Tag: prompt

Error 50

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My first foray into a cyberpunk AU featuring Elias Dawn and their first encounter with a little assistant robot buddy.

The scrapyards at the bottom of the city, far below the walking levels and lower residences, formed a landscape of sharp hills and flickering lights. Without protective gear or a good map, one could get lost in the piles. Only so many work elevators came down this far, and even then only a scrapyard droid had the passcodes to operate them. On the occasion someone did wind up down there, flagging one of the scrapyard droids for rescue was one of the only hopes of getting back to the walking levels via the elevators.

If one wanted a rescue, anyway. A few lurkers could be seen slinking among the scraps most nights, for their own reasons. Some risked the yards for a chance at supplies. Some sought things to sell, things that should never have been thrown away. And some lurked because they knew it was a good place to hide until the drones stopped looking for them up above.

El found themself down in the piles most days for the latter reason. They didn’t mind taking the long way back up on the old service ladders, and the jump down, well … their uncanny abilities were the whole reason they needed to hide in the first place. Magic had not left the world in the wake of the machines, but anyone who had it had a knack for disappearing.

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Tiny Pixie Hands

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A note for anyone confused after seeing previous snippets with Elias using he/him pronouns. Elias is genderfluid and a shapeshifter, so she’s presenting very femme in this story. Just a heads up to avoid confusion!

The chill in the air was sharp and solid, each breeze like sandpaper on Elias’ cheeks. She didn’t wander through the perpetually wintery regions so far north very often, and every visit reminded her of why. That cold found a way to seep into her bones and stay there, a slow takeover until the involuntary shivers came like clockwork.

At least she was better prepared for it since the last quest that took her into the tundra. She’d chosen a shape that stood shorter than her usual, stockier. She’d opted for plenty of natural padding – thick curves and plenty of tummy to protect her core. Her hair was longer and darker red than she usually kept it – something to help absorb whatever warmth from the sun she could.

She’d bought some hard-weather clothes from a group of traders that frequented the area, so she knew the gear would last and it would work. She was well insulated in hides lined with downy fur, and boots that had a hardy grip on the frozen ground. They’d even given her a pair of sungoggles for when she eventually reached the snowy areas. The coat had a lovely collar of soft rabbit down that occasionally tickled under her jaw, and similar tufts stuck out of the thick gloves she wore over her hands.

She was an adorable bundle, and it put a certain spring in her step.

Eral, by contrast, was not so cheerful for the climate they’d wandered into. It came as no surprise; he stood only six inches tall, and his little leafy wings were paper thin after all. They’d managed to get a few tiny scraps of hide for him to haphazardly tie to himself, but the traders had nothing to offer that was made for pixie size.

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Leaf Wings (One-shot prompt)

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Got this prompt a while back, and I wanted it to be Eral and Bowman. Do I know what led up to this little scene? Absolutely not! I may try to come up with more, but for now I have some fun with a What If scenario, bringing my leaf-winged characters together for some crack AU type shenanigans.

The prompt: “Stop running away!” “AND WHY SHOULD I NOT.”

Bowman’s heart pounded and he breathed quicker than his lungs could truly take in the air. His legs burned from so much running, activity he definitely wasn’t used to. Most days he’d be flying, his speedy wings propelling him forward. Wherever forward might lead him.

He was lost in a maze of twisting corridors, dimly lit and echoing faintly with every one of his frantic steps. They loomed a foot or so overhead; he didn’t know what they might be for, or where they might lead him, but he yearned for some glimpse of the outside world. He’d barely managed to escape into these tunnels on his own. At least here, whatever had captured him couldn’t follow.

Whatever had bound his wings wouldn’t be able to bind the rest of him, blast it.

His wings, strong as they were, couldn’t budge the odd material wrapped around his torso. It chafed at the all important limbs, and he couldn’t risk scratching them up without even a guarantee that he’d actually get them free. His arms, also trapped partially at his sides, couldn’t reach a proper angle to shove at the loop. All he could rely on was his sprinting speed.

Around a bend just feet ahead of him, a figure stumbled into view. Bowman smiled at first, and then skidded to a halt with a distrusting frown as he parsed the details of his fellow duct-traveler.

For one, his clothes looked so human, from the collared shirt to the leather boots. Pale skin, dark, swept-back hair, and blue eyes set him apart from any wood sprite Bowman knew. He had wings at his back, too, though they looked strangely folded under the bindings that also held them in place. His hands were bound by the wrists behind his back.

