Fictober Event, The prompts for 2024
Here is the list for October this year. Write something short (or long) and tag it with #fictober24 in the first five tags. Letâs see your creativity!
"that was good work"
"it's been a long time"
"I know you better"
"no, we're not doing that"
"it's a new day, let's go"
"I'm not giving up"
"follow me if you want to live"
"are we happy?"
"don't listen to me, listen to them"
"is this normal?"
"well, that worked out great"
"did you hear that?"
"that's not the point"
"did you stick to the plan?"
"let's try this"
"no, I'm not okay"
"strangest thing I ever heard"
"you always have a plan"
"this is getting ridiculous"
"I saw your eyes light up"
"we've done worse"
"why are we doing this again?"
"we can fix this, I know we can"
"you didn't do anything wrong"
"it consumes me"
"you were the first"
"let me remind you"
"just say what you want"
"how did this happen?"
"I won't let you down"
"it's always been you"
This event is open to fanfiction and original fiction.
Start the first of October. You do not have to do the prompts in order. Tag your posts with #fictober24.
Please state at the top if your entry is original fiction or fanfiction and what fandom. State common warnings and triggers at the top and tag accordingly. No AI generated text or art.
I reserve the right to not reblog fics that I find inappropriate. I will reblog things here on @fictober-event, follow this blog to see all the entries.
Go forth and write!
Other Notes: In which Aziraphale gets a fright and Crowley comes to see what's the matter. 820 words below the cut and on AO3!
banner by @fictober-event
âAngel? Angel! Itâs alright, Iâm here, itâs all ok.âÂ
âCrowley?â
Aziraphale looked up, hands dropping from his head, where heâd been cowering beneath his arms. He was crouched in a corner, balled up as tightly as his limbs would allow, trying to make himself small enough not to be perceived, holding his breath against the chance it would be heard, willing the traitorous heart of his corporation to stop, stop! lest it attract their attention.
âCrowley, what are you doing here?â Aziraphale hissed, eyes darting wildly, âTheyâll get you, theyâll get you tooââ
âWoah, hang on angelââ Crowley shuffled closer. He too was crouching there in the gloom beneath the eaves, in the garret of this drafty tenement. âNo oneâs coming to get you. Just me. You called out for me and I came, right?â
âI did?â Aziraphale stared. He remembered racing wildly through the corridors, up the stair with the voice and shapes and windy, whispering hands clutching at him; heâd felt like screaming, terror gripping every part of him. In his panic and fear he must have cried out, with his mind or with his voiceâ or maybe both, he thought, gulping and feeling the rawness in this throat. âI suppose I must have.â Crowleyâs eyes gleamed gold in the breath of moonlight that filtered through a nearby window, and Aziraphale realised he wasnât wearing his glasses. âBut Crowley, theyââ
âWho?â Aziraphale gulped again, and a third time, before he managed to croak in shaking tones,
âGhosts.â
âGhosts?â Crowley straightened up sharply, tilting his head up as if he could scent something on the air. After a momentâs silence, he gave a small nod. âAh, them.â
âThem?â
âGhosts,â Crowley confirmed, âItâs alright, angel. They donât mean you any harm.â
âHow do you know? They chased and hounded me and Iâm sure they wouldâveââ
âDemons are closer to these kinds of things than angels. Letâs get you out of here, can you stand?â Crowley unfolded himself and rose, but Aziraphale trembled, unwilling to move from his corner of seeming security. Crowleyâs lips twitched upward. âItâll be okay, Aziraphale. Just take my hand.âÂ
Aziraphale looked at the hand, proffered toward him at just the right height, then at Crowleyâs face, where even in the dimness he could see kindness circling. He took Crowleyâs hand. With a heave Aziraphale was on his feet, but Crowley did not let go.
âListen,â the demon said quietly, holding up his free hand, âJust listen.â Aziraphale tried to listen, over the beating of his heart and the shortness of his breath. Both quietened, and as he concentrated, suddenly Aziraphale could hearâ
âChildren?â
âChildren.â Crowley confirmed.
âBut I thoughtââ
âGhosts. Children.â
âOh.â
They stood in silence, listening together to the faint, shivery voices, piping as if from behind a sheet of water, and the sound of footsteps with no weight behind them running up the stairs. A curl of wind swept around them, and a distant peal of laughter.
