#prompt three words

[promptsbytaurie]

dialogue prompts: three words

!!please credit/tag me if you use any! I'd love to see what you write!!

"Power breeds corruption."

"Come here, dumbass."

"Did you care?"

"Hey, it's fashion."

"I can't die."

"You love me?"

"Sir, you're dying."

"Yep, three masters."

"You ignored me."

"I'm very concerned."

"Come on, dance!"

"You were... lying."

"Shhhh, come here."

"Three more hours."

"I was yours."

"Everything ends, eventually."

"Cereal is soup."

"Can't you see?"

"I wanted everything."

"You didn't listen."

"Can I sit?"

"Let me talk."

"Woah, you're dead?"

"Hold onto this."

"She clouds judgement!"

"Don't love me."

"One more chance!"

"I suffered alone."

"Could we try?"

"She was mine."

"You. Are. Disposable."

[mossypidder]

FINISHED MY LIST OF PROMPTS, GUYS

If anyone uses these, please feel free to @ me, I’d love to see how people interpret them. I guess you could also just use a tag. #piddermermay I guess? Idk. I’ve never done anything like this before.

[creativepromptsforwriting]

Three Word Sentences

"You are enough."

"Don't you listen?"

"I don't care."

"Dream come true."

"Sing to me."

"Be gentle, please."

"Feel my heartbeat."

"Get over here."

"Listen to me."

"Don't you dare."

"I'm number one."

"Just do it."

"I adore you."

"Talk to me."

"Doesn't mean anything."

"Finally at peace."

"I'm over it."

"You look lost."

"Leave me alone."

"Don't stop now."

"Say my name."

"I hate you."

"Just say it."

"Thanks, now leave."

"Don't do that."

"I feel you."

"Sign me up."

"You don't listen."

"Hello, my love."

"Please, shut up."

[iguessthisisanewobsession]

Danny bursting into the full batcave: Jason has ghost cancer

Batfam: wut

Danny fazing kryptonite out of the lead vault: Jason has ghost cancer.

Batfam: who tf are you?!

Danny already turning the corner into a dead end part of the cave: wouldn’t you like to know weather boy.

[puppetmaster13u]

You know what I need? I need a scene, either alone or in a group, of like, a hero or someone talkin to someone. For example Superman and Batman talkin, everything normal right?

And then I need it to switch to the pov of an outsider and they just have the thickest accents in the world. Somehow speaking the same language and understanding each other while the civilian is just ????

[stevesbipanic]

@steddieangstyaugust Day 21: Please

"Please."

It's such a simple word. You're taught it so young, to say it to respect people, to ask people, to beg people.

Some people abuse it. They use it knowing how the word can make the strongest men crumble. To tack on the word at the end of a sentence as a final will to the universe to bend to your wants.

"Please."

Steve used it a lot growing up but not out of desire but necessity. He knew full well what would happen if he didn't bow to his parents. His father didn't touch his face at least.

Eddie despised the word, where had please ever gotten him? Did please keep his mother around, did please make his father buy him food? No, please was for the weak.

"Please."

Steve wished the word held power like it did when he was small. He wished the word could stitch together wounds and heal broken bones. He wishes it worked like that.

Eddie thinks the word sounds beautiful coming from Steve's mouth. It sounds like a prayer, begging him for something. Eddie wishes he could give Steve what he wanted, but he knows please doesn't work like that.

"Please."

He begs one last time.

The universe doesn't answer.

Neither does Eddie.

[scealaiscoite]

three word prompts ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🐚 ꒱

— "come to bed."

— "i love you."

— "one chance. please."

— "are you hurt?!"

— "i missed you."

— "things have changed."

— "what's going on?"

— "are you okay?"

— "please don't cry."

— "you're my home."

— "you're the best."

— "i'm not okay."

— "you look amazing!"

— "you're my person."

— "please, i'm begging."

[cheesycatz]

My favorite days from spamtober 2022, which I completed just before I started posting on my tumblr account

[proship-april]

Read this fic on AO3.

[hardly-an-escape]

Fluffbruary Days 9, 10 & 11

gonna try to do a little daily drabble just to get the creative juices going while I work on longer WIPs. no guarantees that it'll be every day.

Dream/Hob • rated T • urgency | kneel | rural & flush | angel | owl & reflection | water | apology

Hob’s vigil is but halfway gone when he hears footsteps behind him.

The chapel is dark. The only light comes from the pair of candlesticks flanking his armor and sword where they are laid upon the altar. Hob is clad only in a thin cotton shift, and the hairs on the back of his neck prickle as the footsteps slowly make their way down the aisle to where he kneels on a thin cushion directly before the altar.

