#fff61

[enchanted-lightning-aes]

Unleashing the Grand Treasure

A/N: here’s a tale featuring Titanrin, master and savvy pirate! How they did something no pirate would do and they are not sorry for it.

Word Count: 990

TW: None

***

A ship positions itself near a docks, it's black sail waving in a quick wind. It opens up as some members of a crew carry boxes while crossing it, putting them down on the wooden floor. It would go to a market, where it bustles with excitement from customers and sellers obtaining something new with money.

After they manage to set up their shop, a pirate marches out to a set of stairs. They keep their curly locks in a high ponytail, causing it's lower strands to sweep over their coat's fabric. They adjust a patch over their eye, using their uncovered one to scan the surroundings of an area.

Plenty of gems and jewels seem to be in stock to be sold, they think, twirling a chain of an amulet.

Their beloved menace, a pale parrot with ruffling feathers, perches on their shoulder.

Some fellow pirates and sailors are aware of their presence, immediately going in formation. They know their tales of plundering for treasure and adventures of getting past harsh storms, they're a pirate meant to be dealt with caution. And also they're notorious for infuriating people. It has been too foolish to not prepare for a deal that cannot be refused.

Titanrin pulls to a halt, scrutinizing the sailors before them. With their free eye, they can see a fraction of fear overwhelming them.

"Mx Titanrin," one of the sailors greet, bowing to them. "What business proposition have you arrived for?"

"A pleasure to see ya, matey," Titanrin replies, tipping their gaudy hat of the day. "My, my. What items do ye got there, you ol' scallyway?"

"The usual," the sailor answers with a proud grin.

The usual? Well, perhaps, they should leave without causing a scene that can turn the business into a frenzy. Nothing caught their interest for it's only the same items. At least, they can get to keep their money.

"Titanrin, we have a mighty offer for you," General Vitali says, approaching them. "My squadron manages to capture a rare creature so magnificent that I think you'll be dazzled by it."

Ah, yes. This infamous rogue, who stormed a palace of islands, and squandered for treasure that no other person could before. It was rumored that it's she, who slayed a dragon meant to serve a crooked queen, who swam in piles of valuable coins.

They follow Vitali languidly while she guides them to a secluded area, where they find an edge of a rope attached a handle of a barrel. A unicorn, pale and ethereal, lays down with it's eyes shut. Their jaw drops at the sight of it.

"A unicorn?" Titanrin asks, knitting their brows together. "Where on Earth did you acquire a rare creature such as this?"

Vitali smirks, visibly pleased with herself. "This stunning thing was from lands of Milorus, your grace, I assure you that."

Somehow the unicorn being trapped in this situation doesn't look right. It sits there like a docile pet, unsure of what to do. Their parrot squawks, startling it to be awake.

"Magical horse!" Monoky pipes up.

"Keep it down." Titanrin tries shushing her. Then they grimace. "Sorry, lads. This unicorn doesn't interest me even it's worth can be compared to golds of Kettersten. I appreciate this offer, General. However, I must decline for it's not what I'd purchase for my business. Besides, how can a creature of that magnitude live in my ship? It's barely enough for most crew members onboard."

The general's expression deflates with disappointment.

"Such a shame, Mx. I suppose I can find another customer soon."

After Vitali nods, she leaves them by themself and goes off elsewhere.

Perhaps, Titanrin might be making a costly mistake. Regardless, they still don't see it as ideal for their crew or ship. They also could get hunted by pirates, who'd also want to deal in the magical creature business. They did no such thing as getting involved in that horrid sort of trading. Not their thing, really.

A pirate never lets a deal like this go but they can't help except think the creature would be better off on it's own. It's rare and of value, of course, but it shouldn't be sold to any random careless nobleperson, who's treat them as a prize to show off. Instead of a creature to be taken care of.

They pull their sword out from a pocket, slicing ropes that kept the unicorn in place with a swift movement. It shakes them off, dragging it's hind legs onto the air, and neighs into escape.

Titanrin whistles, stepping away from getting caught.  They can't allow their reputation get tainted with rumors of selflness deeds. They had to protect it, after all, ensuring they slayed hearts of cowards, and convinced minds of geniuses. They slip their sword back onto their sheath, pretending as if they didn't do anything.

The unicorn leaps onto the ground, dashing across a path.

"Hey!" one of the sailors yell in panic. "That unicorn's gettin' away!"

If anyone had discovered that they released the unicorn, they might spread word about how they're foolish to let a grand prize escape. However, they care not for any prizes gained from selling creatures or people. The only way they willingly engaged in trade is with ancient items of great value and coins of truest gold.

