#prompt ask

[poppet-seed]

Hi👋 Not sure how many emojis you may have already covered, but how about 🎶 with the Mario Bros.?

HAI MUGI! I actually haven't gotten too many prompt asks as of recently. I think there's only one other prompt ask in my que so I appreciate your request! 💚

Sorry it took a bit to do!

Prompt from this post (requests are still open!)

Prompt: 🎶 Dancing

+ A Small bonus doodle <3

[kinardsevan]

For angsty prompts... any chance for Bucktommy and the chief splitting up the 118 A shift after Bobby's death? Buck loses his dad, and then the rest of his family.

cw: complex grief, mentions of suvivors guilt and mild suicidality (nothing explicit), complex trauma.

-

Tommy finds Evan on the patio, his phone still in his hand, staring down at it. He’d taken a call about twenty minutes previous, but had never returned into the house even though Tommy had mentioned that dinner was just about finished and would be ready when he was done. 

“Honey?” 

He crosses the space, the light clacking of the wood planks under his feet as he moves toward Evan, perching down in front of him when the younger man doesn’t look up. Once he’s low enough to get Evan’s face into view, his stomach sinks. There are tear tracks on his face, and he looks as though someone has completely crushed him. It makes Tommy’s stomach twist in a way he doesn’t like; he’s seen Evan look like this way too much lately. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks softly. “Is it Bobby?” 

Evan shakes his head, sniffling. 

“No. O-or I guess not- not completely,” he stammers. He sniffles again, still staring at his phone as he bites on the inside of his bottom lip. “The ch-chief-…” He looks up at Tommy, his bottom lip trembling. “With E-Eddie gone, a-and Bobby…he’s diving up A shift and shifting B and C to other houses. Tommy he-he’s shutting down the 118.” 

The pilot’s brow furrows, anger flooding through his chest. “He can’t do that.” 

“Apparently, he can,” Evan responds with a shaky voice. “And he is. I-I guess, all the f-funding issues that Gerrard mentioned months ago are- are still technically an issue, and the ch-chief said cutting an entire firehouse from the budget would s-save money.” 

“I don’t-…” He huffs, shaking his head without finishing the statement. What point is there in stating that he doesn’t understand, when he knows Evan doesn’t either.

“He’s uh, he’s letting us have first pick at stations we’d prefer to transfer to, s-so I could at least b-be closer,” Evan states. “May-maybe the 217. I just…” He shrugs as his chin trembles, his eyes flooding it tears again. 

Tommy frowns, wrapping a hand around the back of Evan’s head and leaning into him. 

“I know,” he whispers. Evan doesn’t have to spell out to him just how much he’s lost in the past year. 

“It’s like I can’t hang on,” Evan tells him, his voice wobbly with tears. “No matter how hard I try. They k-keep…they-..” 

Tommy pushes up higher, wrapping an arm tightly around Evan. The younger man’s arms slide beneath his, and he holds on tightly, clinging to Tommy. It’s not enough—Tommy is honest enough with himself to know that; he can’t replace four other people for Evan—but it’s at least a drop in the bucket, and if that’s what he can be for Evan at the moment, then that’s what he’ll take. 

. . . . 

“This isn’t fair,” Eddie states, glancing over at his former coworkers as they stand near the bay doors. Keys have been turned in, lockers cleaned out, stations transferred. “I feel like I did this to all of you.” 

“You couldn’t have foreseen this,” Hen tells him. “And Ravi was always a temporary fill. He didn’t want to leave his team permanently at the 122, and that’s his right. Sal’s got a good thing going over there with him.” 

Eddie raises an eyebrow at her, mouthing ‘Sal?’ at Evan, but he doesn’t respond, glancing up toward the mezzanine. He can perfectly picture Bobby standing up there, smiling down at them, greeting them to their next shift. It makes his chest hurt in the worst way. Losing Bobby was bad enough, but the idea of not being able to be in the one place he at least kind of feels him, feels even more unfair. 

“I just can’t believe they’re actually doing this,” Eddie replies finally. 

