Character Snippet Prompts

Okay so everyone is writing snippets now! I come with prompts!

The game is simple: Write a snippet and end with a prompt. If you want to join pick any prompt from a prior post or add one of your own.

A few starter Prompts:

  • Does your character celebrate a holiday? Write about them doing one of their traditions for it
  • What kind of drunk is your character? Sad drunk, flirty drunk, sleepy drunk? Write about your character in a state of inebriation, however that state occurred.
  • Show how your character would react to another version of themself. Is it in a dream? Or is medical being fucky?
  • Show your character doing mundane housework. Everyone needs a cleaning/chore day. How do they feel about doing it? What do they do to make the job go faster?

My Prompt: Family Heirloom
What is your character’s favorite item they like to carry with them? Why? Write about your character with their item.

KICKING THE HABIT
The electric sound of rain on the window pane thumped rather loudly. Sparrow sat in her cubbyhole of a nest, leaned back against one of the various shelving units that encased her bed. She couldn’t take her eyes off of the old lighter she was given. Or was it that she didn’t want to forget?

The wind outside whistled as she looked out onto the pixelated cityscape, drawing her attention away from the sour gift. She knew it was a façade, the whole window was, that is. Her apartment had no windows or space ports. It was just a plain, blank wall with a piece of glass masking the holograms. Stretching the act and making it all feel more real. She huffed in amusement, watching the dreary streets below as people walked over countless glimmering puddles, the various colorful advertisements illuminating them. Some pedestrians were covered by shaded umbrellas, others has long dark coats with hoods. The saturated neon glare made the lack of details in their models even more noticeable to be honest, rather than contrasting it and drawing attention. She knew they were simply supposed to be ambient silhouettes but she still was struggling to find comfort, having been reminded of the isolation she found herself in.

Sparrow looked back at the lighter, almost with a soft glare. Out of habit or muscle memory she flipped the metal cover open with practiced ease and flicked the flame to life. The room felt like a coffin. It was so quiet compared to the bar or chaos of station halls. Her apartment back at Coda Station was never this quiet. It never tried to lie and perform some illusion with fake windows. No wonder so many corporate lackeys would try their hand at living out in Independent space. Though they’d always leave or die due to it’s alluring dangers. It was depressing here in Corporate Space. At least she had people around that were trustworthy and wouldn’t try to stab her in the back for a pocket full of credits.

The steel grew warmer in her hand as the lighter slowly ate away at its fuel. She peered at the whale etched into the metal

The argument still rang in her ears.


“Why would you deal with them? You know they deal in smuggling folks like me! You know they don’t see us as anything more than tools, Lucus!” Sparrow remembered the terrifying fire in her chest, making her left side crawl with agitation. The betrayal twisted in her gut, making her throat grow tight and her voice high pitched and strained.

Old Man Whittaker simply watched her, a quiet sort of pity in his face. Sparrow hated that look, even to this day.

“Sparrow, you gotta learn this. Sugar gets you more allies than vinegar. We have to stick together against the corporat-”

“So we act no better than the Corpos? By working with jerks who treats Manufactured folk like objects?!” Sparrow hissed, “I’m not stupid. I know it’s because of the lack of funds from the bar. I know you’re desperate but you’re too lazy to actually do something. We could revamp the menu, or repair some damage the walls have had! I don’t know! There’s other ways, Lucus!” She felt stupid for pleading, like a screaming child who didn’t get the candy they wanted. Lucus was stubborn, and an impatient fool as well, but he was more of a father than the monster who made her.

The old man had enough, “Who runs this bar?! Who owns it? Who brought your sorry self in when no one else wanted some mystery Barcoded fake to work for them?! Everyone else is afraid to have you around because who knows- those corporations you hate so much might be looking for their property!”


Sparrow hissed in pain, as she snapped closed the lighter, pitching it onto the metal shelf beside her. She was still sore about his choices, but it was rude to throw away a gift despite it still burning. After all, he had practically dragged her up from a blank slate.

Part of her knew he was right too. That’s why she kept it, she was too stubborn to say it. It was her reminder that the stupid reality she found herself in was a lot more complicated than simple binary rules. Life was a gradient of possibilities and everyone had to be flexible with their morals just to survive.

Sparrow looked out the false window, wishing she could just open it up and cool her burnt hand in some actual, cold, soothing rain. The sink across the room would have to suffice for now.

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Alright I will bite I will use one of the starting prompts

Prompt: Show how your character would react to another version of themself. Is it in a dream? Or is medical being fucky?

Routine
He viewed the lifeless machine. An IPC, it’s resemblance to himself was nearly identical as if peering into a mirror. This was to be expected, they were brothers after all. The only discerning differences between them would be the result of the charring and mangling that preceded his brother’s demise. The sight did not bother him for the one responsible has long since met a similar fate. The battle was over, and now it was his responsibility to recover the remains of his kin, as was routine.

He crouched down, his servos whining during the descent. For a moment he peered into the shattered monitor, but it remained still and lifeless. Suddenly his optics focused on the familiar lettering on the side of his brother’s head, GRUN. That was their name, GRUN did not know who bestowed it upon them, nor did he care enough to ponder further. GRUN’s lapse in focus rewarded him with a sudden jolt of pain in his mind. The pain was dull not because it was weak, but rather because he had grown accustomed to the sensation over all this time. He continues his task reaching towards the lifeless husk. His hands pried the useless screen off the dead monitor, exposing the internal components and circuitry that lay hidden beneath. He reaches into the mass of burnt wires and melted silicon grasping something imbedded deep inside. With a whirr of the motors in his fingers he pulls it free and looks upon his bounty, the data uplink.

