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Prompt Club - Round 1

This forum is for members to share their original prose, poetry, and even fan fiction. Please be aware that The RPG Collective takes plagiarism very seriously and will uphold the relevant laws.

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Marie
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Re: Prompt Club

Post by Marie » Mon Aug 28, 2017 8:20 am

Thanks, guys! It's a great exercise, but I think I'm going to have to get more involved with actual rp'ing so I stop blowing this thread up.

Prompt: Let the Rain Wash


The streets were void of life and his cigarette was wet, proving that not even a dying man could have one last enjoyment. Unbridled streams of tears fell, but the rain hid their existence. He brought the lighter up once more, cursing whatever god there was left to listen, and watched as the flame danced wildly under the shelter of his palm, and ignited the end of the cigarette for the fourth time. Inhaling the chemicals, he shut out the world with a heavy sigh.

Twenty-four hours. That was how long it took to die from the disease that had spread like wildfire across Detroit and then the entire country. At first, millions died within the first few weeks but some medical prodigy came out with an antidote that stopped it in its tracks. It was pricey, but between government assistant programs and a spike in jobs due to the demand of getting the medicine to every soul within the states, very few deaths had occurred and those that had, seemed to be isolated in the group of skeptics within the government. By the estimates of renown medical experts across the country, he had a mere few minutes before he collapsed. The horrifying thing about the disease was there were no symptoms before someone keeled over from it- so he would never feel it coming or know when his last breath would be.

A passerby yelled something about how smoking kills before continuing on his merry way. He ignored the advice, knowing his time would come well before the thing in his hand could introduce him to his demise.

Glancing at the wrist watch on his arm, he estimated another five minutes left. As he waited, he thought about his wife and his daughter. They had been his world. Right after their deaths, his folks had convinced him to remain optimistic with that idea that God still had a reason for him to be there, but eventually he come to his senses and denied their Baptist sentiment. There was no longer a need for his existence, not with Patricia and Naya gone. Life without them was not worth living.

He checked the time and sighed, wishing death would hasten. Recalling the first time he had heard about the disease, he leaned back with a rigid spine against the wall and stared out into the curtain of rain ahead of him.

It had been a sunny Saturday afternoon. Naya was eating her marshmallow cereal, watching some children's show and Patty was cooking a kind of soy sausage at the stove. He had been dressed head to toe in a tailored tux, cursing weddings and his sister for changing her mind on the color scheme for the fourth time. Patty started fretting over a string, reasoning that they could deny the return on it if anything was out of place and he had just been getting ready to reassure her that it was okay, when the television show was interrupted with an important breaking news coverage.

A blonde reporter wearing a white dress was sitting in front of the camera, looking grim. "Officials say the disease responsible for thousands of deaths in Detroit has been confirmed in several other states, including Florida. The President briefed the media on the steps being taken to understand this new illness that no medication on the market today has been able to stop. Here is what he said:"

The television switched to the President standing behind a podium, with camera lights flashing around him. Despite his best efforts to appear fine and confident, the bags under his eyes and the worry lines on his forehead, were telling.

"We want to assure the people that all steps are being taken to ensure the safety and the well-being of everyone in the country. The best medical experts and scientists are working to understand this disease and why no medication on the market seems to touch it. They will not rest until an antibody has been discovered and administered to the people in the states effected by the disease. We urge people to remain calm during this time of great distress and know that I make sure this comes to an end, quickly. Thank you."

As he exited the stage, reporters shouted a barrage of questions, but the television switched back to the woman in the newsroom downtown. She shuffled the papers on the desk in front of her before glancing back into the camera.

"Officials urge the public to take caution when out and about. Be sure to wash hands and use face masks."

Eventually, he had stopped listening and looked to his family. Naya was obviously frightened, but Patty had gone on making breakfast without a word. To anyone else, she would have seemed to be just fine, but he knew when she worried, she busied herself to work out the stress. He touched her shoulder, vowing to protect them no matter the cost.

A few weeks after that, she had gone to pick Naya up from school and had never returned home. When he got the call, he had wanted to go in and see them one last time, but the government had ordered all the bodies to be cremated as soon as they were brought in, in hopes to prevent more spreading of the disease.

He glanced at the time once more, finding it to be inaccurate. The hand read five minutes after the time he was to die. He flicked it, but the hand did not budge. He lingered there.

After a few more cigarettes, he checked the time again and found that another hour had passed. He frowned, glanced around, and headed south down the street. Something did not feel right. All medical reports, down to the last google document he had read, had reported how consistent the disease was. No one survived after twenty-four hours- not the healthiest soul. At a run-down apartment, he pushed the buzzard to the fifth floor, third room, and waited.

"Yeh?" came a lazy male voice on the speaker.

"Ring me in," he all but shouted back. His heart was racing.

As soon as the beep sounded, he flung open the door and climbed the steps- skipping two steps at a time along the way. He found the apartment open when he got to the room, and quickly entered before locking it behind him. Tom, an old high school classmate, was sprawled out on the couch in, what used to be white but now, brown briefs and a rugged t-shirt. He lit a smoke and rubbed his eyes.

"Do you know what time it is?" he asked, before taking a drag. "It's bloody four in the bloody morning, you bloody jerk. What in the name of the god of sleep, are you doing here?"

Pacing the floor, he ran his hands through his hair. "Tom, I'm alive. I'm not dead. They said you'd die, but I didn't. Maybe, I'm immune."