And there are better treasures out there such as freedom and loyalty. Any price might be high but they'd be damned if they don't have guts to fight for it. If they didn't have any, they wouldn't be sailing around different realms in the first place.

The unicorn runs away, wild and free, with gallant speed. It should go far away from trouble and a grasp of those trying to capture it for their own gains.

As Titanrin turns around for the direction towards the ship, they find themself ready for treasures with far more worth than mere creatures and cheap offers.

***

[starklyscifi]

Let The Flaming Mango Alone

The rowdy group in the corner was debating whether to order the Flaming Mango shots. The oldest of the group—blonde hair, worry lines already forming—was nodding along, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. The one in the red space jacket got up, slapping the other on the shoulder, and headed for the bar. He inadvertently dragged the rest of the group along with him, leaving the kid clutching the drinks menu. As the others trailed out of sight, his knuckles turned white and he let out a few shaky breaths before waking himself in the face with the plastic menu.  

The old man at the bar ordered another whiskey and tried to ignore that tingle in his spine. He’d felt the nudge.

“I’m not getting involved,” he muttered to his whiskey. The bartender kept wiping down the bar, well used to the old geezer’s speeches to his drinks. “It’s not my problem.”

He glanced over at the kid who was in a vicious cycle of trying not to hyperventilate, and then trying not to be obvious about it, which just caused him to hyperventilate more.

The old man sighed into his whiskey. “Jason, get me a beer.”

The bartender nodded, sliding a glass of amber liquid across to the old man. He didn’t question much about the old timer anymore, especially not the sporadic nights he chose not to drink alone.

Picking up both glasses, the old man leaned over the bar and whispered, “And take extra time with those Flaming Mangos.”

“You got it, boss.”

The old timer shuffled across the floor, his bad leg acting up. The kid looked up from the drink menu as the old man slid a beer in front of him.

“Um, thanks?” He poked at it, turning the glass like he wasn’t sure if he ought to be accepting drinks from strangers or not. The old man rolled his eyes, picked up the glass and took a swig before placing it back down. The kid tried and failed to hide the disgust on his face.

“You looked like you needed some company.”

“I’m here with…. people,” the kid said, waving a hand in the general direction of the bar.

“Company. Not people. Company means you can relax a bit.”

“I’m relaxed,” the kid said, as his shoulders tightened even further.

The old man looked at him, eyes steady. “Sure, kid.”

The words faded into the background noise of a little old bar on a little backwater planet. The kind of place that attracted visitors from across the galaxy for the “adventure.” The kid curled his hands around the beer glass, like it could save him from the awkward interaction he was currently trapped in.

“You know, it helps more if you drink it,” the old man said, knowing all too well what was running through the kid’s head.

The kid gingerly took a sip.

“You could also walk away,” the old man said.

“That seems rude.”

“From me,” the man took a sip of his whiskey, “Or from those people you think are your friends.”

“You just sit in bars and give out unwanted advice all day?”

The man smiled. “There you go, be assertive.”

The kid looked like he wanted to throw the glass at the old man’s head. He wouldn’t have minded. He’d had far worse thrown at him over the years. And it might do the kid some good.

“The advice—”

“Can I say no?” the kid asked.

"Be yourself."

"Because it takes all types?" The young man made a face into his beer.

"Don't waste the decades trying to live a lie, it'll squeeze the air out of you," the old man said quietly.

The kid nodded, taking another sip of the beer.

“Wild and free don’t look the same for everyone,” the old man said, getting up and patting the kid on the shoulder before going to settle his tab. He glanced back over to see the kid push a Flaming Mango away, shoulders hunched tight, but refusing to budge.

Everyone had to start somewhere. He smiled to himself and left Jason extra on the tip.

@flashfictionfridayofficial

[atalossforwords]

Someday

Prompt by  @flashfictionfridayofficial​ ☾

This week’s prompt was really inspiring, and I must admit it was very hard for me to not write more than 1000 words! 

This time I decided to write about my d&d monk, he’s one of my favourite original characters ever.

What does the word “freedom” mean to him? Let’s find out together!

Word Count: 985

The wind was howling, blowing through the trees and through his hair.

Is this what Freedom sounds like?

Drest, sitting on one of the stone walls of the monastery's cloister, was wondering what the correct answer to that question was.

Of course, his brothers had always protected him, since they found him, still a baby, on their doorstep.

But... was that enough?

Everyday he speculated about his parents' identity, and the fact that they might not be human at all: he had two horns growing out of his head and scales on his skin, after all. So it was highly possible that at least one of them was some sort of dragon-like creature.

