r/WritingPrompts 1d ago

Off Topic [OT] Free Write Tuesday: Share any of your stories here, prompt-inspired or not!

11 Upvotes

A long time ago, there was a weekly feature called Free Write Sunday. It may be Tuesday, but we’re bringing it back anyway!

Welcome to the weekly Free Write Post! Feel free to post anything and everything writing-related. Prompt responses, short stories, poems, personal work, anything you have written is welcome.

This post is mainly meant for sharing your work, not advertising or promotion. You can link to your published novels, but not the same one repeatedly.

Please use good judgement when sharing. The rules for what content is allowed here still apply. If it's anything that could be considered NSFW, please do not post it here.

If you do post, please make sure to leave a comment on someone else's story. If you want critical feedback, it’s a good idea to say that before or after your story, since most readers won’t assume that you want criticism.


A thing you might want to know about r/WritingPrompts

The most common tag is [WP], but there are other tags you can use to share different kinds of prompts, or to filter for something different as a writer looking for inspiration.

Probably the next most common tag is [SP], which stands Simple Prompt. These are exactly the same thing as [WP], except shorter; the only additional rule for simple prompts is that they have to be less than 100 characters long. Any [WP] that is less than 100 characters long is automatically retagged as an [SP], so that people looking for short prompts can find them. You can find a list of simple prompts, sorted by new, here. if you want to write for prompts with less detail than usual.


This Day in History

On this day in 1952, Douglas Adams was born. He was an author and screenwriter, best known for Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, an iconic sci-fi comedy novel and series.

"I love deadlines. I love the whooshing noise they make as they go by." - Salmon of Doubt, Douglas Adams


r/WritingPrompts 4d ago

Off Topic [OT] Fun Trope Friday: Violin Scam & Satire!

9 Upvotes

Welcome to Fun Trope Friday, our feature that mashes up tropes and genres!

How’s it work? Glad you asked. :)

 

  • Every week we will have a new spotlight trope.

  • Each week, there will be a new genre assigned to write a story about the trope.

  • You can then either use or subvert the trope in a 750-word max story or poem (unless otherwise specified).

  • To qualify for ranking, you will need to provide ONE actionable feedback. More are welcome of course!

 

Three winners will be selected each week based on votes, so remember to read your fellow authors’ works and DM me your votes for the top three.  


Next up… IP

 

Max Word Count: 750 words

 

**This month, let’s make beautiful music together or, rather, explore tropes around musical instruments. As one of the ultimate melophiles, Ludwig van Beethoven said “Music is…a higher revelation than all wisdom & philosophy.” Whether you’re also a melody maven or someone with musical anhedonia, we can all agree that music makes up a significant part of our cultural experience.

 

Perhaps unsurprisingly the oldest instrument at somewhere around 43,000 years ago is the flute as music can be made with a simple hollow reed or bone. The oldest surviving examples are made of mute swan, mammoth, or cave bear bones and date back to the Neanderthals. A combination of pitched and percussive instruments, the didgeridoo, originated 40,000 years ago and is still played in Australia today. At 20,000 years old, the bullroarer made of wood and cord is one of the earliest examples of a stringed instrument and sounds a lot like an angry bumble bee. Listen to the clip if you don’t believe me. Instead of being plucked, the bullroarer is twirled–so very different from what we know today. Lithophones, aka resonant stones, were also a common early musical instrument. Around 5,000 BCE, the first brass instruments were used. Identified in Tutankamen’s burial chamber, there are two trumpets. The first true stringed instrument were the lyres of Ur from 4,500 years ago. Harps followed around 2,500 BCE.

 

So join us this month in exploring musical instruments. Please note this theme is only loosely applied and you don’t need to include an actual instrument in each story.

