An original scene and some more of the character meme

[cornerofmadness]

I have a few more of that character meme fun. If you don't remember the meme you'll find it Here Here are my characters

1. Buffy Summers
2 Leia Organa
3 Lucifer
4 Hermione Granger
5 Roy Mustang
6 Riza Hawkeye
7 Connor
8 Dana Scully
9 Spock
10 Spike
11 Willow Rosenberg
12 Winry Rockbell
13 Edward Elric
14. Han Solo
15 Drusilla


For tjs_whatnot

#11 picks up #1 on the side of the road. What sort of shenanigans do they get up to? Hahaha since it's Willow picking up Buffy it's just another Tuesday night of magic and vampire slaying.


#12 and #15 are contestants on a cooking competition show. Who wins? What do they prepare? Winry and Drusilla are cooking? Ha, Well Winry would win because I can't imagine Drusilla cooking and whatever it is it would be made of blood. Winry, on the other hand, probably knows a lot of good country cooking.

#2 is hired by #6 to investigate their spouse #4 who they suspect is having an affair with #13. What do they find? How does it end? So Leia hires Riza to investigate her spouse, Hermione who they think is having an affair with Edward? Snort. Riza basically tells Leia it's time to let her underaged 'spouse' go and then tells Hermione to watch out for Winry if she's planning to have an affair with Edward.



For trobadora 1 and 8 discover they're colleagues now! What's the job? Buffy Summers and Dana Scully are working together, well that's just another X-file but with Buffy in tow she might have to face up to the fact the weirdness is real. I might circle back to this one because this could be a fun ficlet


And here's the scene I started at Christmas and lost with the flash drive. It's the start of something new. I'm wondering if it's a little bit interesting or not. So I'm interested in comments constructive crit or a hey that works is helpful.

Faolan staggered through the park trying to ignore the pains making themselves known. He wondered if he could tell Madison about what he’d been put through and hopefully she would be agreeable to not make him dates like the one tonight. He didn't mind a little pain, enjoyed it even, but this had been over the top. At least his date tipped generously, Faolan patted the pocket in which the heavy package of heroin rode. His pain bought him a few days of not needing to worry about where his next fix was coming from.

Something rustled in the brush, making the hair on his arms stand up. Faolan glanced around, spotting nothing but his head swam between jonesing and the blows he'd taken from his violent date. A pack of psychos could be sneaking up on him, and he'd never know. Part of him wondered if he even cared. A different psycho had ruined his life long ago. The only thing tragedy left him was a hollowed out life and a fleshy shell he was too afraid to leave. If someone ended it for him tonight, what would he really have lost? Would Sorcha, his sister, cry for him? Did she think about him at all? Would she even know if someone destroyed him? Maybe. His prints were on file with the police if nothing else. Someone would send word to New Hampshire. At least one of them was thriving in spite of what they'd been through. Sorcha tried to save him but Faolan doubted anyone could.

From around a bend in the park, three women ran past him. Faolan stumbled aside, nearly colliding with the woman in the lead. Joggers? Well, some did run at night but they didn't look like joggers. They swiveled their heads fast as they ran as if they were hunting something. They didn't look scared enough to be running from someone. One of the women was about six foot and blond like a Valkyrie and her partner was only a few inches shorter with walnut hair swept back into a tail. Their third companion was a rail thin biracial woman with her hair left natural and long, bouncing as she ran. They seemed like an unlikely bunch, and they stared him before tearing off.

"What was that about?" he asked the air before deciding he didn't give a damn. He hurt all over, and all he wanted was to get home. Another strange noise distracted him from the aches in his body. Faolan glanced around but nothing else stepped out of the gloom.

In spite of that, he picked up the pace, half jogging by the time the edge of the park loomed in the distance. His squat rested another few blocked away over broken, dirty sidewalks. The faint clean smell of the park faded quickly, and the stale industrial scent invaded his senses. He was almost home.

Home was a loose term for it. Faolan didn't know when it had been abandoned but he and his kids have moved in about a year ago. In this area the houses huddled together not far from abandoned warehouses. Once upon a few generations ago, business boomed in the area but these houses had always been bad, cheap dwellings for the poor workers. Faolan had chosen the house he squatted in because the house next to it had tumbled down, not livable, and to the other side was the corner. The houses here were so close you could stand between them and touch the walls or so it felt so his selection made it feel more private.

Inside his abandoned home, there were at any time a half dozen street kids, he looked out for someone needed to, and in spite of his own shitty life choices, Faolan felt the need to help. He understood these kids. He escaped from a hellish home life too but his flight had been right up a needle into the false bliss of heroin. Only it kept the nightmares away, only it gave him peace.

His home had some nice things about it. He prized it for the working fireplace because Boston got frost-bite cold in the winter. This one still vented some when they burned what they could to keep warm in Boston’s ridiculous winters. He should round up his kids and make the slow walk to Virginia or parts further south but that was a pipe dream.

At least hovel sweet hovel had running water that someone hadn’t cut off and had slipped the notice of the water company. Cold showers could happen and that was better than nothing. He had gotten used to living without electricity, and people still adored candles so he was able to get them easily enough. They provided light enough for when they needed it. Firefly, one of his girls, was a reader, and he always made sure she had a candle to read by, and for that she seemed to adore him in a platonic way.

The quietness inside lived up to his expectations. Most of the kids should be asleep at this point but he checked in their room like a worried daddy, a better one than most of his kids had ever hand, in spite of his drug issues. Everyone but Cheyenne was in and knowing her, she was out doing things he didn’t want his kids doing. Faolan sold himself to get money to feed everyone so they didn’t have to. He tried to get them to centers who could help them, not every kid who crossed his path could be helped. Cheyenne probably was the latter. He just hoped she’d come home. He’d hear d of street kids disappearing lately. He didn’t want them to simply disappear, even if he didn’t know what he could do to prevent it. None of them lived safe lives.

Faolan settled into what passed as his bed, a mass of old blankets and streets stolen from a Goodwill drop box. He hurt so much forcing him to cook up just a little of his heroin to shove the edge off the pain. As he wanted for sleep, Faolan mulled over the strange women in the park. Who jogged at that hour? They didn’t look like a street gang. He didn’t know why they occupied his mind. He’d never see them again. Only, they instilled dread in him, almost like his father had all those years growing up with such a bastard. No, he wouldn’t think of that man or he’d never sleep. Try as he might to banish the women from his mind, they lingered until restless sleep claimed him.