“Rise, sir knight,” says a deep and familiar voice.

“Not a knight yet,” Hob responds quietly. “Your Highness.”

“Do you doubt your ability to master this challenge?”

“No, my liege,” Hob says. He remains on his knees. “Lest you be a manifestation of temptation, sent to sway me from my path.”

“Not I.” Dream finally steps into his line of sight, and Hob’s breath catches in his throat. His prince is a vision, dressed in a diaphanous robe, long hair in a simple braid over his shoulder. “I merely wished to look upon the face of the man I love once more, ere it is wreathed in responsibilities.”

Hob flushes. He is not supposed to touch another soul between the ritual bath and when the priests come at dawn to fetch him for the ceremony, but he longs for Dream with every fiber of his being.

“I think you have come to tempt me, you sprite,” he accuses, and Dream smiles softly.

“Peace, my own,” he says. “Return to your prayers. Know that mine are with you also. I will see you in the morning.”

He glides from the chapel, but turns when Hob calls his name.

“Dream. My prince. I want you to know…” He has to pause and swallow hard against the lump in his throat. “When I swear my oath it will be to king and country, yes. But my first and best oath – the one I swear in my heart – will be to you. Always.”

He is shocked to see tears glinting in his lord’s crystal blue eyes. Dream nods, once, and slips out the side door.

In the morning, the priests come. Hob is clothed in a robe of pure white and thinks of Dream. He receives the sacrament, the first food to pass his lips in twenty four hours, and thinks of Dream.

The king presides over the ceremony. There is a pained look and a murmured apology from his advisor when he forgets Hob’s name.

Hob barely notices. He thinks of Dream.

Dream’s hands drape the red robe over his shoulders. Dream’s hands drop the embroidered black tabard over his head. Red, for his willingness to be wounded. Black, for his readiness to die for his lord.

The king rests his sword on the back of Hob’s neck, but it is Dream’s voice that rings out over the assembled crowd.

“Rise, Sir Gadling, knight of the realm.”

prompt list!

[autumnsunshine10]

Song ask:

Bob Marley - Three little birds

May doubt and fear

Fly out the window

Open to enlivening light

Beauty in bloom

Never before realized

Peace and prosperity pour in

Perhaps not a deluge

But enough to get by

Sustaining smiles

Comfort even in storms

No clouds can cover

The freedom of faith

In brighter tomorrows

[lost-in-fandoms]

¹⁷⁾ a carabiner heavy with keys❤️

hello friend, I want you to know that this prompt stumped me for quite a while, I just didn't know how to spin it? I started thinking about keys -> doors -> many doors, and I had a zookeeper AU in my brain, but also a college student x security guard AU kind of thing, but in the end I went for this. I did take some liberties on the carabiner part.

Max is being guided towards the last row of cells when they bring him in.

He's being held up by two guards, one more behind them carrying an extra torch, head hanging low like he's not fully aware, curls drooping in front of his face in a disheveled mess.

"Ah, yes," the warden says with a smirk, stepping over to open one of the closed doors, "our little thief!"

The cell is dark and damp, with a hole in the middle of the floor and a wooden slab against the wall as a bed, and even from where he's standing in the corridor, Max can feel how oppressive the small space is, air heavy and stale.

The guards throw the man in without much care, ignoring the way he slumps on the floor, unmoving, but the warden chuckles, coming closer to poke him with the tip of his boot.

"Not so smug now, are you?" he taunts.

Max forces himself not to react as he pokes the thief again, trying to keep his face as impassible as the other guards, watching as the guy tries to twist away, moaning pathetically.

"Who is he?" he asks, voice flat and uninterested. His fingers are tightly closed around the ring of keys the warden had passed him earlier, a copy of the one hanging from his belt.

"Just a rat, sneaking around the castle's treasury for far too long." The warden crouches down, grabbing the man's hair and pulling it back, revealing his bruised face. "The guys had a bit of fun, it seems."

The thief opens one swollen eye to look up at him, and for a second Max thinks his face is twisting in pain, but then realises he's smiling, all blood-stained teeth.

"Touching is 5 gold pieces, sweetheart," he rasps out, before spitting at the warden.

Max can't help but flinch when the guy's head hits the floor, but he steels himself for the kick he sees coming, forcing himself to not look away, even as the poor man coughs and gasps on the floor.

"Vermin," the warden grunts, hitting him again for good measure, before finally stepping away. "Hope you've had your taste of fresh air, because this is the last you're going to get."