“Yeah, well…” Chimney glances up at the same spot Evan is, a complicated expression crossing his face before he turns toward the door. He pats Evan on the shoulder before walking out. The touch breaks the younger man from his reverie, and he glances around the firehouse once more before following after his brother-in-law. Hen and Eddie are behind them a few moments later, and they pause in the parking lot, each fiddling with their keys, trying to put off the inevitable. 

“I’ve got some time before my flight leaves,” Eddie offers up. “Anyone want to grab breakfast?” 

“I’m down,” Hen offers.

“Gotta check in with the missus, but we could probably join,” Chimney offers. They all look in Evan’s direction and he forces a smile, lifting a hand. 

“Th-thanks guys. I uh, I have to go meet with the captain at the 217. Sign some paperwork,” he states, taking a step back. 

“Buck-“ “Come on, Evan-..” 

He hears them trying to get him to change his mind, but he walks to his truck anyway, dismissing himself from the group. He starts the vehicle quickly, backing out and leaving without leaving the option to have his mind changed. When Eddie inevitably calls him two blocks later, Evan rejects the call. 

. . . . 

Tommy finds Evan on the patio, his phone still in his hand, staring down at it. He doesn’t look like he’s slept, even though he came off shift several hours earlier. 

“Baby? Have you gotten any sleep yet,” he asks as he slips the door shut behind him. He walks over to the table and sits down in the chair adjacent to Evan, reaching out and wrapping his fingers lightly inside the younger man’s hand, squeezing. 

“I drove around for a while,” Evan rasps, still staring down at his phone. From the angle, Tommy can see that it’s a picture of Evan and Bobby. They’re both dressed in work clothes, and he recognizes the picture from the last LAFD Hope for Firefighters competition. The 118 had kicked ass in a number of the competitions. 

“T-tried to-…to find somewhere I could f-feel him,” Evan murmurs, sniffling. Tommy squeezes his fingers again, gulping against the knot in his own throat. Evan looks up at him, red-eyed. 

“He t-told me that- that they were going to need me, a-and now I can’t- Tommy, I-I can’t- a-and Bobby isn’t here to tell me how- how to fix it and-..” His voice rises with each word, coming faster and faster as tears run down his face. 

Tommy shakes his head, shifting closer to Evan, squeezing his hand even tighter. 

“I-it’s my fault,” he states, his voice cracking as he completely breaks. “I sh-should’ve been in there, should’ve sto-stopped the- i-if I’d gotten them out f-faster, I- Bob-Bobby would still be here and I-..” 

“No,” Tommy tells him firmly, cutting Evan off. He pulls the phone gently from Evan’s fingers and sets it up on the table, taking both of Evan’s hands in his own and squeezing his fingers. “No, baby, listen to me. You being there wouldn’t have done anything else, except put your life at risk, too. Who would’ve worked things out from the outside, then? Who would’ve thought to get the cure, or helped save Howie’s life? Who would’ve thought to figure out how to get the cure from downtown back to SoCal when the Army showed up? Or worse, it could’ve been you that had gotten infected-..” 

“But then Bobby would at least be here!” Evan states it louder than he intends to, shaking his head as a sob escapes him, and Tommy takes the moment to pull him in tightly. 

“You don’t know that,” the pilot states insistently. “If it had been you, it could’ve been the exact same situation, if not worse. Three of you could’ve gotten infected. Maybe more. You helped save a life that day.” He pauses for a moment, his own throat tight, both at Evan’s reaction and Bobby’s death. “I’m sorry there wasn’t a way to save both.” 

Evan sobs into his shoulder as Tommy holds him, taking on every inch of weight Evan lets him. They stand in the quiet of the spring evening, the only noise coming from Evan as he breaks, and Tommy just holds him. It doesn’t feel like it’s nearly enough. It’s not. 

. . . . 

It takes months. Months of therapy, months of talking, months of sleepless nights. Months of arguments over survivor's guilt, and who blames who, and realising that sometimes family is painful when a hole gets punched into it. 

Eddie moves back in the summer. Athena spends nearly as long barely engaging with Chimney, until a risky rescue puts them in the position of being forced to work together. Evan struggles. To move on. To find strength. To find Bobby in the spaces around him. 

Time crawls. 