âOh, Crowley,â Aziraphale gasped, and suddenly his chest was tight again, but this time with the weight of the water behind his eyes, âChildren!â Crowleyâs hand squeezed his.
âI know, angel. Why did you come here in the first place?â
âI was passing, and I thought I heard someone calling out for help, so I came in. I could tell the place was abandoned, you know, likely to be dangerousâ but then they started throwing things and grabbing and chasing me and I lost my wits completely, I canât think whyââ
âI told you, angel. Demons are closer to this sort of thing than you. I canât explain, and you canât explain, and no one Iâveever talked to can properly explain, why this happens. But lost souls, or impressions of souls, caught between worlds? Sounds like a fairly demonic existence to me. And theseâ theyâre just kids.â Crowley shook his head. âWho knows whether they were angry you came into their house, or whether they were just messing with you, or whether they smelled an angel and revolted against whatever religion their parents told them would take care of them.â
âI wonderââ
âBest not to ask. Not just now, anyway. Come along, angel.â Crowley pulled gently at Aziraphale, and hand in hand they left the room, winding slowly down the spiral of the central stair. Voices and footsteps and what felt like small bodies brushing past accompanied them, while seeming to pay them no attention. Crowley was smiling, looking about almost as if he could see the beings behind the sounds, and Aziraphale stared in wonderment. When they reached the ground floor and started down the narrow corridor that led to the main door and the street, the patter of small footsteps began to retreat up the stairs. Abruptly Aziraphale turned, a cry bursting from him,
âGoodbye!â
âGoodbye!â a piping voice replied. Then it, and the footsteps, were gone.
Special warnings: almost death in fight against magical beast mentioned
Summary:
Arthur wakes up and he doesn't really understand how. That Manticore should have ended him. When things don't add up he will unveil at least one secret. Maybe two.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Excerpt:
âNow, where were you during the fight?â
âOn the battlements, as you told me.â
âOn the battlements with the Earl and his daughters?â
âYes?â said Merlin knowing as well as Arthur that it was a lie.
âThen why were you so surprised when the Earl mentioned they saw everything from the battlements? And donât you dare say dropping the jug and the cup had nothing to do with it, because even if that was true, youâd still have to explain your face.â
âMy face?â
âYes, your face, the face you made, a face I know well because itâs the one you make when you have thoroughly messed something up.â
Cool hands cup her face and she melts, just a little, just enough. They smile at her serenely, earnestly, gazing into her golden and violet eyes. "I chose you, my starlight, and I will never, ever, regret that choice. No matter your origins, your past, it doesn't matter to me. I love you, and I will never stop loving you."
They wipe away a tear from her face- she had no idea she was crying until then. She rushed forward to hug them tightly, hands clinging onto the cloak they always wore. The two stayed like that for a few moments, feeling as if the world stopped, just for them, just for now. Perhaps it did, but she didn't question it.
"I love you with all my heart and soul, Eshe. I will always make sure you know that. You're important to me, and I will make sure you're always safe, happy, and loved, like you deserve to be. I chose you."
She simply nodded her head, not meeting the God's gaze, but that was alright with them. They simply embraced her, holding her tight as long as she needed.
@fictober-event 2021 | Fandom: the blacklist - lizzington
Day 3: "I've waited for this." | Rating: T | Warnings: none
Late at night, Lizzie thought about him.
When she couldn't fall asleep, she would let her mind replay over and over the interactions they'd had. The ones where he'd slung an arm just casually enough so as to remain inauspicious across the back of a seat they'd both shared. Or when he'd lingered just seconds too long when clasping her hand, or placing a guiding hand on her back. The ones where he'd said things like, we're gonna make a great team, or just pretend you're my girlfriend from Ann Arbor.
The scenes would replay in her mind, and she'd let herself imagine them playing out differently: stopping his hand before it could leave hers, or leaning back into the arm that was slung across the back of the seat. Replying yes, sure, that sounds like fun to his challenge, and showing him that she, too, knew how to be mischievous.
Late at night, she thought about these things, and wished things were different. And knew that, if they ever were to be, it was up to her to do something. Anything.
