// civi's 1oo scene challenge //

[abeille]

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>>. hi. so i'm doing this challenge that rosmarrie and captain set up. (check it out here)
the goal? to finish each individual prompt with a minimum of seven hundred & fifty words.
oh, & to complete 'em first, although i'm really in it to challenge myself & to see what i can
accomplish before the end of may june.

so, you can join me on my journey, & we'll slay these hundred prompts together. well, i
will slay the prompts, you can hang tight &watch me work. c:

edit: critique is welcome, post your thoughts & comments on the work if you please.

[abeille]

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“Little by little, day by day, okay?” // “Get. Off. Right now.” // “... That’s it.”
// “So, uh, we should… probably run now.” // “You’re insane! I love it.”
“Hey, I offered to help you.” // “Who’s laughing now?” // “Would you please just be quiet?”
“Whoa, buttercup, whoa.” // "I can’t believe you talked me into this." // “Marry me?”
“Hey! I was gonna drink that!” // “You did all of this for me?” // “This isn’t over.”
“If you die, I’m gonna kill you.” // “Well, this is awkward.” // “It was you who was standing there.”
“That is the stupidest idea you’ve ever had. Of course I’m in.”// “Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always.”
“Uh, she’s gunna punch you, man.” // “BAHAHAHA- ahem.”// “I think I am concussed.”
“You have got to be kidding me.” // “This ain’t that kind of movie.” // “Is it… dead?”
“I’ll just sit here and wait for you to be finished.” // “You wound me.” // “Trust you? PAH.”
“I don’t know who you are.” // “It’s okay. I promise. I’m here.” // “Oh, this is going to be good.”
“Well, I finally got your attention.” // “Like a hole in the head.”// “I'm... okay.”
“Well, are you coming?” // “Where are your pants!?” // “Help me push it.”
“It’s almost midnight, no way!” // “Positively smashing.” // “Don’t let go, okay?”
“You can’t leave me like this.” // “Say that to my mother.” // “Sing me a lullaby, please?”
“This hurts worse than I thought it would.” // “Hah! - oh, wait, you’re serious?”
“As much as I’d enjoy that…” // -gasp- “The plague!” “No!” “YES.” // “I won’t let you do this.”
“I’ve still got it.” // “I can’t do it. I just can’t.” // "Don’t you ever do that again!"
“I thought I lost you.” // "Teach me?" // "Don’t you dare throw that snowball-"
"It could be worse." // "We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you wanna stop and feel the rain?"
"I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice." // "What are you so afraid of?”
“How did you get that scar?” // “You said WHAT?” // “Can you stop bringing that up?”
“Wait for me!” // “We’ll be dead by morning.” // “STOP TALKING.” // “I do.”
“I don’t want to.” // “What did I ever do to you?!” // “Follow me.”
-SIGH- “I can’t reach it.” // “What are you waiting for?” // “WAIT NO THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT-”
“I don’t need you.” // “You deserve better.” // “If you love something, let it go.”
“Why do I have to wear this?” // “Here goes nothing.” // “Where the heck were you?!”
“I don’t need help.” // “We’re gonna be parents…” // “I didn’t think you knew.”
“I thought those were poisonous.” // “Don’t make me go alone.” // “I’m sorry… I didn’t know.”
“I’d be lost without you.” // “Just leave me!” // “I dare you to…” // “Run!”
“How did you manage that?” // “Liar!” // “I don’t even want to be here.”
“Oh crap, we fell asleep!” // “Is this the life you wanted?” // “GIVE ME THAT.”
“Get back here!” // “Let go of me!” // “I’ll just follow you.” // “YOU DON’T SAY.”
“And yet, you love me anyway.” // “I just thought I’d have a swim.” // “Don’t cry.”