And then on a cold, October morning, the first day of a two-week stretch he and Tommy have both taken off and are supposed to be heading out of town, his phone rings. 

The sun has barely cracked across the horizon, and given the stretch of time they were both taking off, they’d picked up an extra shift the day before. Evan grumbles under his breath as he pulls his phone from the nightstand and checks the time. 

“‘ello,” he mutters, his voice cracking with sleep as he rubs a hand over his eyes. 

“Mr. Buckley,” the fire chief answers back. Evan’s eyes grow wide. The last time the chief bothered to call him and his teammates… well. 

“I wanted to be the first to tell you that your test scores for the captain’s exam came back,” Chief Alonzo tells him. “And you passed. Quite well, actually.” 

Evan gulps. A small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, and he lets it give way. Admittedly, he is a bit proud of himself. 

“I know some things have changed in the recent past, and that it’s recontextualized some of the changes that were made in the spring. As I’m sure you know, one of the issues I faced back then was the vacancy of the captain’s position at your firehouse. Firefighter Wilson did not want to take the position, and Paramedic Han made it clear that captain is not a position he ever wants again.” 

Evan holds his breath as the other man talks. He has no idea what the fire chief’s point in all of this is, but the last thing he wants to do is have hope in the face of everything they’ve all already lost. 

“i’ve gone back through paperwork that each of them wrote up on you, as well as Nash and Gerrard. There are some less-than-stellar comments in each,” he explains. There’s a pause, and Evan’s heart starts to sink. “However. Nash, Gerrard, and even Wilson made note of your exemplary abilities in the face of stressful on-the-job moments. 

“Given all of that, the changes we’ve had through the LAFD, and several other parameters, I’m looking at repositioning B and C shift back at the 118.” 

Evan gulps. “W-what about A shift?” 

“Well, that all depends on if the staff from A shift chooses to return. Now that there’s a candidate available to take over at captain, it’s an option, assuming the staff chooses to return. Heed my warning, though, Buckley. There will be an interim captain to start. Someone who has shown capabilities of leading a team. And depending how things go under that captain…maybe the candidate I’m considering will be able fully step into the role. Do you think that would be a reasonable enough expectation, Buckley?” 

“Yes- yes, sir. Absolutely,” Evan stammers. He can feel his heart hammering in his chest, and he slams his hand back roughly against Tommy’s thigh, several times quickly, waking the pilot less than gracefully. “I-Is-…the person you’re wanting to put in as interim-..” 

“It’s not Wilson,” Chief Alonzo answers. 

“Oh.” Evan murmurs. 

“Captain Deluca out of the 122. I believe your brother-in-law has been working underneath him for the past few months. He has a history with a few members of the 118 as well, so it should be an easier transition. Is there any issue with this placement?” 

“No. No, sir,” Evan replies. “Thank- thank you.” 

“Alright, Buckley. I’ll be in touch. I know you and Firefighter Pilot Kinard have some time off scheduled, and it’ll take some time to get thing squared away, but I’ll try to reach out through my assistant and get a call on the books sometime next week so we can get this moved along as quickly as possible. Unless you’d prefer to-..” 

“No,” Evan cuts him off. “I mean- Sir, no thank you. I- I can be available to take the call. I’ll keep an eye on my LAFD email.” 

“Sounds good, Buckley. Talk soon.” 

“Talk soon, sir,” Evan states, his voice trembling as he finally ends the call. When he drops the phone onto the blanket and finally looks over at Tommy, the pilot is staring up at him with a sleepy smile. 

“That was the call, wasn’t it?” He asks. 

Evan furrows his brow. “What do you mean the-…” His expression drops into a light scowl. “Sal told you?” 

Tommy chuckles, leaning up and kissing him. “Baby, I’m his best friend. I’ve known for like a month.” 

“And you didn’t tell me?!” Evan growls at him, even as he lets Tommy push him down into the comfort of their bed with more kisses. 

“You needed to pass your captain's exam without this hanging over your head,” Tommy tells him, tracing kisses down the side of his jaw. “And with your FAA clearance also on the line, I wasn’t about to add more to your plate.” 

Evan groans softly as Tommy bites down in the space beneath his ear. 

