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Weekly Writing Prompts

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Dr. Gustave:
The prompt this week is "My legs felt numb." You can write in first person, third person, or whatever you want and you can change around the tense of the sentence but some form of this sentence has to be somewhere within the story.

200+ word count (Just don't write a novel.)

At the start of the story indicate whether it is a Canon or What-If scenario. Canon means it happens within the canon of the site and you can only use your own characters for PoV, however, you can have NPCs or other characters of yours in the story as well though you need permission to use others' characters. What-If means it's basically an alternate universe or timeline, this allows for a stronger focus on writing because you aren't constrained by site rules or RWBY, you can have anyone or anything as the PoV but you still need permission to use others' characters. That said, What-If scenarios, while no being canon on site, can still say something about the character PoV it follows if the character itself is effectively unchanged from canon, it's just that the events never happened on site.

There won't be any winners for the first three weeks as we try out different kinds of prompts.

The main focus of all this should be on writing itself with character development as a beneficial side effect, we should be striving to write something that we can look back at and think, "Yeah, I'm actually proud of that." This is an excellent chance to improve your own writing as well as give criticism to or get criticism from others.

If you have any questions, do not post here, talk to me on the discord server. Only writing can be posted here, anything else will be deleted.

"My legs felt numb."

Glow:
Canon: Lynn Aubin

Little ripples spread out across the pool, the small splashing of water being the only noise in the otherwise empty room. Lynn’s legs felt numb, though at this point, that was more the norm than anything else – mechanical implants and a freezing semblance lead to anyone getting fairly cold a lot of the time, aura be damned. But the sensation did feel a little different than usual; created more of longing, of ever so slight fright – and more realistically, the result of her dipping her legs into an unheated swimming pool during winter.

Hey, she was a big girl, she could do what she wanted.

The wolf faunus gave a quiet sigh, the air forming a faint ghostly mist as it left her mouth. Much as she’d like to just leap in like she used to, she weighed about three times as much with her module. She enjoyed swimming, not so much sinking. Diving was never her strong spot.

Though, to be fair, having the ability to freeze the world around you made it a bit difficult already; after the third time she’d nearly caught herself in a crystal tomb when her semblance first quite literally flared up, she laid off the hobby for a while. The woman already had a packed schedule, and she could do without having to be fished out of water like a treasure chest. She considered herself a good catch, but that was a bit too literal for her liking.

Of course, the thought got her to take a glance down into the reflection of the pool. Seeing herself in atypically light clothing was a strange experience – 'light' still being a fairly modest swimsuit, her third-favourite scarf, and an unbuttoned jacket. Honestly, not the worst idea considering the temperature, but it did look a tad odd. Well, at least it matched her theme.

No, instead of hopping in, she sat on the rim of the corporate-provided swimming pool, her expression hard to read under the metallic visor as her legs made little circles in the water. One great upside about losing part of your head and getting it replaced? A legendary poker face. Thinking about it, if she ever got some time, she should definitely get some cash on the side that way. Wasn’t like she could do any of the modelling stuff some other hunters did for extra income, despite still keeping up her form. Giant claws on your back didn’t tend to fit the latest trends, but that was neither here nor there. Would give her a hobby that didn’t involve becoming a popsicle, too. Then again, that was part of the reason she did this. Reminded her of home - shit, frozen-over place as it was.

Grumbling to herself in frustration at the memories springing up, she leaned backwards, her arms propping her up as she let her mind go blank to just enjoy getting her feet wet for the first time in what felt like forever. It was more like a week, but the local Shard Inc director gave them all a little bit of leeway; they all had their own hobbies stuck down here at this point in the test program. Robin liked gaming until 3am, Hazel made to-scale drawings, Ivy enjoyed loading as many explosives as she could onto her module before using them all at once to see what happened – you know, the usual.