The thief doesn't answer, curling up more tightly on the floor, his gasps the last thing Max hears before the door closes with a heavy thud.

--

Max walks down the corridor, trying to remind himself that he has every right to be here, and it would be more suspicious if he sneaked around, The keys jingle at his waist, and the sound itself is enough to make him feel vaguely nauseous, especially as he hears the sounds from inside the cells die down as he walks by, replaced by terrified silence.

Despite his intentions, his steps grow quieter as he walks deeper into the prison, approaching the last rows, and by the time he's in front of the thief's cell his breathing is almost inaudible too, the clinking of his keys the only sound announcing his presence.

He takes a breath before opening the door, checking the end of the corridor just in case someone decided to take a stroll down this way before the actual guards change. It's not illegal what he's doing, not yet at least, but technically he's not supposed to open this door, the meager food they've been throwing being passed through the hatch at the bottom.

The first click of the lock sounds too loud in the quiet corridor, but Max ignores the nerves twisting his stomach and keeps turning the key, pulling the door open as quietly as possible.

The first thing that hits him is the smell. The stale, damp air, now smells even worse, after days of a human being living in it, and he almost has to take a step back, feeling it like a punch in his chest. After that, he sees the thief, a shadow tucked away in one corner.

The sight is enough to make him forget about the smell as he rushes forward, tucking his keys in his pocket to make them less noisy, crouching down in front of him, relieved by the movement of his shoulders.

"Daniel," he whispers, reaching out to touch but worried he'll accidentally scare him, or worse, hurt him. "Daniel, come on, look at me."

"You're late."

Max feels like a weight has been lifted from his chest hearing Daniel's voice, even if dry and raspy, and he almost laughs with it, finally leaning all the way in to touch his shoulders, helping him sit up.

"I'm sorry," he says, even if he had no real way of getting their work done more quickly. "I have water for you, and a piggyback ride out."

Max is glad he prepared himself before walking in, because it takes all his self-control to not gasp when Daniel finally looks up. The bruises he had seen a few days earlier are now purple and green, the dried blood still caking his cheekbone now a flaky brown, his cheeks sunken and pale.

"Don't look at me like that, I haven't had my beauty sleep," Daniel jokes, voice cracking into a cough by the end of the sentence.

"I hate you," Max says, because saying I love you so much it felt like I was dying when I was watching them throw you in here feels a bit too much at the moment. What he does instead is take out the small flask of water from his pocket, helping Daniel drink, fingers almost tingling where he's touching his skin.

"You got them right?" Daniel asks as soon as he's done, looking slightly better than before.

Max nods, patting the pocket on his chest, under his cloak, where he had hidden the documents he had retrieved from where Daniel had stashed them away. Daniel getting beat up hadn't been in the plans though, and Max is eager to get him out of there as soon as possible.

"Come on, it's not long until the watch changes."

He helps Daniel stand up, then climb on his back, leaving his hands free, just in case.

"I'm going to give you so much food," he tells him, feeling how much lighter Daniel has become in just a few days.

"You better."

Max closes the door of the cell behind them, taking a moment to wrap the keys up in an handkerchief before putting them back in his pocket. He knows that there's no way to make it seem like he's not smuggling Daniel out, so he's not taking any chances of the damned keys betraying them when he's trying to be quiet. Then he takes a deep breath, makes sure Daniel is secure on his back, and starts making his way to safety.

[creativepromptsforwriting]

Third Day of Gift-Giving

Three Words

... to use in your next story

Ghosts - safety - blanket

Candy - balloon - dress

Streetlamp - music - flattering

Tunnel - bike - hill

Chills - reunion - banner

Dry - sun - radio

Slow-dancing - skirts - barefoot

Wedding - piano - cake

Concert - kiss - solo

Grass - socks - dew

Bell - ring - firework

Home - window - lights

Park - bench - dogs

Window sill - sunlight - plants

Fancy - coat - photo

24 Days of Gift-Giving

[pencap]

I'm so thrilled to hear this blog is sparking joy for you again! I've been moved and inspired by your poetry since the moment I discovered your words over seven years ago. Thank you sincerely for the ways you have fed my soul, and welcome back! Wishing all good things for you & hoping you are well ❤️❤️ (3 words if you want to use them, but no pressure: prophet, circumstance, toll)

thank you for the lovely words! it's always so so heartwarming to hear folks find some kind of meaning in my poetry. wishing all the good things back to you, sweetheart.

