✍️ Write based on the line prompt above

"Laurel! Where the hell are you?" Bambi's demanding voice was echoing across the hallway, all the way upstairs where Laurel was fixing his costume.

"Laurel I need you right now!" the fellow dancer's voice called out again, and this time Laurel managed to hear it, ears twitching slightly.

"What is it?" Laurel yelled back, his voice thankfully high enough it carried all the way to where Bambi was.

"Just come here!"

Laurel let go of the dress and stood up, trying to balance out himself after having been sitting there for hours straight; he had gotten a little too occupied with the dress fixing. He walked to the kitchen, his hooves making a rhytmic clip-clop-clip-clop sound as they touched the floor.

"There you are!" Bambi huffed, ears twitching nervously, and Laurel couldn't help but wonder what was going on. Had something happened? "Thank heavens you're here! I need your help."

"What is it?" Laurel asked curiously, eager to help and with no reservation towards Bambi, even tohugh the other dancer was notorious for constantly taking advantage of him in the most mundane way.

"I need someone with hooves to stomp the trash," Bambi then proceeded to explain.

"But Bambi, you have hooves too?"

Bambi huffed. "But not right now! And it's such a bother to switch and mix and match forms, I don't want to spend energy on something you can do for me without much effort."

Laurel grimaced, but saw no reason to leave Bambi to do his job alone - after all, the trash was also his, so it was also his business, even when it was Bambi's turn to take care of them.

"Fine," he finally sighed, but then smiled: "If you help me with dress fixing!"

"Ugh, fine, it's a deal," Bambi groaned.

"Oh no, not again!"

Starring Renne and Celeste!

---

"Oh no, not again!" A panicked expression graced the nobles face as she watched the young cockatrice escape the trap she had laid out. Her sister snickered nearby as she leaned against a tree with her arms crossed. A knowing smirk formed on her face and she threw her head back.

"How long do you want to keep going at this?" She inquired in a playful manner and earned a scornful look from her sibling, who sighed in frustration.

"I can't just keep letting others do my work for me." She answered with puffed cheeks as she watched the cockatrice scurry about, pecking at the ground to forage for food. "I need to learn to cook better." Celeste crossed her arms behind her head and shrugged indifferently.

"We have palace maids for that Renne. That's their job." She reminded her, but Renne shook her head as she watched the animal wander around in front of her hiding place. 

"They won't always be around. I should be able to do this much. How embarrassing would it be to not know such a basic skill?" She replied stubbornly, her cheeks reddening when she recalled the time that Riy had teased her about it. Her hands balled into fists at the thought, and she prepared herself to leap out of the bushes after the cockatrice if it tried to run. Hearing the determination in her voice, Celeste decided to push it anymore and sighed in defeat.

"Do what you will. Just don't complain to me when any of the councilors hear of this, or a certain someone." Her words made the younger noble flinch, as she knew who this 'someone' was that she referred to. This only reaffirmed her decision to do this, and she curled her lips into a smile.

"That's what you think will happen. I'm going to do this, just you watch." Celeste cracked an eye open and peered around the tree at her sister with a soft smile, and shrugged.

"I'm watching you."

----

"What's the matter with you?"

"You just saved my life!"

This got long and low-key gay
The other character in this is Marion

"I don't think [person x] is a human" / OR ALTERNATIVELY (as two days have passed): "Are you sure this is the right direction?"

Just passing by to bump this thread 

claim! I'll just do both lol

"May I just be the one to ask... why the hell would you ever think that was a good idea?"

claim, I feel like this will be funny 8'D. 

"Quit staring at me like that, it makes me feel uncomfortable."

"Quit staring at me like that, it makes me feel uncomfortable," Cyrus snapped at the upperclassman, who without any sense of shame kept staring at him from the other side of the hallway as if he had been a delicious meal. 

"This is a free country," the boy grinned, "and I'll stare as much as I want." 

Cyrus groaned loudly. Had his foot been healthy he would have gone and beat up the older boy for being rude and irritating, but he knew he'd just get a beating of his lifetime if he attempted the same now. Instead, and very bitterly, Cyrus just decided to leave the scene. As much as it annoyed him not to be the one who gets to have the last word (or the last punch or kick), it'd just give him even more unnecessary trouble to start a battle. 