Tom coughed, exhaling puffs of smoke as he did. He waved them aside as he replied, "Bloody right you're not blood dead. There ain't going to be no more carpet left after your bloody, alive feet get done tearing it up. What the bloody hell are you talking about?"

Normally, Tom's fake accent and his over use of the word 'bloody' would irritated him to the point of leaving, but he ignored all of that and stopped pacing long enough to bum a cigarette off of Tom and plop down in the chair next to the couch. He bounced his leg repeatedly as he thought over everything.

"Dude, you're freaking me out. What's going on?" Tom asked, flicking ashes into a nearby ashtray.

"I stopped take the medicine and I am not dead."

"What? You stopped taking the bloody medicine? Do you realize that you could expose me, right?" His friend shook his head and inched over to the far side of the couch.

He took a breath. "I'm not dead. I think I might be immune."

Tom scoffed. "No one is immune. Millions died, does that not register?"

"I'm telling you, it's been twenty-six hours and I'm not dead yet. Maybe, there's something online about people being immune to it." It would make sense, really. During every outbreak, there were always a lucky few that remained healthy.

Shrugging, Tom opened the laptop on the end table beside him and pulled up the internet. He typed in something on the search bar and numerous articles appeared. Some were hoax, but a particular one caught his eye.

"Here, click on that one," he instructed. Tom obliged and an article someone had written in Connecticut told of how they had stopped taking the medication only to discover they had not died. An hour later, they were still scrolling through online reports of people not dying after stopping the dosages. When they happened to find one about a government conspiracy, he leaned back in his chair and mulled over everything. He, plus however many who had written the articles or replied to them, were somehow immune. They had something in themselves that resisted the disease. Maybe, if there was a way to pinpoint what that was, they could stop it all. He could help stop what killed Patty and Naya.

"This makes sense," Tom said beneath his breath as he read the government conspiracy article. "Have you seen this? Read it."

"It's nothing but hoax, Tom."

"No. Listen, the government killed all those people as a population control method. Then, they came up with some drug that people had to pay for to get and suddenly everyone is cured?"

"What about those in the government that died?" he pointed out, pulling out anther cigarette.

Tom shrugged. "So they refuse to buy into this lie and they are killed along with everyone else."

"Okay." He would play. "After the disease is 'cured,' the government continues the charade? That makes no sense. Eventually, they know they'll be found out."

"Unless there is another epidemic." Tom showed him the computer screen. "It says a leak has let out that the government is planning another epidemic to cover up what they did."

He snorted, picking up the lighter. "Yeah, and then the market crashes and they lose everything."

"Not unless the pharmaceutical companies are offering incentive to keep it quiet. There's got to be something else, though, none of this makes sense." Tom pulled the computer back toward him and began searching online.

He was not sure what was happening. Nothing was adding up. He only knew that he was alive when he was supposed to be dead. Just then, the front door of the apartment was kicked in and a team of gunmen pooled in. He glanced up just in time to look down a barrel before the masked man on the other end pulled the trigger.
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Re: Prompt Club

Post by Sammy » Wed Sep 06, 2017 9:09 pm

It's been a while so...

Prompt 19

Theme - Coming of Age
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Re: Prompt Club

Post by Filth » Thu Sep 07, 2017 4:32 am

No idea how I went from trying to think of a Dead Days character to this but...there you go. Hopefully Sammy doesn't mind me borrowing one of her characters briefly but it was just one of those idea i had to get out of my head quickly before it took over my thoughts completely.


Prompt 14: One Word: Rebirth
In the nine years since Vincent had met Emarin she had never ceased to amaze him. He had seen her call down the fury of storms to shatter the front lines of armies, bend celestials to her will, and even rend a dragon from the air. She held the strength to rival gods within her. It had taken everything he had just to survive her wrath when they first met on the battlefield and he had never once doubted that even then he only lived because she allowed it. Emarin's might as a Mage of the Red was without equal and now he was holding the most powerful woman in all of Urth in his arms as she died.

The arrow, such a pathetic thing, had missed her heart by a fingers width but the battle had been long and they had nothing left to treat the injury. Even the paladin Orsik was without the means to stop her dying and resorted now, uselessly, uttering his apology and praying for his deity to intervene—just this once. A goddess cannot be felled by an arrow he told himself and she was nothing if not.

"You don't get to do this," Vincent told her through clenched teeth. Furious that in her final moments he couldn't see her face clearly through the tears that welled up in his eyes. She smiled at him and tried to speak but the blood that filled her lungs stained her lips in place of her words. He repeated, furious now, demanding and pleading at once, "you don't get to do this. You don't get to die."

She was going to live. They would venture till their bones could take no more of the travels, they would build an inn and live there until their souls could take no mores of the days and nights spent together. She would hound him relentlessly about his research, interrupt him on any whim and he would be grateful for it every time. She would drag him into the dining hall for the bards and lock him out of his study when she had want of his company or purely out of boredom. They would see thwir children grow and prosper into families and...she was gone. Not even a final word.

"She doesn't get to fucking die!" He shouted this time toward the heavens, his eyes red and flames licking out of his nostrils with each having breath.

"Vincent," Orsik snapped out of his prayer and tried to stop him, knowing full well what the mage was planning, but it was too late. Before he could utter a syllable of reason, Vincent had spoken the words and had transported himself to another plane. Orsik knew that there was only one place he would be going. The goddess, Queen of Ravens, held dominion over death and did not take kindly to those who tried to break that cycle, no matter the circumstance. Vincent would either be destroyed or return in failure. Whatever the outcome, Orsik knew he had lost two companions that day.

