ceci n'es pas une meme

[alms]

— wtf is this, alms?

Open toplevels of random scenarios! These are not limited to first recipient so feel free to tag something if it piques your interest.

wanna tweak the premise? why not.

Requests also welcome. <3

Comments

Han Solo ][ Star Wars Universe ][ places to be, things to smuggle

[straightouttacarbonite]

You've got somewhere to be. And you've gotta get there quickly.

And none of your friends-- the ones you were able to reach, anyway-- are in a position to help you. Maybe they're on the other side of the journey. Maybe they're worried about you bringing trouble. Maybe you're just an ornery bastard no one likes.

What you did get was a tip: directions to a bar. Like everything in this part of town it's dimly lit, probably on purpose to discuss the heavy grime, street dust and the film of oil and probably maybe a bloodstain or two tracked across the floor. No one meets your eyes but you know they're looking at you, sizing you up, trying to decide if you're worth the trouble or an interesting challenge.

It takes a while to find the guy you're looking for, tucked into a booth in the corner, looking like he's waiting for someone. Let's see if he's waiting for you?

Daryl Dixon ][ TWD Universe ][ are potato chips worth dying for?

[worn_wings]

The last thing you remember is the ceiling falling in on you, a cacophony of splintering wood, cracking drywall, the low moans of the dead and the viscous drip of what you hope was stagnant rain puddles but was probably liquefied walker. So it goes.

The second-to-last thing you remember is a slightly-dusty but miraculously intact wire shelf full of potato chips. Bags and bags, each one still factory-sealed, half a dozen flavors. You didn't care if they were probably stale. Hell, you didn't care if they were potentially poisonous. It was worth the risk, wasn't it?

In that moment, as the roof caved in, you had to admit-- probably not.

But you're not dead. You are, you think, still in the convenience store, tucked against a wall beneath boarded-up windows, between a bare shelf and a long-dead refrigerated case, the floor too dusty to be sticky anymore. You can tell your wrists are tied behind your back, but not really much more than that.

A little ways off you can see a guy rifling through the cigarette case behind the counter. His hair is too long, his arms are bare, generally speaking he's filthy (but who isn't these days), and he's got a big fucking crossbow on his shoulder.

No sign of the potato chips, though.

Gabriel ][ Any Universe ][ this isn't his fault, ok?

[trumpeted]

A lot of people wouldn't get in an elevator with this guy. Some people don't care, but, well. Who knows why you did- maybe you don't care. Maybe waiting for the next seemed too rude. Maybe you just got somewhere special to be.

The first couple of floors are fine and dandy, the elevator smoothly gliding skywards-- and then it shudders to a slow halt, the grinding shriek of metal on metal echoing once before it stops totally.

The guy in the elevator shrugs, totally unbothered.

"Not my fault," he says unnecessarily. In case you were wondering.