# Prompt the Poster Above You



## MadXStitcher (Jan 2, 2020)

Similar to the thread in the art forum, let's do one for the authors.  Only, instead of trying to write for other people's characters, we'll prompt for them.

Rules:

Please try to write as often as you prompt
Prompts can be as vague or specific as you like.

These are prompts; not requests.  Authors can use prompts however they wish, even if that means taking them in a wholly different direction
If you have specific characters you want to write for, include them in a post, or in your signature
Authors can choose any prompt in the thread, even if it is not addressed directly to them.

Fiction should be posted according to the forum rules.  If you write something over 200 words, please post it off-site and link so this thread remains easy to read.

First prompt to get the thread going: Someone has chewing gum stuck in their tail.


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## Toasty9399 (Jan 17, 2020)

_Today isn't a good day._
It started when I fell asleep inside my car in the middle of summer. The shade that I parked under at the university disappeared, and it slowly became an oven. 
After visiting the school nurse for heat stroke, I was late for class. Usually I don't mind arriving late, but today was a test. I had to cram a two hour test into thirty minutes. The worst part is, I pulled an all-nighter studying for the thing, hence why I took a nap in the first place.
After handing it in, I went to get food. The line was long, which was normal at this time of day when multiple classes ended. When I arrived at the counter with my food, I realized I left my wallet at home. 
_Great, just great. _
At the end of my day, I drove home. When I tried to get out after arriving, something pulled at me. Looking back, my tail was stuck to my seat. There was a little pink smudge that shouldn't be there.
For the whole day, I was walking around with chewing gum stuck to my tail.
And then I got hit by a truck.


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## Toasty9399 (Jan 17, 2020)

Prompt: 
You're a truck driver. Today wasn't a good day.


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## Tallow_Phoenix (Jan 17, 2020)

MadXStitcher said:


> First prompt to get the thread going: Someone has chewing gum stuck in their tail.



Aaah I wrote a thing and got ninja'd!
Well, I'll post what I had anyways.

------

"WHICH ONE OF YOU BASTARDS DID THIS!?"
Everyone in the tavern panicked as Brutilda the Butcher slammed the door open, snarling and snapping at anyone who approached.
"Whoa, calm do-"
"I WILL NOT CALM DOWN!! SOME IDIOT PUT CHEWING GUM IN MY TAIL WHILE I SLEPT!! I'M GOING TO START BASHING HEADS UNTIL I FIND OUT WHO IT WAS!"
The quick-thinking rogue suggested, "What if you get a wizard to-"
"SO IT WAS THE WIZARD!" Brutilda picked up a frail-looking robed figure and threw him into the wall.
"...did he even have chewing gum on him?"
"I mean, at least Brutilda isn't hurting anyone else..."
Brutilda picked up the wizard and shook him. Scrolls and potions clattered to the ground - but no gum.
"Alright, I'm shaking down EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU until I find out which one of you has chewing gum!!!"
But the rogue, the real perpetrator, had already fled.


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## Toasty9399 (Jan 17, 2020)

Tallow_Phoenix said:


> Aaah I wrote a thing and got ninja'd!
> Well, I'll post what I had anyways.


Lmao, sorry. It said that you visited this thread, and I just started writing. Good post BTW.


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## Tallow_Phoenix (Jan 17, 2020)

Toasty9399 said:


> Lmao, sorry. It said that you visited this thread, and I just started writing. Good post BTW.



Thanks! I like how we took very different approaches ^^ 
(also I internally set my piece of writing to Spear of Justice, I think it's fitting)


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## Toasty9399 (Jan 17, 2020)

(Ah, yes, a person of culture. I was listening to https  ://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wPDbHtYssmY  while writing mine. Hehe.)


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## GenkinDanshou (Jan 30, 2020)

I'm new enough to still be a wet egg, but I do wanna be a writer on this site, so I'd better get serious about it! Unfortunately, I have no idea how HMTL works, so I just put extra spaces everywhere! Whoops, I went over 200, uhh. Two parts?

----

"You're a truck driver. There's no such thing as a good day." I sigh, fighting my impulse to hang up on my _ever-so-supportive_ mother, waiting back home for her dear daughter-bun to get over her free-wheeling hippie phase and come back to the warren. But I'd be in for a worse earful if I ever forgot to call, so I have to allow it.

"I mean, this one was worse than normal. First I overslept--"

"Typical Neena..." _She knows I hate that nickname._

"Then I pick up a hitchhiker because I'm bored out of my tiny, stunted skull--" I have to raise my voice to get any word in edgewise, and it's earning me looks I don't want to be getting here at near-midnight in a dingy truck-stop.

"Honey! Now what have I said about berating your unique and precious--" _She missed the part about the hitchhiker, good._

"THEN," I continue, louder still, aware there's a complaint in process, a large-pawed gentleman gesturing in my direction to the towering security officer with an unfortunately long neck, even for a giraffe-type, "HE PAID ME IN CHEWING GUM, AND THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN A PLUS, except for how it got stuck in my tail fur..." I have to drop my voice now. The security officer I can only think to dub Neck-Man is now patting his taser-holster and striding up to the pay phone wall.


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## GenkinDanshou (Jan 30, 2020)

{part 2}

I completely lose my train of thought, absolutely astonished when he stops beside me and dips his head towards the phone on the wall, plucks loose change out of what I thought was a holster, and begins placing a call. The gentleman of the generously-sized paws seems irritated by Neck-Man's life decisions and slowly stands up from his hilariously-undersized cafeteria table. Its little metal feet screech against the floor, which sets the fur at the back of my neck on end.

My mother is droning on, attempting to lecture me about haircuts and bubblegum and the evils of sugar in our hedonistic modern society or some crap like that, but the gentleman is making eye contact and he's a literal lion with a wrinkle above his nose like he's about to roar for quiet over the tinny din of the 24-hour news channel on the television. I screech "GOTTA GO, BYE" into the earpiece and hang up in a flash. Neck-Man doesn't even look up, still dialing, slower than the elderly rat-grandma behind the hot-food counter. 

Now the wrinkle is even deeper, spreading across his cheeks. His eyes are scrunched up too now, and he bares his teeth. I curse my jack-rabbit pulse, keeping me rooted to the spot, and curse it even louder when I *literally have a heart attack* when Mister Lion sneezes and sits back down, not even looking at me anymore. 

My legs give out on me all at once, and my fluffy little butt hits the floor. I pound on my chest with my stupidly tiny fist, hissing at the discomfort, but it eases off with deep breathing exercises before the world's slowest giraffe here next to me even realizes something's wrong.

Well, I was wrong. Today wasn't a good day. No, that's still true. It's just that now, it's the worst day _ever_.


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## Toasty9399 (Jan 30, 2020)

Oohh, nice. This is really good.
I thought this thread was dead, good to see a new post.
SO.... what about a prompt?


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## Tallow_Phoenix (Feb 2, 2020)

Well, since no one posted a prompt, I will ^^

You open your refrigerator one day to find your vegetables have become sentient!


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## Toasty9399 (Feb 2, 2020)

"MAA!" Zu yelled, frightend. "MA COME DOWN HERE!"
A loud croak answered her.
"MA, I'M SERIOUS! THE FOOD AR'ALIVE!"
Another croak.
"MA! PLEASE! GAH?!" A large carrot launched itself at her, poking her eye.  
"If this bout' the food I cooked last night, y'all can' jus tell me."
Inside the fridge, a group of vegetables were rallying against Zu, getting ready to launch themselves. They were shaking in anger.
"PLeasE!" She cried. Zu hopped away from the protest, but it was too late. A wild tomato whacked against her face, making the frog see stars. She fell to the ground.
"A-alright, if use' didn' like the stew, A'h show you how to aprecia-" The croak stopped mid sentence as Mamma' Zuku entered. The food stared in fear.
"Oh, A' see. It _is_ bout' ma stew. I'll make em' preciate' ma cookin'."
Screams of horror came from the fridge.
That night, vegetables stew was served.


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## Toasty9399 (Feb 2, 2020)

Prompt:
Today is market day. Time to buy some potions!


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## Arishipshape (Feb 2, 2020)

John awoke to the all too familiar sound of silence, and hit the snooze bar out of tradition. His alarm clock had long since run out of power, and batteries were a far too highly valued commodity to waste his precious resources on. Besides, he didn't have anywhere to be.
He stretched, his tattered rags clinging to him while the slight draft attempted to remove them. The cave in which he lived might not have kept wind out, but it kept him dry.
Sleepily, John took his rock and chisel to add a tally mark to the ever shrinking available wall space. He was about to make the first strike when he noticed a reminder mark he'd left to himself... A sideways "X" in the wall, meaning it was most vital that he do something on this day... But what?
He racked his brain. The water supply was fine, his simple tools needed no sharpening, it wasn't his night to stand watch at the trading post... The trading post!
He rifled through his supply stash in the back of the cave, cleverly hidden between two stalagmites. Hardtack, beef jerky, slingshot stones, medicinal potion, wait, medicinal potions... He was down to his last dose.
Yes, it was coming back to him now. The day prior, some desperate father stumbled upon his cave and begged John for just 2 doses of panacea for his sick daughters. He obliged.
"I musta been insane..." he muttered. Why, oh why did he share his incredibly limited stock of supplies? He should've given that damned family the boot.
Oh well. Nothing could be done about foolish mistakes made in days yonder. All John could influence was the future. He wasn't gonna waste a second sulking.
Today presented a unique issue. With what would he trade? John had frittered away his last bag of salt (invaluable in this day and age) for his current large food stash... And jobs weren't exactly easy to come by. He owned the clean water spring in the cave, but he couldn't carry enough water to be worth even half a panacea dose... And who would believe him? "Hey, I have all the fresh water you could ever drink!" A ludicrous claim. Sure, that spring was pretty much the only reason he'd survived this long. That didn't mean jack squat in the world of trade.
He'd have to risk it. There was nothing else he could do.

The desolate landscape devoid of vegetation sprawled before him, the majestic yet looming mountain behind. John removed his compass (passed down from his father) from his one remaining pocket and found southwest. The wind was against him, but he pressed onward. It was almost impossible not to get depressed at seeing the sorry state of the world, what with the dust in the air, fissures and cracks in the ground, and no other people to share the journey with. He considered turning back, but what happens next time he's stricken by plague? Or, more precisely, the time after that?