Most notably, this pale stranger was six inches tall, standing over Bowman by half his own height.

“What?!” Bowman blurted, scrambling backwards so abruptly he nearly toppled himself. He didn’t want to wait around to find out what was going on with that stranger, that  … small giant. That was just too much to deal with.

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Reader Prompt

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Anonymous asked: Bowman’s reaction to finding out Jacob is younger than him?

This is a cute prompt! In Bowman of Wellwood, Bowman has his suspicions about Jacob being a bit younger, but he never did find out for sure in all the excitement! They’re bound to stumble upon the fact eventually, and Bowman is bound to have Opinions about this.

“When’s your birthday, Bowman?”

The question came out of nowhere, but upon realizing he didn’t know, Jacob had to find out. So far, he’d always gotten interesting answers out of Bowman for his curious questions. Even if they weren’t all that informative about how the wood sprites of Wellwood lived, they were fun to hear.

“My what? Birth-day?” Bowman echoed. He stopped swooping about to land on a low branch ahead of where Jacob walked. Even a few feet away, Jacob spotted that dubious, curious frown. “It was nineteen years ago, Jacob. Is that how humans ask how old someone is?”

Jacob grinned. The thrill of getting an actual answer to his questions was second only to the many opportunities to see what “human things” still vexed the tiny sprite. “Not exactly,” he replied, coming to a stop just under Bowman’s chosen branch. “We keep track of all the days in a year, so every year we know exactly which day is the same as the day we were born.”

Bowman’s wings fanned open partway. He took a seat on the branch and leaned over to peer down at Jacob. His curiosity couldn’t hide. “So you know the exact day you were born every time the seasons cycle around?”

Jacob shrugged. “It’s not the reason we number the days, I don’t think. But it’s fun to know, I guess. Mine is August 27. That’s in the summer. So later this summer, it’ll be exactly 18 years since I was born, isn’t that cool?”

Bowman fidgeted, and Jacob guessed he was resisting every urge to correct him. Summers weren’t cool in Wellwood, after all.

Instead, Bowman crossed his arms. “I passed nineteen years in winter,” he mused, then narrowed his little eyes. “So I am older than you! I knew it!”

“By a year and a half, sounds like,” Jacob confirmed. Bemusement lined his expression. “So? It’s not that far off!”

Bowman stood again so he could flutter irritably off his branch. “No, but it means you might still get taller, and it also means you never once respected your elder when we met!”

“Whaaat?” Jacob drawled. “Bowman, I am so respectful. At least now. I learned quick!”

“Not quick enough!” Bowman snipped back. A rush of wind accompanied a flutter next to Jacob’s face, and he had to fight not to flinch as the sprite landed on his shoulder. Bowman’s voice was crystal clear when he continued his fake retort. “I had to work to teach you to act right!”

“Got me good and trained,” Jacob confirmed. “Where to next, boss?”

A wing slapped at his neck. “Nowhere, giant. What other silly human things have you got for me today?”

Chase In Lilliput: Trust your Giant

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( 100 GT Themes )

“Hang”

It’s been a while since I did anything for tiny Chase and his castaway giant Jacob. Since this prompt didn’t have a name with it, I opted to go with those dorks. Enjoy!

The sheer cliff is unflinching, and no amount of howling wind or pounding rain could so much as sway it. The view above to the goal at its peak causes nearly as much vertigo as the view below, a drop with no end. In one direction waits a challenge, and in the other waits certain peril.

The only things between Chase and that fall are his determination, and the handy climbing rope he’s claimed as his own.

Both hands grip the thick material with whitened knuckles and he swings slightly in a breeze, his heart pounding. There is a smirk on his face, and he seems to revel in the danger. He carefully climbs with one hand over the other, then pauses to let another sway die down. It is dangerous, but he has a goal in mind and he will meet it, no matter the cost.

All of a sudden, out of the depths of the cliff itself, echoes a thunderous noise–

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A Good Hunter

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brothersapart:

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(Jacob, Mouse)

AU: Brothers Lost

Timeline: After The Water’s Fine

The old house creaked and groaned, constantly settling as the wind outside tested its strength. Jacob crept through the main hall, his boots muffled by a dusty rug that had been traversed many times over the years. The house truly was old, so much so that its wiring was shaky at best, and anything electronic didn’t fit in with the decor.

