#ask box prompts

[unboundprompts]

hi if this hasn't been asked before but maybe some book titles with themes of being hunted? plz

Hunting/Hunted Title Ideas

-> feel free to edit as you see fit.

A Merciful Death

The Tale of the Hunt

To Glorify the Hunter

A Golden Cage

The Longest Trek

Escape by Night

Bloodied Footprints

One Step Ahead

First, It Will Hurt

Run and Don't Look Back

A Trophy

A Dark Wood

I Am Lost

Until Morning Comes

Sought After

Until I Can Run No Farther

Prey

No Time for Rest

Watchful and Cold

Panic Within

Hounds of the Night

Can't Escape the Chase

Adrenaline's Embrace

Eyes Everywhere

[oceansprompts]

RP MUSE VALENTINE’S APPLICATION.

your name:

Romantic or platonic?:

A night in or dinner out or an activity?:

Ice cream or chocolate covered strawberries?:

What's your perfect date?:

Would you cook for me?:

Would you let me cook for you?:

Can we make-out?:

Make out in private or in public?:

Do you like to cuddle?:

Blankets or no blankets for cuddling?:

Couch or bed?:

What are at least 3 hobbies of yours?:

Tell me something about you no else knows:

Why do you want to be my valentine?:

What makes you a good Valentine?:

[asmoshywrites]

Heartbroken Dialogue Prompts That Will Make Your Readers Cry Hard

What's a character without a little heartbreak?

do note that these are my original dialogues, credit @asmoshywrites

"All it took was one situationship to lose faith in love."

"I can't stay strong knowing that all this was a sick game."

"Don't you get it?" "I want to hold hands while staring at the stars, laugh at your lame jokes, share a milkshake, but you left me, jerk."

"All along I was a pawn for you to play with."

"It was silly of me to hold out your favourite flowers in the rain while I watched you kiss someone else."

"You lost the spark in your eyes, princess."

"I wasn't a hole in your pocket that needed stitching. I didn't need fixing. Hell! I wasn't even your problem in the first place."

"It was her all along, right?"

"There was a time when you were my favourite chapter, but now all I can think about is burning the book to its core."

"Look at yourself! Time was supposed to heal you, not turn you into a monster."

"You were once my most wonderful dream, but now you turned into my greatest nightmare."

"I rather kill myself than stay with you. You cause someone with life dread to die."

My personal favourite is 1, 3, 5, 7. What about you?

[sailorshadzter]

Hi, could I ask for a Jonsa The little Mermaid AU? I think it fits Jonsa really well considering the heroine is a beautiful girl with red hair who believes in the good of people despite being constantly hurt by the patriarchy. She also saves her dark-haired prince charming but he gets deceived by another princess (cough kind of like Dany?). Plus she likes to sing.

hi anon!

now that ive written this, idk why it took me so long to get to it! it was a lot of fun!! so if you happen to see that ive finally answered it & you enjoy it, let me know! or anyone for that matter, i might be inclined to write more jonsa & the little mermaid or more disney mashups in general!

anyways!

thanks for the submission!

send me prompts

The sunshine… So close, so far… 

She stretches her arm out, fingers reaching, grasping, her heart wishing. 

As she breaks through the surface of the rocky waves, she sees the typically blue sky is gray, the threat of a storm looming just overhead. Soon enough, she knows that even the bright sun will be covered with storm clouds and she will once more sink beneath the surface, the memory of its warmth all she has left.

A sigh escapes her as she swings her gaze elsewhere, surprised then to see the ship in the distance, one she recognizes for she’s seen it time and time before. A smile flickers across her lips and she dives back below, closing the distance between her and the ship, popping back up on the backside, to where she knows is a place she can pull herself up to the dock, out of sight of the humans on board.

 Lively music is playing and the human she knows is named Jon is dancing to the beat, laughing at something she’s not privy to. He’s dark haired, curls she knows when it’s loose from its tight bun, with dark eyes she wishes she might look into if given the chance. Across the ship, his great white beast eyes her as he always does, the only creature upon the ship to ever give her notice, but he’s quiet in his knowledge, almost as if he knows the truth that hides in her heart. She’s been watching this human and his ship for a long time now and though he doesn’t know of her existence, she wishes he could- she wishes he might smile at her and she at him. She wishes she might dance alongside him, perhaps even sing with him, as she does her sisters and her friends below the water. If only she might have legs of her own! 