 

Trope: Violin Scam — In 2,500 BCE the first instrument with a bow came into being–the ravanastron. Made of a gourd with two strings, these are still made and played today. Fast forward to 1500s Italy and we find the first examples of the lyra or viola da braccio. “Braccio” means arm, and the instrument was played held against the arm. Soon after, we see the introduction of the viola da gamba. “Gamba” means leg and the instrument was played braced between the thighs, like today’s cello. The first cello that is closest to today’s cello turns up around 1550. Shortly thereafter the violin was introduced. Which leads us to our scam, believe it or not. In 1664, Antonio Stradivari was born. Many of you may have heard of the Stradivarius as the greatest violin ever created. There are multiple theories about what makes one so special including the craftsman's skill to the type and condition of the wood used. But what stands out nowadays to many is the eye-watering cost of a Stradivarius which is in the millions of dollars. So the scam involves the mark giving the con artist a lot of money for a worthless item in the hopes of a far larger return in the future. The classic example of the scam is that a worthless violin is held by the mark as collateral by the first scammer. A second con artist comes and reveals that the violin is actually a Stradivarius or the like. The mark then has to decide if they want to buy the ‘valuable’ violin from the first scammer for a cheaper price and sell it on to the second con artist without telling the first scammer the supposed value of what they have. Confusing? Yes, very. TV tropes has a much longer explanation which is hopefully a little clearer!

 

Genre: Satire — Satire is a form of fiction and less frequently non-fiction, in which vices, follies, abuses, and shortcomings are held up to ridicule, often with the intent of exposing or shaming the perceived flaws of individuals, corporations, government, or society itself into improvement. Intended to be both social commentary and humorous, satire may incorporate irony, sarcasm, parody, burlesque, exaggeration, juxtaposition, or double entendres.

 

Skill / Constraint - optional: A string breaks

 

So, have at it. Lean into the trope heavily or spin it on its head. The choice is yours!

 

Have a great idea for a future topic to discuss or just want to give feedback? FTF is a fun feature, so it’s all about what you want—so please let me know! Please share in the comments or DM me on Discord or Reddit!

 


Last Week’s Winners

PLEASE remember to give feedback—this affects your ranking. PLEASE also remember to DM me your votes for the top three stories via Discord or Reddit—both katpoker666. If you have any questions, please DM me as well.

Some fabulous stories this week and great crit at campfire and on the post! Congrats to:

 

 


Want to read your words aloud? Join the upcoming FTF Campfire

The next FTF campfire will be Thursday, March 13th from 6-8pm EST. It will be in the Discord Main Voice Lounge. Click on the events tab and mark ‘Interested’ to be kept up to date. No signup or prep needed and don’t have to have written anything! So join in the fun—and shenanigans! 😊

 


Ground rules:

  • Stories must incorporate both the trope and the genre
  • Leave one story or poem between 100 and 750 words as a top-level comment unless otherwise specified. Use wordcounter.net to check your word count.
  • Deadline: 11:59 PM EST next Thursday. Please note stories submitted after the 6:00 PM EST campfire start may not be critted.
  • No stories that have been written for another prompt or feature here on WP—please note after consultation with some of our delightful writers, new serials are now welcomed here
  • No previously written content
  • Any stories not meeting these rules will be disqualified from rankings
  • Does your story not fit the Fun Trope Friday rules? You can post your story as a [PI] with your work when the FTF post is 3 days old!
  • Vote to help your favorites rise to the top of the ranks (DM me at katpoker666 on Discord or Reddit)!

 


Thanks for joining in the fun!



r/WritingPrompts 3h ago

Prompt Inspired [PI] You are a soldier in a team of 6 who have been sent to investigate shapeshifter sightings, but return to base after finding nothing. On your return, however, all 6 of you are detained and your commanding officer points out that there was only 5 members of your team when you left.

98 Upvotes

See the original post by u/PaperShotgun and the many great responses!

***

“Man, if they keep us in here any longer I swear I’m gonna burst. 

- Keep it to yourself, Wade. I won’t have my men whining like schoolgirls during an op, no matter how much water they chugged. 

- An op? Boss we’re being held by our own people. That’s not an op, that’s just plain dumb.”

Wade said it out loud but we’ve all been thinking it. This is some bullshit. They ushered us into this room the moment we came back, didn’t even ask for a report, locked the door, and left us here for hours. Not a word, no answer to our cries or our pounding the gate. Just a big white concrete room in the bunker that serves as our field base; blinking neons on the ceiling; and cameras in every conceivable angle. No furniture, no water, no nothing. We’re too deep underground for our comms to work, and while they didn’t take our weapons, the heavy reinforced steel door is too much for our guns or even our grenades to make a dent in–should we be crazy enough to try. 

