The 'Shit let's get some random as heck prompts meme'

[high_roller]

The 'Shit let's get some random as heck prompts meme'

 

Step 1
✪Post with your character! Name and series go in the header.

Wait, you're not done!

Head over here and click on one of the writing prompt generators.  Generate until you find one you think is interesting and copy and paste it into the body of your comment.  Or come up with your own random prompt.  Whatever.

Do not leave the body of your comment blank!
Seriously, that is some bright red text up there.  If you leave your comment blank you're just gonna look like a tool for not following easy directions.

Step 2
✪Go around and look at other characters.  Find a prompt you think looks entertaining and respond! You guys are now playing that prompt out.

Comments

[dirk_gently]

"So what happens when you let them out?" He's still trying to figure out how to help. If War can't even crack the glass with his biceps of steel and gauntlets of doom, what good can somebody like Dirk do?

[dysarmed]

They're payment.

[War's still thinking, too. If force fails, and velocity and impact, perhaps...

War tosses the jar straight up, then unhitches his sword and swings it in an arch. It's a good thing Dirk's short no promises with his hat. The sword flares with fire, there's a tching! of it hitting the jar. It falls, rolls quite a ways. On fire. Good sign. War hitches his sword and walks after the jar.]

[dirk_gently]

"Payment somebody else gave you, or... something you're paying to somebody?" Dirk wishes people paid him more often, but not in that kind of thing. He follows at a safe distance, slow and careful and just a tiny bit unsteady.

[dysarmed]

I to another.

[The totem is what really matters. For a few moments War wonders why. His pace is steady, slow, but he notices Dirk fall behind. His footsteps. Abnormal.]

Allaying your status quo of misery?

[dirk_gently]

Dirk raises an eyebrow, not because he's offended in any way but because that turn of phrase sounds a little like something he'd say himself. Maybe he's rubbing off on War?

"I suppose so, yes. It doesn't work terribly well, one only ends up far more miserable the following morning, but..." He gives a shrug, as if to say he's only a mortal human and that's his excuse.

"I'm not entirely certain I want to know, but against my better judgement, what is that thing payment for?"

[dysarmed]

[It was.]

But humans are flawed. Corruptible.

[Bitterness swells in him, and his tone is hard and flat. Over a conflict so old...so close. War slows, stops. Picks up the jar. The fire goes out. He clenches his hand to test it, turns to face Dirk as he speaks.]

It's weakened. Where is your purgatory? Thor may yet glean use.

[He'll answer your question after, Dirk.]

[dirk_gently]

"More flawed than you can imagine, mate." He sighs, a little resigned to the usual difficulty of conversing with War, and completely unaware he's actually had his own words thrown back at him. He has so many words, after all, he can't be expected to remember them all.

"You mean my world? Just a PINpoint away..."

[dysarmed]

[As he thought.]

The merchant lends healing agents and bestows knowledge of combat. Now take me there.

[War's about to correct him, but he holds his tongue. Now's not the time.]

[dirk_gently]

"What? What merchant?" He's pulling out his PINpoint anyway, but pauses to eye War thoughtfully. "Could you duck a bit? My ceiling's not... intended to accommodate someone of your stature. More someone of mine." Well not quite, but it's still only an eight foot clearance.

[dysarmed]

The fallen demon Vulgrim.

[War kneels. Stops himself from taking hold of Chaoseater's hilt.]

[dirk_gently]

"Can't say as I know that one. I'll look him up sometime..." He's just being flippant, of course. "Ah, and do try not to damage my house? It's already been through a military jet, or rather one has been through it, and that was expensive to repair..."

He punches the button and lands them in a cluttered front hall, slightly crowded with newspapers, discarded rain boots and clothes, heaps of old mail, and other odds and ends. Dirk is not a tidy housekeeper, and very much the perpetual bachelor.

[dysarmed]

[War's about to say he'd have only a passing interest in the dead. But then they're there! How undramatic. It's l- War furrows his brow. Damn, man, do you ever toss your pizza boxes? He stands, stops short of bumping the low ceiling. Step step stecrunch.]

[dirk_gently]

He does a general sort of clean up once a year, at least! To be fair, Dirk eats a lot of pizza, so they do accumulate quickly.