After two hours hard march, the walls of the trading post were in view. But something was off. It was uncannily silent. Typically, the hustle and bustle of wheeling, dealing, and swindling could be heard for miles. And where was the sentry that was supposed to stand guard at the gates? And why were the gates open?
John sped up, worried. The trading post was the last bastion of civilization for miles. If something happened to it...

Instead of entering by the front gate, John opted for a secret back entrance only he and a very few others knew about. A small tunnel, built into the base of the town hall, the only permanent infrastructure at the post. Everyone else did business in tents. After a short climb through the hallow wall, John was up in the rafters. He was about to drop down when the sound of a gunshot and splintering wood not 2 feet from him interrupted.

"Nobody moves," demanded a gruff voice from below. Hardly daring to turn his head for fear of creaking the rafters, John looked down. Below him was a large crowd of traders, merchants, and fellow survivors, all huddled into a tight corner by a single masked, revolver wielding bandit.
John quickly intuited the situation. It was a stick up. Someone was robbing the trading post. Ordinarily, John wouldn't have interfered in such affairs. Unfortunately, this was the only place with medicinal potions he knew about. He had to do something.

He snuck back out of the hostage center and climbed onto the roof. Sure enough, in the distance he could see a gang of thieves of all species robbing all the merchant stands blind. They spared nothing. Slightly further away, he could see a large caravan on wheels in which the thieves loaded the goods.
John sized up the situation, and what he had at his disposal. He had his slingshot and about a dozen stones. They had guns and God knows how much ammunition. There was one of him and... he should probably count them.
1,2,3...
At least 4 of them. He had the element of surprise, they had... nothing half so useful.
John steeled his will and snuck back into the town hall.

Upon his return, two small girls in the crowd were crying, despite the thief's demands for quiet. John recognized them from somewhere... Bah, he had to focus. From the rafters, he took aim, built up some momentum, and launched the stone at a downward angle.
CRACK
Days of nothing to do but target practice had paid off. The man fell down like the stone that hit him. John dropped to the ground and addressed the startled crowd.
"Do any of you have any weapons?"
Everyone shook their heads. One trader muttered something about confiscation. John sighed.
"Stay here."
John picked up the thief's gun and dashed out the door.

As he snuck from tent to tent, he checked the revolver. A single bullet lay in the chamber. John silently cursed his luck and pocketed the gun. He'd have to stick with stones, at least, for now. Ah, there was a bandit carrying a bag of salt far too large for his skinny figure. Easy pickings. Aim, whirl and--
thud
Of all the miserable luck, the man went and turned at the last moment! The rock bounced harmlessly off the salt and the bandit shouted to alert his fellows. John armed another stone and had him unconscious within 2 seconds, but the damage was done. The element of surprise was no more.
Or was it?

The bandit chief, in the driver's seat of the caravan, heard one of his faithful comrades shout something. "Go check it out," he ordered his minion. The poor fellow complied, only to be met with the unconscious body of his dear friend. 

"Paul, what happened? What did they do-"
CRACK
John was lying in wait in one of the many scattered merchant tents. There was only one bandit left, so he switched to the stolen revolver. His confidence was bolstered and he stopped sneaking around. However, the last bandit was nowhere to be found...


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## Arishipshape (Feb 2, 2020)

Part 2:
Meanwhile, chaos and disorder reigned at the town hall. Some argued that the hostages should stay there, where it was safe. Others demanded that, seeing as the guard was incapacitated, they should storm out and reclaim their various wares and supplies. Eventually, John's order was forgotten and most of the crowd took their leave.

The bandit chief heard the commotion and decided to cut his losses. He turned on the archaic engine attached to the caravan and drove away from the crowd.

Big mistake. John heard the engine firing and easily followed the noise to the bandit chief.

"Hey! Stop!" he shouted. The chief paid no heed, and instead nearly ran John over. One somersault later and John was safe, but the bandit was getting away! John took aim with his gun... His hands were shaky, he'd never operated a firearm before... He didn't think he could hit the rapidly dwindling target of the bandit chief... But he could hit a slightly larger one.

BANG

The caravan leaned over to one side and fell with a dramatic crash. John had shot the wheel. Water flooded into the parched ground, tools clattered and clanked against each other, meat and spices fragrance leaked out in ample amounts. The crowd of hostage traders and merchants witnessed the crash, and within seconds they were scrounging and scavenging for all their stolen supplies. The bandit chief took advantage of the commotion to escape.

Despite the fact that he saved them all, no one bothered to give John a crack at the caravan's wealth. Try as he might, he couldn't grab much of anything.

Within seconds, like starved piranhas stripping away flesh, everything of value was gone and the crowds had fled. Except for a familiar man, with two young girls clinging to him... The family approached John.

"You... you've saved us twice now."

"Don't mention it," muttered John.

"We could never fully repay your selflessness... but perhaps we could partially repay some of it? Lucy, give the man what you found."

Lucy, small and agile, had managed to grab some panacea potions from the caravan wreckage, and offered it to John. He accepted, stunned.

"Daddy..." muttered one of the girls. "Where will we live?"

The father of the two looked forlorn at the caravan. John quickly intuited that it was their home, before he shot the wheel.

"I have a place you can stay, until we repair your caravan."

EDIT: I'm incredibly new to writing, any criticism would be much appreciated!

New prompt: a book with a dark secret is found in an attic.


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## GenkinDanshou (Feb 2, 2020)

Oooh, I love 'hiding in plain sight' drama! I'll try the attic-secret one!

---
"Jaaaake!"
"Whaaaat?" The voice is almost too far away to hear, but of course my brother makes it carry with his whiny tone.
"I found iiiit!"
"Whaaaat?" A little closer this time.
"The BOOK!" After that, silence. I wait for him to navigate the fresh rope-ladder we had to personally construct to gain access to this attic. This house we'd moved into after the humans left had rotted in places, but it still had enough of a roof to keep us warm and dry at night. I battle my impatience as I wait for him to slither up to my side. The humans had two arms _and_ two legs, their old art makes this clear. Not fair, honestly, though we should be grateful we have arms at all, as descendants of snakes.
Jake passes over my tail, like I've told him to stop doing a thousand times, but this time, I don't bother. The book here is too important.
"It's hollow!" he shouts, noticing how I've opened it to partway through. "Someone's cut all the pages out? What for?"
"Not all of them," I correct him, leafing through it. "Just the middle part. Like it's meant to hide something."
"To hide _this_, you mean," he nods down at the strange object nestled in the pages.
"You don't recognize it?"
"Should I?"
"It's the gun that shot our mother." He gasps, stressed enough to rear back and flatten his neck, though no predator could have stalked us here.
"HERE?"
"It's a clue," I insist, eyes unwavering, staring at the cursed thing as though it could evaporate and take our blood oath with it.
"It's a ticking time bomb," he insists right back. "Get rid of it!"
"It's all we have to go on!" But I bite my lip as I say it. I don't want to, of _course_ I don't want to. We're _comfortable_ here. Not exactly well-fed or anything, but we survive! We don't have to _fight _out here, like we did back then... Back in the warzone outside of Chernobyl... But with this clue, we'll be dragged right back in; honor-bound to find our mother's murderer, now that we have his weapon, and kill him with it.


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## GenkinDanshou (Feb 2, 2020)

And a prompt: "Kid, I've never seen a fish like THAT."


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## Toasty9399 (Feb 3, 2020)

Jesus, this thread blew up.


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## Deleted member 134689 (Feb 3, 2020)

GenkinDanshou said:


> And a prompt: "Kid, I've never seen a fish like THAT."



The feline's head snapped in the direction of said _fish_ girl. Burnt brown orbs glinted with something vaguely predatory as they skimmed her scantily clad figure, lips curling just slightly in approval of the form they beheld. Sure she was younger than her male companion but she was by no means a _kid,_ nontheless.. Lisa had never seen a fish like THAT either.


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## Toasty9399 (Feb 3, 2020)

Prompt: The airship’s engines stopped working.


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## Toasty9399 (Feb 3, 2020)

Arishipshape said:


> .


Hey man, your post super good. Jesus, I never expected such a large reply. I love it. Do you have any other work?


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## Arishipshape (Feb 3, 2020)

Toasty9399 said:


> Hey man, your post super good. Jesus, I never expected such a large reply. I love it. Do you have any other work?


You're too kind. I have no posted work. Yet. I'm working in tandem with Darknessdawn on a longer story but it's still in the early phases of production.


Toasty9399 said:


> Prompt: The airship’s engines stopped working.



"YES!"

The cry of jubilation could be heard through the whole house. A confused, sleepy roommate stumbled into the sitting room from which the scream was issued.

"Lucas, it's eleven at night, could you please try to keep it down? Some of us are trying to get some shut eye-"
"I'm sorry, Fred, I'm really sorry but I GOT THE TRANSFER!"

Fred was taking a sip of water, but any notions of hydration were easily dispelled by the news. Lucas was drenched by the spray of surprise, but he wasn't miffed in the slightest.

"You did?! To the HMAS Anne?"
"No, to the Nebuchadnezzar, YES TO THE ANNE!"
"I can't believe it!"
"I can't either! The finest airship in the fleet, and I get to serve! Look, right here, in the letter, "Dear Mr. Thompson, We recognize your achievements in the field of super-g force propulsion engines and would be most honored to have your skills in service of the jewel of the fleet"! SQUEEE"

In most other situations, Fred would have mocked this girlish outburst. But even he knew to serve on the HMAS Anne was undoubtedly the single coolest thing any engineer could ever hope to accomplish with his life.

"When do you start?"
"Lemme see, uhhh... Tomorrow? HOT DAMN I'VE GOTTA PACK"

And so he did. Never before did such simple possessions as his toothbrush and rubik's cube seem so beautiful to his eyes.
An hour later, Lucas was all packed. He stopped to admire the oil pastel painting of the HMAS Anne that hung in the lobby of his apartment before saluting and rushing out the door. The night was dark and cold, but no amount of darkness or coldness could have dampened Lucas' spirits that night. As if to test him, it began to rain. He defied the elements, smiling all the while despite becoming quite soaked.
The bus pulled into the station, and Lucas boarded. He paid the fare, sat down, pulled his hat down and prepared to get as much shut eye as he could on the hours long drive. Pfft. This would be the last time he would be forced to take ground transit. The thought made him chuckle during his descent to unconsciousness.