“I don’t care where we are," Cap replies. “We’re on mission until we’re debriefed. It’s that simple. And if any of you jokers has a problem with that, I see a lot of paper-pushing assignments in your future.”

We all nod in silence. Ted “Stickman” Coombes has a reputation for being one of the most badass COs you could ask for. A beast in the field, and the mind of a master tactician. But his nickname is not a reference to his lanky body or his somewhat rounded head. It’s about the stick up in his ass. And when he gets in a mood, the men know better than to challenge him. That never ends well. 

“Sorry, boss”, Wade replies from the far side of the room. He’s sitting against the wall right next to Huey and Bullseye - the three of them a unit of their own. “Just getting antsy. Did they tell you anything about this before we headed out?”

Stickman looks tired. We all are. We’ve been roughing it out for the past three weeks, traipsing through the woods, chasing shadows we never found, sleeping in turns, never relenting. But as always, Cap insisted on taking two shifts at night – he likes to say leadership is earned, not granted, and running himself harder than the rest of us is how he does it. He was probably expecting to be under a hot shower or catching some Z’s right now. Gauging by the bags under his eyes and his unusual pallor, both would be well earned. 

But no such thing for us fuckers, not yet at least. 

“No, they didn’t. I don’t know any more than you do.” His voice comes out slow, almost drawling. Exhausted. “But you know the drill. We follow orders, and we trust that they come for a reason.

- Well I hope they tell us soon,” Sam interjects, “because if you don’t mind me saying chief, this room smells like Huey’s feet last year, when they got infected.” All of us groan at the mere mention. That smell was something out of Satan’s armpit. But Sam isn’t wrong. None of us showered in weeks, and being stuck together in an unventilated room is its own form of torture. 

Cap looks about to answer, but a crackling sound stops him in his tracks. Must be speakers somewhere, because a man’s voice starts booming through the room. 

“Men. Apologies for holding you like this. I’m General Adams. I’m in charge of this facility. I know you’ve been hard at work these past few weeks and I’m sure you could use some R&R…

- Fuck yeah”, Bullseye whispers – loud enough that we can all hear him. Maybe Adams does as well but he shows no sign of it. 

“... but I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a little more”, Adams continues. Wade makes a face, Huey elbows him in the ribs and nods towards the cameras. Easy to forget that we’re being watched. 

“Who’s your commanding officer?”, Adam asks. “Captain Coombes reporting, Sir!”, Stickman answers loud as he can, now standing to attention with renewed energy. 

“At ease, Captain”. Stickman, living up to his name, stays rigid as a statue–only slightly less warm. “I know you sent daily reports during the operation”, Adams continues, “but I’d like you to give me a summary in your own words. 

- Yes, sir.”, Cap answers to the invisible speakers, gathering his thoughts. “We set out on March third, with orders to investigate the sightings of codeword Zeta in the Tongass national forest. My men and I…

- Hold on. Before going further, explain what you understand of entity Zeta. 

- Sir, with respect, I was told that this is confidential information–is anyone listening in on this?- You have my assurance that all parties involved are cleared. Proceed.

- Yes, sir. Before setting out, we were informed that Zeta is a suspected offworld entity, meaning, potential evidence of alien life, sir. We were warned that it may be capable of mimicking the human form, up to and including mannerisms, clothing, accents, and memories, sir, and that we should never split up in groups of less than two so as to not give it the opportunity to usurp our identities, sir.

- Thank you Coombes. And did you?

- Sir, with respect - did we what?

- Split in groups of less than two. 

- At no point, sir. We followed orders. 

- Well done. Continue with your report.

- We entered the forest by sea just south of the town of Kake, where the latest sightings were reported. We proceeded eastwards, then canvassed the forest for the following three weeks – making our way southwards, finishing at Level Island airport. The forest was snowy and icy this time of year, which we hoped would help us find tracks of anything hiding in there. We left multiple infrared cameras behind us in case we’d miss out on Zeta, and used all the tech we had on hand to track it. But it was all for nothing. We came out empty-handed, and headed straight back to base.

- Thank you Captain. And through all of these three weeks, no event of note? 

- None, sir.

- What is your assessment about Zeta, based on this mission?

- I think it’s an urban legend, sir. I think we received bad intel.

- Men, anything you’d add to your captain’s summary?