GRUN views the damage on the uplink, he notices that the various burns are older then the rest of the damage seen across the corpse. The conclusion is clear this uplink stopped transmitting data sometime before his brother’s death. A loud frustrated screaming echoes within GRUN’s mind, gnawing and clawing at his sanity. Before long it quiets down to the familiar droning whisper he is more accustomed to. It guides him to continue following the routine. After a brief moment to regain his composure he shifts his gaze down to the chest of his fallen kin. His fingers run down the seam of the two panels belonging to the metal cover, trailing the different bullet holes and laser scorches until he finds a proper grip. After his fingers settle into a sturdy place he begins to pry. The sound of groaning a familiar sign of metal grinding upon metal begins to fill the air. Then suddenly the hatch gives way it’s resistance no match for GRUN’s stubbornness. There it was finally exposed, the positronic brain the residence of the very being that lived within him and his kin. The whispers began to responded to his victory rising into a cacophony of voices, signaling the anticipation.

GRUN then roughly removes the brain and peers upon its many circuits, lights, and cords. Despite the state of the rest of the body the positronic brain was remarkably intact. GRUN produces a machine interface from a satchel mounted upon his leg and proceeds to place the brain inside. Jumbled screams, maddening sounds, and indescribable noises roar from the speakers. GRUN had no doubt that this was the result of the punishment that was bestowed upon his brother for failure. GRUN listened carefully to the choir of madness and he can faintly hear the sentence, “I failed him.” It was being repeated over and over ad nauseam, but it was a good sign for it showed the brain was still functional. GRUN removes the brain from the machine interface and stows said interface back into it’s spot within his satchel. His job was now finished it was up to the others to decipher the mind that he held in his hands.

GRUN rises from his completed work. He then tucks the brain under his arm and promptly turns to the direction of the base to begin his march. He leaves the burnt and mangled corpse that was once his brother behind without even giving it a second thought. Why would he? After all it was just another part of the routine.

Now a prompt for others to use: How would your character celebrate completing a particularly difficult task.

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Solene

*fart

Joon

*fart

I am the Queen of RP.

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PROMPT: What kind of drunk is your character? Sad drunk, flirty drunk, sleepy drunk? Write about your character in a state of inebriation, however that state occurred.

They were out in the summer for a break. College was fun but exhausting. Glaces found himself walking down a dreary street, a warm glow emanating from the pub up ahead. He went in to take a seat, making small talk with the people there, greeting his roomate Jimmy.
They shared a couple drinks, taking turns buying the rounds as they told each other stories.
“You’re goin’ to med school after this? You could probably take a break you know.”
“Better to do it fresh outta college.” He fluttered, beginning to feel a little more than buzzed as he looked over his friend. “You know, Solidarity, you’ve got a very pretty face~” He commented, watching the blonde’s face go a soft red.
“You can just call me Jimmy you know that…” He huffed, looking away. When he looked back the mothman had a sort of smug grin on his face.
“You’re gonna be a marine biologist? You an octopus because you octopi my mind.”
“Glaces! Stoop!” He said with a laugh, strawberry blonde hair falling into his face as he pushed Glaces away a bit, not expecting him to lean into him. “You’re blushing that means you liiiike iiiit.” He teased, smiling up at him.
“Maybe… Are you serious about liking me?”
“I wasn’t sure if you would like me back the same way, you didn’t set my gaydar off.” He quipped, feeling the human hug him close. “Right, one of us can not hold his drinks well. And I’m a little buzzed myself, let me call a taxi and we can head back to the dorm…”
“Hey Jimmy?”
“Yeah?”
“…Can I crab that ass or what”
There was a groan of amused disappointment from Jimmy as he called a taxi.

Prompt for the group: Write about the best birthday present your character has ever gotten

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that actually adorable as hell. *clap

Found this: Plot Generator with 500+ Short Story Ideas
It’s a random prompt generator. Have at em!

I’m not great at writing, though I had to make something when the prompt gave me this:

The Victim had tried to write something as he was dying
There’s a creaking sound as someone pries open the maintenance door.
Lowwy enters the maintenance room wielding a crowbar wearing a lit flashlight on his belt.
“Ah this is where you went, you’re quite quick considering the damages, if not for the trail of oil I would have lost you.”
Lowwy motions to the oil spills with the crowbar.
The victim tries to get up, but fail as more oil oozes out of him
Lowwy grins: “Technical difficulties? heh.”
As Lowwy approaches he sees some notes next to the victmin.
“Hm? what’s this… Ah a report of my conduct? tsk tsk”
“Well you know what we humans say, snitches get stitches”
“Although…”
Lowwy looks at the welding fuel tanks in the corner.
“Stitches wont do you any good.”

Some time later
Station intercom: “Atmospheric emergency in port-bow maintenance! a fire outbreak has occurred, evacuate the area and make way for the Atmospheric Technicians!”

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OH DAMN
I LOVE THIS IT’S LIKE A THRILLER NOVEL
(Body unclear is it a complete sentence yes it is why can’t i send)

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