He knelt beside Emarin and touched her cheek to whisper another apology and then she gasped for air as if emerging from the depths of the sea. Her eyes went wide and she shot upright as though lightning had surged through her. The act had frightened Orsik back to his feet, thinking that in some cruel twist, she had been turned to some manner of undead. He would spare Vincent that pain.

"Where is he?" She asked already standing, her voice stricken with panic, "where is Vincent?"

"But. How? How did he bring you back?" Rynn asked centuries later as she sat beside Erin in the warmth of the Nowhere Near Inn. Orsik filled their glasses with dragonmead and listened intently, loving the tale regardless of how many times he heard it told, regardless of having witnessed it himself.

"He cannot say, it was part of whatever pact he had made," Emarin, now Erin, said while removing a golden ring from her finger. She handed it to Rynn and continued, "but as soon as we returned home, he made me this for me."

The ring was a plain band of gold but enchanted as it was warm with some ambient magic infused within. She rotated it in her fingers and slowly a small flame without heat began to dance around the outside of the band. Leaving behind an inscription writ in elven as it went, Rynn turned the ring to follow the flame, reading as she did.

"No king, nor god, nor death shall keep us apart."

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Re: Prompt Club

Post by Marie » Fri Sep 08, 2017 1:57 am

Prompt: Coming to Age
The leaves that surrounded her in a symphony of reds, oranges, and golds, pulsed with the beat of war drums. Her feet, raw and aching, found purchase in the muddied soil as she continued to run. With every inhale, the feeling of her lungs expanding to the point of imploding threatened to still her legs- defiant, deviant legs. Bracing the wooden limbs around her, she used their fragile existence to propel her further into the clutches of the forest, further and further away from the echoes of hell nipping at her heels. Frigid air had rendered her digits useless, yet they curled around the trees in vain desperation.

Run. Run. Run.

Repetitively, the word resounded in her mind. No longer did she listen to it, she became it. She was 'run,' in all of its painful exertion.

Finally, the forest's reach could go no further and when she stepped out onto knee-high grass, she sprinted faster. When she saw the cave, all else faded away. The need to get there numbed the pain of running on jagged rocks that paved the path to the entrance. Behind her, she could hear the drums but the beat had slowed and quieted, sounding in anticipation for the first arrival.

Her chest swelled. She had won.

Then, she saw her. The girl was standing at the entrance, holding the hands of the man that had promised himself to her. Despite his word, the drums stopped as their leader stepped out of the shadows. With flushed cheeks, she watched in agonizing silence as the girl presented a pair of antlers and the elder nodded. She had been wrapped up in watching the happenings before her, so much so that she had missed the sound of feet coming up behind her.

"She got here first?" Kira asked. "But how?"

Without answering her, she forced herself to stay upright as the elder began the ceremony. She willed the man to look up and to see her so that he would know how hard she had tried, but he never did. After a few moments, Kira's hand brushed her shoulder.

"You tried. The Coming to Age Ritual is something we all have dreaded. You can't blame-..."

Whatever Kira had said next was drowned out by a shout.

All eyes turned to look at her, even his, as she climbed the rocks to where they stood. Green like the sunbathed grass in the clutches of dawn, met the icy blue of her eyes as she glanced to him before facing the elder. The man was dressed in ceremonial attire with feathers and the finest of animal hides. It was a far cry from her two-piece dress that had been composed with scraps from old tents. He scowled at the interruption.

"The Coming to Age Ritual requires a gifting meeting the elder's approval." She tried to keep her voice steady, but her breathing had yet to regulate, making her words sound less confident than she desired.

The man's peppered beard slung to the other side of his rounded midsection as he seized her by the arm. "Go back to your tribe before you further make a fool out of yourself. This girl has presented her hunt's prize and I approve."

She snapped her hand out of his and answered, "She may have overtaken a deer, but I have this."

Blinking, the elder snatched the thing in her hand and gasped. "You lie."

"I do not," she growled. "See the blood on my sleeves? Is it not blue?"

Silence ensued her words. They all stared at the blood and claw. Finally, the elder waved his hand.

"This." He gestured to the thing in his hand. "Changes everything."

She wanted to throw the girl beside her off the rocks they stood on, but instead, she politely waited for her to be dismissed. At last, she would be able to be with him without any hiding or deceiving. They would be free to rule as one and live out the rest of their days with each other, forever happy. Whatever ideal fantasy had been playing inside her head dissolved instantly at the elder's next words.

"The legends are true," he whispered, then glanced up into her eyes. "You are the One. Not only have you defeated the beast, but you bear no scratch to tell it." Raising his gaze to the ones watching from the trees, he raised his hand, still holding her gifting. "Let it be known that on this day, we have discovered the missing goddess. The virgin warrior."

"But the ritual-"

"The gods have gifted you, Huntress," explained the elder, giving back to her what she had given him. She clung to it, resisting the urge to throw it at him. "There will be no such thing as a Coming to Age Ritual for you, lest you lose the blessing."

At that, she looked for her love but only found a fear-filled haze of bitter green. At his side, the girl hung to his arm, shielding her face from her. She reached out to him, confused by his expression, but he took a step back in retreat.

