#oops the prompt is slightly angsty dydfbj

[gamie99]

Hey, Skibidi Tumblr! Let's do another writing exercise!

I posted the first of these a few months ago on Christmas Day, and I absolutely loved all the responses you guys made! I had so much fun reading your additions, that I just had to do another one! In fact, I've had this exact prompt brewing in the back of my mind for forever! I think y'all will really like it!

(I wanted to add concept doodles to this prompt too, but I'm tired rn and can't be bothered lmao. Maybe I'll add them later ^^;)

In case you missed it, here's the gist!:

Under the cut, I've written a little scene with dialogue involving some of my OCs (in this case, Skip and Solo!). Anyone that wants to participate can reblog this post with their own characters, reacting and responding to the provided scenario!

If you aren't all that good at writing but still want to participate, then that's alright. Bullet points describing your character's thoughts or actions, or even drawing your OC's response are perfectly fine as well!

Happy writing, everybody! Can't wait to see what you'll make this time! :D

They had them cornered now.

In a dark and tiny alleyway in the heart of an old-world city, two traitors stood against the world. The first of them, a lanky Speakerman, dressed in a gray suit and a rather bold and colorful tie. The second, a scrawny Skibidi, with disheveled dark hair and old scars running down his cheek. The pair huddled together, backs pressed against old brick and mortar. The Skibidi tried his best to ignore the pounding pain in the side of his head, as fresh blood ran down the side of his face and dripped below into his slightly cracked bowl. The Speakerman stood in front of him, attempting to put on a brave face. He couldn't do it very well, unfortunately. Who wouldn't, if practically their entire faction was staring them down?

Blocking the entrance to the alley was a large squadron of Alliance agents - cameras, speakers, TVs and all. Speakermen gave the defector betrayed looks of shame, and Cameramen stood at attention with their guns ready - a few of them were broadcasting, the Speakerman noticed. A few TV Men stood amongst them, their arms crossed and their screens displaying disapproving stares. Their lone large unit stood furthest back with with his sub-screens outstretched, shining blinding spotlights down on the little runaways.

Police sirens suddenly sounded off, and the toilet looked up to see the law enforcement of his kind hovering in the air overhead. Mutants and striders stood on the rooftops, glaring down at him with sharpened fangs and glowing eyes that pierced through the dark. This was it. It was over. They were surrounded on all sides. They well and truly had no chance of escape, they were completely and utterly trapped.

Standing defensively in front of the injured Skibidi, the Speakerman reached into his pocket and shakily pulled out a combat knife, rusted and chipped from months of under-use. Holding it in front of him so amateurishly made him look almost freshly built, like he had just begun basic training.

"P-please!" the Speakerman pleaded, his voice waivering with his confidence . "Don't... don't hurt us! D-don't hurt him!"