Honestly, a few magazines of, uh, various PG-ratings and the opportunity to occasionally dip her feet into cold water was comparatively inexpensive to how much some of them spent staying sane. Well, relatively sane, considering their occupation. She, at least, had the excuse of being a former huntress; not many were quite all there in the head once you got past a certain point. That being when you signed up to fight creatures literally from people’s nightmares.

So right at the start.

The sharp static of one of the speakers blaring to life brought Lynn out of her internal rambling, blinking before looking up at the source of the noise. Hearing she was needed, the woman let out another quiet grumble. She brought her legs out of the now frosted water, getting to her feet just that little bit unsteadily. She took one last glance back at the undisturbed surface of the pool – pausing for just a second longer than necessary - before moving away and towards the changing room.

'Progress never stops', after all, or whatever inspirational quote the director was parroting this week.

Dr. Gustave:
What-If: The Smell of Kerosene and Lilac

I lifted my nose to the air and inhaled deeply, the twin scents still lingered on the faint breeze as it made its way lazily through the forest. My nose was better than most, even within my family and they had noses much older than mine. The source of the scents was still out of reach, frustratingly, I’d been chasing the scents for what felt like days now. The scents had a strange pattern, they were strongest during the day and almost entirely disappeared at night, I didn’t understand how or why but I assumed I’d find once I found the source. There were other scents mixed in with the pair, of course, there always were.

The kerosene was surrounded by pleasant smells, a faint metallic aroma, an old cave that hasn’t been touched in ages, the smell of freshly fallen rain, they all swirled around the kerosene, adding to it and making it more than just what they were individually. I could almost describe it as divine, it was the kind of thing you searched for your whole life and when you finally find it you can’t ever let it go.

The lilac, on the other hand, was surrounded by pleasant smells but only muddied them. The faintest hint of sweat mixed with dried tears. By themselves they would be amazing, not as good as the kerosene of course, but still amazing. The strength of the lilac that covered them, though?

Disgusting.

It was like trying to cover rotted flesh with berries, it only made everything worse, less appetizing. I really hoped it wouldn’t be a problem for long though, the scent was strong today, if I kept pace I might finally be able to catch up with it.

I lowered my nose and began making my way through the trees and bushes of the lush forest, making sure to keep my body low to the ground as I began to move faster and faster. This was always my favorite part, the moving. Feeling like I can go as fast as I want without having to worry about anything else in the world. It wasn’t a chase, not yet anyway, and it wasn’t an escape, it was just free. Just me, the plants, the animals and the scents.

I followed through and around trees, into bushes and over a small stream, up to the tree tops then down again, it was getting stronger and stronger, more and more pronounced. I finally ended up at a small encampment, two tents, one small and one large, sat under the shade of a tree.

I slowly made my way to the smaller tent’s entrance, the smell of kerosene was almost overpowering. I slowly reached out toward the tent but as soon as my claw brushed the fabric, a fist cloaked in a blue mist shot out and slammed against my arm, causing it to go limp. As it fell uselessly to my side I raked against the tent with my other arms, ripping open the entrance and being met with another fist coated in the mist.
I jumped back and away with my only working legs as the woman, a human, stepped out of the tent. The smell of kerosene was even stronger than before, the smell of rain had even been replaced by the scent of heavy sweat. It was delicious, the very thought of the scent made me rear up on my hind legs and let out a deep yell. The smell of sweat from the larger tent grew stronger but I could wait for that, right now I was completely focused on the kerosene.

The woman yelled something I couldn’t understand to whoever was in the larger tent and I took the moment to leap forward, mouth wide open with sharp, pointed teeth and bit down on the woman’s shoulder. She screamed and the scent of kerosene and sweat grew.

A punch to the side of my head causing my jaw to hang limp, another to my gut as I fell, two more to my hind legs as I lay on the ground. My arms, my legs, my face, my whole body felt numb.

I couldn’t feel or move anything, I couldn’t do anything, but I needed to I struggled and squirmed with what little parts I could still move and quickly I was able to lay my head on its side.