"Hey, where are you going?" the older boy yelled at him. "I didn't mean to anger you! Don't be so sensitive." 

That was it. Cyrus turned around, and as if a switch had been turned inside his head he lost his cool entirely. Although his leg ached and hurt and clearly tried to tell Cyrus not to walk so fast and with so much force, the boy ingored it, sleeves rolled up and ready to fight. 

"Look who got angry! Give your best shot, princess!" the upperclassman laughed, and added: "Someone with a pretty face can never land a single punch that would count!" 

But before Cyrus got to demonstrate the boy just how strong his strike was, someone grabbed him by the neck of his shirt. 

"Woah there!" a familiar voice called out, and Cyrus could see Jonathan holding him. On the other side Cyrus realized Leon had grabbed the older student, who was way smaller than Leon was. 

"Tony, for shame!" Leon groaned with a hint of theatrical exaggeration in his deep voice. "Is this how you treat your cute underclassman? You might want to think twice!" 

"And Cyrus, should a prefect really start a fight like this? I'd say you reconsider, this is not worth the bother," Jonathan added, and finally let go of now calmer Cyrus. 

Tony got free of Leon's grip and gave him an equally terrified and angry look, and left the scene without saying a word, the echo of his footsteps as the only source of sound. Only once he was gone Jonathan broke the silence:

"You alright?" 

"Yeah, thanks for interrupting, I shouldn't have lost my patience like that," Cyrus replied with a defeated sigh. "I shouldn't be so darn sensitive but here we are; it's hard to just walk away." 

Leon slammed his hand against Cyrus' back, and although forceful, it was definitely a friendly slap. 

"We're here to help you, don't you worry about that! I would have done the same anyway, and then landed on the detention where I practically live now," he laughed, and then continued: "So, now that we have saved you, we have a small favour to ask from Mr. Prefect..."

Cyrus rolled his eyes but couldn't help but smile. 

"Imagine all the possibilities though!" 

Claim!

"I dunno man... It's pretty risky. There's just too much to loose."

((I wanted to do one with Smiley since it's been so long since he's had an actual story .w.))

"I don't know man. It's pretty risky... there's just too much to lose," Brendon muttered under his breath to his friend, who was busy putting on his black ski mask.
His face properly hidden, the man turned around to sharply glare at his indecisive friend. "Look, I kept telling you that you could back out at any time, and you stayed. That's not my fault. You can run if you want, but I'm going in there and I'm going to spend all the money I get on a first class ticket out of this sh-thole of a town," Aron bristled. 

Brendon sagged, offering silence as his argument. His friend exhaled sharply and turned to look out the window. It started out with them skipping class in high school to smoke cigarettes and vent. Their town was small and petty, people did nothing but talk about their great lives or how great their precious god was. They hated it. Days would pass by that all they'd talk about was leaving and finding somewhere else to go to. Maybe another town, maybe a big city. Hell, maybe they'd just ride the trains around like hobos in TV. It was all that kept them sane.
Then one day Aron suggested something: stealing. The old woman at the end of his street lived alone, and she kept all her savings with her. He didn't know why, but assumed she was old enough to be batsh-t crazy. Whatever the case, he wanted to take the money and run off with it. Brendon was hesitant at first, but Aron persuaded him with thoughts of buying beer, the latest video games, and even getting a sweet, sweet new car.
They spent a week formulating a plan. They watched the woman, seeing her routine. She only ever came out to let her cat roam or to get her mail; twice a week she'd go out for groceries. That's when they'd go for the strike. It sounded great at the time, but as the day of reckoning came closer, Brendon began to feel uncomfortable. Stealing from an old woman... Could he really live with himself after that? Could he enjoy money and beer while some old lady living alone didn't have enough to feed her cat? Whenever he voiced these thoughts, Aron would try to insist that she's bound to die soon enough with that age.
Two days before the strike, the two had noticed that the woman hadn't left her house at all. It made Brendon nervous. Or was that his shame? Aron didn't notice, blinded by thoughts of what the future held for him. When brought to his attention, Aron showed some concern, but shrugged it off. "Maybe she's visiting her grandson or something, I don't care," he dismissed.