"Artemis, come," instructed the elder, reaching out to her. "We must discuss the war."

Instead, she ran.

For the second time that night, she ran.
Last edited by Marie on Fri Sep 08, 2017 7:29 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Re: Prompt Club

Post by Marie » Fri Sep 08, 2017 3:08 am

Prompt: Oak's Crossing

Contemplating surrender, she arched her back against crumbling, painted-grey brick as another howl erupted from the opposite house. Having just enough stamina to climb up the battered staircase that served as an outside entryway to the attic, she was all too aware of the presence following behind. Inside the attic, she picked the closest thing to a hiding spot there was- a space behind a few tattered crates- and tried to embody a soundless demeanor. A few short moments later, the door creaked open, pooling in pale sunlight obstructed by a shadow. The shadow moved then the door shut. She felt her heart quicken at the sound of footsteps before a pair of hands grabbed her from the side, tossing her out into the open.

A giggle escaped her lips, mixing with the roar of his laughter. "You found me."

He stopped, feigned seriousness as his hands held her arms. "Lass, you have as much sneak in you as bear in Miss Fetcher's. Haven't I taught you anything?"

"Oh yes, I'd say you have," she answered, a sly smile denting her cheeks with dimples on either cheek.

His answering grin was interrupted by a kiss and many other that ensued the first. Once they were breathless, she pulled back and braced his chest with a trembling hand. They need not get carried away here, unless they both wanted to end up in trouble.

"Where are the children?" she inquired, once she had regained her sanity.

His chest expanded beneath her fingertips as he sighed. "I dunno, let's go find them, shall we?"

She nodded reluctantly and followed him out of the attic. Oak's Crossing was a harmonious setting with cottages and a scenic backdrop that was nature's finest handiwork. Despite the beauty, she could not deny the pull of the sea. Oak's Crossing hosted many dreams, but not her's because her's did not consist of peaceful summer nights, braiding flower necklaces and dancing downtown. No, her dreams rode on the foamy, churning waves of adventure and unpredictability, where swords replaced flowered adornments and running away from pirates, dancing. She glanced ahead of her to the man in front of her, studying the breadth of his shoulders as he walked. He was her anchor and just like an anchor, he kept her safely in place. He was her steady and constant when her blood hissed with passion for an untamed sea and a deadly venturing.

Three sugar-coated grins stuck out of the shadows behind the house as they cornered it. Mischief was the one thing that drew her to children, that and innocence. They did not deserve the fate that had been handed to them. The orphans screamed when they saw Oliver and dashed in different directions. He dodged, catching two and she caught one, holding the girl with gentle tickling hands as the girl filled her ears with laughter.

"You caught us!" the girl exclaimed, to which she laughed.

"Did you really think you stood a chance against us?" she asked, putting the girl back down.

The girl assessed the two adults and shook her head. "No. You guys are the perfect duo."

She felt her smile falter as an indescribable sorrow took hold. Without answering the girl, she looked to where the ocean was. A hand stirred her back to reality.

"You okay?" he whispered, removing his hand.

She nodded, feigning a smile and helped him usher the children back to the orphanage.

-

Later that evening, she found herself rocking by the fire, facing the only window in their small cottage. The ocean stretched over the horizon, mirroring the dusk skies overhead. Across from her, her mother hummed an old tune that she recognized from her childhood, but failed to remember the words to. It was slow and solemn, almost like her mood. Picking up on her emotions, her father cleared his throat to catch her attention.

"Anything bothering you, dear?" He looked sincerely worried.

She shrugged, but it was her mother that offered a response. "Why don't you tell her? She has a right to know beforehand."

Her curiosity piqued, she glanced up from her knitting. "What is it, father?"

"Well." He took a long drag of his pipe before exhaling his answer with smoke-brimmed syllables. "Oliver asked for your hand and I gave him my blessing."

"Oh?"

He nodded. "Indeed. Does it please you, daughter?"

Her mother chimed in. "Isn't it exciting? Who would have thought you'd marry a blacksmith? Think of all the children and fortune you will have. Such a blessing!"

Blessing? "Yes, truly."

Her parents frowned and watched her closely, attempting to unravel the blank expression plastered to her face. Instead of joy and tears, there was silence and longing. Finally, her father, a stout man with a nub where an arm used to be, crossed the room and patted her knee.

"Come now, speak. For one soon to be betrothed, you look more like you just got stung by a bee," he said, failing in his attempt at humor.

In spite of herself, she smiled at his jesting. Although she did not feel it, she feared that he would mistake her mood to be brought on by his blessing of the engagement rather than it itself. She should be happy. In fact, marrying a blacksmith was call for celebration alone, much less getting to marry someone she actually loved. Her mother was right, she should be overjoyed, but she was not.

"It is nothing," she replied, putting a hand on top of his. "Just pre-engagement anxiety. I'm sure it will fade once I see him."

Proudly, her father smiled and kissed her on the forehead before returning to her mother. As they went back and forth about her future husband, she caught herself staring out of the window. Tears flooded her eyes as she closed them and willed them dry. Here, in the beautiful and peaceful Oak's Crossing she would stay to live out her days safe and loved by a wonderful man.

Oak's Crossing- the place where all her dreams died.
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Re: Prompt Club

Post by Filth » Fri Sep 08, 2017 9:59 am

Marie wrote:
Fri Sep 08, 2017 3:08 am
What? I just. ...knock that off already.