Meanwhile, something much more sinister was going on at the Anne. Masked men, dressed in all black and carrying a conspicuous black box, scanned an access card and gained entry onto the docked airship. Minutes later, they left just as quickly as they came. No one ever noticed them.

The next morning, a groggy but excited Lucas stepped off the bus and ran into the airport.

"Thompson, reporting for duty, sir!"
"Ahh, the new engineer," mused the administrator. "Welcome. You have your things?"
"Transferal papers, uniform, personal effects, and all the hype in the world? Yup!"
The administrator chuckled. "Very well, Mr. Thompson. You will be escorted to the HMAS Anne shortly."

Lucas was in awe. The airship was even more beautiful up close and in person.
He boarded this ship with a solemn reverence.

"Ok, we're going to introduce you to the Captain and then you can begin your engineering duties."
Lucas nodded ecstatically as the pair boarded the bridge.

"Captain Antilles," began the escort, before getting cut off.
"You got the PHD punk? Oh thank God. Send him to engineering and let's get my ship off the ground!"
This was not the warm welcome Lucas was expecting.
"Sir, my name is-"
"Yea yea, Thompson, I know. Geeet!"
The Captain was a fat, bearded, middle aged man, who clearly didn't hold Lucas in the highest regard. The man that escorted him facepalmed and quietly explained ""Geeet" means get out of here. I'll, er, take you to engineering..."


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## Arishipshape (Feb 3, 2020)

Part 2:

Despite the poor introduction, Lucas' spirits weren't crushed in the slightest. Especially when he got to rub his hands over the dials, levers, pulleys, and buttons of the Anne. They were pristine, shiny, all shades of grey, red, and silver. An engineer's dream. Hold on...

"The hydrogen meter is reading WAY lower than regulation standard! What's wrong?"
"I don't know, man, that's not my job," said the escort. "You can ring up the bridge with this walkie-talkie if you wanna tell the captain something, but I don't think he'd listen..."
"Why not? I'm his chief engineer!"
The escort man just chuckled and left Lucas to his own devices.
The newly employed engineer tapped the hydrogen gage, as if hoping it might be displaying incorrectly. Nope, definitely way too low. He utilized his engineering knowledge and knowhow to try to diagnose exactly what was causing the shortage, but it was the darndest, most inexplicable problem he'd ever run into in all his papers, tests, and studies of mechanical operations. He didn't want to ring up the Captain within the first 5 minutes of service, but what else was he gonna do?

"*KCCHHCK*-- Captain? This is chief engineer Thompson. Have we taken off yet?"
"*KCCHKHC*-- What, do they surgically remove all common sense from you youngsters at the universities? Does it FEEL like we've taken off?"
"*KCCHKHC*-- ...No, sir. I recommend we delay our flight. There's an abnormally low amount of hydrogen in the--"
"*KCHKHKC*--  Son, I've been Captain of this here ship for 30 years, and we're gonna take flight when I SAY we're gonna take flight. Understood?"
"*KCHKHCK*-- ...But sir--"
"*KCHKCHK*-- Don't you disrespect me, kid! I only commissioned you because the damned bureaucrats say I have to have a certified engineer and my last one quit! So just shut up and follow orders! Kapeesh?"
"*KCHKCH*-- ...Yes, sir..."

Lucas pocketed the walkie-talkie with an incredulous look. This explains the incredibly short notice of his transfer... they didn't actually respect his skills as an engineer... However sad that was, there was still the problem of the low hydrogen quantities. This was bad news for about a million different reasons, each as technically complicated as the last.

Despite Lucas' objections, the HMAS Anne took off. And flew. Without any issues for a good half hour. Lucas was flabbergasted. Had all his years of study been for naught? Was he just an incompetent university engineer, a tool for men like Captain Antilles to check off bureaucratic boxes--

BANG
POW
*Pop pop popopopopopopop*

"*KCHKHCK*-- Thompson! What in blazes is going on!?!"

Lucas froze. This was too much.

"*KCHKHCK*-- Thompson! Come in! We've lost engines 1, 2, and 4! Reroute power from the stabilizers to the remaining engine!"

Lucas shook his head vigorously. Now wasn't the time to panic, or to self righteously proclaim "I told you so". It was time to save everyone's asses. No more Mr. fanboy Lucas who squeed at the mention of the HMAS Anne. It was chief engineer Thompson's turn. He turned on his walkie-talkie.

"*KCKHCHK*-- Yes, sir."

He did as the Captain ordered, and then some. Years of study, training, and acquired expertise came through as Lucas pulled levers, adjusted dials, and switched flight courses like a madman. He reallocated the remaining hydrogen marvelously, calculated the maximally efficient angle of descent to cause the least damage to the airship, contacted the closest airport for an emergency landing, cooperated with the captain perfectly, distributed orders for the first time in his life, and was generally the best engineer he'd ever been in his life.

2 minutes later, the HMAS Anne crashlanded at the Sicatawa airport with minimal casualties and no deaths.

Chief engineer Thompson was a hero. Captain Antilles suddenly gained a newfound respect for those "PHD punks" and was a changed man.
The low hydrogen levels were later revealed to have been sabotage by a rival country, which could have started a world war if not for the fact that after becoming incriminated, they donated about ten airships of their own to make restitution for their "heinous actions" which they "greatly regretted".
The end.

P.S. "HMAS"= His/Her Majesty's Air Ship

EDIT: P.P.S, As you may have noticed, my two stories feature pretty much exclusively human characters. I'd love to remedy this, but my knowledge of types of creatures that fur affinity posted stories might utilize is woefully inadequate for any storytelling. Is there some sort of wiki or website where I might learn the various species, the differences between classifications such as anthro and feral, their attributes, tendencies, commonalities, and how to best implement them into a story setting? Is there some sort of "furry-verse" with established rules, magics, and species I might read about?


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## Arishipshape (Feb 3, 2020)

New prompt: a character gets a wardrobe change!


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## Tallow_Phoenix (Feb 4, 2020)

"Are you _sure_ about this, Tiri?"
The small mouse wizard nodded vigorously. "I checked it with my identification spell. It definitely belonged to the great battlemage Lucia the Star-Blessed. Not only is it said to grant great strength and magical ability, it also grants great luck! You said you liked gambling, right?"
"Yeah, but..." Gent looked down at the fine ruffled linens stretched out over his muscular frame. The sleeves, made to fit close to a slender frame, were restricting the blood flow to his fingers.
"Come on! This is an amazingly rare find! I’d wear it, but it definitely won't fit me." Indeed, the mouse, though unusually sized, was only just large enough to fit in the bell-shaped skirt of the dress.
"I look like the Queen of Astoria," the lion warrior moaned.
"How about this," the young wizard said encouragingly. "We can try out its power at the Carius Mines. It's closed down, so no one will see you. And it's just a short walk from here."
Gent sighed heavily. "Fine. I'll do it."
"That's the spirit!" Tiri replied brightly.

A roar echoed deep within the cavernous walls of the abandoned mine. Pebbles shook loose from the ceiling as heavy footfalls approached them. A deformed reptilian face appeared from around a corner, foaming from the mouth and leering with glowing, veiny orange eyes.
Gent gulped. “Well, here goes nothing.”
“I’ll back you up!” Tiri said as he hid behind a rock.
Gent gripped his axe and raised it above his head, then winced as he heard a loud _RRRRIIIIIPPPP_ from his sleeves. The beast, incensed by the sound, charged with an ear-splitting shriek.
“IT’S FINE, YOU’RE DOING GREAT!” Tiri called as he flung a fire spell at the beast, then booked it back towards the entrance.
Gent gritted his teeth, cursing his luck, and swung his axe. To his amazement, the axe emitted an aura of magical lightning as he swung it, striking the beast and sent it flying through several layers of rock. As the mine began to collapse around him, Gent laughed and punched his way through boulders towards the entrance with his new-found strength.

At last, he emerged, with his sleeves in tatters and a huge grin on his face.
“This is _great_!” he said to the rattled mouse wizard waiting outside. “I’m never taking this thing off!”


--------------------------

Prompt: A vampire living alone on a cursed island finds themselves with some unexpected and unusual company.


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## Tallow_Phoenix (Feb 4, 2020)

Arishipshape said:


> EDIT: P.P.S, As you may have noticed, my two stories feature pretty much exclusively human characters. I'd love to remedy this, but my knowledge of types of creatures that fur affinity posted stories might utilize is woefully inadequate for any storytelling. Is there some sort of wiki or website where I might learn the various species, the differences between classifications such as anthro and feral, their attributes, tendencies, commonalities, and how to best implement them into a story setting? Is there some sort of "furry-verse" with established rules, magics, and species I might read about?



Honestly, you can kind of make up your own rules. There are some furry-based universes out there - there's Star Fox, for example, though the only non-mainstream one I can think of off the top of my head is Vilous, where the Sergal come from - but it's not like there's one big cohesive universe that all furries come from.

There's nothing wrong with using human characters, though! I do it all the time! :3


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## Toasty9399 (Feb 4, 2020)

The brooding figure stood silent, watching the scene unfold through a stone window.
Across the water, the night was lit by a massive flame that reached into the sky. The wooden boat rolled as it’s black sails burned, and was soon swallowed by the black sea.
The figure sighed, and turned back into their tower.
_Another group of glory seeking fools gone, another shipwreck surrounding the island…_
A few hours later, the sun came up, and the vampire slumbered through the day.
The figure stood at her post the following night, watching the black sea for more ships that would inevitably come. The everlasting lightning storm that surrounded her island crackled as usual, and the rain pelted the beach.
_Wait a second._
The vampire thought she saw something. She looked closer…
_Yes… what is that?_
Past the angry waves, a sail showed itself. It was… tiny. Blowing through the roaring waters, a tiny boat bobbed through.
_A lifeboat? _
What looked like a tiny canoe reached the sands, it’s patchmarked white sail flittered as the wind hit it. A figure crawled out onto the sand.
Her interest peaked that something _different_ was happening for once, the vampire started their journey down the tower and onto the beach.
The rain let up a bit as she finally reached the canoe. What she found surprised her.
A small girl wearing rags was crawling to their feet. When the soaking girl looked up at the vampire, she didn’t scream in fear. She_ smiled._
This made the vampire blink.
“Hi!” the girl said.
The vampire stared.
“Are you Ms Vampire?”
She paused at the question. “Yes?”
The moment the vampire answered, the girl rushed over and hugged her.
“W-what?” She sputtered. “What’s the meaning of this?”
“I’m so sorry! It must be so lonely here! All the big men at port were talking about how ‘evil’ you are, and how you live here alone, and that you are a big meanie. But I didn’t believe them! No! You must be here all alone, it must be so boring, and that everybody wants to hurt you! It must be sad! So I decided to come here myself! To make you feel better!”
The vampire was taken aback. Her shoulders relaxed however, and the young girl let go. She was shivering.
“I uh…” The vampire began, not knowing what to say. “How about you come inside?”