The two, dressed in black with their faces hidden behind ski masks, approached the front door. It was dark out, but the time read that dinnertime had barely passed. Both teens had told their parents they were eating out with a friend to create an alias.
They looked at each other, exchanging a hesitant nod. Once they did this, there was no going back. Aron looked to the door and wrapped his gloved fingers around the bronze doorknob. Brendon was expecting it to be locked, hoping that the shudder of a locked door would convince his friend to abort the mission. Surprisingly enough, it clicked, and opened.
The two stared at the opened door in awe for a minute before remembering their plan and walked in. It was an old house, older than the woman, and filled with antiques. As Brendon looked around he found many pictures of when the woman was younger and with her late husband. They looked so happy. He set down the picture with a sigh through his nose. He couldn't do this. He turned to look for Aron, but couldn't see him. He must have gone upstairs. Brendon looked around the living room. It was a bit of a mess. The food on the coffee table looked old and already had a couple gnats on them, and there was a thin layer of dust on the shelves. He walked around until a piercing scream made him freeze. He felt the blood drain from his face, recognizing that scream as Aron's. Looking to the direction he heard the scream, he bolted up the stairs and nearly slammed into said friend. Aron was on the ground, back pressed against the wall, knees shaking; wide, tearful eyes gazed at horror at the room in front of him. Brendon followed his gaze, catching his breath as he realized what horrified his friend.
What was once a delicate bedroom with plush blankets and pictures of family was now the scene of a vicious murder. Blood pooled on the floor, splattered against the walls, touched the ceiling, even masked most of the pictures. The cat was stuck on the dripping ceiling fan. Half of it, at least. At the center of the explosion of crimson red was the poor, old woman, face down and with an axe sticking out of her back. But none of that was the worst part.
Smiley faces.
Every inch of the room was covered in red smiley faces. The ceiling, the floor, the damn bed! It was like walking into some kind of twisted horror carnival ride. Brendon's knees threatened to give. Who did this? Were they still here? Should he call 911? If he did, would they pin this on them?
A hand grabbed his shoulder, the firm squeeze snapping him out of his daze.  He turned to look at who he assumed was his friend, but instead he was greeted with the sight of a paper bag. There was a smiley face drawn on the bag, one eerily similar to the ones decorating the bedroom.
"Hello," the man with the paper bag said.
Brendon cried out and tried to escape, but the man's grip was strong and kept him in place.
"Excuse the mess. I wasn't expecting any guests." With amazing force the man tossed Brendon on the ground, stomping on his back. The boy coughed as air was squeezed out of his lungs. He looked over his shoulder to see the man watching him. He couldn't tell with his face covered like that, but he could feel the eyes on him. Then he noticed what the man was holding: a doorknob. Brendon looked to the side to see his neck the only thing between the door and its frame.
"Do try knocking next time, okay?" the man giggled before slamming the door shut.

"What am I supposed to do with this?"

// I want Jonathan to take Claude to sauna and I want this convo to happen so bad you don't understand // 

"So, um, what am I supposed to do with this?" Claude asked while holding the birch whisk between his hands. He failed to see the importance of the item, and the only thing he could imagine it being used for was to either use it to whack the bugs away, or alternatively dip in the water and use as an archaic incense. 

"You whack yourself with it real hard when you're in sauna," Jonathan replied vary casually. 

"I -" Claude said and looked at the tied up birch leaves in utter confusion and disbelief "- do what with it?" 

Jonathan looked at Claude's devastated and terrified expression, and couldn't hold back the small laughter that escaped from him. 

"You're pulling my leg, aren't you? Making fun of a poor city boy's naivety..."

"No, no, I swear I'm not!" the other laughed. "I swear to gods I'm not making this up, it's a real thing we do in sauna!" 

"You can't be serious."

"I am. Absolutely serious. And I'll show you tonight in sauna."

