RPG Social => RPG Discussion => Topic started by: Dr. Gustave on July 08, 2018, 12:02:07 PM

Title: Weekly Writing Prompts
Post by: Dr. Gustave on July 08, 2018, 12:02:07 PM
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."
Title: Re: Weekly Writing Prompts
Post by: Glow on July 08, 2018, 07:32:15 PM
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.
Title: Re: Weekly Writing Prompts
Post by: Dr. Gustave on July 09, 2018, 11:08:09 AM
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?


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.
Title: Re: Weekly Writing Prompts
Post by: Kingnoname1 on July 13, 2018, 07:46:51 AM
Canon: Birthday Presents. Calen Shrike (Recommendations are for losers)


Swash. Grunt. Clink.

Thump. Klump.


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.


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.
Title: Re: Weekly Writing Prompts
Post by: Moth on July 13, 2018, 04:08:48 PM
What-If: 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: show
The 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.

Title: Week 2
Post by: Dr. Gustave on July 16, 2018, 04:57:55 PM
The prompt this week is a first line prompt, you can change around the tense or perspective or whatever but some form of the line has to appear as the opening line.

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.

"The sound of the alarm was the first thing I heard in the morning, it was the first thing I heard every morning."
Title: Re: Weekly Writing Prompts
Post by: Dr. Gustave on July 17, 2018, 07:22:06 PM
Canon: Chitin

The sound of the alarm clock was the first thing Malina heard in the morning, it was the first thing she heard every morning. Its unending low-pitch beeping that could rip her from the comfort of sleep like a gunshot was sudden, loud, and pointedly not enjoyable to listen to. She hated the sound, hated waking up in the morning and especially hated getting out of bed. She imagined most people did, that she wasn't anything special, who would want to leave the comfort of a heavy comforter and fluffy pillows after all?

That was probably why it worked though, she thought as she reached out, slapped the night stand once before finding the offending alarm clock and tapping the snooze button, resetting the alarm to go off in another five minutes. Then, what felt like five seconds later, the electronic beeping resumed. It only took her one slap to hit the off button this time followed by a loud, drawn out groan as she picked herself up off her stomach and sat up onto her knees.

The low light of the room still managed to make her flinch as she opened her eyes but after a few tough attempts to rub the sleep from them, she opened her eyes and looked around the room, trying to do anything that might delay moving from the bed. It wasn't a well kept living space, that much was certain.

On her nightstand, next to the old fashioned digital alarm clock, was a small paper plate with the remnants of a turkey and cheese sandwich that Malina had picked at as her midnight snack two nights ago, leaning against a tall but thin locker on the far end of the room, next to the door, was her staff and beneath it, curled in a heap, was Manticore. A few papers were strewn on the floor next to a nice looking wooden desk on the left wall while on the right, the door to the bathroom beckoned with its promise of warm water and a fresh face.

With one last rub of her eyes, Malina slid over and hopped down off of the bed, her bare feet meeting the cold wooden floor with a bit of hesitancy before firmly planting themselves and allowing Malina to stand up, stretching her arms up above her head as she sleepily walked through the threshold into the bathroom. She lifted off the oversized and baggy “I <3 Vacuo” shirt with two palm trees forming the heart and tossed it into a small hamper next to the sink as her reflection caught her eye.

She took a step toward the sink and leaned in toward the mirror as she pulled down the skin under her eyes, trying to get them under the right light. She sighed and quietly resigned herself to the dark circles under her eyes that felt like they were becoming more apparent every week as she slipped out of the comfortable pajama pants and tossed them into the hamper as well.

A small frown crossed her face as she looked at the shower. It wasn't bad by any means but it wasn't nice either. It was almost as if someone had taken a shower from a locker room and replaced the curtain with a foggy glass door that didn't even reach all the way down, letting water splash out onto the bathroom floor almost every time she used it.