But when the sun rose, and brought with it a new day, full of possibility, Lizzie found herself unable to conceive of what she would do if something went wrong. If she reached out to him, and he refused. In that case, she was better to just let things remain status quo; at least then she could be certain of their friendship. At least then, she knew she wouldn't have to face the what ifs.
Their next assignment was supposed to be easy. Posing as a couple on an undercover mission at a museum gala, while waiting to pounce on their Blacklister: a Renaissance art thief.
It was supposed to be easy, but from the moment she stepped out her door and into the waiting car, accepting Red's proffered hand lightly as she did so, Lizzie knew it would be anything but.
Red slid into the backseat beside her, waving to Dembe to start driving, and as he buckled his seatbelt he gave her a look that warmed her even more than the sunlight coming in through the window and playing on her skin.
"Lizzie."
"Red."
"You look... dazzling," he said, and before she could react he finished with, "the perfect foil for our plan tonight. All eyes will be on you rather than me, which means we shouldn't have to worry about my being recognized."
Typical, she thought. Undo her with a compliment and then follow it with business talk. It was maddening, because it meant she was never quite sure whether she was interpreting him correctly, or just reading into things. That they were business associates was a fact, but whether there was the possibility for something more...? Perplexing.
"You look very dapper as well," she returned. "As expected."
"Agents Mojtabai and Navabi should be there already," he commented, fiddling with one of his shirt cuffs. "We'll tap into their communication system as soon as we arrive."
Lizzie glanced over at what he was doing with his cuffs, noticing that a button had come undone and he was attempting to refasten it with his non-dominant hand. And failing quite badly, she saw.
Reaching over, she gently took his arm and made quick work of the button, tucking his cuff back into the tuxedo jacket as she did so.
Was it her imagination, or did he let out a quiet huff of breath when she let go of his arm? It was almost as if he'd been holding his breath while she fixed his cuff. She watched his expression for a sign that he was unsteady in some way, and found none.
Nevermind, Liz, she told herself sternly. Just focus on the task at hand. But, as usual in cases that involved working closely with Raymond Reddington, just focusing on the task at hand was never as easy as that.
This situation in particular: pretending to be a couple, this was going to be tough. Because it's what she was doing, what she had been doing, wasn't it? But now, now she had to both pretend to be his girlfriend and pretend that she hadn't thought about that very situation over and over until it became as familiar to her as her real life. That was the real challenge.
They arrived at the museum, and Red came around to give Lizzie a hand out of the car, easefully letting his arm slide round her waist when she stood beside him.
We're a couple. She reminded herself. He's doing this as part of the job.
Giving him a smile she hoped was bright and not wary, she walked with him into the gala.
They were immediately handed glasses of champagne. Lizzie sipped hers quickly, hoping for some fortification.
Red, maddeningly, appeared perfectly at home. The nerve of him, being able to fall into character like that every damn time.
They found themselves standing near a large triptych, and Lizzie decided they should at least appear to show interest in the artwork, so she leaned in to take a closer look.
Red leaned in as well, keeping an arm around her waist. This proved so distracting that when she noticed he had asked her a question, it was already too late, and she had to ask him to repeat himself, embarrassedly.
"I said, are you a Renaissance art fan, Lizzie?"
"It's Caroline," she whispered back, giving him the alias she was supposed to be using tonight. Just then she heard a crackling from her earpiece. Aram was listening.
"Hello Aram," she said in a low voice, wriggling free from Red's arm for a moment.
"Yes, we're in place. Okay. I'll keep watching for our guy."
"So sorry, Caroline," Red said. "Are you a Renaissance art fan, then."
"No, not really. Are you?"
"I prefer the Surrealist period, myself," he replied.
Of course he would.
The evening passed uneventfully and with no sign of their Blacklister. Lizzie was beginning to wonder if the entire thing would turn out to be a bust, when she heard Aram in her ear again.
"On your right, two o'clock."
She turned slowly, hopefully inconspicuously, in that direction. A tall man was eyeing one of the paintings. That was their guy.
She tried to nudge Red, but he was deep in conversation with another couple, regaling them with some story of his own invention.
"Ahem." She tried clearing her throat. He didn't notice.
Damn it, she would have to interrupt.
