Writing Prompts - Blog Posts
December
fairy lights and holiday displays
neatly wrapped presents with elegant bows
the smell of pine trees
hot chocolate
mulled wine in paper cups
sucking on candy cane til it gets sharp
dark chocolate truffles
sliding on polished floors
long dresses and tailored suits
iron candelabra
the church choir
stained glass windows
listening in on family affairs
peppermint chocolate
garland wrapped around the banister
sitting in the dark with just the glow of the Christmas tree
the moon in the sky like a claw
cushions and throw blankets
your favorite sweater
dog-eared pages of a classic book
spring journal prompts
things to get rid of, things to gain
something you want to learn
go out and press some spring flowers, write how each makes you feel
write what each colour of the rainbow means to you
what does birdsong make you think of?
do some mental spring cleaning; dump old thought patterns that no longer serve you
set a "spring goal" for yourself
watch the sun rise, write about it
design your ideal ecosystem
what are you looking forward to?
go outside. what do you hear? how does that make you feel?
Did I daydream this, or was there a website for writers with like. A ridiculous quantity of descriptive aid. Like I remember clicking on " inside a cinema " or something like that. Then, BAM. Here's a list of smell and sounds. I can't remember it for the life of me, but if someone else can, help a bitch out <3
Random Turtle Thunks
Just imagine
Its older Leo and he somehow made friends/ slowly catching feelings for a young single mom fallen on hard times.
He's over at her place after some big scare and they're both up early. She because she's gotta make breakfast for the kiddos and he because he wants to help, make sure she's ok and what not.
Just imagine
Them goofing off in the kitchen together singing Dolly Parton’s 9 to 5 into wooden pancake-covered spoon and spatula microphones while cooking breakfast in the morning light spilling in from the window.
Just imagine
Just came up with my new motto for life:
*puts on my crocs and pulls my hair up into a messy ponytail, eyes narrowed determinedly while holding onto my favorite stuffed animal for emotional support*
Alright buttnuggets, I’m doing this ugly and scared and there’s nothing you can do to stop me
Writing Prompt Wednesday 2
Every single thing the main character says is a pun.
I have an idea everyone praise me
I'm gonna start something called Writing Prompt Wednesday, yay me, I feel accomplished af.
Fanfic Needs
Why is every Fanfiction nowadays the same thing:
- There’s usually never a male main character.
- They almost always have to have some horrible tragic backstory.
- They almost always have a love interest.
- They usually stick with two personalities; Badass or Innocent and Nice.
- They’re almost always children.
What I’d love in a Fanfiction is pretty simple, but impossible to find:
- A main character who was a completely normal person.
- Someone without godlike abilities, but with enough common sense to know that they can’t take on someone 5x their strength and get kidnapped, sent to the hospital, etc.
- An independent girl/boy, who doesn’t need a love interest to be happy.
- An adult with an actual job.
- There are at least one or two chapters before the character meets the heroes.
I know, that’s a bit much to ask for, but I’ve come across so many Fanfics that are basically copies of each other. I’ve finally come across a Hunter X Hunter fanfic that I’m in love with. A main character named Jerry (Who later goes by the alias Lockhardt) who yes, does have an overdramatic backstory. But that doesn’t change the fact that the whole story itself is something I’d never dream imaginable!
The main character is an 12 year old boy, who escapes from a mental institute on his birthday after it was destroyed. He immediately heads to go murder his parents, due to them sending him there for five years, due to him having Schizophrenia.
It’s completely different. Yes, it contradicts a few things stated earlier, but that’s okay. What I’m trying to get at is, my main point is;
BE ORIGINAL FOR GODS SAKE!!!
[Update]
Your OC can be as over powered as you want, as long as it’s original, and never seen before.
If you read other fanfics, you’ll have a basic idea of what not to do, and try to stray away from what anyone else would do. Write something you think no one else would do. The crazier the better.
I’m currently writing a Hunter X Hunter fanfic that does contradict a few previous statements, but eh, I’ve never seen anything like it;
- She’s 25.
- She’s a Jester for a Prince, and is taking the three step trial to becoming an executioner.
- She’s Hisoka’s sister, but attempted to burn their bridges unsuccessfully.