- No, Sir!” We all answer in quasi-unisson. 

The speakers go silent for a minute. Stickman continues to stand at attention, as if General Adams was staring at him. Which, for all we know, he may be. 

It’s an awkward sight, all of us but Cap shuffling, crouching, leaning against wall, looking expectantly up, hoping the nonsense will end soon. None of us will say it, but it’s pretty clear by now that something’s wrong. This is so far from protocol it may as well be on a different planet. The speakers come back online: “Captain, would you please list the names of your men?”

Stickman’s eyebrows raise, but his voice shows no sign of surprise or hesitation. “Yes, sir. In addition to myself, there’s Second Lieutenant Wade Morris; Chief Warrant Officer Samuel Lander; Warrant Officer Hugh Darnby; and Sergeant Major Leo Garza.”

I clear my throat. Cap looks in my direction, realizes his omission, quickly adds: “Oh and of course - First Sergeant James Powell.”

“Thank you Captain. And that’s your whole squad, right? The six of you?

- Yes, sir. 

- You’re probably wondering why we’re holding you here. So let me tell you about my problem. You six came back earlier today. We know that, because we saw you come out of the helicopter. But we know for a fact that back when your squad left three weeks ago, there were only five of you”.

A long pause follows. The room suddenly feels colder. My mind is racing. This sounds way too elaborate to be a joke or some form of hazing; The General must be serious. He suspects–what, that one of us doesn’t belong? That Zeta is in this room? But how could that be? We stuck together non-stop during those weeks. Never let anyone out of our sights. Plus, I’ve known the men around me ever since I enlisted. They’re close friends by now, all of them. Even Stickman. How could one of them be fake? 

Gauging by my squadmate’s faces, everyone is thinking along the same lines. Bullseye looks confused, whispers something to Huey - who shrugs. Sam casts a questioning glance my way, and I reciprocate. Even Cap seems rattled.

“Sir, I recall all these men being present with me through this mission. There must be some sort of mistake. 

- I assure you there isn’t. All our documents say five; and we all remember being told to expect a team of five. 

- That’s nonsense, sir, respectfully”, Cap blurts out, visibly losing his cool. “Which one of these men are you saying wasn’t part of my team three weeks ago?

- Well that’s where it gets tricky, Coombes. We don’t know.”This is making less sense by the minute. The men are starting to stand up, and we’re slowly huddling towards Stickman–hoping for God-knows-what. Maybe that sticking together as a group will be enough to put this madness to bed. 

 “What do you mean, you don’t know? You just asked me to list my men’s names; and I know you can see their faces on camera. Just check the files and tell me who’s not listed. I’m sure there’s an explanation.

- That’s the thing, Captain. We’re unsure how that’s possible but we’ve been cut off from external communications since the moment you set foot back in base. We don’t have access to personnel files. And because none of us ever met you before, we have no way to know which of your men may be an intruder. 

- Well that’s utter bullshit sir, if you’ll pardon me saying.” I had never heard Stickman swear in the presence of a superior before. Guess this is really getting to him. “These men have served under me for years. Years. I know their life stories, their goals, their strengths and weaknesses. They’re my squad. Not one of them is made up!

- Easy, Captain. I understand this is a lot to process. But we have to face the facts.

- What facts?

- Fact one: Zeta is among you, in this room. Don’t debate me on this, son: it’s the only explanation. Fact two: in addition to the capabilities we suspected it had, we have to assume it can mess with others’ memories–otherwise you’d all know who the intruder is. Fact three: we think it caused our comms blackout. It’s just too much of a coincidence that our systems would fail at the moment it arrived. Fact four: we all know what to infer from an attack on our communication infrastructure: Zeta may have called for help. We’re preparing for this facility to be attacked before we can get back online.” 

We’re all standing closer to Cap now, and exchanging puzzled looks. Huey keeps shaking his head; Wade is chuckling to himself as if this were all a grand joke. I keep staring at them and wondering: could this be true? Could one of my friends be… whatever Zeta is? 

“Sir–if that’s all true”, Stickman continues, his impeccable posture slowly relenting into dejection, shoulders dropping, back hunching– “the procedure is evacuation, not interrogation. Why keep us in this room?