I looked up through my bright red eyes just in time to see the metallic weapon plunge down into me, breaking through me.

Kingnoname1:
Canon: Birthday Presents. Calen Shrike (Recommendations are for losers)

Fwoosh.

Swash. Grunt. Clink.

Thump. Klump.

Clang…...Slap

For the fourth time in as many minutes Calen was face down, sprawled out in the rain and mud with one of his elder sisters standing over him. And for the fourth time Calen got up. Slower this time, his head was spinning and mud soaked his clothes but still he pressed onward. In the morning his father would be furious with him, for making such a mess of his clothes, but for tonight he watched passively with the rest of the Shrike clan. Tonight was special, Calen’s fourteenth birthday and he like the previous two years asked only for one thing. A chance.

Slap. Thump. Clang.

Fwoosh. Thud. Clank.

Thump……..Crump.

Five times. Even slower to his feet this time, Calen’s aura flickered as it faded but that didn’t slow his opponent. His sister, Halath, would only accept two outcomes and moved like lightning flashing bright amongst the pouring rain. A harshness and an elegance which put Calen to shame when fresh and now he could only try to defend against the coming onslaught. The Shrike’s continued to watch silently as their youngest attempted more and more desperate techniques to turn try to gain some sort of advantage. Blood starting to pour from Calen’s growing collection of wounds, adding a small bit of colour to the mostly mud brown boy, sapped more of his strength leading to even more desperate techniques and even more mistakes.

Klang. Clank. Swoosh. Thump.

Wheeze. Thud.

Six times. The Shrike family fetishised strength and skill far beyond more traditional hunters. To them all life could ever be was a constant search for a superior opponent, human or Grimm, someone who their attacks would bounce off like waves breaking against the cliff face. And it seemed the young Calen had again found his cliff face, barely getting to his feet before Halath was on him again. To call it another round would be generous, two strikes and a scream and Calen was again in the mud. The pain was muted by exhaustion and Calen couldn’t even feel is legs as his life blood spilt out onto the mud. ’Yield.’ Calen only barely managed to whisper out before consciousness left his collapsed body.

It took four days for Calen to regain consciousness and he found himself in the house alone, everyone else had left on their own missions or errands. Rising slow Calen tested out his movements, more stiff than anything else which meant his father must have used the ‘good stuff’ on him. That would be the closest thing to a compliment Calen would get after his failed challenge, failing to prove himself equal to his family and worth of joining them fully in the hunt. It hurt more than his scars, the sense of failure, but Calen knew he couldn’t mope around when there was chores to do and training to continue. ’Next year.’ Calen promised to himself.

Moth:
Canon: Improvisational Pillows - Prism Skylark

Feathers falling through the air, swooping to catch that weird gun, mouthing run and then windnothingbutwind-

There’s a sudden breathless gasp as Prism jerks back to consciousness, startling herself awake. The room around her isn’t quiet - there’s papers rustling, utensils rattling, and a cool breeze blessing her face despite- despite-

Prism blinks another couple times, taking deep breaths as she mentally tries to repress the urge to flee. She’s somewhere, but she doesn’t know where, it’s dark so it’s night and there’s no lights on where she is but there’s light reflecting, so she’s near civilization- One step at a time Prism. One step at a time. Backtrack. Think about the last things you remembered. She’d just finished a mission with the rest of Casanova, but it’d been late at night and they’d only just managed to get back into town. The school would’ve been another long ride or two via Bullhead, but Prism could barely manage to keep Coconut conscious, and based on the way Jocelyn was yawning she would’ve followed soon. Thankfully Amane’s apartment was significantly closer, so after some quick discussion that ended in a unilateral decision, the team decided it would just be easier to crash there for the night.

Right, Amane’s apartment. Somewhere familiar, and safe. The breeze at least dies down, but here breathing is still coming in quiet gasps. Keep remembering things one step at time. Step-by-step until you reached the present. Use it to force the other thoughts- memories- thoughts out of your head.