The rain begins then, a clap of thunder rumbling in the distance. It’s been long enough that she’s gone now and she knows if she stays much longer, her father will notice her being gone, so she pushes off the dock and slips back beneath the water’s surface. However, as she swims back down, deeper, deeper, back to home, she senses danger. Something tells her to glance back up and sure enough, when she does, she sees something bright like the sun, but bigger. Closer. 

Her heartbeat quickening, she turns and swims back up the way she’s just come, breaking through the water only to feel an intense heat. Like that of the sun on her skin, only increased greatly, so strong it prickles her scalp and dries the water on her face as she looks up in horror at the sight before her. The ship she’s only just left is burning- she knows the word from a book she found once- and she doesn’t need to be a human to know this is dangerous for those aboard the ship. 

That’s when she sees the great white beast she’s come to know being thrown overboard, yelping as he goes. She sees him paddling his legs- he can swim, it seems. She turns back to the ship, watching as the mast begins to fall, breaking into pieces as it goes. To her shock, one catches the human, Jon, as it falls, knocking him into the water. He, unlike the beast, does not begin to swim nor paddle, but rather he’s sinking…

Gasping, she ducks beneath the surface of the choppy water, watching as he’s sinking lower, lower, surely to drown if he’s not pulled back up. You must never go near humans! Her father’s voice rings through her mind, making her hesitate, but she resolves herself, surging forward as she pushes away those thoughts. Her father would never understand. And she was not going to allow this human to die when she was right there.

And so, she slips an arm beneath his shoulders, pulling him up; he’s heavy, but she swims up, tail moving faster than it’s ever moved before. After what feels like an eternity, she breaks through to the surface, where like a cruel twist, the storm is already passing. A summer storm, come and gone, just like that. She swims towards the shoreline, which is quite far, but she does not stop until finally beneath her she can feel the sandy bottom of the ocean floor. With every muscle in her body, she manages to drag him ashore, just barely out of reach of the tide that will rush in at dawn. 

Catching her breath, she stares down at the face of the man she’s just saved; he’s even more handsome up close, she realizes, with a small scar across an eye. Behind her the sun is rising up and she hears the sound of a voice calling his name, closer and closer. But then… His eyes are opening, slowly he’s waking and she cannot bear to pull away. Not just yet. Her hand comes up, cradling his cheek as he shifts beneath her touch, leaning into it as if he craves it. As if he knows it. She can’t help but to sing softly, the lullaby she recalls her mother singing to her when she was still very small. 

As he opens his eyes, he’s greeted by what surely must be a dream.

He’s never seen a more beautiful face in all of his life; big, beautiful blue eyes stare down at him with concern, rosy lips curving with syllables of words he doesn’t know. She’s singing, he realizes, a melodic tone that reminds him of childhood safety. Her voice is as beautiful as her face, the loveliest of voices he’s ever heard, one which he longs to hear long after she’s gone. She must be an angel, he realizes, come to take him to the otherside, for there could be no one in this world as lovely as she was. 

But then he hears it, the barking of Ghost, the sound startling her. She’s turning away then, casting him not even a backwards glance as she disappears from his view. Groaning, he’s trying his best to sit up, to call out after her, but it isn’t until he hears Davos’ calling his name, until he feels his hands on his arms, helping him up, that he’s able to open his eyes and look around him. She was gone. “A girl… She saved me…” he’s mumbling as Davos hoists him onto his feet, grumbling about Jon’s antics being bad for his health. “She was singing! The most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard…” He’s going on, stumbling to the left, then to the right, as if any moment she would appear once more. Beyond the two men, Ghost has skidded into the water, as if he alone knows where the woman has gone.

“My lord, I think you’ve drunk too much seawater,” Davos replies, steadying him when he falls back, weakened by his close call with death. “Come, let's get you inside,”he goes on, slipping his arm around his shoulders to keep him on his feet as they turn to head back towards the palace that looms in the distance. “Come, Ghost!” He calls out and though the creature hesitates, she watches from where she’s hidden herself among the rocks as he finally does turn and chase after the humans. 

Something strange and new is building within her, something she’s never felt in all of her life. It’s warm and sweet, a longing feeling, but unlike her feeling of wishing to be among the humans. It felt different, somehow. She crawls further up the rock, to sit at the top, as the two humans disappear behind a gate, nearly out of sight now.

Somehow she knows, this wasn’t the end yet. 