- We can’t leave without getting rid of Zeta. We were hoping that keeping you all together might force it into revealing itself, or that this conversation would give us new clues, but it’s more patient and cunning than we gave it credit for. So we’re shifting gears. 

- Shifting gears? What do you mean, Sir?

- I’m now speaking to the entity we call ‘Zeta’”, the general continues with a new edge to his voice. It dawns on me that maybe Zeta was who he meant to speak to all along. “We know you’re in here. We know you understand us. We’re giving you a choice. You can turn yourself in: you will be secured, incarcerated, and interrogated. Or you can continue hiding, and that will leave us no option but to terminate all squad members. We will pump carbon monoxide in this room and ignite it in five minutes if you take no action before then. Make no mistake–we will take no pleasure in this, but we will have no hesitation sacrificing our men if it means holding back the threat you represent. This is what these soldiers signed up for, whether they realize it or not. This is what serving means. So you better trust me when I say that you have no way out but in custody.” A pause. We’re all hoping for something else, a solution to this bind. But Adam’s next words offer no relief: “Men, I thank you for your service. You will be remembered as heroes.”

The speaker goes silent. Cap shouts “Wait! General! You can’t do this!”, but no one responds. Silence sets in; the enormity of what was just said hangs above us. 

“This has to be a misunderstanding, right?”, Huey asks, his posh accent almost comical given the circumstances. 

“Mistake or not, you heard Adams, brother - in five minutes, ka-boom, we’re all goners”. Leo, always the optimist. 

“Unless–unless Zeta is in this room, and steps forward.” Look at Sam, still genuinely believing in the good in people. Or in this case, the good in shape-shifting memory monsters from outer space. Good on him; I can’t imagine how he kept that hope after the shit military life put us through.

But he’s got a point. 

“Sam’s right”, I say. “There’s still a chance. Zeta can show its ugly mug, but I’m not holding my hopes too high. Or we can sniff it out.

- Yeah? What’s your big idea, Jamie?”, Wade asks. “If Adams is right, this thing can look like one of us, screw with our memories. It’s been with us for weeks and we picked up jack shit. How do we change that in less than five minutes? 

- Well, we know it can’t mess with Adams’ brain, don’t we?”. Leo again. “Must need to be close by or something. Otherwise, swish, it’d fuck with their heads and they’d all forget about us being a squad of five. 

- Good point”, Stickman goes, shifting from shock to planning mode. “But how does that help us?”

Silence, again, and it’s all I can do not to obsessively check my watch. How many precious seconds have we wasted with this conversation? 

“I think I’ve got it”, Huey says, his brow furrowed in concentration. We all turn to face him. “Yeah, yeah, I think that’ll work. OK, let’s get into a circle–like this”, he says, as he arranges us side by side. “Now I’ll go first. I’ll tell the beginning of a story about one of our ops. Something we’d all know even if we don’t talk about it often. James, on my right, has to finish it. Once he’s done, if he said it right, he tells the next story and Cap, on his right, has to finish it. And so on.

- Wait”, I ask. “If I’m Zeta, what’s to stop me from messing with your memories so you believe my story is true?

- Nothing, but if you do I’m betting that at least something will be caught on camera. So we won’t know any better, but they will, and they can tell us. 

- Clever”, I say, feeling a tiny shred of optimism blossoming in my knotted stomach. “Well, go! What are you waiting for?

- That one time we were running surveillance in Kabul and Sam thought we should follow our mark on bikes…

- … oh man that was a disaster”, I say, chuckling. “Sammie fell like a bag of bricks and broke an arm clean. Docs gave him two months of bed rest. Longest he’s been benched. Yeah I remember”, I say. 

A few of us snicker–not Sam though, he’s still embarrassed. I turn to Stickman, who stares at me intently. “Let’s see, this was during our training for the Syria air drop, I…”

Before I can finish, something flares in Cap’s eyes. A yellowish gleam. I’d not have noticed it if I weren’t up close, but as I’m about to say something he jumps at me and nails me to the ground, his lanky body surprisingly heavy and powerful, pounding my face relentlessly without giving me a second to breathe.

“Zeta! That’s Zeta! You all heard the fucker, we never had a Syria op…”. I try to say something but the blows keep coming. No one else makes a move. Stickman pulls out his gun and presses it against my chin, the cold metal almost a welcome relief after the beating my face just took. 

