over the shoulder
The Fantastic Rose Tyler huffpuffblonde wrote in memebells
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Help! I need somebody.

The Rescue Me Meme

Sometimes, you just can’t save yourself.



  • Post with your character’s name, canon, and any preferences in the subject line
  • Those tagging, go to RNG and roll for a number between one and ten.
  • Alternatively, just pick the choice you’re interested in most.

  1. A Bad Date - You get a text, a phone call, or maybe you can just see the other person floundering on what clearly must be the worst date of their life. Time to step in and save the day.
  2. Prison - Maybe they've been wrongly convicted, or maybe you're an accomplice. Either way, it's jailbreak. Maybe the guards will fall for the old 'wounded prisoner' technique.
  3. Taken Hostage - They're being held at gunpoint, either for money or for fun. Maybe you can talk down their captors, or maybe you are a captor, secretly working to help them.
  4. Abuse/Neglect - Your body is damaged, your suffering taken it's toll. You can't save yourself anymore. You're wounded, you're starving, maybe even dying. Someone, help.
  5. Addiction - Just one more. Nothing bad will happen if you just get one more.  Either way, you can't save yourself from this downward spiral. Someone else is going to have to help.
  6. Yourself - One bad choice after another, your self-destructive tendencies are going to get the best of you unless someone steps in, quick, to save the day.
  7. Climactic Situation - You're hovering over an active volcano, a pit of sharks, about to fall off a cliff. Whatever it is, you've only got precious seconds of life left.
  8. Loneliness - You've been secluded, locked away, and the emptiness is overwhelming. You need company, or you might just drown.
  9. Unwanted Social Function - A family reunion, your three o'clock board meeting, whatever it is, you desperately don't want to go. Hopefully your good buddy can come up with a distraction.
  10. A Bad Romance - You're trapped in a relationship that's headed south, and you can't seem to get away from the other person. Looks like you need a helping hand, maybe a prince charming.


Tifa Lockheart/ FFVII: Crisis Core


this is ttly a hostage situation. can it be time for ridiculous AU #98375??

[ It's spring, already, but there's a chill lingering in the air yet, icy fingers in the breeze reminding recently thawed ground of a winter just passed and amplifying the cold grip anxiety has settled over his heart. He hadn't dressed warmly enough, back then, either -- months that felt years gone, now. The last time he was here, standing in the crisscrossed shadows of the water tower's splintering wooden supports, waiting beneath the picture perfect, starry night sky.

There's no moon by which he might tell the hour, this time, and he's never owned a watch; so he waits, counting out the minutes each instant he hesitates and convinces himself it's safer to wait just a little longer. The lights in the houses around his hiding place were all extinguished long ago, lit out one by one as snuffed candles, families settling in for the evening, for the night. He might have run from where he stands, still, back shortly to the safety and warmth of his own home, where his mother sleeps, unaware of his plans to abscond far earlier than he's promised.

There's a different promise he intends to keep, though, as he ducks out from underneath the water tower at last to steal into the open, running quietly as he can to that painfully familiar spot-- There's no light in the window he peers up into, either, and some vital chord in him pulled taut with tension hums another foreboding note to his terrified mind.

(Because at all of fourteen and with precious little else to his name, the prospect of fatally wounded pride is surely something to be terrified of.)

She's not there that ugly little voice whispers. Or maybe it's She's changed her mind. Which is worse? He doesn't want to decide. In one final flash of bravery, he tosses the pebble practically crushed into his palm up to hit one dark windowpane. Though the rock he'd carefully selected in his time spent waiting is far too small even to crack the glass, he still has to grit his teeth at that little clatter of sound. It's more noise than he's made since taking up his hiding spot beneath the tower. Since some inconsequential, noncommittal answer he'd mumbled over the last homemade dinner he'll ever have in the only home he's ever known. Ages and ages ago.