Seriously, though. Your posts are consistently great. Keep it up.

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Re: Prompt Club

Post by Forge » Fri Sep 08, 2017 10:22 am

Jesus. I really need to get the finger out. You lot are on fire!
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Re: Prompt Club

Post by Marie » Fri Sep 08, 2017 10:44 am

Filth wrote:
Fri Sep 08, 2017 9:59 am
Marie wrote:
Fri Sep 08, 2017 3:08 am
What? I just. ...knock that off already.

Seriously, though. Your posts are consistently great. Keep it up.
Thanks! Work's been slow, allowing me some extra time for this.
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She wears strength and darkness
equally well,
the girl has always been half goddess, half hell.
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Re: Prompt Club

Post by Marie » Fri Sep 08, 2017 10:44 am

Filth wrote:
Fri Sep 08, 2017 9:59 am

What? I just. ...knock that off already.

Seriously, though. Your posts are consistently great. Keep it up.
Thanks! Work's been slow, allowing me some extra time for this.
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equally well,
the girl has always been half goddess, half hell.
-Nikita Gill

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Re: Prompt Club

Post by Sammy » Tue Sep 12, 2017 8:17 pm

OP updated.

With no RPs to post in, I might have to take a swing at one of these myself.
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Re: Prompt Club

Post by Sammy » Tue Sep 12, 2017 11:16 pm

Prompt 13: First Kiss

A prompt and the next entry for my Original Work. Two birds, one stone!
It wasn't exactly a whirlwind romance. There was no 'struck by lightning' moment where I looked into his eyes and realised I was completely and irreversibly in love. In truth, I was so adamant to dislike the upstart jock who'd dared to disagree with me in front of people that to begin with I didn't even get butterflies. Sorry, not exactly on par with the love stories of Disney or those chick-lit books people mostly read for the dirty bits, is it? It's not that he wasn't attractive. Fuck, was he hot with his stupid hair that just begged to be pushed gently out of his eyes. I wasn't blind. I was just... lets call it overly guarded and this lacrosse playing, secret intellectual with his dark brown eyes and his habit of choosing whichever side of an argument directly opposed mine... well, he made me decidedly uncomfortable. I felt like the protagonist of one of those shit high school movies where the dreamy captain of the football team starts making moves on someone way outside his usual social boundaries and just as she starts to let her guard down a little bit, we find out it's all part of some big, humiliating joke. There was no punchline, though and Adam was nothing if not persistent.

To begin with it was just coffee and debates that often got a little heated. Some years later he admitted that he usually agreed with me, if not right away then about ten minutes into listening to me hotly explaining my point, but that he loved seeing me get so heated and passionate about things. Looking back, I'm not sure what about non-fiction got me so fired up to begin with so there may be a chance that even in those early days when I saw him as more of a nemesis than a friend, he had an effect on me. Incidentally, during the rest of my time at college there was never another class I tried so hard or became as invested in as 'The Fiction of Non-Fiction' with that asshat Professor Hurley. We both aced that class despite driving everyone a little insane with our constant, argumentative derailments. I reckon our classmates knew we had a thing for each other a long time before I did or at least before I was willing to admit it.

I was willing to admit, however, that he made me a better student. Infuriating as the beautiful boy was with his stupid, challenging opinions and the annoying smirk he'd get on the occasions where he'd manage to talk me into a corner, his ability to counter anything and everything I ever said translated into some great papers. When he suggested we keep meeting to bounce ideas off one another after our shared class had wrapped up, I gave him as nonchalant a shrug as I could manage given that I'd spent the last few weeks pretending that the thought of not seeing him regularly didn't bother me. I know, his persistence with me really knew no bounds. Even now I'm not sure whether it was his determination to win me over or if he just saw straight through my bullshit from day one. I like to think that maybe it was the latter. That even then he could see through my walls even if he hadn't quite managed to break them down yet.

Coffee slowly evolved into pulling shared all-nighters in the library and occasionally waiting outside buildings in the hope of catching the other for a quick chat between classes. When it reached the point that, on the odd occasion we wound up at the same party (Hannah was still fervently pursuing anything that could wield a crosse even though I have long since given up my track ambitions), we would spend almost the entire time chatting away together, even I had to admit that we were friends. Good friends. It was also at one such party (that I may or may not have talked my friends into attending solely because I suspected Adam might be there) that I saw him getting a little bit cozy with some blonde in a mini skirt and realised, to my despair, that I saw him as much more than a friend. Of course, being the mature young woman I was, I resisted ripping out the girl's fringe and handing it to her and instead fled the party and vowed to avoid him at all costs. He was 'just another jock', I'd always known he was ''just like the rest of them' and I had been absolutely right to 'keep my distance'. At last all of my reservations about him had been validated. I had been right all along and it felt absolutely fucking shit.

Whether I'd intended to or not, I'd let him in and the thought of having to see him and pretend everything was A okay was more than I could deal with. Continuing with the theme of maturity, I got to my classes early to avoid the threat of him waiting for me outside and either left them late or found ingenious back exits to buildings that I hadn't previously known existed. I hid away in the deepest, darkest depths of the library as far from our usual spots as I could possibly manage. Perhaps most dramatically of all, I stopped drinking coffee, knowing that anywhere that served my primary vice would be the first place he'd think to look for me. I still get a headache just thinking about those caffeine withdrawal headaches. I was nothing if not dedicated but as I was becoming a qualified escape artist, Adam was becoming quite the detective. After several near misses, he finally found me sipping vending machine coffee (I know, I'm ashamed even now) behind the bins where the professors sometimes went to smoke. The memory of most conversations fade overtime, leaving you with little more than a vague impression of what was said but this one, I'm almost certain, I remember word for word beginning with me throwing really shit coffee over myself and ending with... well I'll save that for when we get there.