Maybe there was a place, out there, waiting for him, full of people of his own kind... whatever that meant. He didn't like thinking of the monastery as a cage, it wouldn't have been fair. It was, indeed, his home, and he didn't want to leave it. But, deep down, he just wanted to find himself.

"Hello, brother Kilyan. How are you feeling today?"

The boy, lost in thought, jumped a little bit, as he was brought back to reality.

It took a second to realize the man was talking to him. Kilyan was the name Drest had chosen for himself once he became a monk, but no one really called him by that name, only the other monks did.

"Good morning, brother Herion" he greeted him, cheerful as always, "I'm feeling great. I was just... thinking."

"Thinking about what?" he asked, a genuine curiosity in the tone of his voice.

"You know..." he shrugged " life, and its true meaning: what does it mean to be alive? Is this all we're destined to do, or is there more but we just don't know it yet? You know, normal things we all think about every day. Monk stuff."

Herion couldn't help it: he started laughing quite loudly.

"Yeah, sure... monk stuff."

"What's so funny?" Drest tilted his head in visible confusion.

"Nothing. I like the way you see the world. Like it has in store for you a big, beautiful new surprise each morning. Don't ever lose that" he tapped on the boy's nose with his index finger, turning around and leaving not long after.

The monk's words filled his heart with joy and hope, and he didn't even know why.

Suddenly, a dull, metallic sound: the gate had just been opened, and he knew what that implied.

He stood up immediately, starting to run towards that direction.

"Hey! Good morning!" he yelled, waving his arms in the air.

Her hair was of such a vivid red that anyone would have recognized her even from a mile away.

"Good morning, Elizabeth dear" as he heard one of his elder brothers greeting her, he didn't stop running and waving his arms in order to draw her attention.

She replied to the man with a smile, and then she finally turned to Drest.

"Oh" she giggled "hello, there!"

Her smile could light up a whole room- no, the whole monastery.

"Hi! How are you feeling? How's the city today? What brings you here?" he kept talking and asking questions, hoping that his embarrassment wouldn't be noticed.

"You sure have a lot of questions, don't you?" she looked at him with soft, sweet eyes, not even a hint of malice nor annoyance in her words.

"I'm just... curious" he was definitely blushing "and I really want to know what it's like out there" he pointed at the horizon, where the city was, just down the road that runs along the hill.

"Trust me, you're not missing much" she shook her head "anyway, I was sent here just for a small delivery. One of your elders, I can't remember his name, brother... Heren? Hiron? Oh, gods, it's right here, on the tip of my tongue, and yet I can't seem to remember..." she kept staring at the ground, twisting a strand of hair around her fingers.

"Herion! His name is Herion" the boy muttered.

"Exactly! Thank you! Brother Herion asked us to bring him some more apples, so I just picked some from the tree next to our house and brought them here. Nothing special, really."

"Sounds delicious! So, now what? Are you going back home right away?"

"No, not yet. There's something I have to do, first. Would you mind joining me?" she winked.

"Of course I'll join you, whatever that is!"

They both laughed.

"Just follow me, then."

She exited the monastery, and kept on walking into the woods. It was not a scary place, though, on the contrary: it was very welcoming and calm.

"This is where I come when I want to spend some time alone" she stopped at a particular tree, which Drest recognized to be an oak.

She proceeded to sit down in its shade, pulling out a couple of books from the basket she always carried around.

"Oh, so there's more than flowers in there!" Drest teased her.

"Yes, but don't tell anyone" she put her finger on her mouth "my father cannot know I'm stealing these books from his library."

"No worries. Your secret is safe with me."

As they were talking, he sat down next to her: his bare feet touched the grass, and he could see all the bugs and the tiny animals of the forest moving, getting closer to them. He observed them and embraced all the life forms that lived on the same planet as him. Just like someone that thought about "monk stuff" would do, without any doubt.

There, in the wild woods, alone with her, he felt whole.

To love and be loved, to immerse oneself in nature, holding hands with the most special person in the world, hoping that, someday, life would be made entirely of this, the purest kind of happiness.

That's the true, deepest meaning of the word Freedom.

[random-chaos-thoughts]

@flashfictionfridayofficial

It's always a pleasure to write with your prompts! Here's for this week: Wild and Free

That's my first attempt at verse (english isn't my first language) so I'd like to have your opinion!

In the wood in the dark

Word count: 111

How does it feel in the wood in the night,

When the wind is howling and the moon shines bright?

One way to know: go run among the trees

That whisper and shake through the chilling breeze.