- Theres a murderer loose in the castle and the King calls in a group of hunters to help, due to them being more skilled than half of his army.
- After going out for an awkward Lunch with Killua and Gon, she’s confronted by Illumi, who threatens her thinking Killua was trying to make another friend, which wasn’t the case because they were only talking about the job.
That’s all I have so far, but it’s so different, and something you wouldn’t normally see. She’s not even a Hunter!
Always keep that in mind! Your character doesn’t ever have to be a pirate, ninja, or Hunter, they can always have a different occupation.
Exactly what I was thinking!
You are kidnapped by the villain regularly, but you’re starting to look forward to it. You know they won’t hurt you, and are simply being dramatic. It also doesn’t help that you are the only person they ever kidnap. This time, the hero doesn’t bother trying to save you.
Writing Prompt #5
‘Park’
There’s this park across the street where I live.
Looks like your average park; with it’s benches and gravel pathways and trees and bushes. A stone fountain stands in it’s centre, with water spewing out of the gargoyles’ mouth.
A bit gothic, I realise now. But that was it.
It sounded like your average park too. Bird songs in the morning, leaves rustling when it’s windy, kids yelling after school. I could always hear the crunch crunch of the gravel across the usually quiet street, and it comforted me.
Most of the time.
There were other times, of course, when I woke up in cold sweat. Everything quiet and still, except for the crunch crunch of the gravel.
These times, I pulled my covers up to my chin and prayed. Hoped against hope - against the fear that seized me in its claws and refused to let go - that I’d live to see the light of morning day.
You ask me, you ask; ‘what’re you so afraid of? Maybe it’s just someone who went for a late night walk.’ Of course, after daybreak I’ve thought of that. I tried to dismiss my terror as stupid, childish, or even at that slightly overcooked chili I had the night before.
But try as I might, I still could not bring myself to look out the window the nights it happened. I still wrapped myself up in my covers, and shook.
Eventually, they started getting more frequent. I’d spend nights in a row with barely enough sleep and covered in sweat - shaking like I just stepped out in winter with nothing but shorts.
My friends would ask to hang out, and we’d go to the park because it was close. I didn’t use to mind walking through the trees, but the sleepless nights were starting to get to me. I could’ve sworn I saw the gargoyle’s eyes move along as I walked past - could’ve sworn that the rustling of leaves sounded like whispers.
Eventually, it got bad. Really, really bad. I’ve tried filing a police report, but they waved me off and said they had bigger things on their plate than ‘mysterious gravel crunching’.
I was frustrated, but mainly because they were right. I still couldn’t bring myself to even sit up on my bed - much less look out that damned window.
Then it happened.
It was daytime, with the sun shining in and the children playing around on the park across from me. I looked out my window then, a half-smile of my face as I remembered my own childhood days.
Then I froze.
The gargoyle. I could swear that the gargoyle had moved. For the years I’ve spent living across from it, I knew how it looked like the back of my hand now. I knew how the whole damn fountain looked, and could probably draw it from memory alone.
The gargoyle had never been facing me head on like it did now.
That was the last straw for me. I packed my bags and went to live with one of my close friends. I sold the house, though barely just resisted from dropping the price down too steeply - after all, nothing had happened.
Yet.
One day, on my way to work, I passed by a newspaper stand with an eerily familiar picture on its front page. With shaking hands, I unfolded it, and read the article.
A brutal murder, it said, in the house just a street away from a park. The picture was grotesque enough - and I could tell that they’d avoided giving the worst. The details were identifiable enough.
An all too familiar bedroom, half a body on the floor, and the other half presumably missing. Blood that coated every inch of the wall like a fresh coat of paint, and deep deep gouge marks on the window sill.
The article had said that investigating parties assumed that the murder escaped out the window, and had cut through the park to run free. They warned all those who lived in close area to the park to be wary of strangers - never open the door to anyone you don’t know.
They still haven’t found the murderer when I checked months later.
I’d visited the family of those I sold the house to. They welcomed me - albeit a bit shakily - and served me tea.
‘They said they’ve been having sleepless nights,’ one of the mothers had said to me. ‘They-they said-oh god if only we’d listened.’