A part of him (probably the same part that keeps reassuring him she's off somewhere laughing with her friends, right now, or telling on him because she's still angry that he let her fall) is certain that he's just made up this whole thing. That it must've been a dream he had, that if she even shows up at her bedroom window, it'll only be to look down on him like he's lost his mind. But back when he'd so flatly suggested that she run away, too, he still remembers--

He thinks he remembers--

Counting down the seconds between breaths, Cloud stops thinking and waits. He can afford to, for just a little longer. ]

so TOTALLY a hostage situation. underage au is a go!

{She's always getting left behind.

Always, always, always getting left behind. If she was old enough and thought about it enough, she'd realize the feeling had started with her mother's death and compounded over the recent years with the loss of all the boys she'd called friends as they made plans for futures in big cities far away from backwater Nibelheim. Far away from her. She doesn't think that hard about it though. Instead she just realizes that she hates being left behind.

Hates feeling abandoned.

She resents being left behind, resents the way her father tells her she's a girl and so she has to wait, that big cities aren't safe for girls but it's all right if the boys go off to them. She loves her town but she feels so trapped and each time another familiar piece of her world here slips away to leave for the big city, it feel emptier than before and less like home.

When Cloud had said he was going too, it had felt as if the very last piece of her world was slipping away.

Not this time though. This time she wasn't going to be left behind. This time she wasn't going to be abandoned. This time - this time she was going too.

Except she wasn't. Because her father had caught on to the fact that something was going on even if he didn't know what and so he was wide awake downstairs. Which meant she couldn't sneak out and each little tick of the hands on the clock on the wall was another heartbeat of her world, her future, slipping away. She couldn't sneak past her father and so she wouldn't meet Cloud at the water tower even if he had remembered his promise and he'd get tired of waiting and he'd leave without her.

And she'd be here. All alone.

When she heard the noise at her window, it took a minute to register and she scrambled across her bed once she realized what it was, heart beating hard in her chest, torn between hope and braced for disappointment. Careful from old practice about pushing the window open because of the way it would creak if she did it wrong, she scrubbed at cheeks which may or may not have been blotchy with tears and hunched forward to lean out to see -

her heart thumped in her chest. Still alive.}


Cloud -

{It's a hissed whisper but it holds all her relief and frustration and fear. He's a spot of pale light in the darkness between their houses and he might as well be a falling star for her to wish on.

He waited for her.

He came...}


Dad's still awake downstairs.

have I told you lately how great you are for indulging my terrible ideas

[ In that first instant wherein he's certain he sees the windowpanes begin to rise, pushed up and open, his own heart takes the opportunity to drop a beat completely, all of the tension in him falling out through the stone-paved street beneath the well-worn soles of his last good pair of boots. No amount of insecure prattling from the voice of unreason and despair can convince him he's only seeing things as he watches her materialize there in the empty window frame, pale face so perfectly hopeless against the dark of her hair, the darker shadows at her back. (If he were a little bit older and a little less self-absorbed, he might have already been in love with her, strange but beautiful in the cold, ethereal light of stars only.) Something isn't right, but for one split second everything is, just because she answers. Just because she shows up.

He's already decided that he'll only say goodbye, something neutral that she can't read too much into or call him crazy for, if she doesn't look like she knows why he's here. If he really did make the whole thing up in a dream.

He never gets the chance -- a turn of events that should be fortunate but isn't, because of what she says, instead. (Dad's still awake downstairs.) The ragged tempo of his pulse beats higher in his ears, and he's silent as long as it takes the rising tide of futile anger and frustration to abate, if not subside. They were so careful, careful as kids could be, and he hasn't so much as glanced her way in weeks, let alone tried to talk. His head drops from where it's been craned back on his neck as he peers up into that window to another world, one from which he's been barred for years, and he casts his gaze listlessly over the street in front of him.

He can't go home and wait for another night, any better night to come once suspicions have cooled, again; he's left a note and packed his things (the former lying on his empty, neatly-made bed and the latter in the stuffed pack slung over his shoulders). He's made up his mind, and for a few seconds he'd even made it up to go ahead and leave without her -- but not anymore. Now it's a matter of surmounting impossible odds (and maybe even getting back at a paranoid old bastard who couldn't deserve it more, suggests a selfish voice he likes a lot better than the bitter, despairing one).