Follow the bending branches and the fireflies.

Through your midnight journey they will be your guides.

You will see the shadows that flicker on the leaves,

Beware of the faes on their territories.

You will feel like the loir, sleeping in his hole

Safe and sound in the dark, away from the howl

And as strong as the bear that meander so near,

As swift as the wolf, as silent as the deer.

A whole hidden world has opened before you,

Go and taste the secrets revealed to so few!

But if you go running in the wood in the dark

After your wandering don't forget to come back.

[a-j-quill]

Just In Time

“Don’t touch that.”

My hand stilled, hovering above the heap of dry twigs. “It’s getting colder. I just—”

“The fire will start itself,” said Hex. He did not look up from the cloak he was mending.

I scoffed, but did not argue. Sure enough, as soon as the false sun dipped out of the false sky, the false stars went on like a light switch...and so did our false little campfire.

I’d never get used to it, the way Hex could predict the ways of this strange place. Though to call it a place was hardly accurate. Places are things you can leave when you want to. But moments? Those are trickier.

I cast my eyes across the half-imagined setting around us. It would be a clearing, if time were a forest. It would be an island, if time were a sea. To my eyes, it looked like a jagged knife of rock poking out the middle of a vast desert. I had no idea what it looked like to Hex—only that what the two of us saw was never the same.

How long had we been stuck here? It was a trick question, when the “place” we were stuck in was time itself.

Hex knotted the last stitch of his cloak, one of our precious few physical belongings on this plane of existence. Mine was a baseball cap with an emblem I didn’t recognize, either because I’d forgotten the past or because I had never been a baseball fan to begin with. The important thing was this: whatever happened to us here, within time, my cap stayed with us. So did his cloak, and so did our horse.

She stood on the edge of our camp, grazing on the stiff weeds that poked out through the sand. Hex and I’s food—delivered like magical clockwork—had already appeared for the day: fried bologna sandwiches and a quart of lemonade.

For all that I cursed time, called it a captor, I knew it wasn’t at fault for our predicament. We were trapped here, that much was certain. But that didn’t mean time itself was responsible. As far as we could tell, time was taking pains to make sure we were well fed and watered for the duration of our stay.

I stole a glance across the fire at Hex’s face. Today, he looked alarmingly young; a month ago he’d appeared to me as a tall woman; the month before, a weathered old man. Of course, I couldn’t actually measure months from inside time, but that’s the way these phases felt to me.

Now, tying off an end of thread that would likely dissolve by another meaningless morning, Hex looked closer to the way he had when I’d first met him. Wise, contemplative, but too full in the cheeks to have seen what he had seen. My memories of him like this seemed to come from long ago...but who was to say?

“We’ll need to set her free,” Hex said, only lifting his eyes long enough to throw a look toward the horse.

My heart sank. “Do we have to?”

“She’s not exactly going to fit down there, is she?” he asked, nodding toward the slice of stone that shaded our camp. In its center, leading down into darkness, was a narrow cave.

A real, honest-to-god cave. We hadn’t seen a development like this in far too long. The broad expanse of time had very few caves, or doors, or windows, or any other instruments of change. When one was found, it had to be explored.

I walked our horse to the edge of the dunes, feeding her the remnants of my bologna sandwich and listening to her soft footfalls against the sand. A star streaked by overhead, just a little wrong-looking against the faux desert sky.

“You’re off on your own again, now,” I murmured, stroking her mane. “Wild and free.”

I slapped her flank, but stayed to watch until she was a dark fleck on the horizon, melting into nothing. When I returned to the camp, the fire had gone out, and Hex was standing in the mouth of the cave.

“Are you ready?” he asked me.

The futility of hope had settled in my bones long ago, and that meant one thing: that there was always room left to be surprised.

I put on my cap, and I joined him. “I’m ready.”

@flashfictionfridayofficial​

[onceuponanaromantic]

Kosi of Night

(Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial​‘s prompt: FFF61: Wild and Free. Set in the small offshoot of superheroverse. Enjoy!)

The threads in Kosi’s loom snapped to a halt. Kosi did not look up, but the embroidery across her shoulders started to shift, moving lower and thickening, going from delicate flowers to unbreakable coverage over her ribs.

 When Kosi finally speaks, she still doesn’t look Siren in the eye. “I trust you have figured out who Nekoma Kohari is.”

Siren shrugs and sits down. “It wasn’t that hard to guess.”

           “Reso says I can come home?” Kosi’s voice is tinged with sadness and her fingers twitch once.

