prompt.

writing prompts and prompt responses

[hamotzi]

some golden retrievers! 

[zaatanna-moved]

‘Shh, shh, it’ll be okay.’ ‘Will it?’

[mantoniospam]

Capitalism.webm

[bumpercarsyo]

I’ve been trying to find this clip for a long time now.

[basiliskfree]

Today’s problem

what do chairs for dragons look like.

[carbisari]

big comfy piles of pillows

[basiliskfree]

Well, that don’t work in the scene I’m doing it’s too cute not to draw.

[carbisari]

DAWWW SO CUTE :>

[noivern]

they use human chairs but really badly

[rareandradiant-maiden]

same

[citrus-adventures]

Wait elongated chairs y’all. Eight chair legs instead of one, they can lie down majestically and put their chins on the table like they were always meant to.

@basiliskfree

[basiliskfree]

I’m not sure if this is silly or a good idea lol

[noivern]

it’s not polite!

[thatll-do]

you’re a dragon manners mean jackshit nothing

[daedricsheep]

excuse you dragons are pillars of nobility and composure

[thatll-do]

you’re a dragon. who’s gonna stop you? hmm? the dragon politeness upkeep taskforce?

[daedricsheep]

I mean other dragons are really the only thing a dragon fears

[dateadragonsuggestion]

Date a dragon who uses big comfy piles of pillows as chairs 

Date a dragon who tries to use chairs for humans but has trouble 

Date a dragon who uses elongated chairs made just for dragons 

Date a dragon who is a pillar of nobility and composure 

Date a dragon who rests their chin on the table 

[hornyreptiles]

I love this post way too much not to reblog it.

[blaze-dargun]

AaaaAAAAAAAAAA

The cutest damn things Ive ever seen

[communistchexmix]

@basiliskfree @noivern a solution: giant beanbag chairs

[basiliskfree]

Draw that in a separate post also these

[dovewithscales]

I just lay on the floor. Maybe with something soft under me.

[kyrothedragon]

Just… Idk Try

[blaze-dargun]

There’s more!

[hilarioushumorfromouterspace]

[promptperiod]

After

Submitted by: SecretRock

It had been a hard few days. Actually, that was putting it lightly. She looked like she'd been through the works; bags under her eyes, days old clothes, her nails bitten down shorter than it looked like they could go. She was there so often that the staff considered letting her sleep in the break room rather than one of the straight backed chairs with the worn down cushions.

She was asleep on one of said chairs when she was shaken awake, a hand clutching her shoulder not too gently. She jolted up, suddenly awake and aware, awaiting news or another person asking if she's okay or telling her to go home. She'd been asked to go home so many times over the past few days. Instead it was a doctor looking down at her, a pitying expression on his face.

There were a few tense seconds before the doctor started speaking, pretending to read off the clipboard in his arms but he didn't actually need to. He was a doctor, he'd told this to people countless times before. It was probably good that she wasn't stood up. She would have had to sit down again anyway as she pressed her hands over her mouth, her shoulders shaking. None of the other staff paid too much mind to her, too used to this to be worried. They knew the drill.

It was the next day when she went down to the morgue. I'd been dreading it, and I think she had too. It was confirmation that we didn't want. The doctor showed her the body. I expected her to cry again, but no, she just... stared. At that moment, I saw the life leave her beautiful eyes, even if she was not dead. The doctor put an arm around her shoulder, leading her away to fill in paper work that needed doing. I reached out to comfort her, put a hand on her shoulder, but I passed straight through her. 

She didn't even look back.

[promptperiod]

late

Sometimes it’s unavoidable...

Write a piece where being late was unavoidable.

[promptperiod]

Tuesdays

Submitted by: West

(TW: implied sexual violence)

Tuesdays. Tuesdays were always hardest. They held no fresh newness harbored by a Monday morning, no half-way Wednesday triumph, no Thursday, Friday anticipation. Tuesdays hurt. They would always hurt. When you’re living day-to-day and waiting for the chance to shut down completely - Tuesdays are your roadblock. 

I met Rachael on a summer Sunday; the hazy, mid-afternoon sunlight oozing across the ground, bleeding between the cracks in the asphalt. The air was hot and close, the way I wanted her to be. You see, I never did believe in love at first sight. And this? Was not that. Not by a long shot. 

But there was something about her. There’s always something, isn’t there? The way the rays of sun set her frazzled curls alight, the way the fabric of her shirt clung, stuck with sweat, to sunburnt limbs. The way she didn’t seem to care about either of those things, or anything at all. 

At the time, it was endearing. Captivating in the way that song lyrics are when the singer’s nasal-drenched voice hints at harm and the weariness of the world upon your shoulders. She was a ballad. No, she was an outcast’s anthem. And I was the outcast. 

This was no love song.

I found her in the dark; so different from the light. I found the truth among the stars - she still cared, it was only make believe. Sweet Rachael was not the straw-stuffed doll she projected to the world. Her heart beat frantically when put to the test. 

The reconciliation was this: I could make an honest woman out of her. All the stories she had told - tone blithe, words carried from her lips on rolling smoke - they could be made all the greater, more pungent, more visceral, if only she had the experience to truly deaden her syllables. 

A quiet ally, an abandoned stretch of time and space. No one. No one. No one for miles. But two. But truth. Hard truth. And gut. And groan. And salt. And metal. Dirt. And truth. The truth. The truth. The truth. An undeniable finality.

