May 2020 Writing Prompts

[iam_senpai]

I know, it's May already. We were shocked too! The outside world is still a bit of a mess and for many of us, it's more of the same as April. That's why it's more important than ever for us to try and lift your spirits here in the Nexus. A huge welcome to our new players and a supportive hand on the shoulder to all our regulars trying to get by. Let me offer a bit of a reprieve by way of writing prompts. And As always--

Disclaimer: I never close old writing prompts from previous months. People can and should be encouraged to post on old month's prompts and I highly encourage players to track these posts to catch stragglers or new people writing on old prompts.

Now. With that out of the way, onto this month's prompts.

May's Writing Prompts

1. "I've followed all the instructions, why isn't this working?!"

2. When it Rains, it Pours

3. "I can't rest until this is done."

4. "Give me this. I don't care if it's a lie, I want to believe."

5. Lost and Found

Bonus image prompt:

Comments

1

[pirateangelbaby]

Inspired by real life events! (Click to embiggen)

Can't Rest Until this is Done (Ziggyverse AU)

[willoftheblackbird]

Dee sighed to himself as he lay on the green room couch.

His body desperately needed the usual pre-show nap, but his mind was far too restless. This was going to be the first of four shows in a row, three of them being make-up dates for the concerts that were cancelled during his hospital stay. Running the equivalent of a musical marathon would have been stressful enough on its own, but even more important than that, Kuro was about to do something they'd never done before.

The idea started at Jake's Halloween party. Give the fans of the cancelled shows a special gift. Debut the video for Lost it All at the Munich show while the band played in front, simple spotlights, warpaint off.

Which meant it would require a costume change.

Dee honestly didn't think they could pull it off, but Ansgar was a master of stage production. Thanks to a hidden trap door, a lift from the Hammers' set and a team of very eager stage techs (three assigned to just Dee alone), they had it down to right around a minute. They clocked fifty two seconds during morning rehearsal - a new record.

Dee was understandably nervous.

While their video for Coffin dared to juxtapose real world imagery with that of the Kuro universe, it still kept them very separate. The Kuro universe was more of an afterlife, a separate world to inhabit once you left the real one behind. All the other promotional imagery was firmly rooted in that universe - photos, videos, articles, to the point that the band never did an interview without their warpaint on. They never used their real names. That was all by design. Dee built the band around the concept of immersion.

But tonight, they'd break character live on stage. The video they'd put together during the European tour was a stark departure from the Kuro universe. And likewise, this performance would be raw, heartfelt and deeply personal. This wasn't The Prophet's song to sing. It was all Dee's. And if all went well in Munich, this would be how they'd end all the rescheduled shows. A tour of courageous vulnerability.

It was no wonder he couldn't sleep.

...

The venue was packed, standing room only. Rex got a peek at the line before the show and said it stretched around the block. Most, if not all, of the original ticket holders came out for the show - spurred in no small part by the Hammers headlining the newly rescheduled date.

Kuro may have only been the supporting act, but they didn't disappoint. The Prophet had full command over that stage despite his restless afternoon. They kicked off In the End like it was meant to be the encore, and the stage lights went down with The Prophet's choreographed fall. The crowd cheered.

But the house lights didn't come up. Instead, after a few seconds, a screen flickered to life behind the Kuro set. Cheers turned to curious rumblings. Those who'd started moving out of the pit or turning toward the bar turned back around. This was new and unexpected.

The audio that accompanied this new darkness was pre-recorded: "To everyone who came out to see our show tonight, this last song is our gift to you... Thank you for your patience. Thank you for your support. And most of all... thank you for inspiring me to never give in or back down..."

The softness of the audio set the scene. A hush fell over the crowd as a single light slowly illuminated the center of the stage where a sleek black piano had been placed. Dee, not The Prophet, was rising from beneath the stage on a bench. His warpaint was gone, though some of the makeup still clogged his pores. The leather bracers, bone necklace and other tribal dressings had been replaced with a Kuro t-shirt that looked about one size too large.

He felt naked in it and uncharacteristically exposed. The silence felt suffocating, and Dee drew a shaky breath, forcing himself to swallow the panic now rising up his throat. Refusing to give in or back down, he straightened his back, lifting trembling hands onto the ivory keys.

Dee began to play.

As the opening notes echoed in the silence, the video faded up right on cue. A black and white montage of their pre-show rituals reflected off the piano - The Tiger tuning his guitar, The Skjoldånd putting on his warpaint, The Sovereign climbing the backstage steps with bass in hand, The Mystic fingering his violin, stagehands helping The Prophet get situated in the throne and everyone waiting for the lights to go up.

Dee closed his eyes, unable to stop watching them. But his lithe fingers had no trouble finding their place. His pounding heart fell into rhythm. When he started to sing, there was no trace of panic left. His voice was hauntingly smooth, rich with purpose but with room to build.

And build, it did.

Scenes from clinics and hospitals intercut the concert footage - needles in Dee's arm, IV drips connecting directly into his chest, terrified hands gripping bedrails, Jay worriedly clasping his hands in prayer around an old wooden rosary.

Slowly, other spotlights began to dimly illuminate the stage. A shirtless Ansgar brushed the cymbals on his drum kit. Jay's silhouette was almost unrecognizable without his robes, but the way his bow slid across the strings was mystical all on its own. All the while, stage props beget wheelchairs and physical therapy sessions mimicked stage choreography. Emotions swelled over bass lines. Johan ripped into his guitar, having traded tribal gear for a Kuro t-shirt even though his pants still sported his trademark tiger stripes. Each new instrument added to the harmony, but none distracted from the footage they were intertwined with.

Last, but not least, Raev entered from stage right. He felt his way along the piano as his voice weaved in between the violin's melody. Like Dee, he started softly, but built more quickly. Ansgar's pyrotechnic display matched the audience's rhythmic clapping. Determined faces cut through instrument closeups. Music triumphed over medicine. Jay handed off his violin while swinging his guitar around from behind his back just in time to join Johan for a crescendo.

The video faded back to the Prophet in his throne. The final words and notes were Dee's, breathy but poignant. Then, and only then, did the singer dare look out at the audience.

A respectful moment of silence passed as the screen behind the band faded back to black.

Time seemed to stand still.

Another heartbeat later, the crowd erupted in ecstatic applause. The ending was a departure from everything the audience was likely expecting, but they loved it all the same.

Dee was completely speechless. His eyes were wet, and he wasn't sure how long he'd been crying. Or if anyone else had noticed.

Raev, despite partial blindness, seemed know all of this instinctively. He took the liberty of filling in for Dee, thanking everyone in the audience and encouraging them to keep that energy going for the Hammers. Then, he lifted an arm, presenting Kuro to their fans one more time.

Ansgar climbed out from behind the drum kit. Jay crossed the stage to help Dee up from the piano bench. The singer's legs were shaking, threatening to do the very thing he'd just sung about, and Johan came up on the other side to support him.

Together, the five of them took center stage for a final bow.

It was done. But for Kuro, it was also just beginning.