           “He says you can go back to where you once lived, yes.” Siren says, leaning back to watch the shifting threads across Kosi’s back. They note the goosebumps fluttering along Kosi’s neck where her hair doesn’t cover. “He said specifically that he came because he didn’t really believe you died in the fire.”

           “They wouldn’t have found a body, that’s true.” Kosi whispers. They sit in silence for a while and when Kosi next moves, the loom starts moving again, it’s rhythmic thuds more subdued than usual.

           “You know, once I would have given anything to be able to go back there.” Kosi says, not looking up from her loom. The pattern forming across the loom has changed, colours darkening. Siren doesn’t look at Kosi’s face.

           “You don’t have to. You realise. You can stay and Aniko and Nocte can provide whatever other aid that Reso is seeking.” Siren keeps their voice soft and gentle. “As far as anyone is concerned, Nekoma Kohari died in that fire. None of us know a Nekoma Kohari. We can help Reso and then send him on his merry way.”

           “Is it weird that I want to take you up on that?” Kosi looks up and her eyes are wet with tears. “I just- I want to be free. I want to leave Nekoma Kohari dead. Like-“

           Kosi puts the loom down gently, then throws her hands across her eyes. “As Kosi- as Kosi, I can do more. I can weave things that have meaning and that make a difference and protect people. I can make things pretty and I can- I don’t know it’s like the entire House of Night right, like I can make beautiful things because they’re beautiful? Because I want to experiment with thread and I know that what I’m doing helps other people? And all in a way that I never could, not as Nekoma. Because I believe in what the House tries to fight for and I like to see how everything I make makes a difference. And it means more, and Nekoma. Past Nekoma would hate that I’m leaving Reso behind. That I’m leaving the rest of my family behind because hey, we all got hurt and scared and just. I don’t know.”

           Siren looks at Kosi with the grace of someone who has also had to grow up too fast.

             “It’s the difference between surviving and living, huh?” Siren says when Kosi finally stops and just throws her hands up.

             “Yeah.” Kosi says after a long pause.

             “I’ll tell Reso that we wish him luck in finding Nekoma then.” Siren stands up. Kosi turns to stare at them.

           “But I’m right here.”

           Siren quirks an eyebrow. “I only see Kosi.”

             They tuck their staff back into their coat with one smooth motion and leap off the railing to land below the balcony on their own balcony.

             Kosi sits there for a while before she shakes her head and starts laughing.

             Where dead people live, indeed.

cool lines from the original idea:

“Freedom is more than the ability to choose your prison.”

‘Why do you do this if you’re a doctor?’ ‘I do this because I’m a doctor.”

Reso exhales slightly and removes his ear from the door only to hear, “In this house, if we want to hear something, we ask the people speaking and sit comfortably to listen if we’re invited.”

[kryskakikomi]

Eyyy so idk why @flashfictionfridayofficial but you havent noticed my past few submissions. its probably bc i post them pretty late but idk :p

word count: 356

***

The twilight was radiant and stunning, just like it had always been.

He flapped his wings and headed toward the blinding sunset, his black feathers basking in its warmth. The bustle passing below him faded away as he soared faster through the dim sky. Seeing the horizon underneath his gaze, soaring around the towering buildings and the small spots of trees; feeling the chilly wind against him—it was something he could never get tired of.

He perched on a branch of a large and old tree in the middle of a park. Ruffling his feathers he caught notice of a small boy sitting on the bench below, hugging his knees and sitting still. Jax looked up from the boy and at the sun, already dipping further below the horizon line. He took off from the branch immediately and soared straight back into the sky and cawed loudly. The night was arriving, and his human pals were gonna get antsy.

Soaring through the dark shadows of the buildings, he flew closer to the ground by the pet stores and cafes to show off. Jax flew over the apartments in his corner of the bustling city, and landed on the windowsill of his best pal. He squeezed through the open window and noticed her on the couch and asleep. He hopped towards her and snuggled underneath the crook of her neck. She groaned a little, drearily opening her eyes.

“... I was waiting for a while.” She smiled, getting up from the couch with a stretch. “Did you have fun?”

He nodded, then pointed his beak to their bedroom with a happy caw.

“Yeah, good idea.”

They headed over to her bedroom, gently shutting the door on the way in. She wrapped herself in her blanket as Jax fluttered into his open birdcage. He perched himself on the swing and ruffled his feathers again. He cawed quietly and hung his head. Flying through the sky felt amazing, the feeling never changed since his first time. But if he could spin and other cool tricks mid-flight, then it’d be perfect.

Still, he was happy he could fly and live freely.