Dirk winces at the crunch. "Careful! Err... here, the kitchen is a little better, ceiling-wise. I can call them from there..." He waddles up the hall to the open kitchen door, one hand on the wall. Of course, the kitchen is more cluttered than the hall, and there's the doorway to get through...

[dysarmed]

[War wants to. That's what bothers him. He wants to clean up.]

We'll meet outside.

[War doesn't need to breathe and he's close to gagging - not just for the pizza remains, but how he imagines the rest of the house to be if this is the entrance. Even War took some care to presentation! He moves to a door along the hall. It's a way out, right?]

[dirk_gently]

War is lucky the house has a pretty simple layout. There are only three doors in the hall, one at each end and one along the middle, and since two are open to the kitchen and living room respectively, the third closed one is the obvious option and also the door out to the street. There's a couple steps, but the view out there will be familiar, and the elderly Jaguar is parked out front once again.

Dirk gives a vague sort of wave to War as he goes, and toddles the rest of the way to the kitchen to make his call.

[dysarmed]

[War kicks open the door and lumbers into freedom. He surveys the immediate neighborhood. Nothing's changed. War really doesn't want to be here, here among a dead god and lost dreams of humanity. He reminds himself he'll be quick. Break the jar, get back...to Earth.]

To Earth as Eden...

[He can't do anything other than wait now. The street's very quiet. Everyone's safe inside.]

[dirk_gently]

Hopefully he didn't just break Dirk's locks...

The street is quiet, and dark, because it's night. There's streetlamps though, and it's a fairly peaceful neighborhood. Possibly Dirk shouldn't be calling Kate's house this late.

It's calm and quiet, and when Dirk does emerge he doesn't say anything right away. He just pauses to survey the damage to his door, sighs, fumbles around lighting up a cigarette and sinks down to sit on the steps. "He's on his way."

[dysarmed]

[...Night. It's been a while. War looks over his shoulder at the click of the lighter. The flame so small. He looks at the souls in the jar, which casts a turquoise glow. A few minutes pass. The wind changes sharply.]

[dirk_gently]

Just for the moment, Dirk is content to be quiet. Partly he's still riding the buzz of the alcohol as long as he can hold onto it, partly he's tired, and partly he's given up on attempting frivolous conversation with War.

Within a few minutes the clouds seem to thicken overhead, there's a distant rumble, and then abruptly Thor comes swinging out of the sky hanging by one hand from his hammer.
Under the other arm is a live duck.

When he lands on the street the impact makes cracks in the pavement.

[dysarmed]

[Dirk is wise in those regards. War watches Thor's dramatics. He walks forward to meet him, tightly grips the jelly jar.]

Why alight with a duck, Thor?

[Well that's a question he never thought he'd ask.]

[dirk_gently]

Dirk is definitely smarter than he looks, even when tipsy. Possibly moreso, with the booze slowing his trains of thought down to a speed where they're easier to analyze.

Thor looks slightly sheepish and defensive. "Kate said to take it with me."

Dirk flicks ash off his cigarette, and tries a bad Groucho Marx impression. "Sure, but what was it before it was a duck?"

"The postman." Thor says slowly, completely serious.

For the record, I would've made its previous form be ham.

[dysarmed]

[...]

Did he deserve it?

ham?

[dirk_gently]

Thor looks down at the duck, and sets it in the street, where it sits looking cross and waddles a few steps before looking up to regard War with as much skepticism as a duck can emote.

"He was not good at being a postman." Thor says, again with utter seriousness, and a thick accent. On top of trying to cope with the modern world, English isn't his first language.

Dirk raises an eyebrow.

Yes. As in he turned ham into a duck.

[dysarmed]

[War ignores the duck. He will ignore it until it moves to peck him or something. Then he will kill it in a needlessly theatrical fashion.]

Why did Kate tell you to bring it here?

[Pervasively bad at doing your job? Acceptable reason for being turned into a duck.]

Pigduck.

[dirk_gently]

"Because it was qvacking in the bathtub and she is trying to sleep." Thor gives a little 'not my problem' shrug, and swivels the ice-blue gaze to Dirk. "Why did you call me here?"

The duck is moving on from War to go stare at Dirk, which distracts him a moment. "Hm? Oh, He wanted to see if you might persevere where others have failed, in using your deific might to- he's got a jar that can't be opened." Dirk sighs. He's not feeling up to snuff tonight. "You've got a hammer. That seems worth a try."