64-Prompt Drabble Requests

[phantastus]

SUP FOLKS I FEEL LIKE WRITING TONIGHT between my tags.

Comment here with two (or more) characters and pick a prompt or three-- I'll write you a drabble based on that prompt! These prompts can either be fandom-based (although I'm afraid I'm a one-trick pony and only trust myself to do Silent Hill justice, although I might make exceptions) or based on RP CR that we have.

The prompts are first-come, first-serve-- I wanna exercise my writing chops so try not to pick something that's already been chosen! Feel free to pick as many as you want as long as they haven't been picked already!


PROMPTS
The Theme List

1. 2 a.m.
2. metaphor
3. sky
4. lost scene
5. degrees
6. seize the day
7. opposite
*8. passions run
*9. connection
*10. lull and storm
*11. animal
12. children
*13. we all float on
*14. chess
15. duty
16. rip
17. missing time
18. crest
*19. itch
20. explode
*21. rise
*22. crumble
23. range
*24. fight/flight
25. acid
26. color
*27. give
28. needle
*29. locks
30. slope
*31. correspondence
32. linger
33. charm
*34. roads
35. hunger
36. reciprocity
*37. kind
38. fruity
39. half-life
*40. comedy of errors
41. tragedy
*42. hope is the thing with feathers
43. empire
*44. turpentine kisses and mistaken blows
45. rings
*46. dust
47. every you, every me
*48. project
49. adore
*50. murmur
51. above
52. below
*53. incalculable
54. wire
*55. landslide
*56. the beginning is the end is the beginning
57. door
*58. enemy gate
*59. stone
*60. bright
*61. stories
62. chime
*63. laugh
64. hold

Comments

1

[toothaches]

YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO.

I DO KNOW WHAT TO DO. Meranda, Maurice, and Heather (1)

[phantastus]

There were a lot of poetic ways to describe that time of day when you open your eyes, feeling like you'd only just closed them, and are greeted with too-loud birdsong, sunlight that has no business to be shining, and the unshakable knowledge that you really need to be getting up, despite feeling like warmed-over roadkill.

Meranda Leeds' favorite was "the asscrack of dawn".

No other worldly phrase seemed to do that feeling justice, and it was just crude enough to get her feelings across.

Today was an asscrack-of-dawn day. That much she knew. What she didn't know yet was just how literal that descriptor was going to wind up being.

Meranda dragged herself out of bed with a physical lethargy that matched the mental perfectly. She worked a long shift later that afternoon and she was not looking forward to it. Her thoughts were still wrapped up in the blankets on her bed as she slogged down the hallway towards the kitchen to turn the coffeepot on, pretty much the only thing that could make the rest of the day even remotely bearable.

As the machine of Caffeine Nirvana bubbled to life, Meranda turned her bleary gaze to the living room, where a snoring lump on the couch indicated her housemate's presence. Without even thinking about it, she looked past the couch to make sure the curtains were fully-drawn, since she didn't feel like handling the pained screams that would ensue if a bit of sunlight touched down on him before he had a chance to dramatically scramble away from it.

... Asscrack of dawn, she thought to herself again, reminded of the phrase for no reason that she could particularly put her finger on.

Then she trundled back down the hall to turn her dinosaur of a laptop on so that it could boot up in its usual molasses-trickle way while the coffee brewed. It was something of a routine.

As the coffee pot bubbled fuller and fuller, she eventually emerged from the depths of her room, marginally more dressed than before. Letting out a deep sigh of the relief that only came with caffienation on a cruddy morning. Once she had a mug of steaming black gold in her hand and had swallowed enough of it to return to a state somewhat resembling awareness, she leaned back against the counter and looked back over into the living room, the edge of the mug meeting her lips.

And then coffee got sprayed all over the kitchen floor.

"HUTCH!"

The lump on the couch snorted awake, the blanket shifting and a wild head of bright yellow hair that had been matted up on one side from a night spent shoved against the armrest popping up.

"Whzzunhg huh? WHAT?!"

"HUTCH!" she screamed again, because it seemed like the only word that could adequately explain what she was seeing, and pointed to what sat behind the couch.

Maurice Hutch, who shared the house and sometimes heated words with Meranda, pushed himself up on one arm and gave her an aggravated, nose-wrinkled look of bafflement, before twisting around to look where she had indicated.

His whole body jerked in surprise.

Then it rested for a moment as the cogs underneath his wild rocker mullet worked at processing what he was seeing.

Then he relaxed.