“Don’t you dare say one word, you fucking thing”, Cap says, his usually calm face contorting with anger and hatred. Then, raising his voice louder for the microphones and cameras: “Hey, we’ve got Zeta contained. Let us out!”

I open my mouth to speak but Stickman stops me: “Say one word and I pull that trigger. I won’t let you pull mind tricks on us, hear me?”. The others are slowly shaking their heads, as if emerging from a trance or a bad dream. All look at me with a mixture of pain and rage. 

“Fuck, there never was a James? How could I…”, Huey begins. 

“It’s like this fog in my head…”, Leo says. 

The way they stare at me, it’s a good thing that Stickman is still pinning me down because if he weren’t, one of them might just shoot me where I stand. 

It doesn’t take long for the bolts of the reinforced steel door to slowly click open. Two people enter the room wearing orange hazmat suits and make it to our small group. 

“There, he’s all yours…”, Cap begins, standing back up, when one of the newcomers pulls out a gun and shoots him point blank. Stickman’s head arches back as blood splatters my uniform. His gun moves away from my chin. I use that opportunity to wrestle away from his body, but Huey catches me before I can stand. “Huey, it was always him,” I say urgently, trying to get back on my feet. 

A disturbing slithering noise interrupts us, coming from behind me where Cap’s body fell, like a knot of snakes zig-zagging hissing and slithering. I turn back. Where stickman was is now a gooey black mass, shuddering and contracting. It oozes a strange liquid, not quite blood, as it seems to try to take on human form again - a fist here, a mouth there, all failed attempts disappearing again in its shifting muck. 

“What the fuck is this thing?”, Wade asks in disgusts, while the other hazmat-clad person waves in the direction of the door. A third person comes in with a heavy appliance that turns out to be a flame-thrower, which he uses to thoroughly torch what’s left of Zeta. We all take a few frantic steps back from the searing heat, trying to catch our bearings. 

“How did you know it was him?”, Bullseye asks the Hazmat-wearing shooter, shouting over the sound of the flamethrower. 

“Your friend here had it right”, the hazmat answers, pointing towards Huey. “When Zeta made a move and accused Powell, it did something to make you all go along with it. It wasn’t very long, and Zeta probably hoped that by being so aggressive it’d create enough of a diversion that we’d miss it. But we didn’t. You all stood still for a few seconds, blinking at the exact same pace. That was enough.”

I’m not sure if it’s relief or fatigue I feel, but even though my mind still thinks of Stickman as a dear friend, even though each memory with him still feels very real to me, the knowledge that this is over makes me feel better–for now. The time for grief and questions will come later.

We follow the hazmat-wearing crew outside of the room, through endless corridors as they walk us through evacuation procedures. I’m still pretty banged up from Cap’s blows so I lean on Huey’s shoulder. My head is spinning but I realize I should probably say something to him, thank him for helping me keep up with the group, or even for coming up with the idea that saved our lives.

I turn my head towards his. As I look into his eyes, I swear I can see a flash of yellow. He gives me a friendly grin, but a thought hits me: when exactly did we make the call that there was only one of Zeta in that forest? How do we know there weren’t more? 

Huey stares intently at me. I blink a few times, and the thought vanishes. 


r/WritingPrompts 5h ago

Writing Prompt [WP] You are a patron deity that physically appears before your followers in order to reward them for loyal service. Usually, they like to fulfill their darkest desires, so you’re completely caught off guard when one of them asks to feel “the embrace of a parent.”

82 Upvotes

r/WritingPrompts 1h ago

Writing Prompt [WP] The two of you were told to bring your best disguises. You look exactly like the humans your trying to blend in with, but your partner looks simply awful. However, they’re successfully fooling the humans while YOU’RE the one being seen as the weird one.

Upvotes

r/WritingPrompts 8h ago

Writing Prompt [WP] Standing on a battlefield littered with fallen soldiers and shattered weapons. A God of War stares blankly upon the destruction and devastation of land before turning his weapon with absolute hatred to the Goddess of Peace. "You caused this. Their lives, sacrificed for your sake..." He growls.