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## Toasty9399 (Feb 4, 2020)

Prompt: The beach was nice, but _this _was better.


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## Toasty9399 (Feb 4, 2020)

MadXStitcher said:


> Similar to the thread in the art forum, let's do one for the authors.  Only, instead of trying to write for other people's characters, we'll prompt for them.
> .


Oy, you made this thread, how bout’ you post?


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## Tallow_Phoenix (Feb 7, 2020)

I wrote a stupid thing while sick :'D
And it's not even fantasy-themed, for once!

-------------------------

“Ice cream sundaes!? Hot dog!”
Remi scrambled to his feet and took off after the ice cream booth, much to the annoyance of his girlfriend Claire. “H-hey!” she called after him. “What about the volleyball game!?”
“In a minute!” Remi called over his shoulder as he got in line, peering over people's shoulders to get a better look at the options. 
Claire just sighed. She knew his fondness for ice cream was unmatched, but this was ridiculous. She shook her head and turned to the court. “Alright, ladies,” she called out to the other bikini-clad girls with a competitive spark in her eyes, “let’s get this rematch started!”
She took the volleyball and, once everyone was in position, spiked the ball with all of her might. A scuffle ensued as the opponents scrambled to return the shot, and the competition began. It was sisters against sisters, a ceremony between long-time neighbors to prove who was the best. Truth be told, Claire didn't even care much about the beach; the competition meant so much more to her.
Remi returned, with a cup full of ice cream and an eyeful of lovely ladies. The beach was nice and everything, but this made it so much better.

-----------------------------

Prompt: You never believed in divination by tea leaves… until now.


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## Toasty9399 (Feb 8, 2020)

"Yes! YES! We did it!" a voice echoed across the cavern. 
"We've done it! Oh... I've waited so long!" 
A large rock was laid askew, leaning against an ancient limestone wall. It was pushed away to reveal an opening. The vast interior was dark, only being lit by the torchlight of two individuals.
"Ruhras, please calm down." a tired cat groaned. "Your yelling is hurting my ears."
The person in question continued forward, ignoring his companion. 
"If you knew what this was Toris, you'd have the same reaction!" the much younger cat relied. "I'm serious!"
"I would know if you _told _me in the first place! This is just a cavern, its nothing!" 
"It may seem like that to you ya oldie, but that's because you didn't do your research!" 
"Those are fairytales, for the lords sake, those aren't 'research!' They're _tales! _Stories! Fake!" Toris spat. With his cane, he shuffled after Ruhras further into the cavern.
"You'll see. You'll see all right, like last time."
"They're wasn't a 'last time,' you idiot." he replied, annoyed. "Last time, the only thing we found was a dead tree and a pile of bones."
"Uh huh, just like the research!"
"Fairytales." 
"Re Search." Ruhras emphasized slowly.
They continued in silence, going further into the massive cavern.
"Hey, look!" the younger of the two said, pointing a claw at the ceiling. "A hole." 
Indeed, there was a hole. A beam of light from the evening sun shone through, the ray illuminating something on the ground. 
"W-woah." Ruhras spoke, his eyes transfixed towards the light. He was staring at something being lit by the light.
"I-is that a tree?" stumbled Toris. He too was staring at a massive thirty foot tree. It's black leaves swayed slightly, as if a breeze moved them.
"Hey... do you smell that? It... it smells like-" 
"Tea." mumbled the hunched feline.
"Yea..." 
The two continued towards the light.
"Wait a second, Is that a... person?" 
At the base of the massive tree was a hunched figure. It was hunched into a ball, covering something.
They two approached. As they got closer to the figure, they gasped.
They saw an extremely weathered figure. The person looked like a... mummy. All the fur was gone, showing only remains of skin. The grey skin was taunt against body, revealing the bones similar to a starved slave. 
"Oh... oh my... " the young feline swayed slightly, looking sick. 
The mummified corpse moved.
Ruhras and Toris stepped back, staring in shock as the starved figure stood up. It's movements were rigid and harsh, the vertibre making a cracking sound as it straightend. 
They stepped back again as the figured turned it's eyeless head towards them.
"Ah... Visitors." An oddly smoothing voice spoke. "Its... been awhile since... visitors." The thing tried to smile, only for it's cracked lips to rip.
"Wh... who are you? A witch!?" the older cat said, pointing his torch towards it.
"Mmm..." replied the mummy, pausing for a few agonizing moments. "No... what a crude word. I am a guardian of the divination tree." It revealed something in its hands. Three cups of... freshly brewed tea. 
"I've been... waiting for awhile."


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## Toasty9399 (Feb 8, 2020)

Prompt: You stayed up all night... Again.


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## Toasty9399 (Feb 13, 2020)

Prompt: You're a professional stuntman... But you're just making this shit up as you go.


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## Toasty9399 (May 16, 2020)

Resurrect this thread! 
Bump


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## Yumi~ (Jun 8, 2020)

www.furaffinity.net: Daredevil by Yumi~

Prompt: a caterpillar afraid of growing into a butterfly


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## Toasty9399 (Jun 29, 2020)

Yumi~ said:


> www.furaffinity.net: Daredevil by Yumi~
> 
> Prompt: a caterpillar afraid of growing into a butterfly


working on yours


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## Toasty9399 (Jun 29, 2020)

Over the horizon, the dim glow of the morning sun came into being, it’s growing light reflecting off the rows of solar array giving the illusion of three massive torches roaring with flame from the earth. It was the reflected light from these arrays that illuminated the base of a monolith, a monolith reaching so high into the heavens that it seemed endless. The light continued to shine, the angle increasing, showing the scars of the city below. Areas were flattened, shattered, giant rips of black like a giant animal clawed its way through the cityscape. The fires were gone now but the wounds remained. Specs of light fluttered like fireflies around the base of the golden construct driven by an endless energy towards something greater, more important. Platforms of all sizes rocketed up and down the tower, their appearance similar to the fireflies that raced alongside them, with the biggest platform the size of a city district that descended as slow as the sun rose. It was one of these platforms that two individuals in a crowd of thousands waited for. 

“Are you afraid?”

The question made the younger flitch. He turned towards the source of the question. Standing patiently was a wrinkled man who wore a golden robe and soft smile.

“Excuse me… sir?” The younger man adjusted his glasses, confused. “Do I know you?”

The old man’s smile grew slightly as he shook his head.

“No.” He said simply.

The man blinked, his gaze sharpening through the round spectacles. There was something with this old man he couldn’t place. His smile, his eyes… off.

“But you will, watcher.”

“What are you talking about? Watcher? What-.”

“Are you afraid?” The man asked again, interrupting him, his smile unchanging, his knowing eyes unflinching.  He seemed to sense the younger’s hesitation, his unease.

“I-I mean yes, it’s… a long trip, Far… What did you mean ‘You will watcher.’?” 

“That’s something you’ll find out, in due time… in due _time, professor._ ”

“What? I'm a studen-”

He was interrupted by excitement passing through the crowd and a rumbling _‘ki-chunk’_ as the elevator’s platform arrived, along with an oblong vessel that barely fit on it. As the man turned to look back, the old man was gone.

The glassed man stood staring at the empty spot, his expression filled with confusion. His stupor was shattered as somebody pushed him forward and the line began to move. With a shrug, he grabbed his bags and stepped onto the waiting vessel.

____________________________________________________________________________


Years later, a figure gazed into a scene. The massive rumbling that signaled his arrival just minutes earlier gave way to a line of thousands of people. The figure went out, stepping onto the familiar metal deck. Thing was, something was different. The figure smiled softly, the entire situation mirroring the past, except for one key detail. Instead of a young thin man wearing a loose jacket and struggling to carry his luggage onto the ship, instead of wearing flatfooted sandals, a new distinctly vulpine shape stepped. 

White fur bristled in the cold wind, a tall vulpine towering over the crowd. Some glanced at him nervously, others curious at the oddity. He ignored it, walking over to the ledge to look at the city below. It was different from how he remembered it. Over the centuries, they rebuilt, clearing the rubble of destroyed temples, homes, shopping districts. Down kilometers, remnants of the scars remaned, not fully healed. Cursed land people refused to live on, created by a war nobody expected, he remembered reading. Instead of the barren black from his time before however, the scars were green combined with hues of different colors, the cursed land turned into gardens. 

“Are you afraid?”

The vulpine smiled softly once hearing the voice, somehow knowing it would happen. Standing to his side was a brown vulpine, tall and youngful like he was, who wore a golden robe and the same smile from before.

“No.”


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## Arishipshape (Jun 29, 2020)

U didn't give a prompt!


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## Toasty9399 (Jun 29, 2020)

Arishipshape said:


> U didn't give a prompt!


Something went wrong and now you’re dealing with the consequences.  As you think about it however, you realize it’s the best thing that could’ve happened.


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## Toasty9399 (Jun 29, 2020)

bump


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## Ruki-the-Zorua (Jun 30, 2020)

Quick, someone explain to me what a prompt is so I can write it!


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## Toasty9399 (Jun 30, 2020)

Ruki-the-Zorua said:


> Quick, someone explain to me what a prompt is so I can write it!


So basically a prompt is a sentence, an idea. You write a short story that follows the prompt. How close you follow it is on you, its just supposed to give a general idea. For example, the prompt of ‘everything going wrong but it’s the best thing that could’ve happen.’ You’ll take that and you might write a story about a person who missed their flight at an airport, but then they meet someone who’ll eventually become their girlfriend.


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## Ruki-the-Zorua (Jun 30, 2020)

Ooooh, okie! Well, I know em' now! Thanks pal! So let me see....do I follow the prompt up above?


