#promt 1

[gray-soul]

INKTOBERTALE2023 LESSS GO

[lillianforest22]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[byakubae-hinata]

Random Nart Promts

Promt #1

Naruto tries sneaking a love note into Sakura's backpack, but instead puts it in Sasuke's backpack bc they sit near each other. Sasuke reads the love note and thinks nart is in love with him - he starts crushing on nart too. One day nart finds a love note in his locker and thinks its from Sakura - surprise, it's Sasuke, his rival, confessing. It's up to you how things go from there~

[rezelis-blog]

I’m dead!

Word count: 2076

Promt:  Promt 1: “Whoops” (Potions Mix-up, Magical Mishap, Ritual Gone Wrong, etc) by @sumigakure

Charecters: Uchiha Obito, Nohara Rin, Hatake Kakashi, Namikaze Minato, Tsunade

Rating: Gen

Summary:

Obito and Rin have a magical accident and now Obito has trouble touching everything.

[AO3]

[justxellia]

[poseygraymire]

Reaped ↛ Drabble

"As per usual," The escort from District 12 spoke. They had just watched the video. The annual reminding as to why they sent kids to their graves. It was a hot day. Hotter than usual. Everyone was sweating, it smelled of dirt and thick air. Posey was ready to go home and rinse off. This was what happened every year. Someone was chosen. There were gasps. Some cried. Then everyone went home to clean themselves. Because standing out in the heat for hours wasn't doing good for anyone. "Ladies first."

She might have been tired, from getting close to no sleep the evening before, or maybe it was the heat getting to her. No. That wasn't it. Posey didn't respond because she didn't believe it. She had shut it out. The idea of it. Her name being spoken. She never heard her full name often. Maybe when taking role. Or when her oldest brother got angry at her. There was no way this stranger was speaking her name. "Posey... Graymire?" She repeated, louder this time. With less assertion. A blink. That was all she could do. She blinked once. And then she noticed that the girl in front of her had turned around, she was in her grade. Marie Greens tapped her and then said only her first name. "Posey, go."

There were no tears in Posey's eyes. It all felt a bit surreal. Actually, it felt like she was in a coma. One that absolutely wouldn't end. One she couldn't get out of. She was pushed to the front, Posey was about as short as some of the thirteen year old girls who wanted to rush her up. Maybe because they were anxious, or maybe it was nerves. For a moment Posey wondered, what if she took her time going up? What was honestly going to happen? A Peacekeeper was going to rush her to the stage? If that was it, then so be it. She didn't care. This wasn't happening. No way. Not today, not next year. Not in the next century. But it was. And a Peacekeeper came. He touched her lower back and she jumped. Being brought up to the stage was making her sick, she felt like she could throw up at any moment. Never had Posey made much of an effort to speak or stand in front of her classroom, but now it was more than just that. It was her whole District. They were all staring at her.

She wasn't looking at them however. When no one said that they volunteered -- like that was going to happen. This was 12. Not a Career district. No one had time to go and risk their lives for money. Posey scanned for her brothers. She made no eye contact with anyone. She heard the name of the boy being called, but she wasn't paying attention. Then she saw her older brothers, standing together. Ty's face was red, and she could hardly see but she knew they were there: Tears. He couldn't do that to her. He couldn't be the one crying. She had to be the one in tears. Her life was over, there was no doubting it. People from 12 were always the first on the hit list. Arnie had his head in the arch of Ty's neck. He was the oldest. The father figure. He couldn't be seen showing signs of weakness. But there he was, crying. Just like he did when their mother died.  

Soon she was whisked away, taken into the official building of District 12. She was going to be out of here for good sooner than she thought. The Escort, who was so lively it made Posey want to crawl in a hole, informed her that she had ten minutes to say goodbye to whoever came. She knew the only two people she had left were her brothers, and ten minutes wasn't enough to cut it.

She was standing, looking down at the now empty square when the door squeaked open. Arnie was the first person she saw, and he ran towards her and pulled her in for the tightest hug she'd ever experienced. It was the last time she was going to hear him speak, or smell him, or look at his face. He was taller than she was, much taller. He smelled like pine and dirt, and he had dark eyes just like the rest of her family.

