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Prompts for days!


From the Blood of the Sky
Oh hey! Here's like... a couple of rather simple and short prompts I've written/saved over the course of two years! I used to use them as writing exercises when I got stuck, but I haven't needed them in a while so I figure I can share them here especially since y'all have a dedicated place for it! Hope you guys find it as useful as I have!


The Overlord Bear

Always An Artist-in-Training
Generation One
  • Vicious, bloodthirsty and lack of morals best described them.
Almost everyone in his tribe found him weird.

While the men hunted meaty animals, picked out flavoring plants, and clobbered convenient makers of food, he was all alone with the little dots which they often spat out of their fruits and vegetables, burying them into the soil like they were dead bodies which did not deserve to bring stink to their air...but those little dots did not stink, though, so they simply laughed at him for putting his attention into such insignificant things.

What could come from such little things, anyway? They needed food, and they needed it soon, and whatever he was doing was just a waste of time.

He would die before something good happened to those things.

His fellow hunters managed to convince him that way...but not exactly in the way his fellows thought.

He still went to hunt and pick, but he never killed the different yet convenient wanderers. While his fellow men were sitting around a fire and feasting on their cooked finds beside dead bodies, he drew away with his share of the cooked food as soon as he could, returning to his mate and their children, who had been looking after the little dots they had buried into the soil.

And sure, there was pain in not eating the delicious warmth of the cooked food which took a lot of blood, sweat, and tears to find and prepare, but his mate and their children had to have better food for better growth, and they were very insistent about having their meaty and therefore superior food, so much that they tried to bite his arms and legs to get what they wanted.

At the very least, he still found a lot more opportunities to gather more of those little dots from the fruits and vegetables. They were often not to his taste, though, especially in terms of the usually greens and purples and such dark sprouts, but as the days passed with him eating more of those, he realized that he felt better than his tribemates were usually feeling. It was like the world seemed brighter and clearer that way, see.

Yes, that was another thing to add to his curiosity about plants. At the start of it all, he had been wondering if they grew like their children, swelling up within the inside of a female. He and his mate tried to test that once, but that ended with his mate screeching and smacking away at him when they tried to stuff soil along into her birthholder to make sure that the dots held.

So yes, burying those little dots into the soil was an off-chance testing. It was strange, certainly, having to bury them like they were dead, but they weren't stinky, so it didn't become much of a worry.

More worrying, though, were the cackles of the hunters, the scrapings of other creatures, and the ravages of the rain and other such forces.

Still, the strange family of dotters waited and waited and waited, living their usual hunting and picking and waiting.

And when the father found little stems with little leaves coming out of the soil where he remembered burying those little dots, he joyfully whooped with the rest of his family.

They were still laughed at by the rest of the tribe, though.

Even if fruits and vegetables grew from their little dots, they still grew slowly. Therefore, growing them would still be a waste of time.

But the family of dotters, insistent on developing their discoveries and tired of their tribemates' mockery, chose to be left behind as the next migration began.

The family left behind never heard from that tribe ever again after that.


Well-Known Member
No Man's Land GM
Soft music played in the background as blood painted the walls red.

The voices echoed in the back of her head, screaming when they reached the front only to be pulled back into the recesses. She drove the knife down again, with thrice the force of the stab before it. "Leave me alone!" Her bloodied fingertips tangled into her hair, staining streaks red as she pulled her hands down to her sides. "It didn't have to be like this," she mumbled.

"Just let us help you," a voice croaked, coughing between each word. He had been the first to be put down, unable to finish the song. Two more followed him, but they hadn't been treated as gently as the first man had. Their wound shad already killed them, their last words far gone in her mind. The last trial had just begun, a younger girl who reminded her of herself in her younger days. Of course, for the girl's age, she was being held to a high standard, but without a high standard, anything can be viewed as great which was a criminal offense to her.

As the girl neared the last few pages of sheet music, the woman walked up behind her and dragged the blunt side of the knife against the girl's back gently as if to remind her of the danger that she was in. "Without pressure, you'll never be prepared for a show now will you?" The woman placed her empty hand on the girl's shoulder, soaking the fabric a deep crimson. The child's fingers danced across the piano despite the immediate threat she was facing, and she finished the song without a single issue.

"Was I good?" she gulped.
"Fantastic. Go again, and do not stop until I tell you you're allowed. You know what happens when people make mistakes," the older woman returned to the barely living man hunched in the far corner of the room as the music resumed.

The woman began making small cuts, inflicting minimum pain just to make the man aware before starting to make the cuts deeper. As the music built from its soft opening into its heavy bridge, the man began to scream. The blood from his increasingly severe wounds painting the walls around him, and before he had a chance to take his last breath, she pressed his mangled, bloodied hand to the wall. Forever his handprint would remain, even if the walls were repainted. The song reached its coda as the knife met the girl's throat while she played, and as the last note was hit, the woman slit the girl's throat, drenching the piano and some of the far wall in her blood.

Finally, the room was silent again. The blood of those she had killed squelched under her feet as she made her way to the heavy wooden door. Once outside, she locked the door and headed for the stairs, leaving the bodies to rot in the way they were left.

For now, her thoughts remained uninterrupted, but at least she was getting better at her methods of silencing the voices that so often plagued her.

[I know this thread is dead, but I had to take my stab at it....pun intended]