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## Toasty9399 (Jun 30, 2020)

Ruki-the-Zorua said:


> Ooooh, okie! Well, I know em' now! Thanks pal! So let me see....do I follow the prompt up above?


yup


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## Ruki-the-Zorua (Jun 30, 2020)

You got it! Lemme go over it real quick. My silence means I'm typing, meow. Well, let's get on it!


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## Ruki-the-Zorua (Jun 30, 2020)

It was a simple mission, but, it seemed simple was not always the answer. Why? Because there always seemed to be a payoff for disobeying a direct order.


That is, what the feline thought for a few.

He was doing a contract, and he had been instructed to execute the juror in a timely and orderly fashion. This was supposed to be one a stealth, precision, and accuracy. He had his 50. Caliber BMG Tungsten tipped ammunition Barrett positioned under his arm, secure in the suitcase. He was at the vantage point of the distance required for the sniper's nest angle. He had sat there for a few hours, making sure the tedious tailing was nothing, and that nobody 

had followed him to this discreet location. FBI sure seem to snoop around in a cat's business. At least now he had the high ground. In this sense, he wasn't joking. The building he was on was at least 1,100 feet from the ground, and judging from where he stood, he had to execute this perfectly. one missed shot, especially with the suppressor screwed on tight, could spell the end for him. At this distance, he had made sure that there could be no interference with the 

commoner's eye. He caught whiff of his target leaving the hotel, and that is when he set into action. The cat quickly sprung to his feet, stretching out, then grabbed the long suitcase carrying his weapon of precise aim and lethal precision. He took the weapon out of the casing, feeling along the smooth, black surface of one of the most powerful rifles of human, and non-human, history. Quickly, yet accurately, he assembled the rifle, making sure that he had all the

 intricate details lined up. he got down, flat on his belly, the put his finger in his maw, lifting it to the air as to feel the wind pressure. Since it was a warm day today, and the wind speed was under 10 MPH, he had good wind for this accurate shot. Of course, he'd have to consider all of the other technicalities. There was also the distance he had to worry about, which was well over 1100 miles from his target. Screwing the suppressor on quickly, the cat narrowed his emerald

 eyes, fixated on the target in front of him. A man, daunting in  feature, made sure he was known as a limo pulled up. "Great," he whispered to himself, making sure his aim was above the target's head, slightly tilted to the right. Aim directly at him, and he would miss a critical shot. He made sure his aim was on point, waiting as the man got in close enough. He stood still, the exact moment the cat had been waiting for. He took off the suppressor, in the heat of 

the moment, directly going against the order of his captain who ordered silence in this, aiming, his finger on the trigger. He inhaled, a bead of sweat trickling down his face. Tensing, he took the shot. _BANG!_ The shot echoed all around, seemingly shaking the place where he rested. People screamed in a panic as the man dropped quickly, so fast like a sack of limp potatoes. Guards quickly saw the flash, and the feline could see them talking into the receiver they had.

 He knew they saw him, so he hurried and got out of there. Now to face the angry music.

"WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!? TAKING YOUR SUPPRESSOR OFF IN ONE OF THE BIGGEST CROWDS EVER?!?," his captain furiously roared, making the feline step back.

"I tried to tell you sir, it would throw off my shot."

"I don't care! You risked it all you fool! DA will be on us for weeks!"

"Not really. They didn't see my face. It looked like another assassination."

"Wait....you weren't seen?"

"Nope."

"Well then....I guess that does make it better....heck of a shot though...."

"1100 meters out is child's play sir. Gimme something better next time."

With that, he walked out. DA would be on them, yes, but it actually paid off. Failing that shot from a suppressor would've ended more than his career......


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## Ruki-the-Zorua (Jun 30, 2020)

Now...I think I give a prompt over this right?....


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## Toasty9399 (Jun 30, 2020)

Ruki-the-Zorua said:


> Now...I think I give a prompt over this right?....


Love the post! Very tense. 
Yes, you make your own prompt now and someone will take it.


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## Ruki-the-Zorua (Jun 30, 2020)

Thank you! *Bows* Alrighty! I'll make this real quick.

You stumble upon a sword that immediately makes you heir to the throne of Asgard. What do you do?


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## WallCat (Jul 9, 2020)

You wander through the woods and find an overgrown ruin that feels truly ancient and mystical. A crystal sits on a mossy pedestal, softly glowing with an inner light. What do you do?


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## Toasty9399 (Dec 2, 2020)

CoggerD said:


> You wander through the woods and find an overgrown ruin that feels truly ancient and mystical. A crystal sits on a mossy pedestal, softly glowing with an inner light. What do you do?


I looked down and shivered, breathing into my palms. I could see my breath as I brought them close, rubbing my hands furiously to warm myself up.
The sun was still low on the horizon as heavy mist crawled across the forest floor, shadowed by tall trees that dimmed everything below with unending twilight. The autumn air smelt like rain and damp leaves.
"Off the beaten path they said."
I reached down, moving leaves and debris as I searched.
"You'll see, they said."
I found what I was looking for, covered in green moss and dirt from the fall. A groan of disappointment after wiping away the moss from the worn wood frame revealed two new scratches.
"See what? The only thing here is forest. Forest forest forest, and more forest. I've been wandering for hours."
I shook my head, turning to look back. Dim forest.
"Off the beaten path. I can't get back? Why?"
I grasped the instrument, my fingers instinctively on the strings. I started again through the mist.
"I'm lost. I see no footpath. I can't backtrack. It's all moss. That's why."
One foot, step, other foot, step. One in front the other, damp leaves smushing against snug boots. The pattern being rhythm for soft, slow notes that echoed through the forest. My mind was blank as I strung, absorbed completely in the forest and surroundings.
I walked in an unfocused daze. It was hard to tell the time, the tall trees made it hard to see the sky.
The rhythm stopped.
"Wait."
I looked around again.
"That can't be right."
My hands tightened, old wood creaking slightly as my eyes darted around. I mentally cursed myself for not realizing hours earlier. The morning mist was up to my ankles.
"Hours."
Thin streaks of sunlight darted passed the forest roof, steeply angled. I examined closer with unease, looking up at the tiny gaps on the forest canopy that rays streamed through and back down again. I didn't need my survivalist training to tell me the obvious.
"It's still morning. It should be noon by now."
I surveyed my surroundings again with a new since of anxiety. It was all the same. The mist and dense trees blocked seeing a meaningful distance. Chirps and chitters echoed from far unknown, echoed and muffled. The air was still crisp and cold. The trees were impossible to climb, no reachable branches and canopy too high. I knew I had to do something.
My feet started moving, the rhythm slow and cautious.
"Need to keep moving."
Notes played, echoed like the birdsong above. My feet echoed, my breathing echoed. Everything echoed, reverberating like an empty music hall. The forest was empty. Nothing changed. I could hear the wildlife chirping, but not once have I seen a single animal.
"Tree. Trees. Trees trees trees. All you see are trees. 'Off the beaten path and you'll see?' Well this is what I see."
The forest was empty. Nothing changed. My feet were aching. How long has it been? Since I tripped, nothing was right.
"How long ago was that?"
I looked at the light. The sun was still.
"I don't know."
I continued. Strumming. Strumming. Strumming. The tune was directionless, echoing off the trees, the only thing keeping me company, the only thing changing. Strumming. Strumming. Strumming. I could feel my mind go blank. I had to stop. I rubbed my eyes.
"Moving... I need... -to keep moving."
The tune played. It continued with unknown rhythm, echoing through the forest.
I froze. I stared at my hand, the hand still inches from my eyes and away from the lute.
The music played. Soft strings that echoed. A mystical tune that went nowhere. A tune not from me.
I sprang around, looking frantically for the source. There was none. It echoed all around me. Quiet, distant, but there. Something different.
"Hey! Hey anyone there?! Answer me!"
The trees were the only response, reflecting my voice back.
"Please!" I tried again. "Someone help me! I can't get back!"
Again, the trees. The music continued to play. I turned, twisting around as I searched. I began running.
"Please!"
I tripped. My head whipped back as my body continued forward, smashing into mud. I groaned in pain as I regained my senses, putting my hands and knees beneath me as I rose. I looked down at what tripped me.
It was a slab. A flat, rock slab. I blinked in surprise.
Looking up, I saw more. Columns surrounded me, half crumbled with age. Near me the ground was paved with more slabs that led somewhere.
I got up, checking my lute again for damage. It was covered in mud that was quickly wiped away; a sharp breath stopped me as I stared in shock. The two scratches from before, gone.
My mouth felt dry.
"No, no that can't be right." I checked again, brining the instrument close as I examined. The wood was perfect.
"What the..." I looked up, surveying my surroundings. I was standing in the middle of a circle of columns, the path of slabs lead somewhere I couldn't see from my position. I decided to follow.
The path was flanked by more columns, all varying states of decay.
"Where the hell am I? Is this what they meant?"
I continued, still not able to see more than a dozen feet in front. The path was windy, twisting around ancient trees more vibrant than the dead columns, which themselves had moss growing all over.
After a minute I reached the end. I looked up at where the path led me, a large construct of stone three stories tall. There were carvings in the stone, deep geometric etchings that moss grew in like green ink.
I went up the stairs or ramp, it was so worn I couldn't tell what it used to be. My hand traced the carving as I walked, looking around the ancient structure.
That's when I saw it. In the middle of the room was a... crystal of some kind. It was levitating above a carved podium, slowly twisting. A dim light emanated from it like sunlight. I was dazed by its beauty.
Slowly I got closer, checking for traps, secret switches, anything like I'd heard in stories of ancient temples. There was none. I approached the crystal, stepping over a small incline.
That's when I heard it. The crystal was vibrating and making sound. It was music, _my _music.
"It.. it's-"
Slowly, carefully, I lifted a gloved finger.
"-it's...beautiful."
I touched it.
Everything slowed. I flinched away from the crystal, it's light brighter than before. I felt suddenly hot like with fever. Outside the temple, light flicked. On and off, on and off. It took me a second to realize what it was. It was the day night cycle. Trees turned orange, then the leaves fell. I felt chill as snow began to fall, only to melt seconds later. The trees grew their leaves back, turning bright green. Rain poured, the temperature rose. The process repeated.  Realizing my mistake, I raced towards the crystal, reaching out in a vain attempt to make it stop. My hand slowed the closer it got, pushing harder and harder like swimming through tar, only to stop mere millimeters from the crystal. I screamed.
Then, like a rubberband, I was snapped back against the wall.
-------------------------------------
I awoke with a massive headache and my face in the mud. My vision was fussy as I got up, my memory coming back in bits and pieces. I was crouched in a clearing, my foot caught in a tree root. I quickly unstuck myself and got up, fearing what I remembered.
The morning fog permeated the forest floor. The air was crisp and chill, slightly damp with forest mildew. I glanced down were I fell, and saw something a few feet away. I stepped over to it.
It was a trail.