Claude shifted his gaze, looking at Jonathan, then the birch whisk and then back to Jonathan with something akin to unease on his face. 

"... does it hurt? I can't imagine it being anything but unpleasant." 

"It doesn't hurt! It puts your blood flowing, it does good to your body!" 

Claude let out a defeated sigh. 

"Fine, I'll trust you. You most certainly know this better than I do." 

"Uh, I guess?" (it doesn't need to be the starting sentence of the story though!)

"Uh...I guess?" Roman shrugged haphazardly, staring up at Jidenna from where he lay sprawled across the bed. He hadn't been quite asleep, but he wasn't particularly in the mood to get out of bed and....socialize. It still felt weird for him to be in this new lifestyle, so different from the hell he had spent the past five years living. He owed a lot to Jidenna, but couldn't bring himself to ever admit to being thankful for it, lest he truly be expected to repay him in unsavory ways.

Jidenna stood at the threshold, dressed in a silk, beige shirt that was unbuttoned at the top, a simple pair of maroon slacks, and a matching tie that hung around his neck. He seemed just as awkward and shy as he had been the first day Roman had been saved by him, but it was hard to believe that he was the same man who had fought Thowl Crowley in a destructive battle that nearly upended the entire estate he'd lived in....and had won. The power and determination that had lined Jidenna's entire body had been the only thing Roman really remembered from the coup. He half-expected Jidenna to be as cruel and dominating as Thowl had been, but looking at the tentative concern in his expression, Roman couldn't help but feel his heart crumble. And that was not something he really wanted to have happen at the moment.

He closed his eyes and sighed, pushing off the bed and twisting around to face the man. "Look, I don't know if I really want to go out and do that," Jidenna had extended an invitation to Roman to attend an event in the city that would require fine clothes, fine food, and be a potentially fun experience. Jidenna's heart was in the right place; he just wanted Roman to get out more and interact with the world as an individual.  "I don't know if I'm ready to be in the public spotlight like that...especially not after--" He cut himself off, shaking his head. 

"Hey, no, I understand," Jidenna said, giving Roman an apologetic smile. He began to fidget with the tie around his neck. "I just thought it might...help, if you saw more of the city and met new people. It's up to you if you decide you want to go later on -- just tell one of the maids, and they'll get you set up." He nodded once, and then twice. Bowing his head and smiling seemed to be a nervous response for him, when he felt as though he'd offended others. It was a cute quirk, Roman supposed...and then let that thought disappear. This was not the time or the place for such thoughts, not when his entire world had been completely shaken up. 

He just shrugged and nodded, laying back onto the bed on his side. He didn't turn to see if Jidenna did anything else before he heard the door quietly click shut.

----

"There's no other way to describe it -- that was absolutely astounding."

Claim~! 

Featuring: Riy Veilheart / Celeste Araa

"There's no other way to describe it -- that was absolutely astounding." Riy was left in awe as he continued to watch the spectacle of lights in front of him. Celeste stood behind him with a content smirk as she watched the youth's bewildered reaction to the show being put on before him. To him, someone who was not attuned to Magic at all, it was a mystical sight. Even to her, a knight and noble who was capable of using such a power, it was a sight she never tired of seeing. 

"The melody of a Spiritist is a powerful thing." She told him while crossing her arms with a relaxed smile as multicolored light spheres swiveled through the air by her head. "They can soothe a weary heart, ease the pain of a wounded soldier." Riy looked to her with a curious gaze as she spoke and pulled towards her.

"Renne said only Spiritists know them. Is that really true?" He received a nod from the knight who closed her eyes with a low sigh.

"It isn't just something you can repeat word for word. There's something, very special about the quality of each Spiritist and their melody." She answered and gave Riy a crooked grin. "Renne sure tells you a lot. You seem to be growing closer with each day..." Her words made the youth scoff and turn away to hide his flushed cheeks, scowling at the teasing.

"I'm not sure where you're going with that, but you should stop." He said in a low voice. "I don't think Renne would appreciate this either..." To his surprise, Celeste just laughed softly and turned away.

"I wonder about that..."

---

"Wait, you were serious?"