[abeille]

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jack && toddxxxxx935xxxxxminor bloodxx

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"whoa." the brunette gushed, prodding the still mass of fur before him with a gnarled stick he'd found earlier on the side of the road. "I'm trying to decide whether that thing should be classified as decaying matter, or my grandmother."
"well, the resemblance is rather uncanny."
"but, is it, like, is it... dead?"
"probably. you hit it with a car man."
"true." jack pulled back his stick, guiltily glancing at the end which he'd shoved into the animal, or well, thing's body as he replied uncertainly. he'd never hit anything before, never dreamed he'd hit anything either. in fact, he could swear up and down this hadn't been his fault, but then he'd be partially lying. between the buckets of rain cascading down his windshield, washing away his vision, and todd's insistent chatter, he couldn't focus. jack couldn't even see where he was driving his damned jeep! and then the bend came out of nowhere, and jack had patiently overcome the turn. and he'd had a moment of silent relief, before colliding head on with what he hoped, was a dog.
the front of his vehicle was covered in undesirable carnage, and jack couldn't help but selfishly choose to mourn his car over the animal. todd seemed to have mistaken his silence though, moving closer to his friend in order to press a large palm into his shoulder in comfort, "it's okay jack-man. it was bound to happen. everyone does it." the taller friend pressed, shifting warily from foot to foot. jack couldn't figure out why though. it wasn't like todd had crashed his vehicle into a breathing, living, thing. or murdered it. he also wouldn't have to pay all the money in the world to convince some poor car wash to disinfect his jeep. but jack? yeah, that was something he'd have to unfortunately deal with now.
the rain still poured heavily from the sodden sky drenching the clothing of both silent young men. it ran down the yellow jeep into red tangles of blood and gore, staining parts of the metal orange as it continued its journey in to the drowning asphalt where unimportant streams of collecting rain-water carried it away along with the rest of the fluids which had escaped the lifeless animal. jack forced a hand through his soaking hair, standing up to pace. to think a bit. he couldn't just leave the animal stranded in the street where it would surely be pummeled eventually by oncoming traffic. perhaps the thing wasn't even dead yet? maybe todd had the same awful judgement jack did. so jack paced a little more, trailing past the face of confusion todd was shooting him.
confident he was about to make the right choice, jack turned back towards the dog, reassessing the damage he'd caused. it was likely fatal, but bringing the creature to the nearest vet seemed like the only plausible solution now. "hey todd, can you do me a favor and spread the spare beach towel i keep in the jeep across the trunk?"
"yeah, sure buddy, i gotchu." the blonde haired boy said nodding as he sped off towards the vehicle's tail-gate at his friend's command. with todd out of the way, jack bent down, carefully gathering the dog up into his arms all while being careful not to accidentally slip or stumble.
"what a good boy," jack cooed to the mass in his arms, "i'm sorry for hitting you big guy. i'm also sorry i ruined my jeep with your doggy guts, but for now we can pretend i'm not; okay?" todd squawked at jack's inconsiderate statement, but the animal didn't respond, not that jack had expected it to. it just gazed into the woods with heavy, glazed over eyes and no body movement; although holding it, jack could almost imagine he felt the exhausted beating of it's heart.
"i figured we could try taking him to foley's over near the school." the brunette informed the other boy.
"sound good to me. i think i'll drive this time though, so i'll get the car started, you get the, uh, dog(?) situated."
jack watched the taller boy climb into the driver side of the vehicle as he shuffled towards the trunk to try and gently relieve his arm's of the dogs weight. it was a slightly difficult task, the damn thing was practically dead weight, and jack really, really, really, didn't wanna burden his jeep with anymore blood. huffing, he freed his arms and stumbled back a tad before regaining balance. he totally nailed that.
brushing his hands off, jack slammed the back of his wrangler closed and headed of to the passengers seat in disdain. he hated letting others drive his precious piece of scrap metal, but unfortunately he understood where todd was coming from. jack had technically experienced a traumatic event, everything normal pointed towards this most definitely affecting his psych. but jack felt fine, despite his meager selfish thought regarding his car, he was cool as a cucumber. he knew he shouldn't be.
"seatbelt." todd reminded him once he'd clambered into the passenger seat.
"i know, i know." he grumbled, tightening the strap over his torso. "lets just get this thing to the vet and go home; i didn't want our trip back from college to start out this eventful."
todd nodded stepping on the gas and peeling off in the familiar direction of their childhood town. rain still pelted the windshield relentlessly, but the blonde had better control than jack. "we should've stayed on campus for thanksgiving. there's no way we could've accidentally slaughtered a dog there."
"amen."