As was routine, she moved to pick up two towels off of the rack near the entrance to the bathroom and set one on a hook just to the side of the shower door and laid the other out flat on the floor in front of it before stepping in and turning the knob almost all the way to the left.

Malina shuddered from the initial blast of cold water but quickly found comfort in a rapidly increasing warm stream, perks of the job at least. She splashed the water on her face and let it run through her shoulder length hair, pushing it back against her scalp and down her body. Not wasting any time, she began to rub shampoo through her hair, followed by conditioner after she'd washed it out, and rounding it out by washing the rest of her body and face with soap. As she finished cleaning herself she hung her head beneath the steady stream of water to let the suds flow off of her and down the drain, allowing the streams if water to take the suds from her body instead if standing directly under it. She stayed there for a moment, hands pressed against the wall supporting her and watching the water flow down into the black hollow of the drain.

Malina took a deep breath in and a long exhale as she closed her eyes and focused on the water hitting her body, paying attention to a single stream of water out of dozens as it made its way from her shoulder, down her back, onto her side, along her hip, down her thigh and the rest of her leg, off of her ankle and finally to the side of the arch of her foot where it joined the rest of the water and washed away. She did this again and again, focusing on the water first and her own body as simply an object that the water was traveling across. Several moments passed before she very slowly pushed out with her aura.

Though her eyes were closed, she knew what the sight looked like. A faint raspberry glow emanated from her and mere centimeters from her skin, the water droplets splashed against some invisible barrier, rolling down the contours of Malina's body but offset from it just slightly. Despite the water no longer touching her, she could still feel the water, feel the heat in each drop and the sensation of watching a single stream make its way from shoulder to foot, all through her aura. She pushed further with her aura, sending it inches off of her body, a foot, a foot and a quarter. It wasn't so different from her semblance, just slower and more controlled.

She pushed further, spreading her aura thinner and thinner until the boundaries of her aura pressed against the edges of the shower, causing the water to spill down the walls and out onto the floor in front of the door, soaking the towel. She felt the coldness of the tiled walls, the moisture that had been built up then was dispersed by her aura. It felt, in a weird, roundabout way, like a hug. All the walls pressing against her but not in a claustrophobic sense, in a comfortable, but cold, sense.

As she maintained the aura pressing against the walls around her, she could feel two distinct shifts inside her. First, the loss of a part of her, part of her personality.


She mentally groaned. It wasn't the most common loss or the worse whenever she went through the process, but it still felt like a punch to the gut to know she was giving it up for eight hours. It wasn't just the loss of feeling comfort, if it was as simple as that she might be able to deal with it better. It was the loss of being able to comfort others, feeling safe under blankets, being able to comprehend comforting others or others comforting her. To her, for the next eight hours, the entire idea of comfort was going to be an alien idea.

As she felt it slipping away, bit by bit, she could feel the second shift, more pronounced now. With the idea of comfort removed from her, aura was almost immediately sent outward at a slow and steady pace to replace it and join the rest in pressing against the walls. Malina didn't feel that it was like the rest of her aura though, it felt like a mockery, artificial. It rose to the front lines of the aura, pushing the natural aura back to be saved from any harm by the artificial. It was a strange feeling to undergo the process, it was almost like covering a warm sweater with a thin, plastic raincoat. It was comfortable but it was undercut by knowing the comfort was only a barrier.

Malina's focus slipped for barely a fraction of a second and she relapsed back into thinking of comfort.

Malina sat on one of the many metallic benches that littered Beacon’s campus. She had to sit with her back toward the arm of the bench to allow her tail to slip through the gap between arm and bench so it was far from the most comfortable position but it was still leagues above sitting on the ground or standing up. She had her eyes closed and rested her head on the lip of the backrest as Carmine and Aurelia sat to her right, chatting about some class or another while Candida stood behind them, her arms folded against the lip of the bench next to Malina's head.

Usually, Malina would be hounding them to focus on studying for the upcoming third year exam but they had all just returned from a mission the day before and, despite successfully completing it, it had taken a lot out of all of them. They could all use some time to relax.