"Oh yeah," he said. "That."

Propped up against the closed curtains of the window was what seemed to be a large, official-looking sign, or roughly half of one. Black, no-nonsense capital letters spanning across it proudly spelled out two words:

BUTT HOLE

"And what," hissed Meranda, "is THAT?"

Maurice lifted a pudgy hand and ran it through his hair, still looking at the sign, as though trying to think of the explanation that would get him beaten the least. "It's, uh... kind of a long story..."

"Maurice, tell my why I have a giant sign that says BUTT HOLE in my living room."

Her voice had gone high and strained and the sentence had leaped out in one breath, because in the space of two seconds, she had completely run out of patience for the situation. Maurice quailed, pulling the blanket back up to his chin, but was fortunately spared from further interrogation by a pair of long, skinny arms emerging from under some pillows on the other end of the couch in a stretch.

"Nng, what's all the screaming for?"

The arms had been followed by a scruffy blond head, which Meranda proceeded to glare at.

Oh. Oh. That explained everything from Maurice being gone all night to the BUTT HOLE sign. She wasn't sure how it explained it yet, but it did. Every time the vampire went off with his buddy Daisy or whatever her name was (in truth, Meranda actually knew the girl's name just fine-- but pretending she didn't give enough of a shit to remember it made her feel a little better. It was easier to believe that she didn't feel a resentful stab of loneliness every time Maurice went galavanting off on adventures with her and his other friends that way), something like this happened.

He would come home with paint all over him or a giant bundle of pool noodles or pillowcase full of candy whose brands she'd never heard of or a life-sized cardboard Edward Cullen cutout dressed in luau getup, and every time he would tell her 'It's a long story' and nothing else.

Today it was a giant sign that said BUTT HOLE.

And she wasn't surprised at all to hear the same excuse being trotted out.

So she glared at his friend.

It was all her fault.

Oblivious to the amount of venom currently being sent in her direction, the freckled teen scrubbed at her eyes and with a fist and blinked over the back of the couch. Unlike Maurice, her immediate response to the sight after the obligatory double-take was to burst into raspy laughter.

"Oh man! I totally forgot! Dude, I just-- I can't. I can't. Zilla!" Bracing her back against the armrest she'd evidently spent the night (or whatever had remained of the night when they'd gotten in) curled up against, she reached out with a lanky leg and gave Maurice a nudge with her foot. "Tell her!"

Maurice shoved the sock-clad toes away with a mumble of "C'mon, 'Thur!" and looked over at Meranda apprehensively, as though expecting to get yelled at. Under normal circumstances, she probably would have, but she did want to hear what had happened. So instead she folded her arms. "Yeah, 'Zilla," she spat. She wasn't sure where that nickname came from. It was just another fun inside-joke with his new friends that she'd never been privy to. "Tell me."

"Well," Maurice said, squirming to sit up a little straighter and pressing two thick fingers together. "We were out last night, y'know, just wanderin' around some city somewhere..."

"Drunk," added 'Thur' helpfully.

"Yeah, and uh..." Despite himself, the vampire's face split into a wobbly gap-toothed grin and a high-pitched giggle escaped him. "We found-- it was like two AM, we thought we were hallucinating at first-- this STREET."

"Called BUTT HOLE ROAD," the teenager finished for him, unable to resist leaping into the story. "Honest to GOD that's what it was called. And like... miraculously, there was NO GRAFFITI on it ANYWHERE--"

"So Heather turned to me and was like-- was like-- ZILLA, WE TOTALLY NEED TO STEAL THIS SIGN!! So... we did!"

Meranda watched sourly as the pair dissolved into laughter as they undoubtedly had the night before when they had found it to begin with. She'd thought that hearing the story would make her feel better-- that it would undoubtedly be something completely stupid that she wouldn't feel cheated for having missed. Well, it was completely stupid, but for some reason that just made it worse.

"Dude," Heather said, plopping onto her knees. "How did we even TAKE it? I just remember finding it, nothing in between."

"I don't even KNOW... it looks like a pretty clean cut... did we like... SAW IT OFF? Oh my god."

"I THINK- ... no, wait... NO! I think we did! Do you remember going into some guy's garden shed or am I just nuts?"

"... Shit, I think we did. Oh my god."


The conversation faded out as Meranda retreated down the darkened hallway, fingers locked around the mug like a vice. She didn't think it was possible to feel worse than she had when she'd just woken up, but she did.

Fuck everything.

She was going back to bed.