Prism had barely gotten everybody up the elevator to Amane’s apartment. Coconut immediately crashed onto the couch, Jocelyn had settled on the far side. Amane had muttered something about having a drink after a day like that, and she’d disappeared towards the kitchen - Prism had closely followed, raiding Amane’s kitchen for something that looked like food. She’d stuffed her mouth full of crackers, followed Amane back to the couch, and had collapsed in between Jocelyn and the unconscious Coconut. Amane had put on the television as some sort of background noise while you all just decompressed, some black-and-white soap drama, so she’d kicked off her heels and snuggled into the sofa to just relax, taking a breath and leaning back against the comfortable cushions, only just closing her eyes for a little bit-

She must have fallen asleep.

Prism blinks again, and her breathless gasps finally calm to heavy, but steady breathing. She tries to test her limbs from where she’s fallen asleep on the couch, sitting up from the feel of things - there’s a weight on her shoulder and something’s gripping her left arm, and her left wing is pinned to the couch cushion by something heavy. Her legs are numb as well - something heavier than the thing on her shoulder is laying across them. Her right arm is free though.

Prism gropes through the darkness in the last direction she remembers her scroll being. Deft fingers navigate the blind landscape until the faithful device is plucked from the depth between two couch cushions, and Prism squints as she whacks the stupid thing against her leg to get it to turn on, filling the darkness with clean white lights. 3:17 am, apparently.

The first thing she sees is the shock of blond hair and crooked glasses that’s sprawled across her lap. Prism blinks a few more times in shock, and tries to raise one leg slightly - the teammate in her lap murmurs slightly in protest and winds his arm around her waist a little tighter, snuggling into the makeshift pillow of her thighs. Prism raises the scroll to look at her left shoulder, where another teammate has decided her arm is the appropriate thing to cuddle while her head rests on Prism’s shoulder. Long blonde hair half-covers her face and is tickling her collarbone, but the sight gets a half-smile out of the exhausted hummingbird faunus - and as she casts her gaze to the last place she remembered her third teammate, it seems even their lightest sleeper was tired enough to pass out on the couch. The scotch glass dangles a couple of inches off the floor where her arm is draped over the edge of the couch, her head resting against Jocelyn’s leg as she breathes evenly.

Somehow while he slept, Coconut had managed to maneuver himself into Prism’s lap. One of his arms had wrapped itself around her waist, while the other cushioned his head - he’d curled into the fetal position, his head facing her stomach. Jocelyn seemed to have fallen asleep shortly after she herself did, and had tilted sideways - commandeering Prism’s shoulder as a pillow and her arm as a teddy bear. Even Amane hadn’t been able to make it to her bed, probably with thanks to the alcohol she drank earlier - Jocelyn wasn’t the only one who’s lap was commandeered as a pillow.

The entire sight brings a sappy smile to the hummingbird faunus’ face. Placing her scroll face-up just a little past Coconut, her free hand goes to gently tug the glasses from his face, before folding them up against his shoulder and setting them in a safe spot atop the couch cushion. She can’t really do anything about the scotch glass from her angle, so she’ll have to leave it until morning, or until it hit the floor - whatever came first. Thankfully Amane had at least emptied it, so nobody would be cleaning up spilled alcohol first thing in the morning.

Prism takes one final breath, and lets it out in a sigh of relief. The panic of the nightmare has passed, her winds have died down. Nobody would be waking up to her screams tonight, or the sound of shattering glass as she blew out the window, like that one time. She lets her head flop back against the cushions again, staring at the ceiling. Numb limbs be damned, she couldn’t wake up her teammates seeing them like this. Looks like she’d just need to deal with it.

Prism closes her eyes again, her breathing even. Not the worse problem to face.

Spoiler: ShowHideThe rest of Team Casanova was used with their creator's permission. Coconut Cream belongs to Walter, Amane Petrichor belongs to Inexhaustive, and Jocelyn Antiqua belongs to Monstermanic.

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