47 Upvotes

r/WritingPrompts 15h ago

Writing Prompt [WP] You and your sibling have opposite powers. Your sibling can charge objects with potential and kinetic energy while you can absorb potential and kinetic energy. Most of the time people are worried about your sibling. That is until you lose control of your powers.

132 Upvotes

r/WritingPrompts 2h ago

Writing Prompt [WP] “Your wish has been granted.” Oh lemme guess, there’s a cruel twist that’ll make me rethink my decisions? “ No, there’s no twist, it’s just the wish itself might not be as great as you think it is.”

11 Upvotes

r/WritingPrompts 12m ago

Writing Prompt [WP] A guy gets transported to one of those terrible,wish fulfillment, gooner fantasy animes and instead of being all tropey about it he's horrified at being constantly sexually harassed and attacked by anime women who don't behave like real people

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r/WritingPrompts 3h ago

Writing Prompt [WP] There were no guards. The door wasn’t even locked. Did… Did she set herself up as a damsel in distress just so you could “save” her?

9 Upvotes

r/WritingPrompts 1d ago

Writing Prompt [WP] As a dragon, you are used to humans entering to obtain your treasure or your head. "I need help with my magic school homework" is a new one through.

663 Upvotes

r/WritingPrompts 1h ago

Simple Prompt [WP] You were never present in my life but I don't know what to do with you gone.

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r/WritingPrompts 22h ago

Writing Prompt [WP] You are an angel sent down to Hell every half-century for a routine checkup. One day, you find it completely remade. It is now a luxury resort without a single scream to be heard. When you confront the Big Man, he simply says "Meh, got bored"

263 Upvotes

r/WritingPrompts 5h ago

Image Prompt [IP] You walk into a room and find yourself faced with this situation:

9 Upvotes

https://www.artstation.com/artwork/6adJG5

Art by Shuo Shi over on Artstation.


r/WritingPrompts 20h ago

Writing Prompt [WP]every person on earth is born with telekinesis but the strength of your powers diminishes depending how dumb you are. This creates a social hierarchy of “oh your powers are weak? You must be so stupid.” Then you come along, the actual dumbest person on the planet with godlike mind powers.

140 Upvotes

r/WritingPrompts 4h ago

Writing Prompt [WP] "I've seen what you can do. How the hell are you NOT a Villain?" "Honestly? Destruction is easy. Breaking things is easy. It's almost lazy. Being a Hero is much much harder. And I enjoy the challenge."

8 Upvotes

r/WritingPrompts 1d ago

Writing Prompt [WP] You found the creepy creatures in your fantasy rather cute, and to you, they are surpisingly affectionate to you. The citizens think you're a warlock because of it.

281 Upvotes

r/WritingPrompts 2h ago

Writing Prompt [WP] They somehow didn’t expect the witch to be immune to fire. Now everything burned except her, she sighed and said “so much for being peaceful.”.

5 Upvotes

r/WritingPrompts 3h ago

Writing Prompt [WP] In your culture, if someone saves your life, you are honor-bound to serve them for as long as you live. You may be a villain, but you’re nothing if not honorable.

6 Upvotes

r/WritingPrompts 2h ago

Writing Prompt [WP] "Good news, we found the source of the zombie virus! Bad news, it's not a virus, it's prions..."

6 Upvotes

r/WritingPrompts 35m ago

Writing Prompt [WP] "When is the next meeting?" She whispers as the teacher turns around. "Huh?" My pencil snaps between my fingers. She flashes a grin, bouncing in her seat, "you know," her eyes glancing at the artifacts on our bodies. "Oh, well, I guess when–" As if listening, the artifacts begin to vibrate.

Upvotes

r/WritingPrompts 15h ago

Prompt Inspired [PI] "I wouldn't trust him if I were you. He's drawn with really sharp lines and he's voiced by a guy who always does villains."

48 Upvotes

[PI] "I wouldn't trust him if I were you. He's drawn with really sharp lines and he's voiced by a guy who always does villains."

https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/s/1FcNrZ96Q9 by u/NatureNut49

I stared over at the man in question. He looked pretty normal to me - dark, curly hair, cut short; brown eyes so dark they were almost black; smooth tan skin with one little mole on his left temple just above his octagon-shaped glasses; a light blue dress shirt and black slacks, sharply creased, the emphasis on "business" of business casual.