She would be part of their world, like she’s always dreamed of.

[deardarlingdevil]

I just got a bouquet of sunflowers in my inbox both on my art account and on this sideblog 😭💞

@djmorn @octarinecat @changeling-fae @cambion-companion @irlswampy @unreadpoppy thanks ya'll!!!

[kingthunder]

Oh prompts! Can I request “I need you, you idiot” or “I think about kissing you all the time” for yennskier please? 💛

Jaskier hadn’t been expecting to run across Yennefer of Vengerberg in a tavern in the ass end of nowhere. He did a double take when he saw her, for a split second even thinking he might be seeing things, but even if he couldn’t pick her out of a lineup blindfolded based on her terrifying aura alone, she dispelled all doubt by meeting his eyes across the room and making a beeline for him.

“You,” she said at the same time that he said, “I didn’t do it.”

“You did,” Yennefer said. “You wrote a song about me and people are singing it from here to Nilfgaard.”

“Oh, that,” Jaskier said. “Yeah, okay, I did that.”

“You ass,” Yennefer said and ordered a drink.

Jaskier cautiously ordered one as well, and Yennefer didn’t growl at him to leave, so he stayed. They drank in silence for what felt like a century, the air between them growing thick and charged, until Jaskier muttered “fuck it” and drained the rest of his drink in one go. He leaned in and said, “I haven’t heard from him either.”

Yennefer’s shoulders collapsed like a wet towel.

“Fuck,” she said. “Was I that obvious?”

“Yep,” Jaskier said, popping the p. “Another drink?”

“You can buy it.”

“I wouldn’t dream otherwise.”

Two hours later, his words slightly slurred, Jaskier said, “the worst part is that I don’t even know if any of it ever meant anything to him.”

This was some time after he’d admitted that he and Geralt had been fucking for years, and hadn’t that been a wild thing to say out loud with his mouth—to Yennefer of all people, his sworn enemy and only rival for Geralt’s admittedly intermittent affections.

“It had to,” Yennefer said. “He stayed with you for twenty years and there wasn’t even a spell making him do it.”

Jaskier remembered Geralt’s mouth on him in the dark, the way Geralt’s hands sometimes trembled in his hair when Jaskier made him come, and he wanted to believe her. He wanted that more than anything.

The line of Yennefer’s mouth was unhappy, and Jaskier had the absurd thought that he wanted to kiss it better. The thought percolated through his alcohol-soaked brain that the djinn spell fucked her up as much as Geralt’s decades of refusal to commit had fucked him up. His eyes wandered to her throat, where her dress had pulled low enough to reveal her collarbone, and he wanted to kiss that too.

“No, that was just my own stutip—” Jaskier stumbled on the word and then righted himself to say with perfect diction, “stupidity. My dedication to the art of being an idiot is both unparalleled and regrettable.”

“Did he ever—” Yennefer started. She looked at him and caught him looking at her, and he didn’t even try to pretend he wasn’t doing it. “What kinds of things did he say to you, when you…?”

Jaskier felt a spark of indignation that she thought she was allowed to ask him things like that and expected him to actually answer. And then he realized—she was grasping just like he was, for proof that it ever meant anything. The empty spot in his heart went out to her.

“He never said much at all,” Jaskier said truthfully. “But the way he got all cuddly afterwards said a lot. Or at least I thought it did.”

An arm around his chest, heavy and solid. A muscled leg thrown over his hip. Geralt’s face nuzzled into the crook of his neck, both their sweat cooling. 

“Yeah,” Yennefer said, and she was still looking at him. Their hands were nearly touching on the table. Jaskier inched his pinky towards her. She let him brush up against her and they both shuddered.

“I keep thinking about kissing you,” Jaskier whispered, and immediately turned his face away, cheeks burning. He pulled his hand back. “I’m sorry, I’ll leave, didn’t want to stay at this inn anyway, they have bedbugs I think, and this ale is way too strong? I—”

He was rambling but he couldn’t make himself stop.

“No,” Yennefer said. She grabbed his doublet to pull him back around. “No, you don’t get to say that and then pretend you didn’t.”

“I didn’t say anything at all,” Jaskier said, just to be an ass, and he expected her to fry him to a crisp or maybe knock his head into the tabletop or at least give him a good verbal whipping, but instead she grabbed his doublet more securely and yanked him closer.

It pulled him off balance and he fell half into her and then she was kissing him.

