled as if She'd been looking for something and had finally found it -- although it was in a broken heap at the time being. It was a smile that made it hard to keep giving up. She took me in and gave me tea, and we talked for a long time about everything.

Without even realizing it I had become hers.

She must have had that affect on those She touched, because in an instant She had convinced me to break my greatest promise to myself -- to never be owned after the sacrifice my mother had made to keep me free -- without ever even asking. I had always imagined such a submission to feel wrong, like a weight or a chain... but the only combination of those feelings I received was a shining silver pocket watch engraved most elegantly with the letter "A". It wasn't a bad weight.

She was different than any Queen of the Courts who might try to possess me, she was my lovely Secret, my lady from the Looking Glass, my Alice. I could want for nothing more when She was around.

Eventually we parted ways, as we had both known we would eventually have to, with the promise of returning and my watch as a reminder that she was always there and I was, no matter where we were or how far apart we were, always Hers.

I'd wait forever, for my dear Alice, to come to tea again.

[Lucca]

HATTER! *squee* ...ahem. Yes, that was a very interesting fic...I've always been curious about the mysterious Alice character in Hatter's life, as well as what's up with Marchie, so yes...poor Hatter, guess he doesn't meet other Jokers very often.

[Vyn]

I feel the need to add that at the time prompt #18 was written, Hatter would've been around 18 or so, probably ending around 19 or 20 as it does take a while to travel extensively like he'd been doing. [edits in the missing age stamp]

And Marchie, oh Marchie... XD He will be causing Hatter more and more anxiety as they both get older. Yay for a Rabbit Madness!


Lastly! I've completed a second set thanks to the 4 hour train to my dad's house (yay)!


019. Whore
Char: Cecilia
Word Count: 166

It shouldn't bother her, it usually didn't.

She enjoyed what she did and she knew that Ez enjoyed himself too. She worked for fun, and he made new 'friends' all the time. It was what they did, it was what they always did... It was how they met.

But sometimes little things still managed to get under her fur.

A well-placed comment from a snide individual was enough to make the Doe doubt herself. Whore, slut, bitch. Cecilia had taken to consistent reminders that they were all just jealous that she so fully understood what men wanted, even if their girlfriends didn't. It was a gift, really. They'd just have to suck it up, right?

And still she found herself returning to Ez's home, eager to lose herself in his company. For every man that she pleasured, she would never be more happy than when she returned to Ez. Whore, slut... it didn't really matter what they called her so long as she had him.



020. Slave
Char: Ophelia
Word Count: 190

She was a slave shackled to her own selfish skin. Silver chains and white wings had nothing on her self-imposed bindings.

There was no escaping the prison of need she wrapped herself in, the ritual of her life controlled her and played upon the strings of her life like a puppeteer with a marionette. She was obedient to this need, and no matter how tired she became or how she longed to stop there was no escaping her work, her lab.

There was always another experiment, another job, another unrelenting question that demanded to be answered.

And she was tired, so very tired.

Freedom seemed so bleak with age starting to wear on her, time showed its ugly head every time she looked into the mirror and witnessed the deepening of the crinkles in her skin or the light hint of gray that had seeped here and there into her once pristine black and green coat. Yet, despite every reminder of her age, there was no giving up so easily.

She was shackled to her work and not even death would give her the freedom she needed.



021. Lick
Char: Meecha
Word Count: 229

His tongue was coarse against her human skin, but Meecha found she didn't mind from time to time.

Kris liked to lick, and snuggle... and a variety of other strange interactions that Meecha rarely found herself becoming accustomed to. Eventually they would grow on her and she would be left, briefly, contented.

Other times the very action of his, what he called, affection was terribly frustrating.

Or, occasionally, he licked her until she went from content to frustrated and then bad things -- or good things, it was always a little hard to tell for Meecha -- happened. She liked the way the coarseness felt against her skin, like a slimy sort of tree bark she'd rolled against in the swamp and the tongue understood how to reach places that the tree bark definitely couldn't itch right.

The aftermath left her feeling a little shaky and, sometimes, even a little tingly as if she were paralyzed. It made her content, enough to lay back and let Kris snuggle until the shivers went away.

Sometimes, she thought, it would be remarkably useful to have a tongue like Krisoff's that could also allow her to paralyze others with a coarse tongue. Lao could even use such techniques, leaving people upset and itchy, so why couldn't she paralyze them with a well placed lick as well?

...It was something she'd have to work on.



022. Fanatic
Char: Hatter
Word Count: 129

Fanatic.

Keep your hands moving and your mind busy.

Obsessive.

From one obsession to another. Tea, hats, mechanics.

Obsessions.

If he didn’t keep moving then the gears might start turning, reminding him that not everything was perfect in his smiling world. There was darkness lurking under his smile and insanity lurked deeper down still.

Marchie was getting worse every year and it always felt like an eternity between those rare visits with his Alice, everyone felt far away but there was always a new obsession to return to.

Obsessions kept him sane.

A cup of tea calmed his nerves and a never-ending list of experiments kept him busy and new hats kept him smiling.

There was absolutely nothing wrong with being fanatical. Nothing was worse than being bored.



023. Misty
Char: Neil
Word Count: 183

Neil had always heard that old habits died hard, but he’d never realized just how true that was until he’d been finally taken off the streets.

Even with a warm bed and a loving family he still found himself waking before dawn. Something about the way the mist collected on the windows reminded him of a subconscious need to wander, a vague memory of all his early morning escapades into the market to find food before the vendors were fully awake.

In the early morning, when the mist was still heavy and the sun hadn’t quite risen, Neil had felt free. There were no crowds to shun him and the thieves had finally gone to bed so that he could wander freely without fear of attack, it was the only time when something was his and his alone.

For the most part he could ignore those urges to wander, but other times it wasn’t so easy and he’d find himself slipping out into the security pre-dawn. So long as he returned with breakfast no one really though much of his occasional absence.