"Posey, I'm so sorry," He said, backing away from her and squatting to her level. "You know I'd have volunteered for you? You know that, right? You have to come home to us. Do you understand? Ty's already standing outside, shaking. He doesn't know what to say. You can't leave us. You've got to power through this. You know the basics. Stitching yourself up? Find a knife! Posey, please. Do everything. I know you can. You know it too." It was almost as if he was going to be sick. She hadn't said a single word. Her stomach was churning, and everything felt like the complete opposite of bliss.

She opened her mouth to speak, but Ty burst in. He looked like he hadn't slept in days. Weeks even. His eyes were red, they were bloodshot. The two were closer in age, they had a similar reaction to everything. They were so alike that most of the time, they'd argue at how different they had to be. That there was no way in hell the two of them were related. He grabbed the back of Posey's head and held it to his chest. He smelled different than Arnie. It was smoke, not the dirty kind, but like burning wood. He didn't speak either. Her eyes were wide open in his shirt. She saw nothing, and it made her nervous.

Hastily, Posey moved back. She started at the two of them and couldn't bring herself to cry. She wanted to, she needed to, but she had done all the crying in the world over her mother. She couldn't cry for herself. If anything, Posey was going to cry because of the anguish she was bringing her brothers. "Don't watch." Those were the first words she spoke. "You two aren't allowed to watch. I don't care if it's mandated. Close your eyes. Turn around. Sleep early. Mute the volume. Please, just don't watch."

Arnie bit the inside of his thumb out of habit, and Ty was close to taking anyone down to get his sister to come home with them. Ty shook his head. "Why not? Watching you win is gonna be the highlight of our lives, isn't that right, Arnie?" He elbowed his brother. Ty tried to make the mood less tense, but Posey wasn't going to buy into it this time. Arnie nodded, trying to encourage her. It was at that moment that her two father figures were about to be told to leave. She forced herself to pull them both into a hug. Ty was weeping again, and Arnie was rubbing her back. "Please," She started again. "Just don't look."

Two men came in and explained that their time was up. Her eyes were wide and she was about three seconds from losing any tolerance for the games that gave her nightmares as a child. They told her that if no one was coming within the next five minutes, they'd proceed to the train. No one was coming. That was for sure. Or at least Posey thought so, until someone knocked and slowly opened the door up. It was her father, his eyes were sunken in and his lips were pursed tightly. 

"Leave," Posey demanded. Tears were finally to fill her eyes, but they weren't sad, melancholic, or any depressing emotion. They were angry tears. He had no right to show up after telling her she had to survive on her own. Even though he had been kicked out, he was the one who left them. Physically as well as emotionally. "I'll call the guards, I swear to God if you don't get the hell out of here--"

He held his hand out and dropped an item on a table. "I'm going, Posey," He said, softly. It was a tone filled with bullshit, and she wanted to slap him. "I'm sorry, and I know your mother would have been too."

He was gone. An item was on the table. An earring. With a silver butterfly, it's wings were sharped and it looked determined. There was a silver chain and cuff. She knew what this was. It had been her mothers, from her wedding. But her mother had lost it. Well, that was obviously not the case. Posey's mother told her that she wanted her daughter to wear that earring at her wedding. But now, she was wearing it to her funeral. There was nothing funny or even remotely ironic about that. It was only pathetic, and disgusting. Posey was fuming. She walked out of the room and the guards walked behind her. Her father was nowhere in sight, and this was the last she was going to see of her sad, little District.

[kyle-cortese]

POV - I can't let go

Eu não tinha a menor ideia de como isso estava ocorrendo. Não era um especialista em morte. Era a minha primeira vez. Depois que meu corpo tinha morrido, eu comecei a ver tudo de um ponto de vista alheio, olhando tudo a minha volta, mas ninguém me via. Só os deuses sabem quanto tempo eu fiquei gritando até alguém ouvir. Ou quanto tempo eu fiquei procurando alguém que pudesse me ver. Eu entendi, tarde demais, que não era assim. Que eu tinha morrido. Tinha acabado.