He made some kind of undignified noise and he couldn’t figure out where to put his hands and oh Melitele that was her tongue.

“Ah,” he said when she let him go. Frazzled, he righted himself, scooting back into his chair and running his hands through his hair. “Ah. That was. Ah.”

“Did it live up to your expectations?” Yennefer said. Her back was stiff and her cheeks were red and this time she wouldn’t look at him. It was the closest thing to nervous he had ever seen her. She hiccuped, the only indication she’d given so far that the ale was affecting her at all.

“Yen,” Jaskier said softly.

When she finally met his eyes he deliberately got up and knelt on the floor at her feet. She parted her knees enough to let him in. Gods, he had spent so much time hating this woman that it had distracted him from how much she needed the opposite.

“Yen,” he said again, and tilted his face up, and she leaned down to kiss him, lingering and soft, her hand on his cheek.

When they broke apart, Yennefer was smiling. He had never seen that smile before, all the way to her eyes, years of stress melting off her face. Shit, Jaskier thought. When did I fall in love? I missed that part.

“Idiot,” Yennefer said.

“Yes. But let me be your idiot, for now?”

“For now,” Yennefer agreed.

[klarionthewizard]

For the “send the first sentence of a fic” and write more

General Veers had been described as many things - clever, strong, courageous - but none of them felt particularly true in that particular moment.

I love this concept btw!!

so... this ended up being more than five sentences.

General Veers had been described as many things - clever, strong, courageous - but none of them felt particularly true in that particular moment.

"Sir," he manages and he can feel Zevulon's confused gaze boring into his back as he says it. The man in front of him is in civilian clothes, after all, and Veers is a general.

There may be thirty years between when Veers was ten and now and his father might have a lot more grey in his hair and wrinkles on his face, but Veers is no more capable of calling him anything besides sir than he had been back then.

"Who the kark are you?" Zev spits, ignoring him when Veers gives him a look that says 'I know I'm never going to get you to listen about not badmouthing the Empire in public but can you hold your tongue for just this once'.

"Maximilian," says Huntyr Veers with icy, cutting disappointment. "You were always such a soft hearted boy but I had expected better of your parenting than this... laxity."

It's unclear if he means the fact that Zev didn't recognize him, the way that he had spoken "out of turn", or failed to call his grandfather sir. Either way, it takes everything Veers has not to flinch away from that tone in front of his men. In front of his son.

[whatgaviiformes]

Fic: G-forces

Another prompt fill! For @drileyf​ who asked for:

Thanks to @onereyofstarlight​ for the extra science help because I am not smart enough to write John. :D it’s all still my fault though

Post SkyHook - season 1, episode 11  Characters: John Tracy, Gordon Tracy Genre: Angst, Episode filler Words: 1.3K

John can still taste the metallic on his tongue. While his suit had taken the brunt of the G-forces in effort to keep his blood flow stable, it was designed with the flight from Thunderbird Three and the ascent via the space elevator in mind, plus a few extra safety features because it was designed by Brains. What it was not designed for was 25Gs of nauseating, tunnel-visioning, muscle-straining centrifugal force pressing on his all too human body. And helmetless as Scott on his first rescue, John had gotten a bloody nose from it.

He’s fine though. His ears stopped bleeding ages ago.

His heart hurts. It’s a pain that radiates out from his chest, and, yeah, he remembers clinically that it was normal for his heart to compensate to get the blood flowing efficiently through his body when under immense strain like that. Strain that, for the record, is far from normal. But there’s something different all together in the remnants of the hummingbird flutter under his skin – like its moving so fast he can’t even feel it past the intense ache that expands across his breast.

If he were a different man, he might believe that his heart had beat itself into oblivion and he was in some sort of demented version of what Hell might be – then again if it were Hell, maybe demented was par for the course. But no, he is a logical sort, and facts show his heart is still there somewhere past the pain. The monitor is telling him so. Plus he’s been through training enough – not for 25Gs - to know what residual heart stress feels like.

He's fine, though. Granted, there’s a fog over his brain, and his hands are cold – but these are all temporary things.

He wasn’t in danger. Much.

He’s ready to go home.

John’s fine with hospitals when he’s on the other end of a comm line telling them to expect rescuees inbound, less so when he’s the one needing care. The coffee is terrible - not that they’d give him any – and he hates the sludge of his brainwaves. He respects the people, those who are just as familiar with lack of sleep as his family of IR operatives, and with a similar vein of an immense desire to save others. Make a difference in the world.

