Recent comments in /f/WritingPrompts

Serpentking5 t1_j9pxlx7 wrote

Reply to comment by RoyalGarbage in [WP] You're a magical girl. Your mother died when you young, before she could train you. Your father is trying but all he has are memories and old war stories. by reallygoodbee

Yeah Knightmares were inspired by Stands. I've been working on the idea for this urban fantasy story but i am worried about accusations of 'ripping off' but... i hope it's different enough.

With Magical Girls however you're a lot more free to mess around with concepts

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28th_Stab_Wound OP t1_j9pwrmj wrote

Reply to comment by zonohedral in [PM] Give me a character(s), and a predicament they've gotten themselves into. I'll write about it! by 28th_Stab_Wound

In the business, we call these' 'oh shit moments.'

Aitella had only an hour 'til what might be the most important day of her career. This case could prove so shockingly fruitful for her, it would make the awkwardness of the past years worth it.

So why, oh cruel fate, did this have to happen now?!?

She was splayed out in her bathroom, writhing around the cramped tile floor in her dragon form, molting like some common reptile. It was not a particularly painful sensation, simply very uncomfortable. Like being unrelentingly tickled in areas you're not ticklish in.

There's a knocking at the door of the room.

"Oh you're fucking kidding me." the writhing dragon muttered under a gutteral breath.

With a creak the door opened, and a man holding a half-empty beer can stepped in with a faint smirk on his face. He took a sip of the can, smacking his lips a few times.

'Hey there Aity, smack havin' some troubles I'm seein'?'

She groaned, scowling with slitted yellow eyes.

"Ugh... Monty, you fucking suck..."

'Oh dear, Aity, you flatter me!' he chuckled, finishing his beer can and crushing it underfoot, 'Now, was there anything you might need help with?'

By this time, Aitella was already wriggling out of the shell of her former skin covering, groaning and cursing.

"You... shit... cold..."

'Got it, blanket and a hot chocolate comin' up, Aity.' Monty nodded, snapping his fingers into finger guns as he stepped out of the room. But a few minutes later, he returned with a warm blanket and a cup of hot chocolate. The dragon, now covered in brilliant amber scales and drenched in slime, accepted the offerings handily. She should be back in working order in no time.

"I- thanks, Monty."

'Ah don't worry 'bout it, darl. I'll get your court-things or whatever ready 'fore you leave, just focus on staying well.' He assured her, patting a scaly shoulder and inadvertently drenching hid hand in slime which promptly washed off in the sink behind her.

'Just don't say I ain't never done somethin' for yous.'

She smiled, a toothy sarcastic smile.

"No promises, Monty."

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frogandbanjo t1_j9pttu7 wrote

Reply to [WP] "Until this is settled, you will be staying here at the waiting room. Meanwhile, We'll be discussing whether you should go to Heaven or Valhalla. I wouldn't be surprised if Buddha also shows up." by Kinson47

I did not understand every word, even though the horrors spoke in my language. Did they, truly? Some were so unfathomable that they forced humility into my soul, driving it through every layer of ego and instinct like a stinging tail. Who was I to say they could not "truly" speak it? I was nothing, in the grand scheme. I had been mere stuff - matter and energy. I did not know what I had become after that. What I knew - what their presence forced into the very core of my new state - was that they were so, so much more.

With others, my instincts won out. Pieces of them moved when I heard my language. It was grim parody. Those pieces could not produce those sounds. They were mocking me. I was too afraid to be offended. They still forced humility upon me - just a different kind, at a different layer.

One horror left the others to their cataclysmic conclave. It made itself small. Then it made itself me - not me, but of my former kind. The familiarity should not have soothed me so, but it did. When my language came forth and its pieces moved, they were synchronized. They looked right.

"Until this is settled," it said, "you will be staying here at the waiting room. Meanwhile, we'll be discussing whether you should go to @#@$! or :/<|)(~#. I wouldn't be surprised if {:>*(! also shows up."

I felt despair, and the horror knew. I knew it knew because it moved all the right pieces.

"Sorry," it said. "It's the job. I try to be professional, but nobody's perfect. Habits. Routines." He pointed to the chaos all around us. "Those guys are too powerful to notice or care. That's why they use guys who use guys who use guys like me. We're a little more sensitive, but we're still part of the system. We're simply not like you, or what you used to be.