Malina let out a content sigh as she opened her eyes and looked at her teammates as they chatted away. Maybe the bench didn't feel very nice but everything else about the moment did. Here, with her looking toward her friends, as a far off sunset framed the sky behind them a bright pinkish purple, she felt…

That fraction of a second of thought was enough to break her from her trance and she felt her aura snap back to her, clinging to her body as tightly as a diving suit before fading away.

As the water droplets hit Malina's now dry body, once again sending a small shock through her, she swore under her breath and slammed a fist against the tiled wall. It was always like this, she got closer and closer every day, every week, and every time one stray thought would make it all come crashing down.

She pushed out with her aura once more, only reaching a couple centimeters off of her skin but now much more dense. She paused for a moment, focusing on the aura. If she was being generous, it was probably about a quarter-or-so thicker, meaning a quarter-or-so drop in her ability to understand… that nice feeling… Maybe she was underestimating herself.

She pursed her lips and tried not to utter a string of swears. It wasn't as good as the day prior, she didn't think, but it was as good as two days ago and better than a month ago. It was progress, sure, but it felt like she spent every morning pounding against a brick wall with her bare fists and only coming away with broken, bloodied knuckles and a single chip of brick.

She tilted her head back and let the water run down her face, trying and failing to visualize the stream washing away her stress before shutting off the shower and shaking the water from her hair.

Malina shuddered as she stepped out of the shower onto the now damp towel and comparatively chilly air of the bathroom, quickly wrapping the towel she had placed on the hook around her body, the normally soft fabric now feeling as though it was grating against her skin. She took a moment to find a dry spot on the towel on the floor and dry her feet before walking to the sink and grabbing the blow dryer. She blinked quickly as the hot air kicked on and started to blow through her wet hair, sending a couple drops running down her forehead and into her eyes. Her mouth bent into a frown as the condensation was gradually fading from the mirror in front of her, revealing the continued existence of the dark circles under her eyes. She had hoped the shower would freshen her face up enough to get rid of them but apparently that wasn't the case.

With a sigh, Malina finished drying her hair and set down the blow dryer, replacing it with a dull red toothbrush with a swirling blue and white spritz of toothpaste. She never really liked brushing her teeth, the feeling of the bristles constantly moving back and forth against her teeth and gums always made her squirm just a little bit. She did it anyway, though, it was important not to miss a day. You miss one day and the next day it's harder to pick back up.

As she began to brush her teeth, she thought forward to the coming day with a dejected sigh. It was the last day under Titania as the combat class assistant. Starting today until the end of the spring semester she'd be studying under Dr. Sophos as the aura class’ teacher assistant.

Truth be told, this is what Malina really wanted when she became a TA. To study under Dust and Aura professors and learn more about the craft and, hopefully, be able to keep studying under the acclaimed Professor Neelabadri at Shade had been her goal since being more or less coerced into becoming a huntress. This was her element, after all. As accomplished as she was in combat, study was where she felt most at home, most herself.

She supposed it made sense, as she spit out her toothpaste into the sink and replaced it was a cup of water, being a scholar was always what she wanted to be, it's why she's at Beacon now and not off hunting Grimm. It wasn't really in the cards for her though, she'd already been set on the path of a huntress for seven years, the most she could do now was transition to a studying position and do her best to keep out of strictly combat classes.

She spit the water from her mouth and looked up into the mirror, meeting her own eyes briefly before looking away and moving back into the main room of the renovated dorm to get dressed. She was still a huntress, underneath it all. That would never be stripped or taken from her, even if she ever wanted it to be. At the end of the day, even if what she wanted was to learn, she still had to protect the world from Grimm. It was a blessing, then, that she could convince herself that teaching the hunters of tomorrow could count for that.
Title: Re: Weekly Writing Prompts
Post by: NotSurprised on July 17, 2018, 07:37:01 PM
Canon: Do What You Have To Do - Hunter d’Azur

The sound of the alarm was the first thing he heard this morning.