His breath hitches when he thinks about, a laugh that quickly turns to a grimace. Veins. His feel like they’re pumping lead.

And there’s nothing to really look at in a hospital. The walls are too white for him, the smell too clean. He misses the rainbow of Five, because his home is not as colorless as one might think. She not just silver against the black of the void; even Virgil couldn’t argue the orange and green lines built into her glass panes, the array of holoscreens that held his charts and sensors and communications, the subtle shift of light in the stars he studied easier up  above the atmosphere. And that’s without considering the massive planet outside his window, giant, bright. Blue so deep he could drown in it without ever touching water, and firm rock and earth freckled with a network of electricity that triggered the sparking of his own synapses. There were times John would look out from his home, at his home, and feel like he could hold all that was precious in his palm, align the overlap of her tectonic plates with his hands and hold her together where fault-lines met lifelines.

Fingers as frozen as they are, he glances down at his hands when they twitch, past the IV in his arm, past the band around his bony wrist and the print of his name and blood type, and there a familiar set of fingers curl into his hospital blankets, not touching his own, but close and barely out of reach with something holding them back from closing the last of the distance.

Probably respect for John, which means a lot because the hand belongs to his most tactile of siblings and he can feel the restraint radiating from the clenched knuckles. John blinks, and Gordon’s watching him, his eyes bright, but his expression knowing as he takes in his face and realizes John’s finally caught up with the fact he’s there.

“Where were you?” his aquanaut brother asks, the corner of smile quirking upward knowingly.

“Holding tectonic plates together.”  John’s surprised by how lethargic his own voice sounds when he speaks, and maybe if he weren’t being medically drugged to all hell first, it would be poetic. He likes words, and also math, and poetry is really just mathematic words, so maybe he went into the wrong field. Fields, with an s.

“Maybe try to hold yourself together first, yeah?”

“FAB.” It’s instinct to respond with their code, though, John’s usually the one giving the suggestions and his brothers are the ones confirming said suggestions. “Why are you here?”

“My brother’s in the hospital,” Gordon answers dully. “I’m not sure where you expected me to be.”

It’s a valid question. John’s not sure the question came out right based on the way Gordon won’t meet his eyes. He just keeps looking down at his hands, still out of touching distance. And that’s the thing, isn’t it? Gordon’s not looking at John, but he’s not looking at anything else either while describing the different rescues Alan and Scott and Virgil are all out performing. They can’t be there, so Gordon is. 

And Gordon doesn’t do hospitals. But he’s here.

From G-forces to a different type of G-force – Gordon force. It comes with a side of sunlight and sarcasm usually. But he doesn’t look so happy at the moment.

“John.” Gordon’s knuckles are turning whiter than John’s sheets, and he looks uneasy as the name tumbles out.  “What were you thinking?”

“Hmm?

“Do you know how far a human can freedive? No? It’s only sixty feet. Past that and you want to start wearing gear to handle the pressure below the water. I know they’re different, but Five spun and you hit twenty-five Gs. That’s more than four-thousand pounds of weight, John. It’s like if I went freediving ten-thousand feet below sea level. Do you know what that would’ve done to me?”  

He knows. John’s trying not to think about it, but apparently the haze in his mind is making it impossible to push down the image of his younger brother’s body contorting under that kind of immense pressure and becoming crushed with the air violently pulled out of him.

“I can’t do the math that quickly,” he says quietly. “But you can.” Gordon’s ears turn red, and his smile turns flat, as he glares at John through a thick layer of hurt in his brown eyes. “You knew,” he accuses. “You knew all along and you continued to let it happen anyway.”

“It was a calculated risk,” John admits slowly.

“That’s the wrong answer.”

“What would you have had me do? Let them fall?” 

“Not throw your life away, that’s for sure! Again, for the record,” Gordon growls. “Did you think about moving Five, or asking Eos to slow down the rotation, or maybe putting your helmet on first, ‘Scott’?”

None of those are bad ideas, and the truth is he’d been trying to get to his helmet, except…

“Everything just happened so fast.”

“I know that.” Gordon sighs deeply, visibly recenters himself with a shake of his head and tries again. “I know. But, John, this is the second time in a manner of weeks. I’m concerned about you.”