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## Toasty9399 (Mar 5, 2021)

bump (don't let this die)


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## Toasty9399 (Mar 5, 2021)

Writing prompts is pretty fun. Ya'll should flex your creative muscles.


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## larigot (Mar 9, 2021)

Toasty9399 said:


> Writing prompts is pretty fun. Ya'll should flex your creative muscles.


Got a prompt?


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## Play3r (Mar 9, 2021)

cats


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## larigot (Mar 9, 2021)

There once was Cats, which did well on broadway, but had an abysmal translation to the white screen. The creatures that the story was based on were in uproar - their good name was sullied by a horrible cash-grab. Lacking judicial representation, the cats knew there was only one way to get even... cold vengeance.
     The furry little animals got in touch with each other by using the social media accounts of their owners, or their own if they had them - a courtesy of those humans who couldn't deal with the unpopularity of their own accounts.
     A plan was soon hatched, and it was quite cunning. It would satisfy the honor of the cats, and at the same time destroy their ancient enemies. As the catspiracy grew, their means grew too, bolstered by knowhow and material from a million households.
     After weeks of plotting, and keeping their owners in the dark with sweet meows and playful behavior, the cats were ready...
     Fast droves of them gathered at the Hollywood film studios, and in their mouths, rats and mice strapped with explosives. The cats released their victims, and let them run screeching into the lot. Mr. Mittens flashed a predatory smile as he pressed a paw on the detonator in front of him.

***

It's super late, I'm on my phone, I dunno what I just typed (I mean, the prompt was only 1 word), but here's my prompt:

In the dead of night, a music box starts playing. Approaching the sound, you make a startling discovery.


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## Toasty9399 (Mar 9, 2021)

larigot said:


> There once was Cats, which did well on broadway, but had an abysmal translation to the white screen. The creatures that the story was based on were in uproar - their good name was sullied by a horrible cash-grab. Lacking judicial representation, the cats knew there was only one way to get even... cold vengeance.
> The furry little animals got in touch with each other by using the social media accounts of their owners, or their own if they had them - a courtesy of those humans who couldn't deal with the unpopularity of their own accounts.
> A plan was soon hatched, and it was quite cunning. It would satisfy the honor of the cats, and at the same time destroy their ancient enemies. As the catspiracy grew, their means grew too, bolstered by knowhow and material from a million households.
> After weeks of plotting, and keeping their owners in the dark with sweet meows and playful behavior, the cats were ready...
> ...


I love this


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## Jaredthefox92 (Mar 10, 2021)

_You're surrounded by the Angels of Death, the Space Marines of the Black Templar chapter are coming to purge the furry mutant with extreme prejudice by the ways of bolter, lascanon, and flamer fire. You must team up with Sonic the Hedgehog to ward off the Adeptus Astartes foe. _


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## Toasty9399 (Mar 12, 2021)

larigot said:


> In the dead of night, a music box starts playing. Approaching the sound, you make a startling discovery.



The moon was high overhead, crickets and frogs were busy outside by the lakeshore and mosquitos bit any unprotected with spray. The burr from the electric fan the only thing keeping the room cool in the humid summer night as I worked on my laptop.
A tired sigh left me as I looked outside, I could see the moon reflected off the murky lakeshore water. My phone read 2AM.
"I'm supposed to be on vacation."
I turned back and continued my work. It was boring, work work. A mindless assignment of long questions I already knew how to do.
"But nooo... You don't have enough creedddittss to graaaduate..."
An hour passed as I worked. My hands were starting to cramp and my eyes felt heavy. I rubbed them annoyed as I focused on not passing out. A glint of moonlight reflected into my room and I stared at it. I flinched suddenly, catching myself as my head drooped from sleep.
With a snarl, I got stood from my seat, my feet feeling numb from hours of inactivity. I walked to the kitchen, making sure to step over sleeping bags filled with snores. Our small cabin was crowded with five other people, so the maze to the kitchen took way longer than it should've. I turned on the kettle and scooped a teaspoon of instant coffee into a stained cup. I repressed a yawn as I waited for the water to boil.
I looked out the window again, my back leaning against the counter and stirred impatiently. Ignoring the blue glow from my laptop as I watched the lake outside. I could see our fishing boat anchored to the dock bob up and down slightly with the water. I smiled tiredly as I watched. Already we made some memories on that boat. We tried to cram all of us in, but we learned the hard and wet way that it was too much.
As I watched, something at the back of my muddled mind poked at me. I turned, straining to filter out the snores...
Music, I could hear music. A quiet tune from a stringed instrument of some kind came from the window, outside. Immediately it made me feel off. I stepped towards the sound, anxious.
_We're in the middle of the bog, who the hell else is here? _
Ignoring the steaming kettle, I made my way over. I glanced outside, I could still hear the music. Looking around the room to see if someone's phone was going off, I found nothing. Whatever it was, it was coming from outside, under the moonlight. I shivered.
Nervously, I grasped the window and opened it slightly, the music was louder as it opened. I poked my head out to look around, letting in humid air. One of my friends stirred but didn't wake up.
I turned my attention back outside and searched for the source. I couldn't see much, only the boat and lake, with the surrounding trees by our cabin. I listened some more and my mind itched. There was something about this melody, something that made me... made me feel... nostalgic. I looked around, worry growing, but still I couldn't see where the music was coming from.
Until I looked up at the moon.


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## Toasty9399 (Mar 12, 2021)

Prompt: No matter how hard you try, your potions _REFUSE _to work!


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## larigot (Mar 13, 2021)

Toasty9399 said:


> The moon was high overhead, crickets and frogs were busy outside by the lakeshore and mosquitos bit any unprotected with spray. The burr from the electric fan the only thing keeping the room cool in the humid summer night as I worked on my laptop.
> A tired sigh left me as I looked outside, I could see the moon reflected off the murky lakeshore water. My phone read 2AM.
> "I'm supposed to be on vacation."
> I turned back and continued my work. It was boring, work work. A mindless assignment of long questions I already knew how to do.
> ...


What does he see!? Cliffhanger!


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## larigot (Mar 13, 2021)

Toasty9399 said:


> Prompt: No matter how hard you try, your potions _REFUSE _to work!


"Five chopped mountain root bits, a pinch of wild peppermint, and a strand of hairs, willingly donated by a Dhole." Fosah Obeah double checked the tome before him, before tossing the final ingredients into the cauldron. He reread the whole recipe again as he stirred with a spatula -_ It will work this time, damn it. It must._
    As the ancient potion brewing book instructed him, he doused the fire underneath the cauldron and let it cool off. In the corner of his little alchemist hut was a rocking chair, and he let him sag down on it - it wobbled slightly back and forth. He started plucking at his tail while gazing at his latest concoction, willing it to be successful.
    After having reflected on his previous failures for what seemed like hours, he collected a vial and scooped some of the cauldron’s liquid in it. The turbid substance had a light green hue to it. He twirled it around, head askew and his long ears perked up. He’d run out of test subjects; a side effect of running out of reputation. He’d have to test it on himself.
_Bottoms up._
He downed it in one go. It tasted remarkably sweet and had a refreshing quality to it. Still holding on to the empty vial, he started pacing through the room, waiting for the effect to make itself known. Nothing happened - usually something happened, albeit the wrong thing. He scanned the pages again and was sure that he didn’t overlook anything. As he reached out to pick up the book, he saw what had happened. The fur on his bare arms - his sleeves were rolled up due to the warm water - had sprouted out and started tangling. It was still ongoing before his wide eyes. He darted to the covered up mirror on the other side of the hut, and yanked the sheet off.
_My gods…_ All his hair had grown; it was more than five times the length that it usually was around this time of year. He kept an immaculate coat, but now it was a horrible mess. Even his whiskers had grown, now drooping down to chest height. It seemed to be over now, the effects had worn off, but the consequences remained. He smashed the vial against the wall with a scream, grasped the book and marched out of the house, his tail a veritable sweeper behind him.
He drew confused and concerned looks from passersby as he followed the road into the city, and drew many more as he made his way to the guild hall. A barber leaned against her sign with crossed arms, lazily staring at the street until Fosah passed her.
“Hey, hey! Mister,” she called out.
Fosah stopped and turned to her with a scowl. “What?”
“Looks like you didn’t lose your winter coat, and then some. Come on in, I’ll give a discount!”
“After I’m done with some urgent business.” He continued his focussed stride until he reached the Guild of Sciences. He ran up the steps of the mirrored staircase in front of the massive brick and marble building, and ran into an old acquaintance on the landing.
“Well well, our potion brewer is having great success,” the canine artificer grinned.
“Why don’t you make a device that makes you a mute, you mutt,” Fosah replied, pushing past him to get inside the building.
He arrived at his destination, the guild library - a large round chamber with a domed roof, housing thousands upon thousands of books of knowledge. He dumped the book in front of the librarian - an owl who was allegedly the most learned creature in the building.
“This book… should be _burned_!”
The owl looked him over with a disinterested expression, over the top of his small spectacles, and started flicking through the tome. “What is the matter, then?”
“Ever since I used that book, my potions have been failing,” Fosah seethed, and jabbed a bushy finger at it. “I was told that this book was the best in the business. At first I thought it was me, that my knowledge was just not advanced enough. But now that I’ve tried at least a dozen times, I’m sure this book is spreading falsehoods!”
The owl had been checking the first few pages intently, and looked up when Fosah was done talking. “You know this is the first edition, yes? Edition two fixed the issue where each chapter name is one chapter off.”


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## larigot (Mar 13, 2021)

Prompt: People colonized Mars for only a few decades, before leaving again. However, not everyone left - the underground dwellers were forgotten.... for thousands of years.


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## Miles Marsalis (Mar 13, 2021)

larigot said:


> Prompt: People colonized Mars for only a few decades, before leaving again. However, not everyone left - the underground dwellers were forgotten.... for thousands of years.