so here i stand at the end of days, bare-handed and empty-chested with no more blades left to wield and no more hope left to shield. and there you stand at the end of days cold-lipped and thin-hearted with no more words left to say and no more hearts left to sway. i would make myself prophet, word by knife-edged word if only it would let me speak you back to me. i would pay the toll in my blood, drop by poison-fang drop if only it would let me cross the burnt bridges back to you. my darling apocalypse, my beloved calapmity, my sweetest devastation-- i do not much care if the road we re-trod would lead us right back here to this battlefield at the end of days where all things must end where you and i must end. if only i could stand next to you at the end of days side by side hand in hand heart to heart

[dumplingsjinson]

List of “I love you being met with a response which makes you regret letting those three words slip out of your mouth” prompts 

“…I’m sorry.” 

“You know, maybe this is all in your imagination?”

“I think you’re getting it really wrong here.” 

“That’s… Cool. Um, look, I’ve gotta go. I’ll talk to you later, okay?” 

“You don’t love me. Stop lying to yourself.” 

“Your jokes are really starting to take a nose-dive.”

“…Did I give you the wrong impression?” 

“You don’t even know me that well so how can you love me?”

“See, that’s where I know you’re lying, because I’m incapable of being loved.”

“You’re actually delusional, aren’t you?” 

“No, you don’t. Please tell me you don’t.”

“So… Is there a punchline to this?” 

“Funny joke you have there. Wait. It’s not a joke?”

“Don’t you fucking dare say that, right after I’ve just moved on from you. How fucking— wow.” 

“Bullshit. That’s bullshit and you know it.” 

[nixylubouv]

Comedic married couple 😈

🌺 Snippet Request 🌺

Hi Anon. *peeks out from behind a pillar* I know you sent this request a super duper long time ago. Whoops. Hey I finally got around to it! Thank you for the request! Hope you like it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Sweety pie, could you pass me the hot sauce?” Sidekick asked Henchman as a person came crashing down across the long restaurant table and slid to a stop in front of them. 

“Of course, honey bunny.” Henchman reached over Villain’s body and picked up the bottle of Cholula hot sauce. Sidekick and Henchman sat together near the far end, chairs subtly pushed closer towards each other. Someone screamed in the distance as Villain somersaulted off the edge of the table. Pleasant sunlight streamed through one of the broken floor length window panels Hero had just shot Villain through. 

“No not that one, the Tabasco please.” Sidekick informed Villain over the noise of the breakfast dinner. It had erupted into chaos as parents scrambled to get up and grab their children. 

Henchman’s eyebrow raised in question “Really? I thought you liked Cholula better?” 

“Oh I do, I just thought I would try something new for a change. It’s important to keep things exciting.” Sidekick sighed. 

Henchman nodded in solemn understanding, “As always, you are incredibly right my darling. It does get rather boring around here.” They handed Sidekick the correct bottle. The entire party had deserted the table by now, and the restaurant was empty of people save the Villain and Hero brawling in the background. 

Sidekick drizzled a generous amount of hot sauce over their pancakes. They cut into the stack and offered Henchman a bite. Henchman’s eyes scrunched in fond registration as they accepted. 

Sidekick smiled and took their own bite, turning towards the spectacle. “Maybe we should set the kiddos up on a date,” They mused just as Villain picked up a centerpiece of lovely blue flowers and smashed the vase over the Hero’s head.  

“Hm. Mm hmm.” Henchman agreed around a mouthful of bizarrely spicy pancake. They didn’t bother to look up, already familiar with the routine. 

“Oooh! We could be godparents to their future kids. That would be so cute.” Sidekick daydreaming, already lost in some imagined scene. 

Villain had dropped on their knees next to the unconscious Hero, whose head was drenched from the vase. Villain gingerly removed a stray blossom from their eye. “Hey,” they poked Hero’s cheek. “Hey, you alive?” 

Hero swatted their hand away, mumbling “Wha…What happened?” 

“I got you flowers!” Villain informed them cheerily. They gathered up the stem from among the shards of glass and presented the Hero with the wilted blooms. Henchman nodded in approval from their seat. 

Hero eyed the hasty makeshift bouquet dubiously as they shifted to a sitting position on their elbows, “You did?” 

“And they invited you to brunch!” Sidekick chimed in. Villain and Hero both turned to look at the duo sitting at the table. 

“Sidekick?” Hero asked at the same time Villain squeaked, “Hechman?” 

“Come, sit. Sit.” Sidekick beckoned them over. “Have brunch with us! It's a lovely afternoon.”