“Gordon,” he reaches for his hand and grasps it tight. Gordon’s hold is stiff with anger and surprise at first, but slowly his fingers relax, trembling, while John urges him to understand. “I’m not trying to put myself into harm’s way. If that’s what you mean. I’m sorry I scared you.”

“Just…” He squeezes his eyes shut. “I don’t like seeing you here.”

“I don’t really like being here to be honest.”

Gordon shakes his head and smiles softly at him. “At least we can agree on that.”

[steviewashere]

Any ask box requests for Steddie fics that I receive, I will most likely get to writing this weekend. Taking the time to focus on some more major WIP Steddie projects right now. And I have not been utilizing my time well.

[unboundprompts]

I don't know if you've done this before but what are some good ways to describe speech?

Ways to Describe Speech

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

His voice was deep like the rumbling of the earth.

She had the voice of a singer, smooth and rich like chocolate.

Their voice reminded him of spring rain.

He often paused in his speaking, like a car radio that had lost signal.

She had a lilt to her voice that made it seem like she was asking a question.

Their voice was monotonous, threatening to put her to sleep with every word.

He couldn't put her voice into words. It was... otherworldly.

Her voice was brittle, as if she were on the verge of tears.

Their voice was authoritative. Their words carried like a loud command.

His voice, unapologetic and unwavering, made her shrink back.

Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Their words were cold with anger.

Other Words to Use to Describe Voice:

Firm

Formal

Frank

Hesitant

Humorous

Passionate

Playful

Professional

Respectful

Serious

Sympathetic

Smug

Superior

Croaky

Dry

Forceful

Grating

Hateful

Insincere

Nasally

Snarky

Tuneless

Wavering

Breaking

Coarse

Flat

Hoarse

High Pitched

Husky

Mellow

Raspy

Rough

Scratchy

Strong

Trembling

Boisterous

Booming

Screeching

Faint

Feeble

Frail

Penetrating

Piercing

Quiet

Raised

Shrill

Soft

Weak

Whisper

Captivating

Deep

Feathery

Hypnotic

Lilting

Mesmerizing

Rich

Smoky

Soothing

Breathy

Delicate

Warbling

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider donating! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi!

[oceansprompts]

SEND MY MUSE CURIOUS ANONS!!

Send them:

Questions about their relationships

Invasive, uncomfortable personal questions

Ask them about their childhood

Throw random, weird thoughts at them

Confess to them anything you want

Give thought provoking headcanon asks

Character development questions

Questions about any interactions you’ve seen on the blog

Questions about any ships you’ve seen on the blog

Questions about my muses feelings about other muses from the fandom

Anything else you may be interested in knowing about my muse. 

[asmoshywrites]

Giving Characters Traumatic Backstories

(To spice up your character development)

Giving traumatic backstories to your characters is like bringing a new life into your readers. It makes your characters relatable and more human, bringing a sense of attachment between your readers and the characters.

Scars to remind them of their rough past. 

(Extra points if they've tried to get rid of them but were unsuccessful)

2. Death of a close family member or friend.

(Extra points if they had to witness the death or couldn't move on from it)

3. The Character is an outcaste to society/ friends/ family 

4. Abusive childhood/ Neglected as a child

5. Fire survivor 

6. Being gaslighted or manipulated by someone close leads to severe trust issues and a distorted sense of reality.

7. Developing severe anxiety, PTSD, or other mental health disorders due to a traumatic experience.

8. Unsuccessful suicidal attempts due to fear of societal judgment from people.

9. They mentally torment themself in fear of becoming like someone they hate.

[sailorshadzter]

"We'll take it back from them.", "The North is free thanks to you."

well anon

i had to REALLY scroll to find this, but it felt right. finally.

set semi-show canon.

hopefully you see this. :)

send me prompts

We’ll take it back from them.

Her words echo in his thoughts long after she’s spoken them; truth was, he’s thought of little else this day, since that moment had occurred between them. Even now, he can feel the warmth of her hand taking his, a soft reminder of all that he has left. Of all that he wants so desperately to keep safe.

So, he seeks her out as the sun sinks beneath the horizon, the graying skies already littered with silky white stars. “Sansa,” she turns towards him from where she stands on the battlements, overlooking the courtyard in which she had only just come through some weeks before. It felt like a lifetime ago, yet, far too close for comfort. “I’ve been looking for you,” he says as he comes to stand before her, his Stark gray eyes somber in his face. 