Eu não conseguia encontrar o caminho para o submundo. Não literalmente. Eu sabia como chegar lá, eu só não estava pronto ainda. Cada dia eu mudava de ideia. Eu queria ficar para sempre naquele mundo, vagando lentamente sob tudo e todos, alheio a preocupações e sendo parte de todas as histórias, mesmo que ninguém soubesse que eu estava vendo.

Aghata foi a primeira quem eu fui procurar. Mesmo depois de tantos anos. Ou nem tantos assim. Ela ainda estava na cidade, e não encontrei nenhum problema em encontrá-la. Foi fácil me aproximar. Não havia nada que me impedisse. Fiquei ao seu lado, por mais tempo do que eu podia contar. Só dois dias depois de minha morte ela recebeu minha notícia. Não sei de quem. Não fiquei para ver sua reação. Não poderia aguentar ver ela não reagir a minha própria morte. Eu tinha negado por muitos anos, mas eu ainda a amava.

Procurei qualquer um dos meus irmãos, éramos tantos antigamente, mas a maioria deles estava longe demais. E alguns outros não se importavam, eu acho. Não podia culpá-los. Era uma cosia normal a se aconteccer. Eu só esperava que eles tivessem ouvido a notícia, e que, pelo menos no meio da noite, antes de domir, eles fizessem uma prece silenciosa para mim. Não ia mudar nada, mas ia fazer toda a diferença para mim.

No dia do funeral, eu vi uma procissão de rostos conhecidos. Eu fiquei perto da porta, como se tivesse os recebendo de braços abertos. Mas eles não podiam sentir meu abraço. Eu já tinha aceitado essa parte. Não podia dizer que todos eles erma meus amigos pessoais. A maioria eram contatos profissionais, e o muitos dos outros, íntimos demais para sermos amigos. Mas eles eram a razão que eu não tinha ficado sozinho do fim das contas. Eu tinha que ser grato a eles. Eu podia ver a dor no rosto de alguns deles; eu sabia que em uns era fingimento, mas ainda assim eles estavam ali. Pelo menos eu não ia ser esquecido.

O funeral foi uma cerimônia mortal comum. Com direito a um pastor falando e tudo mais. “Pelo menos no fim, eu sou normal” disse, mas sabia que ninguém poderia ouvir. Amy foi a primeira a falar. Eu senti meu coração se aquecer quando ela tomou o microfone, e falou das memórias felizes. Elas eram poucas e preciosas. Eu era grato por elas. Aghata foi logo depois. Percebi Eric sentado. Me aproximei dele, toquei seu ombro, finalmente compreendendo. Ela merecia ele afinal. Não aguentei ouvir o que ela dizia. Não sabia se ia dizer sobre o tempo que namoramos, ou sobre como eu era um monstro insensível. De qualquer forma, fiquei olhando-a, a distância. O próximo foi Jake, um colega da faculdade. Ele falou dos momentos suavemente embaraçosos do meu passado, e eu ri de leve. Era bom se lembrar desse tempo. O último a falar foi Mark. Um dos meus únicos e mais recentes amigos. Quando ele chorou, parei ao seu lado, certo que ele não poderia me sentir, e coloquei  meu braço estava sobre seus ombros. Ele olhou pela janela, procurando evitar ainda mais lágrimas. Eu estava no meio do caminho, mas ele não me via. Juntei meu lábios aos seus,como tinha feito muitas vezes antes. Mas ele não sorriu como das outras. Pensei ter ver um leve brilho em seus olhos, como se por um momento ele estivesse me vendo. Estava errado. Ninguém me via.

Olhei do altar enquanto todos abaixaram suas cabeças e fizeram um minutode silêncio por mim. Caminhei ao lado do caixão até a cova. Fiquei ao lado dele enquanto jogavam flores e terra sobre meu corpo. Algumas lágrimas, não muitas, regaram a terra recém remexida, assim que tudo acabou. Olhei enquanto as pessoas de pretose distanciavam, através das longas colinas do cemitério. Caminhei em silêncio, e sozinho, cruzando arbustos e outras lápides. Deixei para trás a minha própia lápide e caminhei para seguir em frente. Era o tempo afinal. Tudo que eu tinha para ver, já tinha visto. Fui adiante, sentindo que finalmente estava servindo ao meu propósito.