“Fuck! Air ops. Tommy, I swear, I-..” 

The pilot leans back, smirking at Evan as he brushes a hand over the younger man’s cheek. 

“I told you when you first toured Harbor. There’s no saying you can’t learn to fly and still be at the 118.” He leans in and kisses Evan once more, nuzzling his nose up against the younger man’s. “Besides,” he whispers. “If we break enough laws, eventually I’ll get my way and get them to put a helipad on the 118.” 

Evan snorts at Tommy’s statement, although he won’t complain. It’s been very convenient, and even fun, to be able to work at the same station as Tommy. He’ll miss that. But not as much as he’s missed his team, or his firehouse. 

HIs mind starts to race, thinking of all the things he needs to get his hands on, start working towards and-

…and Tommy’s hand is wrapped around a specific part of his body and there’s a devilish smirk on his face as he leans in to kiss Evan once more. 

“Congratulations, Captain Buckley,” Tommy whispers to him, shifting over him. “If you’re not too busy right now, I’d like to give you a celebration.” 

He doesn’t wait for a response, and Evan doesn’t mind. He pulls the blankets up over their heads and lets Tommy tune out his world for a little while. 

[augustwritingchallenge]

For the Chimera prompt, were you wanting a story about an actual chimera from Greek mythology or do you mean it as like, the biology/DNA/cell chimera? I'm drawing a blank for that one

Love the prompt list this year btw!

Both. :) It is up to you how you interpret it. To me, chiméra is a mythological creature. To others, it is a reference to a very sad scene in a certain anime. There are more than those two interpretations.

[quintessenceofdust88]

Okay, tumblr milestone prompt, here it comes: As I'm in need of fluff myself, what about a day in the life of married couple BuckTommy domestic fluff? If that makes any sense? I just love the idea of them married, calling each other happy, and being in love.

Ohhh I love this prompt! There's sth about fluffiness in marriage that really gets to me.

Anyway hope you enjoy it, darling! It's not exactly a full day bc I got carried away hehe, but it's very very fluffy anyway.

And HAPPY BIRTHDAYYY AGAIN I hope you're having a great one!! (and that it's still your birthday in your timezone cause I really wanted to get this done by your birthday)❤️❤️

--

Tommy's face is the first thing Buck sees when he opens his eyes in the morning and, as cliché as stupid it sounds, that brings a smile to his face. He tried to wait up for Tommy to get back from his shift last night, but fell asleep with his cellphone in hand, reading an article about octopuses (they took Jee to the aquarium on the weekend and it had an effect on him).

When Buck wakes up, it's to find his cellphone plugged in and neatly stacked on his nightstand, and he feels a warm rush of affection for his attentive husband. He takes advantage of his sleeping state to take a good look at his relaxed face. There's nothing about it Buck doesn't love, from his dark eyebrows to his angular nose to the sweet curve of his mouth. There are little rays of sun escaping through the curtains and falling on Tommy's frame, making his few grays shine beautifully. 

Before he gives into the temptation of running a hand through Tommy's hair and wake him up, Buck gets out of bed and goes downstairs, set on making breakfast for himself and his overworked husband.

He tries to be as silent as possible as he moves around their spacious kitchen (it was the one thing he had been set on when they were house hunting; Tommy's was a spacious garage, and eventually they'd found the perfect place for a very fair price once Tommy's old house entered the deal), turning on the coffee maker, sorting ingredients for breakfast and realizing they're out of cinnamon. Knowing full well that Tommy will whine about his french toast if there's no cinnamon, Buck opts for pancakes instead.

Buck prepares the batter while humming to himself, thinking about what dessert he can take to their family dinner at Maddie and Chim’s later that day. Just as he starts pouring batter into the frying pan, he feels strong arms around his waist, and he doesn’t even pretend to startle; it’s not the first morning he’s greeted like this. Buck leans back against Tommy’s strong chest, and Tommy nuzzles against his neck. 

“Morning, sweetheart” He whispers sleepily against Buck’s neck, sending a shiver down his spine as he presses small kisses on his skin. 

“You’re gonna make me burn breakfast” He teases, and is met with a huffed laughter against his shoulder. 

