Toppity top top!

Ooooooh there's so many new ones! *rubs hands together, cackling gleefully* This is gonna be long, but here we go... 

<Based roughly on Hunter's third prompt; I didn't use the exact wording (hope that's allowed)>

I sat, straight-backed and prim, on a wooden stool, nudging my needle through the fabric. Up and down, one stitch, pull the thread through. Up and down, second stitch, pull the thread through. Over and over again, until I became numb from sitting on the hard, unforgiving wood. I mean, honestly, was this stool designed to make me as uncomfortable as possible? 

Actually, I wouldn't put that past my uncle. He's slimy as a hagfish and infuriatingly clever. It'd be just like him to make my stool extra-hard, just to remind me who was in charge. As if he didn't do that already. As if it wasn't enough for him to set fire to any buildings with the rebel's sigil in the window, shut down the city at dusk and imprison any curfew-breakers, execute anyone he thought vaguely suspicious, and lock me inside the palace "for the High Princess' safety". As if. I'm safer among the rebels than I am around him. 

But still, he was the king, as much as I loathed the fact. And when he forces me to sit quietly and practice my loopstitch while I watch the kingdom fall apart, I have to do it. 

Except, that's not entirely accurate. I don't have to actually do it, I just have to make him think I'm doing it. 

Needless to say, the rebels were quite thrilled to have the High Princess herself join their ranks.

A knock came at the door, breaking into my thoughts.

"Come in," I called.

A guard slipped through the doorway, closing it quietly behind her. As she turned to me, brown skin glowing in the candlelight and amber eyes sparking, I involuntarily let out a breath. Renee.

"Aldaedra, you have to come with me," she hissed softly. "Now."

I stood immediately, letting my embroidery hoop fall to the floor, and crossed the small room to my window in a few strides. I tugged the curtains shut, then whirled to face Renee.

"Why?"

She just shook her head. "It's a long, complicated story, and I don't have the time to tell it."

I just nodded. "Should I--"

"Yes."

"What about--"

"Already done." 

Smothering a completely inappropriate smile, I took a few steps across the room to my wardrobe. Tugging open the bottom drawer, I tapped on the bottom of it twice, then three times, then twice again. It popped up to reveal a guard's uniform, exactly my size, folded beneath the drawer's false bottom. 

I motioned for Renee to turn around, and she did so. Carefully, I felt around the back of the dress for the hidden zipper that my (also a rebel) dressmaker had worked into the dress. Locating it, I pulled, and the frilled, cumbersome gown that took forever to put on came off easily. I slipped into my uniform, delighting in being able to actually breathe, and took Renee's hand, leading her out of the room. 

"All right," I whispered, as we descended the lanternlit stairs, "What are we doing?" 

Renee shook her head, eyes troubled. I couldn't help noticing that although she didn't need to hold my hand anymore, she hadn't let go. "The sky is falling tonight."

The words sent a jolt up my spine, and I stumbled to a stop, hand yanked out of Renee's. "What." I hissed. "The reb-- They told me it would be in two moons!"

"I know," Renee said quietly, "But there's been... a complication. I can't explain everything that's happened over the last ten hours, but the sky is falling tonight, and it's not by us."

I reeled at her words. Someone else was bringing down the king? How? Why?

"We need to be above the clouds when that happens." Translation: We need you to get the heck out of here so that the heir to the throne is safe.

"But--" I swallowed, head spinning. "I'm not ready." The words came out in a whisper.

The urgency in Renee's eyes softened a little. "I know. But there's no one else to take the throne." She took a step closer to me, eyes big and soft in the lanternlight. "And anyway," she continued softly, "Even if you don't think you're ready, I know you're going to be the best queen we've ever had, Allie." I saw her cheeks flush slightly with the admission.

I took a deep breath. "Okay," I said softly, then smiled at her. "Lead the way." 

Prompt Dump!

~"Don't you see? I care about you!" 

~They said they'd never forget. Clealy, they didn't remember their promise. 

~I told you my deepest secret, and you just walked away.   

~"Are you coming back?" 

~"Because why not?"

~"I'm glad you agree."  

~"I'm here. Come when you can." 

~I am on hold, waiting to hear. 

The last five of these are actually taken from my text messages (they are a lot more deep than I realized! Credit also goes to my parents and best friend, E) and the others are originial. :)

I believe someone ordered a serving of writing prompts with extra drama, with a side of dark intrigue and a tall glass of angst

- It was way too beautiful an evening to be discussing the apocalypse.

- There are some things it's impossible to forget.

- Destiny is a fickle thing. Sometimes it involves battlefields and glory, other times marches and picket signs, other times, a simple plot of earth and dirt under you fingernails. Or in my case, a remarkably grumpy labrador and a corner deli.

- I wasn't supposed to exist.

- As it turns out, the wind isn't all that good at keeping its promises.

- Electronic countermeasures had blocked our radar signals. Not the most promising start to a highly classified stealth operation.

- A mirror backed with tortoiseshell 

Neverseen's prompt~

"I'm glad you agree." He smirked at me.

I balled my hands into fists. "I never said that!"

"But you implied it."