Her wife wrapped her arms around her shoulders and held her close as I half-murmured comforts from across the coffee table. Her gaze met my own as she silently comforted - the grief in them so deep I nearly fell through.
Eventually, the couple moved out, I heard. Travelled far away, where they cut off from their own family and friends. The investigators still worked to find the assailant, but the case was growing cold and I doubted that they’d actually find who did it.
And me? I bought a new apartment from long nights and extra shifts. One far away from parks and gargoyles and gravel. The close friend that I’d stayed with had helped me move in.
‘Looks good,’ they praised. ‘Hopefully you can actually get some sleep in here this time.’
We’d laughed about it. The whole incident had been months ago - nothing more than a bad memory that we occasionally poke at just for the laughs.
That first night, I woke up to the crunch crunch of gravel.
Writing Prompt #4
‘Bartender.’
To be frank, the only reason I was here was because the pay was good.
Almost too good, for such an easy job in my opinion. All I had to do was serve drinks - that were in labelled bottles, mind you - and to know when a person was red-faced enough to cut them off.
I didn’t even have to deal with the drunkards that often, they rarely came over to this particular establishment.
I guess I was just lucky enough to be at the right place at the right time. A poster on a lamp post, a chilly Wednesday morning, and a wallet that was only getting emptier. Then it was just a hop, skip and a twirl away to the club.
Well, they say club. It looks more like a cafe to me. Admittedly, most cafes don’t sell alcohol, but most clubs were loud and rowdy and wholly annoying.
Whoever designed this club had comfort in their mind; with large and lush armchairs, warm and rustic colours, and low-hanging dim lanterns. The atmosphere was almost always cozy - except of course for the times someone got too rowdy with the bottles.
There I was, minding my own business. Cleaning the glasses with a rag and nodding my head along to the tunes that floated out of the speakers.
Then she walked in.
I won’t be cliche. I won’t say that heads turned when she walked through the door. I won’t say that the speakers stuttered to a stop thanks to some magically timed malfunction. I won’t say her presence was magnetic, and that she’d be forever imprinted in the minds of the other people in the cafe.
Mostly because all that didn’t happen. Also because I’m not one for cliches.
But then she walked over to my counter.
Ordered a drink.
Took out her phone.
I mean, all normal things, right? I thought so too. I paid her no mind.
I served her drink, talked about how it looked like it was going to rain, then went back to work.
Eventually, she finished her drink, left her pay - along with a tip that I appreciated - on the counter, and walked out.
And that was it.
She didn’t even leave her number on the counter, so I filed that memory as insignificant and continued on with my life.
That was it.
It was, honest.
Though, while we’re on the subject of honesty-
I lied, she did leave her number on the counter.
Though, I’d dealt with lots of these before. I wasn’t exactly unattractive, if you’d catch my drift.
Most of the time, I’d ignore them. Throw them in the recycling, never look back.
This time though, I thought, what’s the worst that could happen?
Oh boy.
Writing Prompt #3
‘You have 10 days to live.’
Mortality is a dark subject to dwell on.
We don’t often think about what happens when we die, after it, about the death itself. Often times, we go through our daily lives without even being reminded that we are such fragile things.
I lived that kind of life; a life where I went by the days with a kind of reckless, careless freedom.
Perhaps you could call me ignorant, or oblivious. All living creatures die, but with the way I had lived you would’ve guessed I was chasing death.
I wasn’t. I had no intention of dying. I wanted to live. To live without regret, to look back and to say ‘I’m happy with the way I lived’.
That sentence ran through my head when I learned I had 10 days to live. A measly 10 days - barely more than a week - was all that my goodwill had earned.
Yet amidst the raging thoughts one would usually experience when faced with their own mortality, there was one clear sentence. Found beneath the piles of fear, of anger, of ‘why me?’, there it was, clear as day.
‘I’m happy with the way I lived.’
And I was.
Truly, genuinely happy.
After I realised it, it was easier for me to accept my fate. At least, as easy as it can be.
Those around me took longer; longer nights spent holding them while they cried, longer hours spent pounding away at locked doors because I cannot stand not seeing them again before I left.
