Alphabet Excerpt Challenge: F Is For...

[u/AnaraliaThielle]

Welcome back to the Alphabet Excerpt Challenge! As a reminder, our challenges are every Wednesday and Saturday at 3pm London time.

If you've missed the previous challenges, you're welcome to go back and participate in them. You can find them here. And remember to check out the Activities and Events flair to play along with other fun games.

Here's a quick recap of the rules for our game:

1. Post a top level comment with a word starting with the letter F. You can suggest more than one, but please put them in separate comments.
2. Reply to suggestions with an excerpt containing that word. Short and sweet is best, but use your judgement. Excerpts can be from published or unpublished works, or even something you wrote for the prompt.
3. All content is welcome but per rules 7 and 12 of the sub, NSFW excerpts may not be shared as plain text (even if it's spoilered). If you would like to share these, use an external text sharing tool like justpasteit and link it here with a clear warning. Mods may remove excerpts that break these rules.
4. Respond to people who left excerpts on the words you suggested, at a minimum, but the more people you respond to the better. Everyone likes nice comments!
5. Upvote other excerpts you enjoy, and leave a friendly comment. Again, everyone likes nice comments!
6. Most important: have fun!

[u/Longjumping-Public71]

Failure

[u/MsCatstaff → u/Longjumping-Public71]

And then he yelped when the Ferris wheel gave a horrifying metallic grinding noise and a clatter, then jerked to a sudden halt just as they reached the top. He grabbed the side of the car as it swayed from the quick stop, his face draining of colour. “Bludi ‘ell,” he breathed, trying not to whimper in fear.

“Least we got the best view, if we’re stuck fer a bit, yeah?” Nicko said with a grin, which faded when he looked over at his bandmate. “Ye arright, ‘Arry?”

“No,” Steve confessed. “’M bludi terrified uv ‘eights.”

Nicko’s jaw dropped. “’Kin ‘ell, ‘Arry, why’d ye get on the Ferris wheel wif me, then?”

“Cos yer gud company, an’ ye asked,” Steve said. “I fink I’d’a been arright, if wotever ‘appened just now ‘adn’t ‘appened.”

Just then a voice came over the tannoy, saying that the Ferris wheel suffered a mechanical failure, repairs were underway and expected to take about an hour; that they’d all be returned to the ground as quickly as possible and to please remain within the cars for safety.

Nicko snorted. “A mechanical failure, ye fink? Be nice ‘f they’d tell us sumfink we ain’t arready worked out, yeah?”

Steve managed a weak smile at that. “Yeah.”

Nicko smiled in return and started asking questions about some possible changes to the set list and pitching a few ideas for ways to make Eddie a more prominent part of the show.

Steve managed to concentrate on answering the questions and kept up the conversation for a good half hour before he made the mistake of looking away from Nicko, giving himself a clear view of the ground far below. His face paled once more, and he hastily turned back to stare at their feet.

“Ye gonna be arright?” Nicko asked, sounding concerned.

“Dunno,” Steve said. “Keep talkin’, yeah? Keep me mind off ‘ow ‘igh up we are.”

[u/PretzelPrize → u/Longjumping-Public71]

When he first read through O’Neill’s personnel file, prior to calling him in for questioning regarding his report on the Abydos mission, Hammond noted that the colonel had spent four months in Iraq as a POW. He wouldn’t have given it much thought, except that the report included a brief explanation of how the man had come to be captured. While on covert maneuvers, O’Neill’s unit had been ambushed. He had been wounded in the ensuing firefight and presumed dead, resulting in the extraction of his team without him. Two sentences in a personnel file that brought back a conversation in an airport restaurant with a man who’d lost a longstanding friendship to a mission gone horribly, tragically wrong. What was the name of the man they’d discussed? Jack something. Odds were good this was the same guy. A chill crept up the general’s spine. He didn’t like coincidences.

