#prompt day

[thunder-pride]

Today’s prompt is…

“Can we talk?”

Draw, paint, write, headcanon, create! Looking forward to seeing what you make of this prompt!

If you’d like some inspo - you could combine this prompt with our random identity generator!

Tag using #thunderpride and @thunder-pride so we can share your wonderful works!

[matthewkniesys]

"Text me when you get home safely." With your boy Luke Hughes, please and thanks! :)

Of course <3 and yes he is my boy

"Lukey" you say looking up at your boyfriend from your spot on his chest.

"What baby" he asks.

"You remember I have a bridal shower for my friends tonight" you remind him.

"Why" he pouts "I wanted to watch a movie though".

"Sorry luke, but I have to go"

"Are you surrrre"

"Yes"

"I'm gonna worry about you" luke tells you.

"I know you will but you really don't have to" you say.

"You can't stop me" he says starting to tickle you.

"Lukey stop" you laugh.

"I said you can't stop me" he repeats also laughing.

Eventually he stop and you come up gasping for air through your laughter.

"I hate you" you tell Luke.

"No you dont" he replies.

You sigh "I know your right".

"I always am" he responds.

"Shut up, be less cocky" you say.

He snorts "as if".

You just roll your eyes. For the next hour and half you keep trying to get up so you can get ready but luke is insistant that if your gonna leave him for the night you better spend time with him during the day.

"Luke" you look him straight in the eyes"now I'm serious I really have to go back to my place so I can get ready".

"Ugh Fine, but text me when you get home safely" he responds, with worry in his tone.

"Always" is all you say back but it's enough.

[lexa-lives-in-us]

Hiya! If you're still free for asks, might I request a bitnof cobalt ruby, an undercover au of sorts where they meet while one of them is undercover for their organization? 😄

Dairon can’t fucking believe it.

They’re special ops, for the love of God. They’ve trained with the best of the best, they’ve done missions no one else could’ve done. They’ve trained some of the best CIA, FBI and SEAL agents the world has ever seen. (Not that they’ll ever tell Beauregard that). They’re not babysitters.

Dairon doesn’t mind undercover, really. They’re sweet assignments, where they can pretend to be someone they’re not without actual consequences. It’s a job with no beginnings, no middles and no ends: once they’re done with a character, they toss it and build another one for a different mission. They can live and die with that persona and to hell with it.

But there are some assignments they really can’t fucking stand. They thought it was over, they really weren’t going to go on any more of those dumb as fuck missions, that they were rookie jobs. Stalking some celebrity because of potential high risk information and possible corruption? Fuck that shit.

But no, the CIA had requested for them specifically, and Dairon has yet to understand why. They have the horrible suspicion Agent Lionett is behind all this, because Dairon knows she has contact within her assignment.

But a job is a job, and Dairon stares up at the five star hotel “The Lavish Chateau” with a critical eye. They’ve studied their piece, they know their backstory, they know the language. All they have to do is lounge at the hotel for a couple of weeks, collect intel and disappear. They are quite literally supposed to pretend to be a tourist in Paris. How hard can it be?

Dairon clutches their suitcase, smoothing out their button down with their free hand. They can’t remember the last time they’ve worn jeans, but here we go.

Deep breath, and Dairon walks in.

The place lives it up to the name. Dairon has seen two inches of the foyer of this hotel and it’s stupidly lavish, sumptuously rich and ridiculously elegant.

They are greeted within five seconds of walking in, and as they get to their room they find themselves thinking that at least, at least... It can be a nice spot for a vacation. *** Dairon starts roaming the hotel immediately. No time to lose, and it’s not like they have anything else to do anyway. They slip through the emergency exit door, finding stairs. Up or down?

Dairon shrugs to themselves and starts heading up.

They count seventeen floors of nothing before a small laugh makes them jump out of their own skin.

Dairon whips around, almost going for the gun in their hidden holster, and looks behind them. No one. Only darkness. Only...

From the obscured corner of another emergency exit door, a puff of smoke comes rolling out. A cigarette falls to the floor, and a heeled foot presses it down onto the cement.

Dairon stares, as a tall, absolutely stunning woman walks out of the shadow.

“I apologize.” the woman says, and if Dairon didn’t know she was gay before, she certainly knows now, because that accent... “It is not a habit I indulge often. But some days are more trying than others.”

Dairon blinks. They are a good height themselves, but this woman is tall.

Long, tanned legs, loosely draped by the gown of a red dress that hugs curvy hips and soft breasts, with a cleavage that leaves very little to the imagination. But Dairon is a gentleperson, and they stare up at the woman’s face, which is probably worse, because fuck, she is beautiful. Red hair encircling magnificent features and soft lips. And her eyes... They are brown, but with a tint of reddish-purple, something Dairon has never seen.

But she has a gentleness, to her, something that takes Dairon completely by surprise.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to smoke either way in this place.” Dairon responds, automatically. “The Hotel doesn’t allow smokers.”

The woman looks surprised for a moment, then she recoils and offers her hand.

“I don’t think I got your name, handsome.” she asks with a fascinated whisper.

Dairon feels a shiver down their spine. Oh, this woman is trouble. They know the woman probably expects for them to shake her hand, but Dairon takes a page out of Beauregard’s book and goes for it. Fucking assignment, they might as well have some fun.

They grab the woman’s hand in theirs, then press a kiss on the soft, silky skin of her knuckles.

“Skylar.” they say, and they hate this stupid name, but don’t hate this mission so much anymore.