I didn’t even tell most people. Those who had been with me for years and years, defended me from all sorts of monsters, and yet I kept this secret from them.
I wished I had enough time to tell them, to be able to tell them and be there to reassure them. But I barely had time to comfort the ones closest to me, and to convince them to accompany me on my plan.
My last journey.
I only had a few days left, after spending them on clearing all my extra affairs. It was then that I realised I had been lucky, in a sick and twisted way.
At the very least, I knew enough to plan for it.
After all affairs had been settled, we packed our bags into our car and went on a road trip. We called out buildings, sighs, horses, cows, fields, mountains, lakes, parks, people. We stopped and ate at the most questionable diner I had ever stepped into - and that was truly saying something, as I’d walked into multiple questionable diners.
We traveled and slept and talked. After a while on the road, I’d noticed that the others had began to relax slightly, to enjoy this final journey I’d planned, to live in the moment with someone without many moments left.
I was glad they did. It made the journey easier for me.
After all that traveling, we’d finally arrive at our destination.
A long bridge, suspended high above a river valley. From the centre, a single piece of cord.
It had been unanimous that I were to go first. The man in charge fixed a harness around my torso, gave the cord a few more experimental tugs, then nodded an affirmative in my direction.
I took in a deep breath, then I jumped.
After it, my friends had applauded me on my bravery. They called me reckless, as always. I smiled cheekily in return, as I’ve always done.
And then we went home.
Bungee jumping had been the last thing on my bucket list. My last hurrah to the life I’d lived before I learned the news.
I was happy, but oh I wished I’d lived longer. Of course I would. I had plans that went on for years, dreams that plummeted like a deflated balloon.
But I dealt with the hand I was given, and while it was truly a shit hand, I was satisfied enough.
9 and 3/4 days after the news, I climbed to the roof of my apartment. The stars still peeked out beneath the ever-brightening sunrise sky, and I had wanted to see them one more time.
One last time.
Despite how dark the subject of mortality can be, Death always came on time.
And I was ready for it.
Writing Prompt #2
‘Spring’
Lots of people, each with their own thoughts and likes, leads to lots of opinions.
Lots of opinions, means that sometimes its hard to find one that you can really relate to.
It’s hard to find someone that you can truly relate to.
Where I live - where I was born and raised and planned to raise my own children here - has four seasons.
The usual; Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter.
To me though, there’s something special about spring.
Maybe it’s just the relief it gives after harsh winter.
Maybe it’s the smell of the flowers blooming, and the smell of the dirt they grew from.
Maybe it’s the birds, singing their song for all to hear in the morning.
Spring’s the best season, in my opinion. I’m always happier in spring.
My good mood usually doesn’t go unnoticed, too.
‘The Spring Joys?’ My flatmate asks me, when I nearly skip out of my room.
He likes summer better than Spring, but he says he enjoys watching the smile on my face during these three months.
Every year, every spring, he asks me this. At first, when we first met and were still awkward with each other, I can see a glint of hard amusement.
Like, as if he was laughing at my spring mood.
As time wore on, we grew closer. When he locked himself in his room after the death of his foster parents, I left him meals in front of the door. When I stressed over my younger siblings not having work, he sat by me on the sofa and listened.
We even helped each other fight off our nightmare of a landlady from wrangling this flat out of our hands. Afterwards, every moment spent had a certain sweetness to it.
Every year, every spring, I smile at him. ‘ ‘You can cut all the flowers, but you can’t stop spring from coming’,’ I quote.
He rolls his eyes, as always. I spot a glimpse of a smile hidden away, as always.
As we move on with our daily routines, I can’t stop the occasional glimpse out the window.
Can’t help the smile that tugs on my lips.
The contented sigh that escapes my lungs.
Spring is here.
Writing prompt #1
‘It was one hell of a way to die’
They say human beings aren’t fast enough to dodge a bullet.
That the force of that tiny metal shot out is enough to break bones, to physically incapacitate.
That with one shot at the right place, a human person would die instantaneously.
They weren’t wrong.
With just one loud bang, I find myself on my back, staring at the clouds as they made their way through the bright blue sky.