The look of pure, childish determination he turns back up to her holds the promise of someday being sharply intimidating on a man more grown than the one who hopes against hope to rescue her from this place, now. ]


Climb down. If you throw your stuff first, I'll catch it.

but I love your ideas! ESPECIALLY the terrible ones

{she hesitates. It's the same hesitation that kept her from trying to climb down on her own. Once she's out the window, there's no going back. Not without walking through the front door past her father. If she goes out the window and Cloud's not there -

But he is. He's there for her. He didn't leave her behind. So she ducks back into her room without a word and pulls her pack out from under the bed. It's been packed for this for a couple days now. Waiting. Peering back over the edge to make sure he's still there and that he's ready, she drops the backpack, trusting him to catch it. Her whole world is in there now. It was surprisingly easy to pack.

The note for her father was harder to write. She's the one leaving him behind this time and she knows she's the second dark haired girl he's loved to do it. She doesn't know if that's forgivable. She just knows that she can't stay anymore and the blond haired boy who waited for her, came for her, is here for her is on the same path she needs to travel.

She does have to take one last look around her room though, at the dresser that used to be her grandmother's, the handmade quilt over her bed that was a wedding gift to her parents... at the piano where her mother's fingers left smooth marks on the ivory keys... It's her last chance to chicken out, to stay here and become everything this town expects it's favorite daughter to become.

Her leg goes over the sill, wrapped in the heavy fabric of pants instead of her usual flimsy skirt. She listens one last time to the familiar creak of her father's steps downstairs and then she lowers herself over the edge, trusting Cloud to catch her feet and help her down.}

welp. now you'll never get rid of me :|c

[ She disappears, and though it's only a minor eternity, a million and one questions still crop up in the impossibly deep silence below her window (not even the sound of insects, another remnant of winter left to warn them dreams of spring and summer are always but fleeting). Is she changing her mind? Can she really go through with this at all? No matter that he knows he'd rather go with her than without, that the very thought of her deciding to come with him is still so completely unfathomable that it lightens his heart better than even the best daydream (except it's real, it's real if she comes back-- if they can escape this place together), it's still her decision.

And he thinks that even if he were standing up there with her, watching as she steals her supplies for the long trip ahead from wherever she's kept them hidden these past few days -- even if they were the only two in this whole town, and they could leave at their leisure by sunrise rather than taking off into the chill night air like a couple of thieves, like it's a crime to want to live their own lives -- even then, he wouldn't interfere with her choice. So he doesn't call out, doesn't even fidget (as if she might catch a glimpse of his impatience from up on high in her tower and take it as anything it isn't). The wait is barely seconds, this time.

Once she's returned, he has only enough time to nod before she throws down the pack containing everything she's deemed it absolutely necessary to take. He doesn't underestimate the preciousness of these things, though his own packing was nothing more than a hasty gathering of essentials, all stuffed carelessly in together. But for him it's different. There's nothing of this life Cloud hopes to take with him into the next -- except for her, of course.

He's a bit clumsy on the catch, but there's never a chance he'd have let the pack slip through his fingers. She trusts him at his word: for no reason, with no justification. He may be callous, he may even be downright cruel, at times, but he isn't anywhere near stupid enough to damage that.

Slinging the strap of her backpack across his shoulders, he adds it easily to the load he's already carrying. One wrong move, now, and they'll both have to bolt (or at least he will, and with the evidence of her complicity safely in hand, so much the better).

When he looks back up, his heart (so bright and full for just one instant) betrays him, lodging hard in his throat. She's facing away for no longer than it took her to retrieve her bag, but in that moment he's positive her father's heard them, after all, and that that's what she's looking at, frozen that way, the hateful man standing in her doorway, looking in on the crime of the century. Maybe as mad as he was the day Cloud almost let his only daughter die. Maybe madder.