I felt like shoving him headfirst into a mud puddle. Stars above, how can anyone be so annoying?

How I ended up in a shadowy forest on a secret, deadly mission with the most irritating boy in all of Solis is really quite a long story.

Perhaps I should sum it up. I am the princess of the country of Solis, destined to be queen--or so said everyone. But I hated the prissy pillows, uncomfortable dresses, and vicious gossip of the castle. So I stole a set of servant clothes and ran away.

However, I soon found myself associating with a rebellion that was growing beneath the outward calm of the city. No one knew that I was the princess, and they treated me like one of them. Eventually I gained a high status among the rebels, and they sent me on a mission with one of their apprentices--namely, Risus, aforementioned annoying boy.

Our mission was to find a secret entrance to the castle. I still was not sure if I should betray my family, even if they had treated me stiffly. But even if I chose to side with them, would they ever forgive me for leaving in the first place?

And I don't want to go back to my old life.

I shook myself. "I do not agree. It would be absolutely fluffbrained to try and dig a tunnel into the castle!"

Risus shrugged. "If we had a lot of shovels, it might work."

________________________________________________________________________________

Interesting. Maybe I'll do more of it. 

Does anyone have any tips for writing comedy? Specifically a one-act play? More specifically, if we must, a one-act play about very bad (and mutinous) court jesters? Advice on writing plays in general would also help very much, I've never tried completing a script before, so I'm stumbling along rather blindly; I might share my unedited/much in need of editing little opening scene later, who knows? 

this is a really cool thread! I definitely need to explore outside of Pudding's Place more often. here's something I wrote based off of one of Jaybell's prompts! 

~~~ 

“A castle of eggshells” is what they called it. Not because the structure itself was fragile, but because the people in it were. They held no power over the kingdom anymore, not since the Great War, but they acted as if they did, letting their fear spin delusions. Every other week, new proclaimations were sent out and pasted on the village walls by some servant who was too scared to quit. The perpetual rain always made sure the ink smeared, creating dark teardrops on the damp paper, but it was never long until a new one was up again. Envelopes were sent out each month, inviting all the most powerful people to a ball, and each month there were no attendees. The five royals spent their evening alone, dancing to music only they could hear. No one in the village dared to set foot in the castle, yet it still loomed over the people, casting shadows onto their thatched roofs. It was a constant reminder of the past, and the five people who refused to leave it. 

Prompts, prompts, nice juicy prompts!

>It is very strange to be asking a favor from someone who recently broke into your house. No matter. 

>The waves rippled around the rowboat as (name) and I picked up the anchor amidst the falling rain. 

>At the school picnic, I noticed that the teacher was obviously hiding something--not in their mind, but in their bag. 

>The market was so full of people that no one would notice us. Hopefully. 

>(Possible alternate perspective to #2's scenario) Scanning the waters with the binoculars, I decided that the rowboat had already crossed the horizon instead of being swept away. 

>I bit my lip as the file cabinet was loaded into the moving truck, because filing cabinets are not designed as comfortable places to sit--that's what armchairs are for. 

>The only clue was the coffee stain.

I think I'll take the file cabinet one, if you don't mind (I really like it), and everyone else is welcome to do it too if they want, as in also use the prompt. 

I bit my lip as the file cabinet was loaded into the moving truck,
because filing cabinets are not designed as comfortable places to
sit--that's what armchairs are for. 

"Almost there," the moving boy whispered. So far I hadn't learned his name, but, with luck, both me and the furniture from the old house would be taken to Detritus and Co. Moving, where the old calendar from the old house, which had hitched the first ride (before I met the moving boy and he agreed to put me in the file cabinet). And possibly contained the secret to the mystery that Great-Aunt Fishskins was working on before she disappeared. Suddenly I was inside the truck, and I sat up and took a bite of nuts. The moving boy leaned against my cabinet and then opened the top drawer. 

"You're heavy," he said, pulling my drawer so that I could get out. "Sorry. Also, who are you exactly?" 

"I told you," I said, carrying my bag out with me. "I'm Fiorentina Fishkins's great-niece."

"I'm the Secretary of State's seventh cousin," said the moving boy, "but if we all went by who we were related to the world would be more confusing."

"Fine," I said. "But you have to tell your name to me before I tell mine to you." 

"It's Braeden," he said, and after a minute, "Eryre." 

"My name is Cassandra Fishskins," I said, "but if you call me anything except Cass I'm throwing you out the window of your own moving truck." 

"I don't think that these things have windows big enough." 

"You have a point." The truck jolted to a stop and Braeden opened the drawer again for me to get into the cabinet. After the uncomfortable shifting, we were inside a huge warehouse full of stuff. 

"Okay," said Braeden. "The oldest things and the unloading docks are at the back, and he's gone off to help someone with a sale, and your calendar might be on this desk." Braeden waved at a desk covered to the brim in papers. 

"I'll look," I said. I pushed aside an unused planner and a notepad, a diary and a paper bird, and found a calendar. Weeds was written across the top. I flipped to January: thistles in a field for the pictures, and, accompanying New Year's Day on the picture for January first, was Cass's Birthday.

"Braeden," I said, "thank you so much."