[abeille]

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fenton && claudiaxxxxx881xxxxxtalk of illness
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cancer is cruel. it consumes with no regard for anything other than it's own hunger, because it has no time to be picky. cancer is a thief. it just takes and takes and takes; and what does it give? nothing, because thieves don't provide. and most of all, cancer is exhausting. for everyone. it tires it's victims but it tires their support staff as well. no one is safe, because cancer is greedy, lying, bastard. even the strongest people couldn't dream of combating something like that with no repercussions. fenton would know. cancer stole his mother, cheated his father, and pummeled him.
at first, it was just a possible strain. probably nothing wrong at all, right? most likely a misprint of her mri, or a temporary illness that could be easily treated. maybe this was morning sickness, could she be pregnant? has she had kidney stones? how about arthritis or some other easyily fixed ailment? the doctors spent months placating fenton and his father, lying about the true nature of his mother's illness. and then stage four breast cancer swung out of the ball park, slamming fenton right in the chest, he hadn't had his mitt that day.
he was only seven. and his mother was destined for death.

"mama, why isn't dad home anymore?" asked a child to his mother, unaware of the pale deteriorating features of his birth giver. ever since the cancer had been confirmed, his father had thrown himself in his auto-shop; choosing to keep his distance from the first event he couldn't control. mr. colin liked to be in control.
"well, daddy has a lot of work lately, mój skarb." the wisp of a woman pacified.
"but why?" the boy whined tugging the sleeve of his mother's sundress. asking why was better the asking whether his father had realized he hated them so much he couldn't bare to see them. asking why was better than asking whether his father preferred the company of broken car parts over the woman he'd fallen in love with and the child he'd made. asking why was better than begging his mother to demand he stop picking up shifts, and start making dinner for his dying wife while she was still around, while she was still breathing. and asking why, was certainly better than mentioning that he hated his father for letting his mother's cancer control him.
"fenton don't whine. i've told you it's unbecoming behavior," the mother scolded the child, "and some people deal with pain differently. your tata likes to lose himself in work. respect that."
"how can he be in pain if you're the one who has cancer?"
"think of it this way słoneczko, when the scary men in the hospital told you i was sick, and that it wouldn't get better, you were very sad right? confused, but sad, yes?" she questioned the wide eyed boy who unconsciously clung to her arm as if she'd crumble to dust, dare he let go.
"yes, very." the high pitched response sang out in outrage.
"well your tata's pain is like that, except he has so much pain that he can feel it everywhere. in his head and his belly and the tips of his toes. it makes him very sad and so he's dealing with it the only way he can. by working, but do not worry my dear fenton, he will return to us. i promise."
"what if he doesn't mama? if i don't have dad, and then i don't have you, that would make me all alone. i can't even reach the microwave on my own!!" his outrage grew as the total seriousness of their conversation flew over his head completely. fenton was in no way a stupid child, he understood what was going on. his father was running away and he hated him for it. his mother was dying, but he loved her even more for being brave through it. the only problem, was fenton was seven. he didn't understand that death was a finality. he didn't understand that once his mother died he would never see her again in anything other than pictures or memories. he didn't understand that the honey sweet scent of her lavender shampoo would only linger for so long in empty corners. and he didn't understand that her arms couldn't carry him after she was gone.
claudia though, she understood and she accepted, so she took her son's outcry with a chuckle and shakily reached out to him, gathering the child into her delicate arms.
"mój skarb, do not worry so much. everything has a way of sorting its self out. i pinky promise your tata will come home." she offered her fading pinky to the child. promises were important to children.
fenton took his mother's pinky with his own chubby finger and a smile the size of the moon. "okay i believe you. will he be the same tata from before the scary men?"
"that i cannot promise you fenton, but time heals the greatest of wounds, little by little, day by day, okay?"
"okay. i love you mam." the bundle of child sang pressing into what was left of his mother.
"kocham, mój skarb" she replied, pressing right back into her child with all she had left to give.

