Day 109 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Have your character consider their odds.
Erin: “Let’s get a lottery ticket,” my roommate suggested.
“Nope.”
“Why not,” she ran into my room and started bouncing on my bed.
“We don’t have any money,” I reminded.
“Exactly,” she screamed.
“We can’t afford to throw any money away.”
“We’re not going to, we’re going to win,” she lied.
“Were going to lose like 99.9999% of the population.”
“We’re going to lose, so were going to play,” she cheered and ran away before I could argue.
Shannon: If I do this I don’t know what I’ll get out of it. What are the odds anything will actually change? What are the odd things will just stay the same, or get worse? Then I get my hopes up for nothing. It’s not like I have much choice. Nothing is going to change if I don’t do anything, but what happens to me when I fail? People keep advising me it couldn’t hurt to try, but rejection is never fun, and it’s never as easy as advertised. I guess over time you just get used to it. Well forget the odds, and the pain, because I’m going for it.
Are the odds in your character’s favor?
Pelky Sisters 
Janie’s radio crackled dangerously as a muffled voice blared through, “Are you at the ridge?” At the other end of the line was a short, gruff man who hated babysitting the newbies, but tolerated this particular exercise on this specific occasion for one reason alone; his brother’s estranged daughter had asked to join their crew. When he’d read her name, scrawled in fancy loops with a note about being an orphan scribbled on the last line of the application, it nearly brought a tear to his crinkled eyes. Though he wouldn’t admit it, he had always secretly hoped John would have met his only offspring before he bit the bullet, literally. No one knew there was any relation between the two of them, and no one ever would.
Her toes dipped over the edge of the cliff, hanging on like a diver’s from the block; her jump would be far more terrifying than any dive into a pool, though. Through her head ran a line of complicated statistics she’d, stupidly, been researching as this assignment appeared on her calendar. Everything from likelihood of surviving a parachute malfunction to how quickly a sniper would hit her ran before her eyes at breakneck speed, making her stumbled backwards for stability.
The idea with this exercise was for three cadets to escort an agent back to a building on the other side of the gulch, all the while avoiding the paintball guns stationed at random along the way. No one in the compound knew the numbers like she did. With her was a cadet who’d failed this mission three times, a girl who was on her first time and had five years of skydiving training before it, and a prisoner of war who couldn’t leave the location without fatality. Everything was set up and timed perfectly; Janie figured they had a five point nine percent chance of surviving to the end. Chances were good that the prisoner was going to escape along the way, the skydiver would make it across the gully and the failure would be their downfall.
But, all in all, Janie was just excited for the opportunity, which was a very good thing under the circumstances. Speaking hurriedly to her crew, she whispered into the radio that they were about to set off. For a moment, there was a deafening silence that was so absolute they could hear one of the snipers’ coughing echoing around the cliffs. The reply was quick a, “Ten four,” before the signal was severed and the team were on their own. Motioning toward the ridge, Janie took a run at the open space between the cliffs and jumped with all her strength, soaring through the air with a high chance of making it through the day.
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Created to Write:
Steve steps into Bucky’s room. “Hey jerk.”
“Punk,” Bucky replies with a soft smile.
Steve stands in the door for a moment, then says, “I need a favor.”
Bucky tenses, then looks up. Steve has the look that says someone needs him, but he can’t do anything to help; the look he gives Bucky whenever he has an episode.
“Why me?” Bucky asks with a puzzled look.
Steve sighs, “Heather needs to decide if she’s going into surgery.”
Bucky doesn’t move.
“Why would she listen to me then?”
Steve is quiet before answering, “You know more about this than me.”
***
Heather stares at her leg. Shuri tested the anesthetic; it works. She’s able to create versions of other types of medication for Heather, in the event that she needs it. All that’s left is to decide if she really wants to do this. She hears a knock at the door. “It’s open.”
The door opens and Bucky with one arm walks in. Heather looks down when her imagination starts seeing her leg disappear. “Steve said I should talk to you,” Bucky says.
Heather stares at her leg.
“…You’re scared.”
Heather closes her eyes. An eyeful of tears falls down her cheek, “I want to walk again.”
“Who says you won’t?” Bucky asks, as he sits in a chair next to her.
“It won’t be the same,” Heather mutters.
“…Losing a limb is scary. Believe me,” Bucky lightly touches his left stump, “But… if you don’t take the surgery, you will never walk again. At least not the way you want to. You understand that, right?”
Heather nods, but stays quiet.
“There’s something else, is there?”
“There are many things all piled in on each other,” Heather says, holding back tears. She waits a beat before turning her head to face him; Bucky gives her a look. Heather is quiet before answering his unsaid question. “What if I am pulled back into missions? What if they never leave me alone? What if I can never see my family again? What if the anesthetics stops working mid-surgery and I wake up-?”
“Why are you scared of surgery?” Bucky interrupts.
Heather doesn’t meet his gaze. “…Because two people I know that went into surgery died,” Heather answers, “I know this isn’t the same… but it still scares me.”
“Heather,” Bucky dares to reach over and take her hand, “I know this is something you are uncomfortable with, but you need this. Everything you are scared of will take care of itself.”
“How do you know for sure?”
“Because… Because I see the way Steve looks at you. You are family. I see him look at you and the expression he shows is one of a father looking at his daughter. Steve won’t let anything happen to you. If you don’t want to be a soldier or a hero, he won’t let anyone touch you. He’ll take on the world to make sure you are happy.”
Heather chuckles weakly and asks, “Like what he did for you?”
Bucky cracks a smile, “Exactly.”
Heather goes quiet. “…When… When are you… going under?”
“Soon.”
“Can you wait until after…” Heather looks at her leg, “this?”
Bucky sighs, “Sure.”
Heather almost chokes out a sob, “You promise?”
Bucky sees her crying again. He moves to the edge of the bed and gives her a half hug. Heather returns it with both arms. “I promise.” Heather holds on for as long as she can.
“If… If Steve is like a dad to me,” she thinks aloud, “does that make you my uncle?”
Bucky stops breathing at the thought. He had no family left. Steve told him about Peggy, and the commandos. All he had was Steve.
And now this girl, who has been through too much, is calling him family. Bucky smiles and decides to not be gone for too long, “I’d be honored, Heather.”
Heather nods into his shoulder, “I’ll do it. The surgery.”
“And Steve and I will be there when you are done.”
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