I was walking with my partner, the small part of my brain reminds me. The part that had slowly began to lose strength.
I was walking, I remembered, and I was laughing. I was watching the light in their eyes shine as they chuckled with me, and I was happy.
How did I get here?
My partner and I had gone through so much. We’d battled so many monsters, broken through so many obstacles, faced so much pain.
Finally, finally, we were about to have our happy ending.
With the last bit of strength that my dimming mind had, it pushed to me a small memory.
A memory of sitting at the edge of a stone platform. Of swinging legs, of comforting winds, of a brilliant sunset sky.
A memory of soft contentment, happiness, and hope.
We’d been talking of how we’d like to die, if we had a choice.
They had said peacefully, surrounded by loved ones till the very end, then cremated to have their ashes buried somewhere special.
I’d grabbed their hand and swore that, if they’d died first, I would ensure that was what happens.
The kiss that followed upwards nearly killed me then and there.
They’d asked me, soft curiosity glittering in their gaze, what would be my preferred way to die.
‘I don’t know,’ I’d said. ‘But when I go, I want there to be no pain. I want everyone to be glad when I leave, because it’s my time, and I’m finally getting that eternal peace.’
To me, it felt like a good way to die.
After all I’d been through, I figured I’d at least get to decide how I die.
As my partner’s face appeared in my swimming vision, I realised there were tears streaming down their face. They were screaming at me, holding me in their hands and shaking me.
There was so much pain on their face.
Right then, I knew I could not die. I couldn’t-
I will not.
Not like this.
Fictober Day 9
“You need to pay better attention.”
Stranger things, Steddie, friends AND lovers, Steve tutors Eddie (unsuccessfully), soft!Eddie
Prompt thanks to this blog
“You need to pay better attention, Eds.” Steve sighs as Eddie hands him his report card with a frown, the paper crumpled from being at the bottom of the bag.
“But look! I got a C in english!” He exclaims, trying desperately to distract him from the F's in math and science.
Steve shakes his head with a fond smile, pulling Eddie down to sit next to him as he looks over the grades.
“I swear I thought we went over this stuff, babe. What did you struggle with?”
Eddie shrugs, leaning into Steve's side, pressing his face in his shoulder. “I dunno. Its just hard.”
Steve frowns, glancing over at him when he notices Eddie's withdrawing tone. “Lets drop this for now, okay?”
Eddie nods, standing as he pulls Steve up and towards his room, discarding his boots as soon as they're through the door. Steve follows promptly and lets Eddie pull him to lay on the bed.
Steve's face is in Eddie's hair, the boys face shoved into his chest. He smiles softly, pulling him closer, running his hand soothingly over his back.
“How'd your day go, baby?” Steve asks, pressing gentle kisses to the top of Eddie's head.
“Alright, I guess. D&D had to be canceled, though.” Eddie scoffs, tightening his grip around Steve's waist. “Some stomach bug is going around.”
“Aw I'm sorry, Eds. But it can always be rescheduled once everyone's feeling better, okay?”
Eddie nods, pressing a kiss to Steve's cheek.
“I know. How bout you? How was your day, Stevie?” Eddie asks, his voice slowly turning into a mumble.
Steve smiles and begins on how his day went, rambling on and on. But after a bit, he notices that Eddie went unnaturally quiet. He smiles softly when he realizes that the boy was fast asleep.
He moves him to lay back, unbuckling his belt and putting it to the side, along with his various rings and necklaces. He covers him up and presses a kiss to his forehead before getting up and rummaging through Eddie's drawers for clothes he could change into.
Once he finds something, he lays down next to Eddie, pulling him into his arms, smiling softly as he falls asleep.
“I'm proud of you, Eddie.” He mumbles, dozing off.
Fictober Day 6
Prompt
"You're good to me, you know. Really good."
WandaNat
Fluff, domesticity
The two lay in bed one night, muscles sore from a long mission, Natasha's fingers grazing over Wanda's bare shoulder, face nuzzled into her hair.
“I love you, Nat.” Wanda speaks up, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek, glancing up at her with a kind smile.
“I love you more, Wands.” Nat murmurs, pulling her closer, adjusting the blanket to lay over the both of them. After a few beats of silence, she speaks again.