“So we eat out” Tommy answers, his arms still gripping Buck’s waist, and it takes all of his strength (and the reminder they’ll probably have sex right after breakfast anyway) to playfully tap the spatula against Tommy’s hands so he’ll let go. 

“Behave, mr. Kinard” He scolds, and Tommy places a loud kiss on his cheek (and a slap on his ass) before letting go, grabbing plates and mugs on his way to the table. 

“I always behave, mr. Kinard” Tommy says, wiggling his eyebrows, and Buck doesn’t think he’ll ever get completely used to the thrill he gets to be called ‘mr. Kinard’. Tommy knows it, the bastard, and his smirk makes it pretty clear. “It’s not my fault you look particularly hot in my T-shirt”

Buck looks down at himself, realizing Tommy’s right. He barely notices anymore which clothes are his and which are Tommy’s, especially when it comes to LAFD gear, but the Bon Jovi faded black T-shirt is definitely not his. 

“Well, I look even better with no T-shirt on, if you wanna see what that’s like” He flirts teasingly, and tries for a casual one-handed flip on the pancake he’s frying right now. Except it doesn’t go that well, and the pancake lands directly on the stove instead of the pan. “Oh, shit!” 

He rushes to fix it and throws the ruined pancake out before it gets even worse. When he looks at Tommy, he finds his husband barely containing his laughter, which makes Buck point a firm finger at him with a glare.

“Shut up” He says, and Tommy raises his hands in mock defense.

“I didn’t say anything!” 

“Keep it that way” Buck threatens, and Tommy mockingly zips his mouth as he takes their mugs to the coffee maker and prepares both of their coffees (and there’s something in the way he does it that makes it even better than when Buck prepares his own).

Once the pancakes are ready (no more flipping incidents, Buck finished it pretty conservatively), Buck brings them to the table, where Tommy has already placed syrup and some butter. They sit down one in front of the other and share a smile before digging in, in comfortable silence. 

“This is so good, babe” Tommy tells him between mouthfuls, and Buck hums appreciatively. “You spoil me, you know? I never have breakfast this good at the station”

“I like spoiling you” Buck says earnestly, and Tommy blushes, a small smile appearing on his face. Sometimes it’s still hard for him to accept hard things, but Buck keeps reassuring him; it’s a work in progress. “I was gonna make your French toast, but we’re out of cinnamon, and you always say…”

“French toast is no good without cinnamon” Tommy finishes, and Buck swears there’s a beginning of a pout on his face; maybe there’s some truth about married couples picking up habits from each other. “Did you add it to the list? We’re going grocery shopping later, right?”

“Yup” Buck agrees, taking a sip of his coffee (damn perfect, as always). “And tonight we’re on for dinner at Maddie’s, don’t forget”

“So, groceries and family dinner” Tommy recaps. “Any other plans for the day?”

“Not really. Thought we could just… spend it together?” Buck suggests. 

Sometimes they’ll spend their days off with Eddie (and Chris if he doesn’t have cooler teenage stuff to do and deems them worthy of his presence), or Jee and little Kevin, and it’s great fun. But there’s also something pretty special about just basking in each other’s company all day, be it running errands or cleaning the house or having sex or just staying on the couch, Buck on his phone and Tommy with a book. 

“Sounds perfect to me” Tommy answers gleefully, and he takes Buck’s hand in his, pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles. “Any day with you is perfect”

And gosh, that’s sappy. But damn if it doesn’t make Buck smile like a lovesick idiot. Because his husband is a complete sap and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[tealcicada]

I wonder, with the Decepticon Sari AU, I'm pretty sure Isaac Sumdac would stick to not creating weapons, but there's no way an active Megatron wouldn't figure out a way around it. Sure, Isaac may be the main patsy, but there's plenty of humans who'd jump at the chance to manufacture cybertronian weaponry, and I have no doubt Megatron would be eager to exploit any chance he has to grow his army, even if part of the army is small, squishy humans running fire support.

Oh absolutely, this is like the main contention in their relationship. When he's just a head he's more covert and limited about leaking better cybertronian weapon designs to key players so that Earth can better protect itself (and him) if the Autobots invade but once he's rebuilt and installed himself as sorta the Decepticon ambassador of Earth he's a lot more hands on with making sure that Earth is well armed and trained to take down Autobots (but not warframes like him).