translations:
tata means father
mój skarb means my treasure
słoneczko means sunshine
kocham mój skarb means love you my treasure

[abeille]

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thomas && his motherxxxxx944xxxxxminor violence && fire
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thomas only remembers what he remembers, and that’s practically everything.
it happened on october fourth nearly twelve years ago, on a wednesday in the fall. thomas upshur still hates wednesdays. it was an early morning, and the world had stood cold, silent. the air was eerily still, in the way it should never be, heavy and bruising and patently sinister. deadly close to suffocating. thomas had known. he’d known, huddled up in his mother’s arms as she carried his toddler body to the car hushing his disgruntled moans with small reassurances and the promise of returning home safe and sound spilling from her cupid bow lips. he’d known when she’d sat down in the front seat, after meticulously buckling in her son, and struggled to pull her hair into a bun. it wasn't normal, his mother was always scrupulous, he’d never seen her trip up, in fact he hadn't known it was possible. his mother had been the human embodiment of perfect. so it was only inevitable that he’d known.
in the case of most motor vehicle accidents, the impact is what survivors remember the most; but not thomas. he remembers everything. the way hard metal shrieked against metal, effectively cleaving the heft of earth’s atmosphere. the smell of strained rubber burning. the overbearing view of red and blue sirens in the distance which had taken advantage of the young boy’s fragile state and seeped into his skull through the cracks, staining this single moment the color of dread and helplessness. and god, does he remember her screams. a frail human being who had been nothing other than meek for the entirety of her life, with a voice soft enough to lull the vicious ocean to slumber, had been altered. her reborn persona terrifying in every way as she’d cried out to anyone listening, her wails a pitiful disgrace in the face of death. thomas would know, he’d been there; death had tried to frighten him too.
the crash had happened at a blistering pace. had anyone been around, they surely would have missed it anyway. life was much too quick for the bare human eye. thomas had been so absorbed in his abused senses that the arrival of emergency medical service was almost a nonexistent event in all of the remembered chaos. he didn't quite understand, even to this day, how anyone had known to find them. they were abstract, just another couple caught in the snaggle toothed jaws of fate, destined to spin out of control and into quietus. but then out of nowhere had come these men, dressed in mottled brown with ugly reflective patches shouting out for any sign of life. had they not already heard his yowling mother when they’d arrived on the scene? even as a six year old, thomas had known the distorted voice of his mother must have been audible from miles away. the intensity of her wails had shaken the beaten car’s frame, aiding in her search for something to cling to, for someone to save her baby.
a man with large shaking hands had peeled through the metallic layers of car door which had been sealing thomas inside the hulking automobile, his mouth moving although at the time thomas couldn't even imagine trying to make out the firefighter’s words. he’d assumed maybe he was speaking a language of another culture, quiet and quick on the lips. he wasn't. thinking back, thomas had a good idea what the man had been saying, he could still picture the shape of his moving lips, “there’s a fire. don’t worry, we've got you son.” his sentence repeated over and over while thomas sat bone still, eyes latched onto the writhing form of his mother as heat soaked through the right side of the vehicle and into the driver’s seat.
the same ugly hands he’d noticed upon the firefighter's arrival had pried him from the vehicle through a gaping hole, no bigger than the one swallowing his chest and his mind and his body. the small boy they’d removed from the car fought tooth and nail, screeching and kicking and sobbing. “my mother’s in there! don’t leave my mommy!”. thomas hadn't known what they were doing as they led him away from the orange consumed vehicle. hot flames danced along the pavement, licking the crushed door, taunting the younger thomas as he was forced to listen to his mother carry on, her wails dying slowly, but surely. they’d left her, and thomas had watched. he hadn't been capable of attempting to look away. of course the colors had been mesmerizing, but that was his mother there, turning to charcoal and ash, her lungs filling with the most primeval enemy, smoke which settled in the cavities of her person, killing her faster.
the last thing he clearly remembered through the cloud of smoke was a litany of words dripping from his lips which had been chewed raw turning them cherry red, “you’re killing her! you’re killing my mother!”. the older men had ignored him after failed attempts to placate him with soothing back rubs and sugar coated lies, disposing the child in the back of a much too empty ambulance, with only his tears and sobs for company. thomas remembers the scene clearly. he’d been shivering, the hole in his chest and his head eating him away, piece by piece until the pain was a dull throbbing that crept into his skull and his limbs. immobilizing him. “she promised.” he’d whispered into the empty rig, but his words were hollow and they trickled from his tongue and settled into empty corners. unimportant. silent. eerie. just as the day had began.


side note: scene is a depiction of one of my characters, thomas upshur's, mother's death.