“And I’ve been right here,” she quips back with a grin, before she turns back to face the world around them. Somewhere in the distance, Ghost howls, but there comes no answer to his lonesome cry; her heart twists, wishing she might hear Lady call back. Wolves were supposed to remain together, after all. She turns back to him, opening her mouth as if she means to speak, but he’s shaking his head, silencing her.

“I’ll do it,” he says without hesitation, without worrying about what might come next. “I’ll get Rickon and Winterfell back.” Her heart swells, but she can’t help but to call it anything but hope. She nods all the same, because this was her idea, after all. Somehow now that he’s there, declaring war for her, she can’t help but to hesitate. As if what she has now was worth far more than what she could have. “I’ll keep you safe, Sansa.” He goes on, softer still, and she can’t help but to reach out, to trace her gloved fingers along the curve of his cheek. 

“Let’s go home.”

[ x x x ]

Her blue eyes are spilling over, rosy lips curving with what he swears will be a permanent frown. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, as if she’s the reason for all that’s happened here in King’s Landing, as if it’s she that swung the sword of his punishment. He chuckles, shaking his head as he touches her cheek, knowing that this might very well be the last time he ever does such a thing. 

“You did what was right.” He reminds her, staring deep into those blue eyes, feeling absolutely nothing but relief. She would be safe, and the North would be, too. 

“But the North lost its King,” she goes on, desperate for him to lash out, but he leans in, forehead to forehead, his arms snaking around her waist.

“The North is free thanks to you,” she’s truly done what Jon could never, what Robb had only wished to do. They would have Ned Stark’s daughter to speak for them now and there would be nobody better for the job. “My queen,” he steps back just so he might offer her the bow she’s always deserved, those two words falling from his lips with more conviction than ever before. “I am yours to command,” he adds, though it was to the Wall he would go, unable to serve her, at least from her side. 

“Stay,” she speaks simply, earnestly, honestly.  It was all she wanted.

He wonders if it could really be that easy, but as he looks into her eyes, he knows that it can be. He knows that this is what every moment of his life has been leading up to- standing there with her, when the war was finally over, when they were left to finally find each other in a way they could not before… 

So stay he would.

[thathcwriter]

Send me a 😭 for one of my saddest headcanons about a character

[adriankyte-writes]

what’s your favorite animal and why?

Hmmm, so I don't exactly have a favorite animal, so much as I have a favorite animal per category.

Favorite common wild animal would be the fox, they're fluffy and cute, while also being very clever and cunning. There's a lot of cool mythology about them, and a lot of my favorite fictional characters are foxes or fox related.

Favorite domestic animal: Housecats. I like kitty cuddles and purrs, and I'm a natural cat person.

Favorite bird: Peregrine falcon. They're very adaptable, moving into city spaces. I dig their dive maneuver, and they help control pest populations.

Favorite exotic wild animal: Tiger, a lot of the same stuff as for housecats actually, plus they look really cool.

Favorite aquatic animal: Octopus, particularly the mimic octopus. They are way smarter than anyone gives them credit for. They can squeeze through incredibly small openings and are known for sneaking out of their own enclosure and into other tanks to eat food and then going back to their own tank. They're very curious and bold. They can learn and then teach skills to each other. They all have cool camouflage abilities, but the mimic octopus takes it a step further and can actually pass itself off as other types of fish.

Favorite smart animal: Orca, they're scary smart. A pod in Australia (I think) formed a hunting pact with a human whaling village. The pod would drive large whales they couldn't actually take down into the bay and keep them there, then alert the villagers to come get it. They would get tasty snacks, the tongue, and the village got the rest. They have a part of the brain devoted to empathy that humans don't. Honestly, I think they might be fully sentient.

I get kind of rambly sometimes.

[klarionthewizard]

👏One 👏for 👏five 👏

This just in: there's a space snake loose in the plumbing.

 Holocomm Text Channel SSD-EX to SSD-EX (connection established: 1033 8/12/19 AFE. connection secured: 1035  8/12/19 AFE. message receipt delay: 0 minutes.)   

JnrLT.HAZA: this just in: there's a space snake loose in the plumbing

CAPT.PIETT: what.

LT.HAZA: there's a space snake loose in the plumbing

CAPT.PIETT: And how did the space snake get in the plumbing exactly, Lieutenant?

EN.JAQIALTORO: forget that, how did you find out there was a snake in the pumbing?

LT.HAZA: unimportant

CAPT.PIETT is typing...