"Oh I - ehrr - hey Adam."

"Where the hell have you be- Is that vending machine coffee?" At this point he looked simultaneously incredulous and concerned for my mental well being. The fact I was now wearing half of the aforementioned vending machine coffee and looked like I'd been caught committing a serious crime probably didn't do much to help.

"Yes. I was just... holding it for someone." In hindsight, this probably sounded akin to 'my dog ate my homework' but I had been caught cowering behind some bins, drinking the very worst kind of hot beverage and by the very person I'd been trying to hide from. I think I can maybe be forgiven for panicking. Regardless, I regretted it the moment it came out of my mouth.

"Holding it for someone?" He made quite a show of turning in a painfully slow circle looking for the mystery vending machine coffee drinker before stopping, folding his arms and giving me a look that made me desperate for the floor to open up beneath me. "Well, you're wearing half of it. Shall we go and get them a decent replacement from the coffee shop?"

"Actually I've got to get t-"

"You're not going anywhere until you tell me why you've been avoiding me. No, don't look at me like that. Either you've had some kind of mental breakdown," his eyes flicked once again down to the half empty polystyrene cup in my hand "Or I've done something to piss you off. So we're either going to have this out or get you committed to an institution but either way, you're not going anywhere until you talk to me."

"I'm fine and I haven't been avoiding you, I've just been busy with studying and classes and stuff."

"You've been so busy with studying that you've not been going to the library? And so busy with classes that I've not seen you going into or coming out of any of them?" He brushed his hair out of his eyes in a way that made my heart ache a little and then let out a completely defeated sigh that I thought might break it. "So busy that you, the biggest coffee snob I have ever encountered - You know what, it doesn't matter. Don't tell me. I give up. How many months of seeing each other practically every day? And you just fall off the face of the planet without a word. At the very least, I thought we were friends. So, you win, I won't be bothering you any more. Enjoy your shit coffee."

"Oh don't you dare." Okay, so I feel the need to tell you in advance that I'm not exactly proud of the next bit. Unfortunately, I reacted to the threat of him walking out of my life as I do to most things, by getting overly defensive. "Can you even see me from up there on your moral high ground?" I know, I know, I'm cringing right along with you. "You're right. Months of you refusing to leave me alone, of coffees and late nights in the library and," I think I waved my arms around like a bit of a crazy person "All the rest of it. Then I come to that asshole Derek's party just to see you and find you all over some blonde bi-" Well, at least I was finally being honest even if the delivery left quite a lot to be desired. I didn't get to finish my rant, though, because Adam burst out laughing.

"THAT'S what this has all been about?" All of his anger and frustration had been replaced by laughter. Even when his lips were moving and words were coming out, his shoulders were jiggling up and down in such a way that made me very much want to punch him straight in his amused face. I threw the remainder of my shit coffee at it instead and stormed off in what I hope was a suitably dramatic fashion. I'm not exactly proud of that either but admitting to a feeling, even jealously, was a big deal to me back then (still would be now, I suppose) and laughter didn't sit particularly well with me as a reaction.

"Wait! No, I'm sorry, wait," Adam, to his credit, was surprisingly unperturbed by the swilling and came after to me, grabbed me by the elbow and somehow didn't recoil from the look I gave him. "I was only laughing because - look, if you'd stayed a minute longer you'd have seen me pry off the blonde and attach her to one of the other boys. I'm not interested in her. If I'm being honest, I haven't been interested in anyone since I met you." The look he gave me at that point still makes me laugh. "I mean, I've not been interested in anyone other than you. You're not like anyone else I've ever met. I mean," he wiped some coffee out of his eyes. "You're hot-headed and, if I'm honest, a bit scary at times but you're funny and smart and-"

He didn't get to finish his list of my admirable and not-so admirable qualities because I kissed him. He tasted like shit vending machine coffee and it was the best shit vending machine coffee I'd ever tasted.
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Re: Prompt Club

Post by Nicodemus » Wed Sep 13, 2017 11:56 am

But...I had fourth place all to myself!

Nice job, Sammy. I just wanna say that I'm still with this thread, I've just been trying something new--working on all the prompts a little at a time. It's really...no, it's not working at all. Back to banging them out one at a time, I guess.
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Re: Prompt Club

Post by Sammy » Fri Sep 15, 2017 1:11 am

Sorry, Nick!

Went for something casual, silly and light-hearted.

Prompt 6: Welcome to Hell
"You have nothing to worry about. The job is pretty straight forward, really," Sammy offered what she hoped was one of her more believable reassuring smiles. "A bit of filing, odd brainstorming session and, very occasionally you might get chance to beat the crap out of someone who steps out of line and, well, I've read your file and I don't think you'll have any issues even with our more... exotic members. Now, I just have some paperwork for you to sign before it's all official." The elemental opened a drawer that the Collective's newest staff member would have sworn hadn't been there a few seconds earlier. With a slight grunt of effort, Sammy pulled out an enormous tower of papers. "Just standard stuff, really. Nothing you need a lawyer to look at or anything. It's not like we're asking you to sign away all of your rights, just the inconvenient ones. That's right, you just sign there. And there. And there. And the- Well, you get the idea." She whisked away the signed papers the moment the pen left each sheet, stashing them back in the drawer from which they'd emerged.