Walking right up to his side, she took Red's outstretched arm and gave him a pointed look.
"So sorry to interrupt, but-"
"Ah! Perfect timing, Caroline. May I introduce you to my enchanting girlfriend, Caroline. She's the light of my life," he announced proudly, causing Lizzie to raise an eyebrow in surprise before falling into character as best she could.
"What a pleasure to meet you all," she said with a smile. "Sorry to interrupt, but I need to speak to you, alone."
Red caught the emphasis and smiled at his new friends before excusing himself. He followed Lizzie to a secluded corner.
"It's our guy. Over there by the da Vinci sketches." Her eyes flicked towards him.
Red nodded.
"Yes, I know."
"You know? What do you mean, you know. We're here to apprehend him, aren't we?"
"Apprehend? Oh heavens no. We're just here to have a quick chat. And while you were grabbing a refill on your champagne, I did exactly that."
A beat passed.
"Exactly what."
"Had a quick chat. Made my negotiations, as it were. So, we're free to either leave, or spend the rest of the evening here, in pleasant company and with wonderful food. The choice is yours, Lizzie."
She stared at him.
"Alright. Let's stay."
To her delight, he looked surprised.
"What?"
"You said we can leave, or spend the rest of the evening here. And I said, let's stay. The food is good, I've drank a few glasses of very nice champagne, and the night is young." She grabbed her earpiece and threw it into a nearby potted plant. "Let's stay."
It was a challenge, and he knew it.
Giving her an appreciative glance, he tilted his head in agreement.
"Alright."
He led her away from the secluded corner, and, with a very charming look, suggested that they dance.
"Dance?"
"Yes. Everyone's doing it," he noted, gesturing to the many couples who had filled the centre of the room.
"Okay," she agreed, wondering if it was the champagne, or if her lightheadedness was due to some other reason.
One hand taking hers, Red placed his other hand on the small of her back and pulled her what felt like very close, but was in fact a perfectly normal distance away.
They started moving slowly with the music, and soon Lizzie felt her cheek gently come to rest on his lapel. It felt easy, and she wasn't going to question it if he didn't.
"I've waited for this," she heard him say, or did she? That seemed oddly out of character. Pulling away from his jacket slightly so that she could see his eyes, she couldn't find anything in them to confirm either way.
"What did you say?" she asked, figuring if he'd said something else at least she should know what it was.
"I said, I've been waiting for this, Lizzie," he repeated, and she felt her cheeks warm once again.
"Waiting for what?" her voice was a whisper. He couldn't possibly mean what she was thinking.
Momentarily, he stopped dancing and looked her in the eyes.
"This. All of it. With you."
She definitely felt lightheaded now, and it wasn't just the champagne.
"All of-?" she repeated, and he cut her off, his mouth covering hers and reminding her that, although they were in full view of everyone in the room, they were anonymous here, and so the kiss could take place without any implications, or complications that came from their regular lives.
Leaning into the kiss, she returned it with the pent up energy from months of thinking about just this moment.
"Oh," she exclaimed when they finally broke apart. There didn't seem to be any words for what had just happened.
Red was looking at her with concern, perhaps wondering if she'd gone mad for a moment and suddenly regained her faculty of thought.
"Are you..." he began, but this time she cut him off with another kiss.
In a minute, she managed to pull away long enough to whisper, "I've waited for this, too, you know."
The look of realization in his face was enough to confirm for her then that she hadn't been the only one wanting this to happen.
As they continued to dance, Lizzie knew that the circumstances would immediately change as soon as this evening was over, and they had to return to their lives. But for now, at least, they had this chance. And they were both eager to seize it.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Star Trek: Voyager
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway, Harry Kim/Seven of Nine, Chakotay/Seven of Nine (mentioned)
Characters: Chakotay (Star Trek), Tom Paris, Harry Kim, Seven of Nine (mentioned), B'Elanna Torres (mentioned)
Additional Tags: Post-Endgame, Slow Burn, Attempt at Humor, Light-Hearted, Feelings, Friendship, Friendship/Love
Summary:
It's the Annual Starfleet Ball. Chakotay, Tom and Harry share a table and discuss.
I tried to make it funny and chill, but it also has some cute J/C lines.
No beta, still boldly going.