I think Isaac would find out a lil bit after he rebuilds megatron and someone accidentally mentions it to him and he gets so mad that megs was going behind his back for years to use his company to make weapons. Megs would argue and maybe even point to how it has helped kill autobots that were sent to assassinate him and Sari. The Autobots on cybertron don't know specifics about Sari or that she's just a kid, they just know her as the Decepticons knew secret weapon/master hacker. Isaac and megs argue about the weapons on and off like an old married couple, isaac saying that violence is never the answer and loathes that his company was used like this and megs saying that there are real threats and this is protecting his family. That gets to Isaac and eventually he begrudgingly agrees to it but is always hesitant with every new advancement in the weapons dept.

[waywardsuniverses]

ooo for the prompt game, 🌹🖊️ please! thank you!

Oooh thank you for being my first ask! I hope this prompt is good for you. I'm going to give you a word one and a dialogue just to give you some options!

First prompt: Character A runs into their ex and it stirs us some old uncomfortable emotions, they go home and Character B sees that Character A isn't themselves. Character A tells them what happened and Character B spends the day showing Character A how much they love them and how special they are.

Dialogue Prompts: "I know I was taking a long time to figure out what was going on between us. But I know now. And I love you too"

I hope these give you some good ideas for your OCS or OTPS!!!

If you want to send in a request, you can find the original post here!

[bansept]

Hi there! i choose IchiHime with those prompts:

comparing hand sizes.

standing on your tip toes to reach your partner's lips.

intertwining fingers when making love.

Thank you for the ask! You can find more here ! I hope you'll like it, even if it's short haha

By the time they know for sure Kazui is asleep, safely tucked in his bed, his window shut tight, dinosaur blanket resting atop his comforter, Orihime pulls him closer to the bed. The night is young, yet already tainting their room in a blue hue, moonlight lighting up the decoration and trinkets.

By the door, a shelf with a few framed pictures. Her brother, His mother, his parents, Yuzu and Karin holding him tight when they were kids. Orihime with the girls and a few of the women from the Soul Society, when they had visited in their gigais, back at her graduation. Another, bigger frame, shows them with radiant smiles, her eyes filled with tears as his arm is wrapped around her waist, a blush on his cheeks. She looks gorgeous, maybe the most wonderful she has ever been, in her pure white wedding dress. Orihime had told him, and keeps repeating it proudly, that he was dashing in his suit. She's often right. He did feel quite handsome that day, but that was surely because she was the one gazing at him.

Another frame, against the wall, with drawings and letters written with pudgy fingers, a small Kazui is held against his mother, nestled in her chest, while Ichigo's hand is dwarfing the baby. Orihime had marvelled for a long time at the difference in their heights, and by the time Kazui was here, she had laughed at the impossibly small fist holding his index finger.

Her beautiful hands, wrapped around his collar as he leans them down, shuffling on the bed so he doesn't squish her too much, kissing her on her plush lips.

Her fingers wrap around the short strands of hair, pulling at the lock dropping on his forehead, slicking his wet hair back. Ichigo works on her nightgown, pushing it higher and higher, uncovering her thighs, hips and stomach, until the weight of her breasts blocks it to puddle on her chest. Orihime is never insecure about her skin, the small stretch lines from carrying their baby. He shut that out the moment she frowned in front of the mirror, 5 years ago.

It's the same elevating sensation when they kiss and he dives into her again, slowly, tenderly. He caresses her skin with care and love. Orihime smiles and picks up his hands, interweaving her fingers through his, chuckling at the difference in size again. He grins at her, playfully tightening his hold so only her fingertips peak from the confines of his touch.

Ichigo always knew fighting was worth it, if it was in the name of protecting others. Back when he was a kid, back when those overwhelming powers and revelations shattered his world. It was always worth it to fight for her, with her, for their future. He's a sap, he realized that years ago when she brought bread to his place with a blush on her cheeks and discovered his heart thudded loudly in his chest.