And at that moment I saw the life leave her beautiful eyes, even if she was not dead…

I broke her on a Tuesday.

[promptperiod]

vacant

(of a person or their expression) having or showing no intelligence or interest

Write a piece where your subject has lost all hope.

bonus: Use the following in your piece; “And at that moment I saw the life leave her beautiful eyes, even if she was not dead...”

[promptperiod]

future

what’s to come...

“The future is never certain, but I certainly hope...”

bonus: write a six-word story about the future of your subject, then expand on it

[promptperiod]

The Countdown’s Price

Response to prompt 1: Countdown

By M. Bilmey

10 I jump down into the door well where the entrance to the facility’s basement is.  In the shadow of the ledge, I check the timer.  The charge has been set.  My heart pounds quickly while the world around me pulses in time to a ticking bomb. 9 The computers inside have been keeping track of, and even predicting, rebel activity.  We have one shot to destroy it. I break in and alarms blare. 8 My friend, Kay, was taken prisoner, but they knew nothing of the explosive implants, materials of destruction hidden in the body. 

7

The containment center is right next to the primary database—the dangerous result of trying to kill two birds with one stone in the way of security. 

6  I dart to the cell.  The sound of many feet clatter through the outer corridors.  People are shooting.  There are only seconds for Kay to escape. 5 The cell is empty—all but for the black box. Kay is missing.  I pick up the box and feel sweat trickle down my chest.  4 Ten years of friendship, of willing to die for each other, pitted against five years of oppression and three of futile war. 3 The war will go on.  The computers may effect the cost and efficiency, but it will go on without them. There’s a deeper price. 2 This bomb will kill Kay.   1 “Bomb Disabled.”

0I’m sorry.

[promptperiod]

one last thing

writing response to prompt 1 - countdown

by Zach Paragioudakis

10. The number had never carried such weight as it did in this moment. Sonny wasn’t ready, despite the fact that he had been the one to initiate the countdown. He wasn’t the only one though, the entire team was on the edge of their seats.

9. The scientists had been working on the device for nearly three years; or all their lives, depending on how you looked at it. The project had only been under Sonny’s supervision for the last three years, but something of this magnitude could never have been completed in that time.

8. The tests were all successful, but this was going to be the first time it would include humans as the test subjects. Sonny had volunteered to be the first, but the entire team decided they couldn’t let him do it alone. If one would perish; they all would. It had sort of become their motto.

7. Sonny grabbed a hold of Cory’s hand. There was no reason for Cory to take this risk. Well, except for the fact that he cared for Sonny. Cory had told Sonny he couldn’t imagine a life without him, and if he was going to go, they would go together.

6. Cory hadn’t used the word “care” however. He said love. It was a word Sonny himself couldn’t say. He had just smiled when Cory said it; not a single word following it. Cory hadn’t expected the same response anyway. He knew Sonny too well.

5. Red lights began flashing. Why did I insist on red lights? Sonny thought silently. The giant digital clock counting down the numbers would have sufficed. It was ominous enough and everyone’s eyes were glued to the enormous numbers up until the red flashing blinded them temporarily.

4. They say before you die your life flashes before your eyes. Sonny’s did that now. Does this mean I’m about to die, he thought.

3. His life was a never ending flicker show of disappointment, abandonment and violence. In that flickering Cory was the only steady light that existed. He had been Sonny’s beacon in a world of horrors.

2. Sonny tried to think of what his life would have become if not for Cory and he couldn’t see anything. There was only blackness.

1. In the next second they would all be teleported to the chosen location or they would all be dead. There’s only one last thing to do, Sonny thought. He turned to Cory, “I love you.”

0.

[promptperiod]

A Life Counted Down

Prompt • Written by Megan Fuentes

You were ten miles from home.

Nine first responders arrived on the scene.

It took eight minutes for me to weave through the streets and get to the hospital.

I hadn’t seen you since you left for your business trip seven days ago.

Our six-month-old won’t stop crying.

Five times I’m told by four different family members over the phone that everything will be okay—that you’re strong, that you’ll pull through, that you love me and you’d never leave me if you had anything to say about it.

Three hours I’m kept in the dark.

Two people—a doctor and a nurse—break the news to me. They did everything they could, but in the end it just wasn’t enough to save you.

In one heartbeat I process the information and my vision blurs and I can’t stop shaking.

I pick up our wailing child and wish I had zero reasons to go on.

[promptperiod]

countdown

The wait is over...

Write a piece which involves a countdown. Begin the piece at 10 and end the piece at 0.

[promptperiod]

Welcome to prompt.

prompt. is a joint tumblr page where writers are asked to respond to a daily prompt and share that response with the tumblr community. The idea behind this project is that by writing (for at least 10-15 minutes) everyday we can improve our style and fuel our creativity. 

The blog is founded by Zach Paragioudakis, (aka monikerzap, aka zappowzap on tumblr) and is made up of members from Here There Be Writers. 

But, it doesn't need to end there.... If you are interested in participating (on a trial basis and at your leisure) email Zach Paragioudakis at [email protected] with the subject "prompt." and include your tumblr username within. 

Even if you don't wish to participate, we hope you will follow our blog. We look forward to sharing our work with you. 

Zach Paragioudakis.