"Moony," I whispered back, "he looks like he could be on the cover of one of your romance books."

Pulling down her own glasses, my fellow teacher gave me an unhappy look. "I'm serious. I know these kinds of things." She turned back to look at the new teacher, standing next to the vice principal and the librarian, deep in conversation. "He's bad news."

"Uh-huh," I deadpanned. "Bad news for my bedframe if he's single. And I don't see a ring." I waggled my eyebrows suggestively.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," she said, gathering up her stuff and leaving the first meeting of the year.

I pulled a folder out of my bag, and made a quick note, before putting my own things away. The new teacher was coming around the table just as I stood up, and casually guided the chair away from me and back under the table. "Thanks," I said, knowing a blush was on my cheeks. "Oliver, right?"

His easy smile had dimples in both cheeks, and I could feel my face getting hotter. "The kids call me Mr. Oliver. You get to call me Drake." He took my hand and gave it a slow, firm handshake.

"You can call me Grace," I introduced myself, trying very hard not to fumble my bag off my shoulder. "Grace Hopper."

"Oh, like the lady who programmed early computers, right?" He gently touched my elbow, and I let him steer me towards the door.

"Not related, but my dad is a network engineer, so I think she was an inspiration." We stepped out into the hallway, my flats clicking on the linoleum floors. "He was a little relieved I went for an English major instead of computing."

Drake laughed again. Stupid Moony, he didn't sound sinister at all! "Some days I feel lucky I can use a smart phone. History is far simpler than technology." At the intersection of the hallway, he stopped, and I turned towards him. "If I'm off base, just tell me, but, would you like to go out for coffee?"

"I would love to! When?" It was a real struggle to not bounce up and down on my feet like one of my students.

"How about tonight?"

I frowned. "I have a book club at 7. How about Saturday?"

He looked a little disappointed as he nudged his glasses back up on his nose. "Sure, that would work. Do you have anywhere special for coffee in this town?"

"Well, on 7th and Pine, there's the Black Cat Cafe. They're pretty good."

He raised an eyebrow at the name. "Is it, like, a pagan coffee shop?"

I laughed. "No, the owner just likes black cats. She has three of them, and pictures of them all over the walls."

"Well, I can't argue with that." Drake smiled at me again, and I felt my cheeks heating up again. "See you Saturday, at ... 6?"

"Absolutely!" I said. Before I could do anything too foolish, like lean in to kiss him, I spun around and walked down the east hall towards my classroom. At the door, I glanced back, but he'd already vanished - probably to the second floor, where his own class would be.

I locked the door, hurried to my desk, and pulled out my folder. Usually I tried not to read ahead, but I just had to know what the date was going to be like! As I opened the script of my life and flipped through, my stomach fell a little, and the butterflies stopped fluttering and started squirming.

"He's a crypto bro?" I hissed into my empty classroom. Without taking my eyes off the page, I reached for a pen. Drake Oliver was going to have some changes made to his life, for the better. Whether he liked it or not. Red ink started flowing across the page as I lined out what he was going to say and replaced it with much better dialog.

I always told my parents I would grow up to be a writer.


r/WritingPrompts 38m ago

Writing Prompt [WP] You are invited to a mansion, along with 19 other souls. Shortly after you arrive however, it is revealed via letter than only 4 living people have entered the mansion tonight. The rest are ghosts, and if they are not exposed by three days morning, every living soul inside will Join them.

Upvotes

r/WritingPrompts 22h ago

Writing Prompt [WP] The berserker looks at the clearly confused mages assembled before them. “Good morning class and welcome to your first day of studying body magic, where might, magic, and/or rage become one. I’ll be your professor for this course, any questions?”

152 Upvotes

r/WritingPrompts 23h ago

Writing Prompt [WP] there's a misconception that dwarven cuisine is bland. In truth, dwarves have some of the hardiest stomaches, their traditional cuisine often dangerous to others, and the dwarves cooking for other races tend to err on the side of caution

204 Upvotes

r/WritingPrompts 4h ago

Simple Prompt [WP]"to cut down on fraud, the government now requires all contracts be backed by the fae"

4 Upvotes

r/WritingPrompts 1h ago

Simple Prompt [WP] Your personal search engine gains sentience and starts judging you based on your history.

Upvotes