But when he comes back home to her, to his boy, to their smiles and to her kisses, to her laughter when she has to stand on her tippy-toes to kiss his chin, to the unadulterated desire to make her twirl during a dance, to the feeling of safety he fought a god for, Ichigo guesses being a sap is the least of his worries.

[thepenultimateword]

Hello. How about writing about a possessed vampire with his new victim. Thanks.

Sorry it took me longer than expected to write this prompt! I hope this ok! I tried to include some of the details that you mentioned over message!

Vampire gripped the rosary tighter, fingering each bead with an almost hollow, automatic desperation. The little wooden cross at the end burned into his clavicle, but the sweet scent of blood was stronger than the pain.

The woman shone her phone flashlight around the dark room. Vampire wasn't sure what had brought her here to this old building, but she'd been easy enough to track. And even as she paid careful attention to each corner and crevice, she didn't seem to notice his presence. She hadn't noticed him at the station either. Or the store.

Eat. Eat. Eat.

It wasn't so much a voice as a feeling. An overpowering, all-encompassing instinct, so strong he could almost taste it. It tasted like darkness.

It used to be easier to resist the bloodlust. Not perfectly, but...better. But ever since the shadows came into his head, heavy and hungry and pressuring, resisting his predator nature was a losing battle. He clutched the rosary tighter even as he crept toward his newest victim. What was the point in pretending? He'd followed her all the way here. No matter the regrets, no matter the resistance, he'd always known he wasn't letting her go.

He let the floorboards creak under his weight as he stepped into the open. It seemed fairer when they knew he was coming. They could at least believe they had a fighting chance. Even if they actually didn't.

The woman whirled around with the scared quickness of all prey, but as they locked gazes, he wondered if maybe...just maybe...she'd known he was there all along.

[tigereyes45]

Going through some writer's block so feel free to send in some Star Trek Prompts.

I've seen all of

TOS,

AOS,

and Lower Decks.

EDIT:

DS9 (finished it yesterday!)

Voyager (I'm in the middle of season 2)

I'm two episodes into Enterprise. So try to keep the prompts restricted to the shows I've seen. (Perferably not Enterprise unless you're willing to wait a long while for it haha.)

I'll write for most ships, but you don't have to send in a ship prompt. Just feel free to send in whatever ya want. Hoping something pulls me out of this rut.

I'll be accepting new prompts for as long as this is pinned to the top of my blog. Feel free to send in as many as you want. I wanna be buried in them like Kirk was buried in tribbles. (Something has to ignite the creative side of my brain, right?)

[depressed-sock]

Hi im stressing the fuck out so in order to distract myself im offering to do 100 word drabbles. Just send in a character and a word from any of the tagged things.

Examples:

[Commander Fox and Scars]

[Drifter and Longing]

[Liara T'sonia and Sunset]

[poppet-seed]

Da brothers with 🩸 ?

AAA it took me a while to respond to this! Got super held up on playing mario & luigi brothership! (GOD I need to draw them)

Prompts from this post (still open requests)

Prompt: 🩸Patching up a wound

Tw: blood/ injury

Based loosely off a fanfic done by the lovely @/therandomer5000 on A03 please go read if you haven't!! Very lovely little fic on the bros fretting over each other 💚❤

I know the prompt specifically says 'patching' up a wound but I feel patching up someone starts with assessing to see if they are okay

Plus a mistimed hammer attack has got to hurt- 💔

[kinardsevan]

i've also asked the group chat, but if you would be so kind...

please drop some bucktommy angsty prompts in my ask. anon is okay. i'm wanting to write the babies in some peril and I need ideas.

[augustwritingchallenge]

What can we expect with the "alignment swap"? What does that mean?

Borrowing a Wiki definition: alignment is a categorization of the ethical and moral perspective of characters.

Like Role Reversal, Alignment Swap changes a character's nature. But while usually, you would only be changing good to evil and evil to good, this time, you can branch out. Using the Dungeons & Dragons alignment chart, try to imagine your character(s) with a differently oriented moral compass. A hero might still be a hero, but instead of always doing the Right Thing, they might lean towards doing a good thing the Fun Way - making things explode just to make a friend smile, for example.