"Oh that one? Ah yes, the text is pretty small, isn't it? It just says that The Collective will not be liable for any and all" Sammy paused and took a long, deep breath "decapitations, loss of limb, loss of life, mental or physical trauma, long or short term memory loss, growing or shrinking, broken hearts, alcoholic poisoning, animal attack, bite marks, skin colour or discolouration, demonic possession, ascension to or descension from god-hood, ill effects of resurrection, sun burn, prolonged motion sickness, radiation or, infact, any other type of poisoning, involuntary temporary or permanent shape shifting, urine discolouration, acquisition of curses or stalkers or hauntings, destruction or theft of personal property including detachable appendages, organ failure, ingrown toe nails, hair loss, accelerated aging, revenge crusades and anything else that may cause someone to take action against us in court," She stopped, held up a finger in the multiversal gesture of 'give me a second' before adding "While holding a position of employment with The Collective. For any questions, please contact your representative in the HR department." Sammy reached into yet another mysterious appearing drawer, pulled out a pad of post-it notes, scrawled 'HR Department' on one of them and then stuck it proudly to her chest, accompanied by another winning smile.

Content that her newest recruit seemed to have accepted the futility of further questions, Sammy lent back in her chair and relaxed (span aimlessly round in the spinny chair that the Ark had conjured for her one boring afternoon) while they completed the rest of their paperwork with, thankfully, supernatural hand speed and only minimal noises of concern and disbelief.

"Well then, all done just in time for this week's staff meeting. No need to look so concerned, they're very informal. We just like to get together once a week to discuss, you know, important staff matters," Sammy moved towards the door and wriggled her fingers vaguely in the air as though looking for inspiration. "Who we ought to name as Member of the Month, seasonal events, what type of biscuits we want for the staff room, to immediately veto whatever most recent horrific plan Filth has come up with, usually before he's even finished standing up to give his presentations." They moved along the corridor of the Ark, heading slowly but surely toward the Staff Room. "All very casual and relaxed and normal," the confidence in Sammy's voice was absolutely sincere. This time she had remembered to send out an email bulletin demanding that everyone be on their very best behavior so as not to scare off another potential staff member before they'd even crossed the threshold. She hesitated for just a moment at the door before pushing it open and gesturing their newest team member inside.

"Afternoon everyone, I'd like to introduce you to-" The member's name was lost to the aether as Sammy's jaw fell slack at the absolute chaos in front of her.

Filth was, for some reason Sammy was struggling to immediately discern, hanging from a chandelier that hadn't been present a few hours ago while Forge and Lumeus took turns hitting him with a purple, glowing baseball bat. There seemed to be some sort of contest at play because with every strike, Cross was shouting out a score update and there were occasional high fives, boos and hisses from various other staff members. Far above such hijinks, Śaraṯkṣati was working on a very complicated diagram up on the whiteboard which, Sammy assumed, was to lend credit to a discussion that the others had long since ceased listening to. Darkblade was alternating between offering Śaraṯkṣati feedback on her masterpiece, doodling the 'Filth spectacle' and keeping half an eye on Chibi who was curled up in a now-empty biscuit tin and looking somewhat uncomfortable. The elemental cast a longing glance towards Gideon's empty chair before she looked back at the newbie.

"Well, you signed the paperwork. On behalf of the entire Collective staff team, allow me to formerly welcome you to hell."
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Re: Prompt Club

Post by Forge » Sat Sep 16, 2017 9:16 am

After a loooong gap, my entry for Prompt 8 - Thunder

From: Hunter, Troy <troy.hunter@Doomsday-PR.com>
To: Odinsson, Thor <t.odinsson@aesir.net>
Sent: Friday, 15 September 2017, 12:48
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Ragnarok

What up, T-Dog!

Listen, I know I promised that we could sit down, have a little pow-wow and go over your concerns about this whole Ragnarok thing, but I've just been swamped - end of the world, death of the gods, you know how it is. So I took your feedback to the boys upstairs to get their input. How awesome am I?

Anyway, good news and bad news, Thunder Bro. Let me break it down for you;
  • First, subscriber numbers for the live event have way exceeded expectations, so we're gonna offer a premium service - show some of your workout routine, do a little Q&A session. I'll send over the questions and answers, give you a chance to study up. Gotta stay on message, buddy! Also, remind me to schedule you a workout routine.
  • Also, they loved your goat chariot. Very pagan god, very 'old world', and America appreciates a traditionalist. Slight, tiny problem though - they were a little concerned that it didn't test well with our younger focus groups, and you know how it is with keeping the new generation on-side (app sales, bro, app sales.) Here's the exciting news, though - we've been in touch with Dodge and they've agreed to outfit you with a new Challenger, subject to a couple of sponsorship arrangements to recoup some of the cost. It's big, it's patriotic, and people are gonna love it. I know you'll come around on this one, buddy!
  • Speaking of sponsorship, how do you feel about Coca Cola? Because they are very interested in you, my friend. How do you look in red? I'll have my assistant schedule a fitting.
Couple of less positive notes for going forward - remember, every critique is a chance to grow, am I right? Anyways;
  • Some of the focus groups found Mjölnir a little hard to say - I mean, is that an O or an E or an EUH, right buddy? Anyways, for the event it'd be great if we could use something a little more viewer friendly. Thunder Smasher, or Freedom Hammer. You know, something that'll look good with the action figures. Personally, I'm a fan of Freedom Hammer. We'll talk it over.
  • Likewise, Jörmungandr is a goddamn nightmare, so we're just gonna be calling him Killer Snake. Close enough, right? All to make you look good, big guy.
Listen, I know you're gonna be disappointed with some of these, but unfortunately we need to be a little flexible here. Don't wanna breach contract, right? Haha! Seriously though, people don't want the old style apocalypses any more; they want action, they want heroes they can get behind, they want names they can pronounce. And hey - you didn't hear it from me, but I hear Michael Bay's taken an interest in this if it all plays out right. Two words, amigo: Movie. Deal. Think about it.