But no alarm is raised, no lamps burst to life in the strike of a match, and then she's turning around and slipping so carefully over the window's ledge, dropping her legs into empty space--

He's not tall for his age (not at all), but by some small miracle, they manage to bridge the gap, meager heights combined, and he grabs hold of first one of her boots by the sole, then the other, his grip only wavering for a second. Careful, careful, he bends at the knees, lowering her and doing his damnedest not to rush. They can't make a sound, now, not when they've managed to get this far. ]

hooray! my evil plan is working!

{for a moment she was lost, suspended between the world she was leaving and the one she was trying to find her way forward into, not a part of either... until Cloud's hands found the soles of her boots, supporting and helping, easing her down into their new life. She wouldn't tell him but her heart was beating unsteady in her chest and her chest itself hurt, too tight for deep breathes. A part of her just wanted to be back in the safety of her room. A wider part of her though wanted this part over with, wanted to be free without this last painful string stretched too tight, wanted to be gone and away so that what was out there could start to fill in what she was leaving in here. It didn't occur to her, while all that was going on, that Cloud would ever let her fall or drop her. When her arms were fully extended and she was only hanging on to the sill by her fingers, she braced the toes of her boots against the rough side of the house, careful not to thump against them, thankful for Cloud's earlier control that had kept them from accidentally doing that and the controlled descent.}

Hold onto my waist while I let go.

{it would keep her from falling wrong or accidentally landing against the side of the house. The kitchen was on this side and her father might be in there getting something to eat or drink and hear them if she did. She had a sudden, horrible picture of herself spraining an ankle and all of this being for nothing and she frowned against the wall and made herself not think of it so it wouldn't hear her and happen. No. They'd come too far. She wouldn't mess it all up now.

Just as she was about to let go and finish dropping down though, she heard a front door open and froze. The worse thing was, she couldn't tell if it was her door, his, or even someone else's that was close by with her face all but pressed up against the wall of her house.}

man, I keep forgetting that you're a villainous mastermind

[ Halfway down, and his arms begin to wobble a bit; she isn't heavy, but he isn't strong -- and some of it has to be nerves, too, the adrenaline gradually running out of him, now, in the relieved rush of her impossible acceptance. He hasn't expected any part of this night to go easy, though, never so optimistic as to think that she would come with half as much conviction as she has, steeled against hope and braced for what would surely be the longest trip of his life, alone. So he doesn't buckle, under the pressure, because even this is so much less, so much lighter than the weight of going ahead on his own. ]

Hang on a second...

[ He barely gets as far as working out how he'll let go of her boots to reach for her waist without bungling this whole operation before every muscle in his body locks up again. The perfectly shocked expressions on their faces must be identical, for the space of seconds that spells almost certain disaster. The sound of that opening door is so frighteningly loud in the night that it might as well be right next to them.

For an instant, almost, he even expects to see a sliver of bright light opening out of the darkness on his right, helpless to do anything more than stand stock-still as they're caught -- but there's no door there, only the vivid picture in his mind playing tricks on his eyes and shadows, and eventually the moment passes. Eventually the scuff of heavy footsteps on worn wood slats somewhere out in the darkness retreats, the door creaks, the latch clicks again, and only then does Cloud breathe once more.

His arms feel exceptionally weak, as if they too should be creaky with overuse, as he forces himself to move, finally, all jerky and free of grace. He stands and catches her around the waist quick, because he's sure her fingers can't feel much better, now, than his failing arms, and he takes as big a step back as he dares to give her better room to land. ]


Got you. Just hurry up. [ A harsh, hushed whisper that he isn't even certain is at all audible, no matter how close--

If that was her father at the front door, though, they've undoubtedly precious little time not just to set themselves to rights on the ground but also to get clear out of town. He might go to her room, next, after all -- just checking up on his only daughter, his only daughter who is up to something and that's nothing good. He'll have the whole town up and after them in a matter of seconds if he sees her gone, and Cloud's not so sure that he won't also find an excuse to shoot on sight, if he just so happens to spot the blond nuisance responsible for kidnapping his innocent little girl. ]

that too is part of my E-Vile (TM) plan >;)

{her fingers feel like they're made of paper and her stomach feels like lead. She has no idea whose door that was that opened but her heart tells her the same thing Cloud's head told him. If it was her father, he'll be upstairs to check on her now and find her gone. She's not even going to pretend she thinks he'll read her note and accept her decision.