This will also be easier for the morally grey character lovers! :D

[bilightningwhumper]

Hiii! I’m pretty new to your blog but I saw one of your bad things happen bingo posts and I had this prompt idea. I’m not sure if you’re only planning on doing it with OCs or not so just ignore this if that’s the case! :D

For “I deserve this” what about a villain who’s been caught and put into a reformation program but the heroes in charge aren’t really abiding by the rules when “disciplining” them. After reaching out for help but being denied since “they’re a villain whatever it is was probably deserved” they basically internalize it/stop asking for help. Maybe some hurt/comfort with this trope and a hero who changes their mindset and helps them? Like it’s just the angst of the hero realizing it’s wrong but feeling the guilt that they supported it at some point!! 💗💗

I'm not sure if you've written something like this before or if you like this trope, but if it’s piqued your interest Id love to see your take on it!

I've already got an idea for that prompt in particular, but this is a cool idea, too! Even though it's not quite like what you have here, I do have my story "A Hero's Promise" that I'm going to be using it (my idea) for on my ex-villian whumpee character. It's going to be for a kind of heavy grief scene, if I'm remembering my plans right. Either that or a dysphoria/past trauma one while he's still stuck with the villians.

I'm not sure when or if I'd use this prompt in particular, but tell you what, I get random inspiration sparks a lot out of nowhere. I'd probably still use it for OCs, since writing generic tends to end up with names no matter how hard I try not to, so I'll save it for later. Especially since I'm a big fan of expanding the worlds of my stories with new ones. After all, Rex isn't the only ex-Company member out there.

Thank you for the idea!

[tealcicada]

decpticon sari universe story idea optimus after joining the cons as well (possibly taking the name nemesis) goes up against ultra magnus

"well sir it looks like you were right all those stellar cycles ago, being a hero isnt in my programing, but being a 'con sure is!"

OP would probably think he's all cool and mysterious with that one liner but Sari and bumblebee would be in the bg cringing from the cheesiness, which is rudddde. OP took months practicing it so he didn't stutter when he told dad Ultra Magnus off like that

[jen-with-a-pen]

Alice idk what the FUCK kinda drugs you smuggled into this simple, singular ask, but goddamnit it made me sprint to my docs and start writing for the first time in God knows when. I literally have created an au in a matter of hours of seeing this. Fuck you and thank you🫣😋😈

[this is currently an untitled au and a WIP]

Photographer!Dark!Bucky Barnes x RunwayFashionModel!Reader

The overhead spotlights drop the second the showrunner points to the cameras, who, in turn, point to you. Big white bounce cards blind your peripherals and the sound of murmurs throughout the studio, executives and assistants alike, work their way into your ears. The voices swirl into one drone of static and the lights start getting brighter and brighter. Your grip on the arms of the chair grows tighter. Manicured fingernails threaten to dig into the upholstery, the gaudy necklace resting on your chest beginning to brand into your skin. The makeup caked onto your flesh feels like it’s melting, taking your dermis with it.

You can't tear your eyes away from behind the host's head, staring off into space and trying not to focus on the bile beginning to bubble in your pitted stomach.

You knew you should've eaten something.

As the host waits for her after-ad-break cue, shuffling her question cards and sipping coffee from her custom show-branded cup, you feel restless. Legs bouncing out of sync, begging to get up, to run off set and out onto the bustling streets below and never look back. Maybe a bus or cab will make it end, make it stop. You were never cut out for this, never supposed to be here.

"Bunny."

You gasp, your trance broken as the deep bass sounding out your nickname cuts through the noise. It's like oxygen for you. He is oxygen for you. You can’t escape him willingly- he’ll only find a way to be there. To always be there.

You whip your head around to face the herd of people and producers staring at you. Out of all of them, through the blinding lights, you meet his gaze. All six feet four inches, built-like-a-god, broad shoulders of him. His eyes shine like sea glass behind the camera operator, baby blue and looking only at you. For that moment, you are the only one he sees. His target. His. You are the only one he can touch, who he can feel, halfway across the room.

The pit only grows larger, filling your hunger with nausea. You'd bet all the money in the world he schmoozed some P.A. just to make sure he was there to see you. To surveil you.

You wish you were playing in traffic.