“You're good for me, you know. Really good. You've made me the happiest I've ever been, Wanda. I love you, alot.”
Wanda smiles softly, curling into Natasha's side, arm slung over her waist and her fingers tracing the creases in the sheets. “I love you too. So, so much.”
Natasha sighs softly, letting her eyes flicker shut, pulling Wanda closer after turning the lamp off.
Once the lights are out, they both start to drift off, their hearts beating in tandem, fingers interlocking together.
“You feel like home to me.” Natasha murmurs before falling asleep, her free hand resting in Wanda's hair. Wanda falls asleep quickly after, her face nuzzled into Natasha's shoulder.
Fictober Day 5
"I'm in love with you."
"Say that again."
Prompt from this list! @f4ult-line
Stranger things, Eddie Munson/Steve Harrington.
Mentions of smut, no details. Otherwise fluff.
(Yall eddie is secretly a huge teddie bear, you cant prove me wrong)
Eddie's sweaty forehead leaned against Steve's shoulder as he pants, fingers shakily adjusting how they lay, legs tangled together.
It had started out as a meaningless screw, a way to loosen up. Theres not many options a queer guy has, afterall. Not in the small town of Hawkins. But for Eddie, it turned into something more. He started staring longer, smiling more, and tried to get as much time with Steve as he could.
“Stevie?” He mumbles, still coming down. Steve hums, eyes flickering open to look down at him.
“Whats up, Eds? Y'need somethin’?” He asks, propping himself up on his elbow to fully look at him, brushing aside one of Eddie's loose curls from his forehead.
“I-Steve, I'm… I'm in love with you.” He blurts out, heart pounding as he takes a nervous breath.
Steve's eyes widen and he sits up fully, cupping Eddie's cheek in his hand. But what he says next is shocking.
“Again.” He demands. “Say that again.”
Eddie's nervous expressions turned into shock, a hint of hope flashing across his face. “I'm in love with you. And I know this was supposed to be meaningless, no strings attached. But Steve, I've fallen for you. You-You're wonderful and kind and thoughtful and-”
Steve cuts him off with a chuckle, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Yeah? I love you too, baby.”
Eddie's head snaps up, forehead smacking into Steve's nose. Eddie gasps out, apologies pouring from him as he tries to see how hard he had hit him.
“Baby, baby, I'm fine!” Steve exclaims, hands cupping Eddie's cheeks. “I'm okay.”
Eddie's eyes meet his, a dorky grin appearing on his lips. “You called me baby. I like that. Call me that again.”
Steve snorts, kissing his forehead. “As long as I can call you my boyfriend. How's that sound, babe?”
Eddie nods excitedly, clambering to sit up in Steve's lap, pressing happy kisses all over his face. “Yes, yes, yes! I'll be your boyfriend. I'll be the best damn boyfriend you'll ever have, I swear.”
Steve laughs softly, pulling Eddie closer to his chest, catching Eddie's lips with his own, kissing him gently, slowly.
“Good, ‘cause I don't want anyone other than you, Eds.” He whispers, their foreheads pressed together as they smile at each other contentedly.
Fictober Day 3
Prompt:
“You said ‘this can’t end well’ and kissed me, and now it’s six years later and we’re getting married.”
WandaNat, pure fluff
Natasha couldn't believe her eyes as Wanda strode down the isle, escorted by her brother Pietro. Her red hair fell in cascades down her shoulders, her white dress conformed to all the right places. Natasha can't help but take a spft breath, fiddling with the hem of her sleeve, full of nerves and excitement.
When Wanda finally stands in front of her, she reaches out for her hand.
“Hi.” She says quietly, Wanda responding with her own “hi” as the officiant starts the ceremony. But even though it was the most important day of both their lives, they didn't care, their eyes locked and fingers entwined.
And when prompted for vows, Natasha immediately speaks up.
“Wanda, when I first met you, I was scared. You were so powerful and I was just… me. But then I found out you were the sweetest person I've ever had the pleasure of meeting and I knew right then who my heart belonged to. The first time we kissed, it was after a fight. I don't remember the mission well, just the fact you nearly died. And I? I confessed my feelings and you took it better than expected.