Can I reply to this? I'm intrigued by the prompt. I might need a day or two, though.


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## larigot (Mar 13, 2021)

Miles Marsalis said:


> Can I reply to this? I'm intrigued by the prompt. I might need a day or two, though.


Sure! Take your time. More people can write for the prompt at the same time as well I suppose.


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## Toasty9399 (Mar 13, 2021)

larigot said:


> The owl had been checking the first few pages intently, and looked up when Fosah was done talking. “You know this is the first edition, yes? Edition two fixed the issue where each chapter name is one chapter off.”


Alright this made me burst out laughing


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## larigot (Mar 13, 2021)

Toasty9399 said:


> Alright this made me burst out laughing


Haha  maybe it was a little predictable, but glad you liked it!


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## Miles Marsalis (Mar 15, 2021)

larigot said:


> Sure! Take your time. More people can write for the prompt at the same time as well I suppose.


Thank you for waiting. My submission is little dark and short, but I hope it's alright.


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## Miles Marsalis (Mar 15, 2021)

Echoes of our pickaxes resound down the drift in the darkness. Every miner in the drift sets their own rhythm with their pickaxe, working towards meeting their quotas for the shift. My own rhythm is rapid as I drive my rusting pickaxe into the seam to clear a chunk of iron ore from seam in the rock face. Chips of iron and rock fly off into my face and ping off my goggles and helmet.

A spark flashes as my pickaxes strikes the rock face, making my dark-adjusted eyes flinch from the sudden and brief bright light. I blink away the afterimage.

If the drift had been filled with pure oxygen, everybody in the drift would be burning alive right now. I glance over at my caged mouse.

It’s still energetically alive, frantically darting around in the tiny wire cage, startled by the clinking of the pickaxes in the drift.

Theoretically, if the buffer gases weren’t mixing right, say too high a concentration of nitrogen, the mouse would bite the dust before I did, warning me of the danger and allowing me to make it to the adit airlock before asphyxiating myself. Theoretically.

In training, my teachers had said that there was a time when miners worked without air in the drifts but wore suits that allow them to breathe and kept their bodies pressurized. You didn’t need to worry about asphyxiating in the dark or being burned by the combustible atmosphere.

That was shortly after the deserters left our ancestors on this world to flee in the sky above surface, after our ancestors abandoned the surface for the safety of the Night Labyrinthine with its lava tubes and drifts, after we carved our survival out of this dead world as we were maggots in a corpse.

Looking around, I see other occasional sparks in the dark of the drift, each one exposing the miner that caused it for sliver of a second before they snap back to being black silhouettes swinging and struggling in the shadows.

Stooping down, I scoop up the loose dust from the drift floor. My knees hurt in revenge. Standing back up, I sift the dust with my thumb, though I can’t see any of the grains. I stare down at myself, a shadow darker than the darkness.

“Wang Lei,” growls a familiar and feared voice uncomfortably close behind me, intimately threatening. “I hope you died standing up, because that is the only reason you shouldn’t be beating this seam like it owes you what you owe the Colony.”

_This loverfucker, fucking with me when I’m working while he strolls the drift for a fucking living_.

My sweat-slicked fingers choke the shaft of pickaxe, their muscles tensing for a swift strike.

Actually, who am I kidding? I’m not striking an overseer.

If I did, I might as well put the pickaxe through my head next.

I stuff down the anger welling in my chest, forcing it to simmer into annoyance instead as I turn to face Wang Yong.

You never want an overseer at your back, the way you don’t want a loose ceiling above your head.

In the dark, I can barely see Wang Yong, if I strain my wide eyes hard enough. His grinning teeth glint in the spark light, as does the dull iron five-pointed star hanging on his black overalls. Like everyone in the drift, he has pale skin from the dark, wide eyes engineered to capture even the lightest light, a board chest with the lung capacity to breathe the drift’s thin air, long uncut hair meant to cushion the hard iron helmet on his head, and the thick muscles the ancestors gave us to work the drifts.

Wang Yong hasn’t worked the drifts as a miner in years, but he is still in shape, as all the overseers are if they want to stay alive.

There are a lot of grudges in the drift and the buried bodies to prove it.

“Did a mine blast blow out your eardrums, worm?” Wang Yong jeers. This isn’t a fight I can afford to have, but he is driving a hard bargain.

Around us, the sparks stop as miners gather around to see the inevitable fight, like drift rats circling one of their own dying, waiting to feast on the carcass.

Fuck it, let’s put on a show.

“I’m just taking a break, Wang Yong,” I say mock casually wearing my best shit-eating grin. “Like how you do for the whole shift.”

Wang Yong snarls as he snatches his pickaxe from the belt, a tool that has always been used on the workers instead of for work, but I don’t raise my own.

Instead, I toss the floor dust in his eyes, aiming towards his scream.

As his scream turns into a shriek, I know I own him now.


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## larigot (Mar 15, 2021)

Miles Marsalis said:


> Echoes of our pickaxes resound down the drift in the darkness. Every miner in the drift sets their own rhythm with their pickaxe, working towards meeting their quotas for the shift. My own rhythm is rapid as I drive my rusting pickaxe into the seam to clear a chunk of iron ore from seam in the rock face. Chips of iron and rock fly off into my face and ping off my goggles and helmet.
> 
> A spark flashes as my pickaxes strikes the rock face, making my dark-adjusted eyes flinch from the sudden and brief bright light. I blink away the afterimage.
> 
> ...


Very good descriptions. I like how subtle the world building is! Should have known mars wouldnt end up becoming an utopia.

Do you have a prompt?


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## Miles Marsalis (Mar 15, 2021)

larigot said:


> Very good descriptions. I like how subtle the world building is! Should have known mars wouldnt end up becoming an utopia.
> 
> Do you have a prompt?


Thank you for the input. As for a prompt, how about:

You're being chased through in the desert through a sandstorm. Write.


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## Marcl (Mar 22, 2021)

Miles Marsalis said:


> You're being chased through in the desert through a sandstorm. Write.



Adair strode up a sandy dune. He wasn't looking behind, he wasn't thinking of what was behind, he was definitely trying to not hear what was coming from behind. The wind was picking up, blowing up grains of sand, most of them were just bouncing of his clothes, some more lucky managed to attack to the little of his light fur of his face he was revealing. In what was about to come, an inconvenience of a little of sand was the least of his problems.

As he made his way to the top, he stopped. The wanderer glanced over the area in front of him. Sand, sand, and even more sand. Sand as it had been before, sand as it was there at the moment, and sand would be there in the future. Up for the horizon. In other words - the desert, so sight wasn't something unexpected for the traveller.

He quickly spotted a familiar rocky formation not far away. The perfect shelter he was looking at the moment. More or less perfect, he was reassuring himself. Should have been enough. Maybe it would work.

However the structure was fit for the problem, that was the adventurer's best shot at the moment.

Adair corrected this belt and robe. The clothes he was wearing used to be white, now were mingled with sand and tanned by the torrid sun. His head was wrapped in a thick scarf, leaving only a small opening for his narrow, yellow eyes. A small sword was hanging from his belt, not that he used it much, but he preferred to be prepared for all opportunities.

One final check... The wandered felt on his side, checking if the pouch was still safely attached to the leather belt. With a relief he reassured himself it was still there, gently vibrating like a leaf in a windy day. All the trouble would have been for nothing if he lost it.

Speaking of trouble...

The traveller gave a sigh and turned around to assess the situation. Yes, the oncoming dark cloud of sand was still coming his way. Like a menacing shadow of a hand that reaches for the last date in a bowl. And he knew that one was coming for him. What was worse, it was approaching faster than he had anticipated.

Adair rushed towards the rocky formation.

On his way he had enough time to give few thoughts to what he was doing. Was it madness? Likely. But he had set his mind on getting that treasure and he was sticking to it. So far, making plans on the way seemed to work for him; he was hoping it won't betray him this time as well.

He felt how the stone no larger than a fist, securely kept in his  was bouncing in its pouch. The treasure. An artefact. And a cursed, as the circumstances were showing. The curse was a good sign, it was suggesting the item was worth the trouble. After all, who would have put a magical protection on a glorified paperweight? But an enchanted stone - well, that would have been a more reasonable target.

The adventurer made his way to the rocks. Among the stone walls he found an abandoned settlement, with plain houses, some of them ruined, carved in stone. Adair recognised the village from his way to the temple from which he stole the stone. And he hoped this should be enough to allow him to wait the sandstorm out.

He walked into the nearest intact building and he took off the scarf from his head and took a deeper gasp. His face was one of a fennec fox, with a fur light a whitened sand and very long ears. With quick motions he brushed off the sand from his clothes and the little that got on his face. He took a look around the room he was in. It seemed secure and stable.

The rumbling of the air indicated the storm was very close. He put back on the scarf and curled up against a wall. And he waited.

The sandstorm swept in with a raging whistle, blowing in waves of sand on the street. The grains with a heavy buffet bounced from the walls. Then, something Adair didn't plan for happened. Through the window he saw someone walking on the street.

From his position he couldn't see much, and the relentless sand wasn't making his vision even clearer. But for sure it was someone. A figure. The traveller started to think of what could that mean.

_Come out, come out wherever you are._

A lisping voice, trying to sound both intimidating and sweet, was heard as if the wind was talking.

_Where are you, you little thief? You can hide, but I'll keep looking. Until you have nowhere to hide..._

The fennec had to check to get more info. He carefully stoop up and sneaked closed to the window.

_You know, we can play this the fun way..._

He startled but the figure didn't seem to have noticed it. Instead he saw the sand clearing just a little. The adventurer could finally see who it was. The figure seemed like made out of a dark sand that kept flowing. It head seemed to resemble that of a snake - it was long, flat, smooth, reptilian. The being's body was very humanoid, with distinct marking on it. They looked like tattoos made out of brighter sand.

The creature raised its hand and pointed towards one of the building. With a deafening whistle a load of sand blew into the structure, filling it halfway in a moment. The floating sand started to get dense again.

Adair was pressing himself to think, to remember what he had seen in the temple. Any self-respecting extinct civilisation was always giving tips on how to break their curses, right? Images flashed in the wanderer's mind - paintings, statues, inscriptions, engravings... A guardian, a creature that controls the sand, a snake... Then it dawned on him. The thought he had a plan. At least the best he could come up with at the moment.