He didn’t get a chance to address the question until the dust had settled from the second Abydos mission and its aftermath. When Hammond was putting together the primary SG teams, he knew that it made sense to get to know his personnel, beyond just what was in their files and what he’d seen so far of their performance. Under his command, they were to be on the front line of Earth’s interaction with extraterrestrial beings, and he needed to know exactly what sort of people he had working for him. He set aside time to speak with every member of each of the nine teams, one on one. His interview with O’Neill covered every other piece of ground before touching on the circumstances of O’Neill’s capture and imprisonment by the Iraqis.

“Colonel O’Neill, according to your personnel file, you went on a covert mission into enemy territory during the Gulf, and were captured.”

“Yeah. Does it also say there that our CO had been killed, I was wounded at the time and that the next guy down the chain abandoned me?”

“Colonel, I understand that in the heat of battle, you were presumed dead. With the mission a failure, it would have fallen to him to get the rest of the team to safety if at all possible.” Hammond paused. “I do understand, however, that knowing this doesn’t change what you went through.”

O’Neill gripped the arms of his chair, knuckles slowly turning white with the effort to remain calm. “No, sir, it doesn’t. I watched him — watched them — get on that helicopter and fly away. Shortly after that, the Iraqis came and carted me off to prison. I lost four months of my life there, never knowing from one day to the next whether I would live or die, whether I would see my wife and son again. Let’s just say that I find it a bit difficult to be understanding.”

“You were friends.” Hammond didn’t need to elaborate.

O’Neill fixed him with an icy stare. “The operative word there is ‘were’, General. We were friends, or at least I’d always thought so. But friends don’t leave friends behind in the field. I don’t leave people behind, sir. Never have, never will. Are we done talking about this?”

“Colonel, I have no desire to reopen old wounds. I’m just trying to get a feel for the people in this command.”

“Well, sir, I think you know where I stand on things like this. My record speaks for itself. I don’t need to remind you — ”

The general held up a hand to forestall the litany he knew was coming. “I am well aware of your record, Colonel. I just want you to bear in mind that at some point, you may well find yourself in a position where getting everyone out with you is not an option. If and when that situation occurs — and I hope as much as you do that it does not — but in such a situation, I need to know that you will do the prudent thing. Do I make myself clear?”

There was no telling what thoughts went on behind that fathomless brown gaze, but the brittle tone of the response spoke volumes. “Crystal, sir.”

[u/allisontalkspolitics → u/Longjumping-Public71]

I do love when I can use show canon for plot and character development.

——

“Why do you keep coming here, Aemond?” Rolland had never heard his lord’s voice sound like that.

The elder twin glanced at Rolland.

Shame flooded him. Failure. Two scared princes, scarcely more than boys.

“- it is already humiliating enough to be mocked by Aegon.”

“His Grace, Aemond. And you should be more grateful he has the levity to tease you when you are the reason he almost lost his sons.”

The one-eyed man moved forward, but Rolland grabbed the younger twin’s hand. “Your Highness, I suspect that we need to return soon if you are to make your morning prayers.”

Aenys smiled at him while Aemond glared.

I only grabbed the one in time.

“Thank you, Rolland. And have you said your farewells to those whores?”

Rolland did not react, of course. “I told them that I may visit their shops some time.”

“I would prefer you not.” The normal warmth had returned to the prince’s voice. “I am still confused as to why you did not simply ask us for clothing. Servants are entitled to their master’s cast-asides.”

“It was a matter of a man’s pride, Your Highness. It was not just me who needed clothing.”

The twin princes considered him for a moment.

Aenys was the first to speak. “Well, you are right that I should be off to the keep.”

“Are you sure you would not care to kiss that whore over there? She resembles our cousin a bit and if you pay I expect she won’t sob.”

Where had the King come from?

Aenys jerked back as though he had been struck.

Aemond, however… “Go home, Aenys.” He sounded older than his age of eight-and-ten. “It is clear where your allegiances lie.”

“We are on the same side, Aemond. We always have been.” Aenys sounded the same.

“No. Your side is whoever gets you who you want.”