Which is another reason she needs to do this. She can't keep letting other people make up her mind for her or she'll forget and let them do it for her forever.

She hears Cloud's voice - or thinks she hears it - and all that matters is the very first two words.

He's got her. She's not alone and she's not on her own. Cloud's there and he's got her and the feel of his slim arms around her is comforting and reassuring in the cold night air. She's a little girl and her mind is full of stories about princes and knights in shining armor but in that moment when he catches hold of her and holds tight, he's not a knight or a prince. He's her friend - and she can't think of anything better he could be. Her fingers let go and her soles of her boots smack the ground. Committing her despite the slightly awkward dismount that was full of gawky arms and thin bodies. The army accepts gawky arms and thin bodies though and now the world outside of their hometown is going to have to too.

For all her hesitation and worry and fear, there's no sign of it now once she reorients herself. Her father could be halfway up the stairs and the last thing she wants is to see his face leaning out her window and to have to run from him when he would have to watch her go. A quick glance around shows her that Cloud's already wearing her pack, surprising her and there's a strange jolt in her stomach that bounces back up from her toes. She should be carrying her own pack - and she will - but he's taking care of her right now and she didn't even have to ask. It's a strange feeling because even her father forgets to do that a lot of the time, not sure what to do with a growing daughter with no wife to help him steer. Tifa catches Cloud's hand in hers. There's no question on their immediate path. They can do this.}


Got you. {she offers a shaky smile as she mimics his words but the sentiment's the same and then, still holding on, she's off as if they can escape the entire world - or at least this town that sheltered and caged them.}

you monster, taking advantage of my unsuspecting innocence like that.

[ It's the closest he's ever been to her, this awkward not-hug that only hopes to keep her from falling wrong and ending their whole trip one step from the side of her house. Not even that night on the water tower had he done more than sit next to her, still worlds apart, but now, with strands of dark hair tickling his nose and brow and one of his ears as he stands high on his toes to reach, they're together, in this together--

And then she's on the ground, the sound of her boots hitting the soft earth between the foundation of her house and the paved alleyway between it and the next unbearably loud in the darkness, sending another of those shuttering stops through the otherwise steady but manic beat of his pulse. That's not such a bad feeling, though, he thinks -- not when it means she's with him and they'll make it out of here alive, still alive and not crushed by this close to suffocating backwater town. He could get used to that feeling. To not being alone, as much as it forces his apathetic, aloof facade to put aside overblown pride in favor of something kinder, sweeter.

He doesn't say a word as she snatches his hand, still stumbling back and straightening up from where her drop left him gawkily doubled-over. There's not a moment to waste, and even if he had the words to say, they'd doubtless spill forth hasty and mangled as his heart is still trying to beat its way out through his throat and keeping his lips sealed tightly seems to be the only way to hold it in.

So he doesn't say anything, but he nods curtly, instead; there's just enough time for that before some silent cue starts the race and the beat of two small pairs of boots across the dirty, stone-paved center of town replaces his pulse as all that he can hear. All anyone hears, as it must be loud enough to wake the whole town, echoing all the way to the top of Mt. Nibel, diving into the dark ravine beneath a shaky rope bridge that's always being rebuilt, slipping through the hollow, empty halls of a reactor he's never seen.

By morning, they'll be a million miles away from here, and the thought (the certainty) bursts in him bright and warm as the lights that only begin to shine on well after they've broken the barrier of the town gates. When they reach the road, they'll hitchhike. When they reach the coast, they'll be stowaways. When they get to Midgar, they'll be famous.

But he already feels like he's on his way home. ]

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