He groaned as he lifted his head from his pillow. Glancing at the entrance of his apartment, he began to fumble for the weapon that rests at his bedside. Firmly grasping the handle, the sleep-addled mind cleared as one thought surfaced.

Ah. The alarm is going off again.

As if he was a predator rising from its resting place, Hunter calmly got up and stalked towards the entrance to his apartment. His hand on the door handle with his weapon ready on the other, and he quickly swung the door open ready to attack the intruders. However, there were no intruders to be found. With a sigh, Hunter propped his weapon next to the doorway and quickly left the safety of his home so that he can investigate. Upon turning around, Hunter could only groan about more work due to the vandalization of his doorway.

Animal. Faunus scum. A long time ago, it would've gotten his blood boiling. Nowadays, Hunter doesn't even acknowledge the insults anymore since it could’ve been someone waiting to attack him instead of cheap talk. Hunter went back inside to grab his painting supplies so that he can paint over the door once again. He didn’t want to draw any more attention to himself, so he made it quick. Once the door's paint job was finished, Hunter would go through his usual routine again. He would start brushing his teeth first while he approximates the amount of food left behind in his worn-down fridge. Noticing the lack of food, he notes that he’ll have to be out for longer than usual to go grocery shopping. Hunter finished brushing his teeth and started taking out temporary hair dyes for the day. Dyeing his hair red for today, Hunter would also apply makeup while the dye dries so that he conceals the small, black, and prominent ring around his eyes. Usually, he can pass it off as baggy eyes, but it’s better to be safe than sorry for today. Putting on a medical mask, Hunter quickly put on a pair of jeans and a hoodie. Grabbing his weapon and concealing it the best he can, Hunter left for the day.

Fortunately for Hunter, he avoided most of the humans that would recognize him regardless of the actions he took to disguise himself. As for everyone else, Hunter would get away with strange or even dirty looks, but that was okay for him. They won’t find him next time. Like every other day, Hunter went through his routine. For him, it would be earning money from odd jobs, buying instant noodles from the nearest convenience store, and immediately returning home. It’s a little disheartening Hunter couldn’t spare time for other outdoor activities, because after all...

His home wasn’t the best, but then again, when has it always been better than something like this? His home had always been small and empty, with signs of wear spread throughout the apartment. Even then, something about his apartment being so barren makes his heart sink every time he comes back. With a tired sigh, Hunter moved to place the instant noodles in his “kitchen” - and calling it a kitchen would be generous. Making sure that he had the water boiling, Hunter went back into his bathroom to wash out the hair dye. While he does so, Hunter couldn’t help but think as the water ran through his hair.

Why am I still here?

Hearing the familiar sound of boiling water that is ready to be poured into an instant cup of noodles, Hunter shakes his head to clear his mind as he returns the kitchen. Getting a cup of noodles open and applying the seasoning, Hunter pours the boiling water into the cup. Once that’s done, Hunter sits down on the floor as he stares at a clock and waits. And then he would wait even longer. Once three minutes passed, Hunter quickly jumped up and got eating utensils for his meal of the day. Like every other day, the room would be silent except for the sounds of messy eating. Most of the time, this would begin Hunter’s end routine for the night, where he’d clean up after himself, brush his teeth, wash the makeup off, and getting into bed with his weapon near.

Tiredly staring at the ceiling, Hunter could only wait for sleep to claim him, but today, he can’t help but think. Think of a more innocent but brighter past. Think of a girl that brightened his world when he didn’t understand why it was dark in the first place. Most of all, he can’t help but think of a promise. A promise that maybe someday, they’ll find each other again and be something more. He had to admit, that was quite a silly and far-fetched thought. They were children then. They couldn't predict the type of people they would become.

But maybe…

And like that, Hunter fell asleep, his weapon on standby.




His grip tightened on his weapon.

The sound of the alarm was the first thing he heard that morning, it’s the first thing he hears every morning.