"In a way," it continued, "you're just as alien to us as we are to you!"

Except you have all the power, I thought, and the horror knew.

"Can't get around it," it conceded. "It is what it is."

If there was any distinction between thinking and speaking, I tried for it. I'm not sure why. "So what are they? What is this?"

"You don't want to know," it replied. "You will know, eventually. My advice is to wait until you've been permanently placed. It'll be much easier on you that way. You might be waiting here for a long time, but it won't be long now until your privileges kick in. You'll be able to experience consumption and rest again. You'll be provided distraction. You'll be able to tune out most of this unless and until your input is requested."

"Demanded."

"Yup."

I was struck, then, by the infinite and perfect complexity of the horror's illusion. It was waiting expectantly while masking its intentions and desires. I would have expected the same from a master gamesman, back home - back when I'd been alive.

"But if I ask, you'll tell me."

"Yup."

"Why might I be waiting a long time?"

"You're a zero divide," it said. "Huh. That's an interesting one. Very mathematical. Sorry, I'm a big fan of idioms and expressions and whatnot. Anyway, yeah - there's all sorts of rules and agreements and contracts, and you represent one of those difficult situations where nobody has a clear claim to your Next. Okay, well, that one's just a little dull. No offense."

I was still too afraid to take any - less so, though. The horror was good at its job.

"What are those words I don't know?" I asked. "Why are there no words in my language for them?"

"Really?" it asked. "You're sure?"

I traced talons on forelimb scales with a body I was fairly certain didn't really exist, and that I vaguely recalled had not existed - even as an illusion - a few moments prior. I was not sure of my choice, but I made it.

"Okay," it said. "Sorry to say, but your planet has no real gods. You have math and science and art, sure, and so you've definitely brushed up against plenty of those big, mysterious guys up there. But your religions? Your god-gods? Yeah, no. Fairy tales, every single one."

"But this is not true everywhere."

"Nope," it said. "By pure, dumb - I'm telling you, downright idiotic - luck, some species connect to real gods. It's crazy. There's this one hunk of rock about a bajillion whatevers thataway where some absolute freak species, in the span of only twenty thousand revolutions, hit seven. Seven! I know you don't have any context right now, but that's just insane. Utter madness. These big guys don't really talk about it, because it makes them uncomfortable."

"They're special."

"They're extinct," it replied wryly. "Pure, dumb, idiotic luck."

"That's horrifying."

"Which part?"

"All of it."

"Yeah, you get it. Now you get it."

The cataclysm all around us ended. That terrified me even more.

"Welp, that's that then," the small mirror-horror said. "You'll be on your way."

"I thought you said I'd be here a long time?"

"I said you might be. But you tipped your own scales - hey, that's a kind of a cross-species pun! Neat! Anyway, you asked. You had to know. Also, you took it pretty well, all things considered. I think you're gonna be okay where you're going. Most people are. The system's got its problems, but overall, it's pretty solid. The physical realm is what it is - a necessary evil. Once you've done your time there, it's all about order. It's all about getting everything where it needs to be."

"Is it one of theirs?" I asked. "One of the seven."

"Nah," it replied. "It's a big one. It's universal. Curiosity. Knowledge. One of my favorites, actually. It's like a crazy quantum tunnel that's perpendicular through everything all at once. You're a zero divide, so, sure, you won't fit in perfectly right away. But you'll get there. The system keeps on churning, after all."

"I wonder what they're like," I said. "Those extinct ones."

"Of course you do," it replied. It skittered and tittered perfectly, communicating its amicable detachment. "You are - cosmically, now and forever after - the curious sort."

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Smash_Nerd t1_j9ps6l3 wrote

Reply to comment by Professor_Entropy in [WP]You're a software engineer who is a communications geek. You learned Morse code. One day, on a whim, you blink "console" with your eyelids. A translucent overlay over everything appears, highlighting items of interest. A realtime programming loop prompt blinks eagerly by livebeta

Doesn't seem that hard to fix. Just run the command again but instead of +10cm do -10cm. Simple enough fix.

Or bust out the power tools.

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