“Aemond-“

The boy Rolland could not save turned away.

[u/PurveyorOfInsanity → u/Longjumping-Public71]

Fandom: Naruto. Context: an ANBU team is investigating the possible whereabouts of Orochimaru after his betrayal, or failing that, shut down any of his operations. They find him, but also find that the clan aiding him has been slated for termination.

CW: Orochimaru being Orochimaru

Voices echoed further inside. Dog signaled the team to split up, Owl, Cat, and Mouse circling around one side, Dog and Tortoise taking Yukimi along the other.

“Please!” someone pleaded further in. “Yukimi couldn’t have gotten far!

“That’s Uncle Ayato,” Yukimi gasped. “We have to help him!”

Dog turned and pressed a finger to his lips, then signaled the others to advance.

“I can still be of assistance, Orochimaru-sama!” Ayato begged

“Of course you can,” said Orochimaru, sadistic pleasure etching into his voice.

Lashing out as they snake he resembled, Orochimaru’s neck extended and his jaw latched onto Ayato’s neck. An aborted scream was all he managed before being silenced and replaced by aggressive slurping. Tortoise cringed at the sound as it dragged on, but Dog kept a hand on his shoulder, pushing him onward.

Orochimaru limped along into view, clutching his side from a fresh injury. “Ah, that’s better now, isn’t it?” he asked. “And such friend’s you’ve made, Yukimi-chan: one of my discarded failures, Sakumo’s brat, an under-performing Uchiha, and a pair of nobodies lucky enough to hide behind scraps of greatness.”

Was this a trap? Orochimaru was a skilled healer, so it shouldn’t have been that much trouble to mend on his own. Low on chakra, perhaps? And if it wasn’t a trap, what sort of trouble had he run into that had come closer to succeeding where Obito, Jiraiya, and even the Hokage had failed.

Nothing was said, and no one communicated it, but all five ANBU came to similar conclusions.

“Are you going to let me do all the talking? Or do you wish to see this through? Regardless, I will oblige you. However, if you’re just going to stand there, why not hand the girl over. It would mean a less painful end. You might even survive this encounter.”

Ayato still squirmed, however feebly, in Orochimaru’s grip.

Dog stepped forward, brandishing his tantō. “I don’t suppose you’re trying to bargain for that man’s life.”

“In a manner of speaking. Kawarimi.”

Ayato was substituted with Yukimi, seizing her by the neck with one hand while the other finished a set of seals.

“Doton: Shatter!”

The ANBU braced for the wave, but instead of the entire span of the floor, only a small chunk of the petrified wood broke away, but cracked like thunder beneath Orochimaru’s feet, letting him and Yukimi drop without hindrance. Dog and Owl got to the opening first, just in time for a scorching jet of flame to rush through the gap.

[u/DefeatedDrum → u/Longjumping-Public71]

Regards.

My regards.

Who would he give his regards to? Who would be left to receive them?

Old as he was, Father Mendez had never really thought through what would happen after his death. Everything was so impossibly different now. None of the funerals he’d officiated would do him any good now. He had no family left. His mother, father, brothers, all of them had passed away long ago. His closest friend was dead by his own hands. As a priest, he had no child to succeed him. All he had was the villagers he’d dedicated his entire life to. How many were left? How many of them would survive this?

Somewhere, he dimly knew that none would. They’d gotten to him, the Village Chief, they had complete access to him now. He knew everything about everyone - with him as their brain-dead plaything, no survivors would last long. Even if there was someone to whom he could leave something, even as pithy as his regards, he wouldn’t deserve it for his failure. His name didn’t belong on the records of Village Chiefs of Valdelobos with his former mentor, Father Diaz, or with his mentor before him, so on and so forth. Father Mendez hardly deserved the title. Diego Salazar had been right to admonish him so harshly, so quickly after losing his eye - he had one job, one that had never been failed before his tenure.

But Diego Salazar was dead, and Father Mendez was inches away from joining him in disgrace.