Jacob kept his flashlight trained on the ground as he walked, and his eyes flickered from side to side. He normally had two small companions on either shoulder, giving him input on where he should go.

They’d led him to this house, this old old place, and that was as far as he’d gotten with their guidance. Old floorboards and walls meant lots of passages within the woodwork of the home to explore. As the only ones that could fit in there, Sam and Dean were the best choice. Sam was only four inches tall, and Dean was a little smaller, but that had yet to slow them down.

Sam and Dean Winchester were hunters, and it ran in the family. After so long thinking their lives had crashed into a dead end in a little motel in Kansas, they were back on the job with a determination to rival anyone. While helping them look for their dad, a hunter who had dropped of the map a couple years back, Jacob was learning the trade as well.

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In the Upside Down

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( Send Me A Number and Some Characters )

This one ended up well outside my usual fare. Mostly because once my brain decided to associate Dark with the Upside Down, there was no going back. So here, have some cracky Stranger Things fanfic.

“Jacob?” Bowman called. He hated the way his voice wavered.

He couldn’t help it. Wood sprites thrived in the sun with light spreading over their wings. Bowman’s eyes, adjusted to the brightest summer days or the stark winter ones, were not ready for this. Even the moon was nowhere to be seen.

Leaves and grass rustled. Bowman’s eyes were wide, but he could barely see silhouettes.

Long branches reached out overhead, spindly and gnarled. Their shapes against the sky reminded Bowman of a thornbush, and their leaves were sparse and dry.

Those were no Wellwood trees.

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Are You Challenging Me?

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( Send Me A Number and Some Characters )

This one made me go “awwww.” Because I don’t really write enough Bowman & Jiria. The little cuties need more love. Thanks for the prompt!

Near the end of summer, when temperatures finally relented and the cicadas were fat and happy as they sang, Wellwood saw more activity than ever. The knights trained more earnestly to prepare for the encroaching animals of autumn. Nestlings at the right age practiced their flying in hopeful leaps along the ground before the cold would make that impossible. The Big Oak at the heart of the forest saw more visitors to its platforms and boughs as the heat no longer threatened to dry out a pair of wings trying to gather sunlight.

Bowman might normally be out on his patrols at this time of day, but he hadn’t left yet. He lingered at the oak to share a platform and a few more minutes with his date.

He and Jiria sat side by side on a platform, with their legs hanging over the side. They each had a wing open wide to catch the sun while the wings closer to each other brushed together. Jiria’s head rested on his shoulder and he absently played with her pale green braids while she dozed in a suntrance.

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A Little Change (1/?)

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Oh my God yes. I’ve mused briefly about this before, but not for very long each time. Getting a prompt for it really made me want to try it. So try I did.

This is not the end of this little crack story.

The Fire Spirit didn’t often turn His focus on a sprite other than His own children. He and His siblings watched the sprites they lovingly made, answering their Prayers when they could. Even as the fire sprites all over the world asked for magic from the Lord of Change, and even as He answered, He couldn’t help but look in on one of His sister’s children.

A wood sprite had befriended a human. It wasn’t the strangest happening, but it always amused. Most of the Spirits couldn’t resist checking in on the pair from time to time.

This time, as the human trudged through the woods with the sprite flitting to and fro among the leaves that the Earth Spirit had designed him to match, the Fire Spirit had an idea. A sudden notion of mischief ran through His core. If He could smile, He would.

My sister will forgive me, little one, He thought as he reached out from the place where the Spirits lived. I hope you will, too. Nothing wrong with a little change.

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Rain is a Good Thing

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“Shut up.”
“I didn’t say anything!”
“Don’t care. Shut up.”

A fun dialogue prompt for Jacob. And, honestly, who else would he have this conversation with but Bowman Leafwing?

Jacob pursed his lips in an effort to school his expression. He’d definitely heard the sound of Bowman’s landing, though he hadn’t expected it at all. He tread carefully on grassy patches and whatever stones he could find until he could catch up, and then he squatted down so he could see.

Bowman sat up and lifted his arms and wings out of the mud he’d careened right into. Globs of soaked earth dropped from the limbs with tiny plops and Jacob bit determinedly on his lower lip. It wouldn’t do any good to laugh now.

Even covered head to toe in mud, it was very easy to tell when Bowman was about to boil over.

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