Anyhow, let's lock this down for now, give you a chance to, you know, percolate on things. I'm sure you'll be 100% on board once you've had a chance to get used to the new ideas. And hey, remember my motto; think awesome, be awesome.

Peace out, Big Guy.

Troy

I just like fantasy/mythology based stuff set against real world backdrops.
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Re: Prompt Club

Post by Sammy » Tue Sep 19, 2017 1:26 am

Forge has been responsible for a number of prompt related contests that haven't been half as popular as they ought to have been so I'm going to start feeding prompts from those into here so that they get some much deserved love.

Prompt 20

Opening Line: The stars have gone away.


In case it isn't immediately clear. Opening line prompts require you to open the prompt with those words.
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Re: Prompt Club

Post by Sammy » Tue Sep 19, 2017 8:36 pm

Prompt 20
Opening Line: The stars have gone away.

The stars have gone away. When I said it out loud everyone looked at me like I was crazy. With everything we've lost, everything I've lost, everything falling down around our heads... they've all stopped looking up. When life was ticking along nicely for us it was quite romantic to look up into the endless night and picture our little quarter of the 'Verse forming part of a much bigger picture but now? Our daily struggle just to make it as far as tomorrow is the whole picture. The only picture. Tunnel vision. One foot in front of the other. No hope of living but just trying to survive. There is no up. There is front, back, left, right, an endless cycle in quick succession. As instinctive as checking your mirrors. Like the whole of humanity caught this nervous tick. Front. Back. Left. Right.

I look up, though. I do a lot of things I'm not supposed to. I wander ahead of the group, I lag behind, I talk about a video I once saw of someone drowning a Big Mac in sulfuric acid and I look into the perpetual night and I wonder where the stars have gone. Sometimes I imagine that they've wrapped the whole planet in a blanket of black silk, plunging us into darkness to make us all the easier to hunt. Sometimes I think that maybe they feed on light because as thorough as they were when they shredded my mother like a letter stamped confidential... they didn't eat her. Their claws sliced through her skin more effectively than any posh steak knife I've ever seen. She screamed for far longer than I imagined it possible for her to still be alive as they flayed her, slice by slice. But they didn't eat her. When there was no longer a single recognisable body part, they simply left.

Of course, not many people have seen them kill up close. Not of the living, anyway so that's another thing I'm not allowed to do. I'm not allowed to talk about it. The Major doesn't want them to know that these things aren't here cause they're hungry. As though thinking these things want to eat you is somehow less terrifying than the truth. They don't need us, we don't sustain them, they just want to tear us all apart. Pull away at our layers, one by one, until there's nothing left of us at all. They tell us we're getting better at fighting back but I've never seen anyone fight one, none of us have. Fewer people get picked off from the edges of the group, sure. They tell us they're learning to be scared of their guns but no one’s ever seen a dead one or even a hurt one. If you ask me, their reasons for backing off are their own but I’m not allowed to talk about that, either.

In fact, The Major tells me I’m not allowed to talk about them at all anymore which is kind of annoying. Not like we can discuss the last episode of Walking Dead or the lingering hope that one day they’ll bring back Firefly. They are the only interesting thing left to talk about, y’know? It's a shame too, really, I could give them some real insight.

Maybe I should get them to shred her next.
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Re: Prompt Club

Post by Forge » Tue Sep 19, 2017 8:48 pm

That was awesome.

Jesus, but I'm going to have to work faster if I want to keep up top.
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Re: Prompt Club

Post by Sammy » Tue Sep 19, 2017 8:54 pm

So, I have a question for all of you.

I've been thinking that the longer this goes on, maybe the more likely this starts to look like an impossible task for newbies. What do people think of splitting the prompts up into 'Sets' of 20 (so we've just completed the first set). Each set would have its own leader board and then an overall leader board as well.

Or am I over-complicating things?
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Re: Prompt Club

Post by Forge » Tue Sep 19, 2017 9:03 pm

I quite like that. Means people aren't coming into it later and feeling daunted by others being 20+ prompts ahead.

Obviously this doesn't apply to people like Marie and nick, who are clearly excessively competitive and really need to give me a fighting chance.
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Re: Prompt Club

Post by Nicodemus » Tue Sep 19, 2017 9:17 pm

I'm not excessively competitive, but if there was a contest for being competitive, I'd win 1st place.

Seriously, Sammy, good idea. Even with a few prompts under my belt, it seems like a big list when you get a bit of writer's block. So, yeah, let's keep it welcoming to new eyes.
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