[ʞ ɔ ǝ ɹ ʍ d ı ʞ s]

Ohhh my god
You have such a beautifully dark way of writing
[which I love- you know, something that makes you feel]
and these definitely made me feel something

When I read the first prompt, I have to admit the first thing I thought of was Tommy Boy
and I was like, oh no
it's not dead
and it's gonna destroy the car
and this is gonna be great
but alas, that did not happen xD
still good though!

And question for the second-
what language was his mother speaking?
I'm quite interested, as there are few I don't recognize
[watch, it'll be one I should know and I'll feel stupid xD]

And the last one
oman
I found myself skimming because I was almost afraid to feel the intensity there
car crashes are very... horrific
and I think it was very bold to capture it the way you did

[abeille]

wow, hello and holy crow.
thank you so much for the compliments. seriously thank you so much.
i actually have a problem with writing dark stuff, because writing
lighter, happier things is sorta hard for me.

ahh see, that would've been brilliant, but i would have never, ever
thought of that, so instead you got passive aggressive whiny jack.

in the second one fenton's mother is speaking in polish.
i wasn't sure if i should put translations, but i probably should.
she basically repeats the same thing though;
tata means father
mój skarb means my treasure
słoneczko means sunshines
and then kocham mój skarb is basically i love you my treasure

ugh. just thomas in general is a pain man.
i gave him such a horrible back story really, if i write more for
him on here, you guys will understand.

[ʞ ɔ ǝ ɹ ʍ d ı ʞ s]

Oh believe me I know that feel.
I literally get anxiety when I try to write happy things
then I sit there and write deaths and trauma cackling evilly
it's just... I'd rather make someone cry than giggle lololol

Thats ok
I like Jack hehehe

POLISH
ok I don't feel so bad, I don't know that one all that well...
Though my step aunt is Polish...
and her name is Parwana and I always thought it was pretty
because apparently it means butterfly ahhhh
[but thats literally the only Polish word I know soooo heh]
... one of my character uses treasure as a pet name
but in Italian -cough-

Oh I am a sucker for tragic backstories
I literally
one of my stories is literally about people with tragic backstories
who forget their past but still get into trouble because they're the same people :DD
and don't even get me started on Scarlet oh my-
... but yeah
very well done :DD
Can't wait to see more!

[abeille]

ugh yes. my happy things are never written as well.
plus, angst and tragedy are soooo much more fun to write.

well i'm glad then. he will probably be reoccurring (idk tho?)

yes, polish! c:
i like writing in polish because it's so pretty. plus i can write it easily thanks to my babcia
uh. i, um, well. parwana is a lovely name, but that's
not polish? butterfly in polish is motyl which is usually
a last name, but i could be wrong too?
oi, no way really? i haven't read your stories yet, i've
been meaning to do that. i'm looking forward to finding
that now.

that's sick, whoa.
tragic back stories are my life.

and thank you again!! i'm working on another atm, it should
be done tonight? i don't even know.

[ʞ ɔ ǝ ɹ ʍ d ı ʞ s]

ok yes
because making real people miserable is socially unacceptable
so fictional ones will have to do

... well
... maybe its another language and she's just Polish then
so I guess I don't know any words :DD
my life is a lie
I can French, I can Italian, I can kinda Latin, but apparently I can't Polish...
and yisssss though it hasn't been used in it yet
well, at least not the new draft [Swindle]
but it's used plenty in the old one and extra scenes hehehe

Yessssss I havent revealed any yet but
... its kind of a roller coaster
[Shadows of Mysterium]
between them all they had almost every kind of horrible life :DD

WOO MORE
yesss I will be watching out for that then ^-^
totally not stalking what