“The moment was tense, Wanda. You remember. But then you did something that will forever be engrained in my mind. You said ‘this can’t end well’ and kissed me, and now it’s six years later and we’re getting married. Thank you for allowing me the privilege of getting to wake up next to you for the rest of my life.”
Wanda's eyes are wide, teary. “Oh, Natasha. I love you so much. You have no idea. And I was wrong. This will never end. And if it does, we'll be together. Forever, darling. And always.”
Natasha smiles, pressing her forehead against Wanda's as they exchange rings, their lips meeting gently.
That night, under silken sheets and the soft glow of the moon through the open window, their touches are soft and their words are gentle, whispered promises of a lifetime together.
Credits for this prompt:
@dilemmaontwolegs you know I love you but if you do that I might just die of sadness
Hi! Uh, could i request some grief prompts? Like uh, A just lost B? If thats too dark you could just do villain x hero prompts instead fkksjs
It’s not too dark at all! I might do villain x hero prompts further down the line.
Grief Prompts
Prompts
A and B were very close but B was never open or affectionate to A. After they died, A goes through B’s stuff and finds a box of trinkets. The box is full of pictures of A and B, momentoes that A gave B, and other things from their relationship.
After B’s death, everyone is gathered together, shocked with grief. A joins the room, chattering happily about something B did earlier, unsure why everyone else looks so upset.
When B was alive, A and B had casual rituals that they would follow without a fault; A would bring B coffee in the morning and leave it on their bedside table, B would make A a sandwich at lunchtime, A would drop a towel into B’s room at 6 because they know that B always showers at 6:30, and so on. After B dies, A can’t help but unconsciously keep doing the rituals.
After B dies, A has to tell B’s much younger sibling. Unsure how to gently break the news to a kid who doesn’t know much about death, A paints a fanciful image of the afterlife.
Everyone knows that B was writing a novel before they passed. A finds the unfinished story, in the process discovering hundreds of ideas and short stories by B (some of them not-so-subtly about A).
(Building off of 5) A takes it upons themselves to finish B’s story. They pour over their notes, go to B’s favourite brainstorming places, and try to figure out how B would end their novel.
Oneliners
“If I knew that those would be my last words to you, I would’ve said something sweeter”
“You son of a bitch, you promised me we’d grow old together. You promised me!”
“I don’t know for sure if angels exist, but if they do, B is one of them”
“Aren’t you supposed to pour out some drink when someone dies, as a sign of respect?” “At this point, I’ll take any excuse to get hammered”
“If you’re still somehow here . . . can you send a sign? Anything?”
I don’t talk about her very much, but this prompt is definitely the MC from It Will Hurt: And There Will Be No Fire. Her name is Yessei, and she’s a vegan and a Vampire and runs a coffee shop but can’t work a cell phone for the life of her.
“All those centuries, and you haven’t learned how to use a cell phone?” “I am 800 years old! Unless you know how to work a 15th century printing press, you can stop laughing and show me how to do the Twitter.”
Foreshadowing is so fun! Even though I'm still on draft one of my novel, I may list which of these elements I've incorporated so far below.
Lozerief knows stuff she shouldn't. How did she know Izi's dad? If she knew his dad, did she know his mom? (Spoilers, yes, she did, duh.)
Colors. Everywhere. Lozerief wears black, foreshadowing her role as Hero of Earth. Izi wears white, foreshadowing his role as Hero of Cognition and her antithesis. Hota wears teal for their role as Hero of Mind.
I (mostly) know how this will end.
Not a Checkhov's gun but I repeatedly bring up Izi's old home for more reasons than just trauma.
I keep track of what I put in languages that I create so that only I (and the characters who speak those languages) know what they're saying. (I foreshadow the rise of the White Army this way.)
Names with meanings is a big one for Lozerief...