The adventurer slowly and quietly picked up a nearby stone, threw it to the building opposite him and hid. Seems the things were working out. The creature came closer and the sand cleared out again.

_Growing impatient? I can relate..._

From his position Adair saw the figure as it raised its hand. The fennec made sure he was holding the handle of his sword firmly. He will have only one shot.

The whistle of the sand was his cue. He rushed in, before the snake-headed creature managed to notice and fully turn. The fox's sword pierced through the centre of a tattoo.

_You little..._

The pursuer didn't end its response before it fell into a pile of sand.

Adair congratulated himself. Of course - a devoted guardian that won't give up, a symbol of power, and the clearing right before the attack. It was clear to him that the creature was dropping its guard, as it needed to make more focused attack. And that the tattoo on the back had to be its weak spot.

The fennec was safe. At least for now. Until he figures out how to get rid of the curse for good. As he suspected, while his action dispersed the body of the guardian, it wasn't disposed of completely. The little vibration of the artefact in his pouch were a good sign of that. And probably the next time the snake won't be so easily fooled.

But for now - Adair could move forward. And think of better solutions.


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## Marcl (Mar 22, 2021)

I have a prompt:

The day was going to be great, just perfect to chill with friends. But then they came in. Gnomes. With their stickers, their sugar-rush-induced motions, and their constant gibberish...


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## Toasty9399 (May 9, 2021)

Marcl said:


> I have a prompt:
> 
> The day was going to be great, just perfect to chill with friends. But then they came in. Gnomes. With their stickers, their sugar-rush-induced motions, and their constant gibberish...


I have no idea what I wrote. It’s 4 AM and I'm sleep deprived.



It was supposed to be a fun trip, traveling to the coastal city of La Ambri and staying in a rented shack by the beach. Good surfing fun in the sun.
That's when Jill found the book.
We were enjoying a nice barbeque local Ambri style, with skewed fish roasting over burning local wood the natives love so much. The sun set an hour earlier so the heat from the fire was welcomed. We were sitting, talking. Normal stuff really, but then the drinking started. With drink, spirits were high, and so was stupidity. The drinking games started and soon spirits were *very* high.
Jack, he could never handle himself, passed out in the sand. We were near our shack so Jill decided to just drag him. Apparently, I don't remember exactly as I was very merry myself, she tripped over something in the sand. Digging, there was a wooden box that was promptly opened. Inside was the book.
We should've burned it.
After sleeping in till noon the next day, we awoke with bleary eyes and headaches. Jill was by the table reading the book, completely engrossed.
It was weird, the book itself I mean. The cover looked like a unicorn vomited rainbows on it, and each page was a similar story. The writing was weird gibberish I couldn't understand and yet Jill was fascinated by.
When this was mentioned, Jill looked at us weirdly.
Apparently she could read it perfectly fine. Of course we didn't believe her, but she persisted. It became heated and then to prove her point, she read it.
The words that left her mouth added to my existing headache. It was nonsense gibberish like the writing we couldn't understand, everyone except Jill.
Looking at us weirdly and us returning the same look, there was suddenly scuffling outside that caught our attention.
A quick glance outside the window revealed nothing. Thinking it was a raccoon, which were many in La Amrbi, Jack grabbed a chocolate bar for bait.
As we walked out, there was another scuffle. We followed the sound to a dumpster and with a smirk, Jack looked inside.
"What the fuck."
Indeed, What the fuck.
There was a small man inside the dumpster. Two feet tall and completely naked except for a red cone hat. At Jack's exposition... it turned to us. There was a half rotten apple in its mouth as beady eyes stared back. We looked completely dumbfounded as it silently chewed the apple.
"I... I think it's hungry?" Jill mumbled. Dazed, Jack remembered the candy he held. He pssted at the small man and offered the unwrapped bar.
It stepped back as Jack reached further in, but quickly the smell changed its mind. It sniffed, then nommed the entire bar and Jack's hand right off.
Jack screamed as he fell back, clenching the bleeding stump. We all screamed as we realized what a happened, and in a panic I slammed the dumpster cover closed, latching a lock. Banging could be heard from its impromptu prison as we ran back to the hut. Screaming in the weird language could be heard.
Jack face was pale as I tied cloth around his stump to stop the bleeding. Jill was panicking as she searched for her phone so she could call the police.
Then we heard more ruffling and we went still.
Tiptoeing, I grabbed the closest thing I could use as a weapon, which was a ore paddle the hut used as decoration. I peaked outside.
We were surrounded. Completely and utterly surrounded by those... things. All two feet tall, red cone and naked.
"Truck, now." I whispered back. Jill nodded in terror and Jack mumbled.
Then they attacked. All at once, the crazed things rushed out hut, racing with ferocity I didn't expect. I wacked the first to jump in, sending him flying off and slamming against another like a bowling ball. We all raced back to our parked truck, Jill dragging Jack as I wacked the gnomes away. We were lucky as they seemed more occupied raiding our pantry. Unfortunately, one seemed more interested in us and attacked. I screamed in pain as it bit my leg, digging with it's sharp teeth as I slammed it against a door frame. Thankfully I didn't loose the leg but I had a bad limp.
We made it to the truck and started the engine, just in time when they finished eating everything in the pantry. Jack wasn't looking good at all now as we drove. I knew Jack needed the hospital but me and Jill left our phones back at the hut in a hurry. There was a gasstation nearby that I floored towards, the locals would know and I could warn them. Maybe the could call the police. Really though, at the time I wasn't thinking anything. I was just running for my life and I needed to run somewhere.
Jill screamed and looked at her. She was kicking at something in the back and I stared with dread as a red hat peaked over the front bumper. I swerved the truck as more of the things crawled over, smiling wickedly at me with their sharp teeth through the glass.
That's when I saw the gas station ahead. By this point they were crawling everywhere, completely covering front window. I screamed at Jack and Jill as we jumped out the truck. It raced down the hill and hit a gaspump, the resulting explosion making our ears ring. We had horrible scrapes from our jump, but we were alive. I watched the burning wreck of the gastation with regret and fear, praying... hoping that nobody was inside when it exploded.
Then I heard hooting. I turned towards where we came and up the street, there was an army. I didn't know what to do other than run, so we carried Jack and ran.
There were so many of them, hooting and laughing at us.
We'd been gnomed.


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## Toasty9399 (Jul 4, 2021)

New prompt: 

You're building the world's first airship. Some people think you're a hoax.


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## Jaredthefox92 (Jul 4, 2021)

Your airship has been shot down behind the 38th parallel and you're tasked with the CIA to retrieve it before the NK forces can discover it.


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## Toasty9399 (Jul 4, 2021)

Jaredthefox92 said:


> Your airship has been shot down behind the 38th parallel and you're tasked with the CIA to retrieve it before the NK forces can discover it.


If you're going to do a prompt, do it seriously.


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## Jaredthefox92 (Jul 4, 2021)

Toasty9399 said:


> If you're going to do a prompt, do it seriously.



Possible WW3 is serious.


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## Toasty9399 (Jul 4, 2021)

Jaredthefox92 said:


> Possible WW3 is serious.


talk about that somewhere else, this is a prompt thread


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## Jaredthefox92 (Jul 4, 2021)

Toasty9399 said:


> talk about that somewhere else, this is a prompt thread



Deal with it.


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## Toasty9399 (Jul 4, 2021)

Jaredthefox92 said:


> Deal with it.


How many times have you been banned? 4? 5? How immature are you? Do you not realize that this thread is for serious prompts and not your idiotic responses?


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## Jaredthefox92 (Jul 4, 2021)

Toasty9399 said:


> How many times have you been banned? 4? 5? How immature are you? Do you not realize that this thread is for serious prompts and not your idiotic responses?



Chill out, there is nothing serious on this forum. It's for furries.


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## Toasty9399 (Jul 4, 2021)

Jaredthefox92 said:


> Chill out, there is nothing serious on this forum. It's for furries.


Na you're just being an asshole.


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## Jaredthefox92 (Jul 4, 2021)

Toasty9399 said:


> Na you're just being an asshole.



You're the salty one it seems.


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## Toasty9399 (Jul 4, 2021)

Jaredthefox92 said:


> You're the salty one it seems.


You've probably have a record, that should a trophy. 'Most banned'


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## Jaredthefox92 (Jul 4, 2021)

Toasty9399 said:


> You've probably have a record, that should a trophy. 'Most banned'



Why do you even care? It seems someone is a tad nosy.

As for a prompt, yes a story where the CIA has to recover a downed spyplane over North Korea would be a great story, ever heard of Tom Clancy? He writes a lot of modern day war thrillers and speculative war fiction.


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## Toasty9399 (Jul 4, 2021)

Jaredthefox92 said:


> Why do you even care? It seems someone is a tad nosy.
> 
> As for a prompt, yes a story where the CIA has to recover a downed spyplane over North Korea would be a great story, ever heard of Tom Clancy? He writes a lot of modern day war thrillers and speculative war fiction.


If you look at the other responses above, each one is atleast one paragraph long and actually written. You wrote one sentence and posted a video.


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## Jaredthefox92 (Jul 4, 2021)

Toasty9399 said:


> If you look at the other responses above, each one is atleast one paragraph long and actually written. You wrote a few sentences and posted a video.



Once more, I can write whatever I please. Get off your high horse. It's a free country and it's the 4th of July.


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## Toasty9399 (Jul 4, 2021)

Jaredthefox92 said:


> Once more, I can write whatever I please. Get off your high horse. It's a free country and it's the 4th of July.


Freedom of speech, I'm telling you stop. No one likes it. And you are correct, it's a free country, which means the owners are allowed to kick you out from their website. I'm ending this convo here, we're spamming this thread. Pm me if you want to continue arguing. Just please, if you're going to reply to a prompt, put effort into it.


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## Jaredthefox92 (Jul 4, 2021)

Toasty9399 said:


> Freedom of speech, I'm telling you stop. No one likes it. And you are correct, it's a free country, which means the owners are allowed to kick you out from their website. I'm ending this convo here, we're spamming this thread. Pm me if you want to continue arguing. Just please, if you're going to reply to a prompt, put effort into it.



Hey bud, you can just ignore anyone's post and move on. You cannot be the thought police, plus this isn't serious business.


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## Toasty9399 (Jul 4, 2021)

New prompt:
You wake up one day, and find yourself in an abandoned space station with no memory of what's going on.


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