I realize only now that Lozerief is the character who hides the most, and it's amazing she doesn't spoil it all right away. Maybe she's bound by some old agreement...?
subtle ways to include foreshadowing
one character knowing something offhandedly that they shouldn't, isn't addressed until later
the crow rhyme
colours!! esp if like, blue is evil in your world and the mc's best friend is always noted to wear blue...betrayal?
write with the ending in mind
use patterns from tragic past events to warn of the future
keep the characters distracted! run it in the background until the grand reveal
WEATHER.
do some research into Chekhov's gun
mention something that the mc dismisses over and over
KEEP TRACK OF WHAT YOU PUT. don't leave things hanging.
unreliable characters giving information that turn out to be true
flowers and names with meanings
anything with meanings actually
metaphors. if one character describes another as "a real demon" and the other turns out to be the bad guy, you're kind of like...ohhh yeahhh
anyways add anything else in the tags
Fluffy Winter OTP Prompts
1. Character A explains one of their winter holiday traditions to Character B
2. A sees snow for the first time
3. A and B have a snowball fight (bonus if A flirts with B to distract B)
4. A teaches B how to ice skate
5. A and B go sledding
6. The power unexpectedly goes out during a blizzard and A and B make a blanket fort
7. A and B give each other gifts in a gift exchange
8. A didn’t put on enough layers when they went outside, so B lends them their coat
9. A and B go caroling, but only one of them is actually good at singing
10. A wants to hibernate. B won’t let them
11. A and B bake/cook together
12. A and B make snow angels
13. A forgot their mittens/gloves outside, so B warms up their hands
14. A is looking for a last minute gift and enlists the shop owner, B, for help, but quickly ends up getting distracted by them
15. A is torn between making fun of B’s ugly Christmas sweater and admiring how good they look in it
16. A buys/makes B’s favorite warm drink
17. A introduces B to their family
18. A’s car breaks down and B pulls over to help them
19. A knits a sweater for B
20. A and B have a holiday movie marathon
21. A writes a message in the snow that B can see from their bedroom window
22. A and B watch the winter constellations appear in the night sky
23. A loves the cold. B...not so much
24. A and B share a bed to “conserve body heat”
25. A and B write letters to each other
26. A didn’t like the holiday season, until they met B
27. A and B make paper snowflakes together
28. A and B argue over the appropriate times to put up and take down holiday decorations
29. A and B cuddle by the fireplace
30. A thinks their new haul of scented candles is amazing. B thinks it’s a fire hazard
31. A and B get stuck on a ski lift together
Small fantasy worldbuilding elements you might want to think about:
A currency that isn’t gold-standard/having gold be as valuable as tin
A currency that runs entirely on a perishable resource, like cocoa beans
A clock that isn’t 24-hours
More or less than four seasons/seasons other than the ones we know
Fantastical weather patterns like irregular cloud formations, iridescent rain
Multiple moons/no moon
Planetary rings
A northern lights effect, but near the equator
Roads that aren’t brown or grey/black, like San Juan’s blue bricks
Jewelry beyond precious gems and metals
Marriage signifiers other than wedding bands
The husband taking the wife's name / newlyweds inventing a new surname upon marriage
No concept of virginity or bastardry
More than 2 genders/no concept of gender
Monotheism, but not creationism
Gods that don’t look like people
Domesticated pets that aren’t re-skinned dogs and cats
Some normalized supernatural element that has nothing to do with the plot
Magical communication that isn’t Fantasy Zoom
“Books” that aren’t bound or scrolls
A nonverbal means of communicating, like sign language
A race of people who are obligate carnivores/ vegetarians/ vegans/ pescatarians (not religious, biological imperative)
I’ve done about half of these myself in one WIP or another and a little detail here or there goes a long way in reminding the audience that this isn’t Kansas anymore.
Okay hold on because there are two ways this can go and both are so interesting
1. You are a matchmaker/breaker. People come to you to ask if they are tied by the red string. Your customer base is couples that are falling apart and want confirmation one way or another. It's certainly a messy job, but you are under oath to not lie.
2. You are a Private String Investigator. Your customers are single people who want to find their other half sooner rather than later. You track down their string, across all borders. Sometimes it turns unfortunate, as the other person might be in a relationship and think that person is their string. Also, you're basically stalking someone, and you don't know who until the last second, so danger is abound.
Some say that an invisible red string is tied around the fingers of soulmates meant to be together forever. As it turns out, you can see these red strings, and have therefore created a highly successful matchmaking business.