The woman’s eyes spark in amusement, and she giggles as Dairon places a kiss on her hand. She doesn’t let go. Instead, she takes a step forward, almost pressing her body to Dairon, who blinks rapidly.

The woman uses her free hand to place a finger on Dairon’s jaw. Their eyes meet, cobalt blue finding dark ruby.

“Well, Skylar.” the woman says . “Maybe you’ll find my actual name once I find out yours. À bientôt.”

Then the woman drops her hands, and disappears through the same dark corner she’d emerged from before, followed by a soft smell of roses. Fucking poetic.

Dairon is left staring, the only noise in the stairwell being the violent drumming of her heart.

[imkylotrash]

Just a little update, I’m closing requests for the prompt list now. I won’t have time to finish them all today, but I’ll do my best to finish the rest tomorrow.

Thank you so so much to everyone who sent in a prompt. I never imagined so many people would get involved. I am grateful and baffled in the best way possible. Thank you, babies 💛💛

[impala-dreamer]

How about some Jensen drabbles for today? 

send in your Jensen x Reader, Cockles, or J2 prompts and I’ll see what I can do! 

(i do not write the wives or kids or ABO. I may not write yours.... yada yada all standard rules and regulations observed.)

Let’s give Mr. Ackles a sexy birthday, shall we?

[docholligay]

Trying It On

sittingoverheredreaming said: How about the moment Haruka realized Mina really cared about her?

Thank you for this great prompt! This is from my Talismans AU, found here.  about 2,100 words. 

It had all been Mako’s fault, Mina would think later. Why she ever let Mako and Haruka be in a room together was a mystery to her, but she had not figured out how to have an all-staff meeting about finding the princess without the both of them.

They were both brawlers with bad tempers and a certain lack of sharpness and nuance, and if you had tried to tell them that eighty percent of the problem was how much they reminded one of the other, they would have punched you instead of each other. She hadn’t even remembered how the entire thing had started. It always started, Mina couldn’t be bothered to remember the whys. They were barely relevant anyhow.

But it had ended with Mako’s very simple, “God, you’re fucking impossible,” and a turn to Michiru, who had sat silent, “No wonder you left her.”

Michiru had not responded with anything other than a shrug.

It would have been easier for Mina to handle if Mako had realized how intensely cruel it was, but Mina realized that she did not. Mako bought what Haruka sold, that she was untouchable and distant, the king of the sky, and so she said things to Haruka that, while not particularly creative, and not something Mako would say to a softer creature, aimed straight for Haruka’s heart.

Haruka had thundered her fist down on the table, shaking Mina’s water glass. “Fuck you, Mako! You don’t know--”

“Hey hey HEY!” Mina waved her arms and caught their attention, “I’m leading a meeting here, so if you two could knock off the romper room bullshit, AGAIN, I’d really appreciate it.”

They both crossed their arms and stewed silently across the table from her, and Mina noticed the glances Haruka gave to Michiru, who never returned them, simply sat in icy silence and let Haruka know that whatever her reasons were, Mako had not been so wrong as to require correction.

Mina adjourned the meeting when the pen Haruka was driving into her leg drew blood.

She had found her, later, at a bar down the street from their apartment, some one-coin joint that hadn’t been washed since before smart phones came to Japan and the buzz of both tourists and locals mixed into a soundtrack that belonged everywhere and nowhere. It hadn’t been a long look. Haruka was fairly predictable in her vices.

It had all been Rei’s fault,  Mina would think later, as she went to drag Haruka away from the corner where she leaned, where some drunk girl from England was awkwardly trying to proposition her, as Haruka tried to use the three words she remembered in English to communicate.

Rei had walked with her from the meeting, and Mina had invited her to grab a bowl of noodles at the shop. Sometimes they kissed, and sometimes they fucked, but on this day, under the dimming sun, she would make the same excuses she always did, about the princess and their job and how dating another Senshi was asking for trouble. How they couldn’t be like Haruka and Michiru. How Rei didn’t even think she really felt that way.

Mina ordered two beers.

“Hi baby!” She walked up to Haruka, slipping a beer into her hand, “Sorry to keep you waiting.” She turned back to the drunk girl with the hazy, unfocused eyes, and switched to her pitch-perfect English. “Anyway, you should be going now. Finders keepers.”

The girl looked perhaps even more perplexed by Mina’s English than she had been by the Japanese she didn’t know, but she had stumbled off into the crowd, leaving Haruka leaning in her corner and Mina slugging down her beer.

“Thought I might find you here.” Mina pulled the edge of her jacket up onto her shoulder. “Charming place.”

Haruka chuckled. “Beer’s cheap.”

“How can you ask for anything more?” We should leave, she thought, we should leave and go home and go to bed. “You’re buying the next round.” she said, instead.

Haruka slugged back the beer and dug into her wallet. ‘You got it.”

The night stretched out long, and the glow of the bar did not seem to change at all even in its constant motion, a lava lamp of drunkenness and revelry contained on a back street in the shitty district they called home. One beer turned to shots, and another beer, and soon they laughed and joked and howled the words along to the songs on the jukebox, the entire bar joining into some sort of ersatz karaoke.

Eventually, one or the other of them remembered that dawn would come soon enough, and they would have to greet the next day, and they shuffled home, arm in arm, clomping up the steps to the apartment.

The conversation had turned to their dating life, and Mina had made Haruka laugh, free and loud, with her descriptions of all the things Mina had done to get Rei into bed. She liked to tell stories. She told them deftly, and they revealed the truths as she wanted them to be known, and if she edited a bit so Haruka did not see the shadow, what dfid that matter? The essence of the story was the same.

Haruka flopped onto the floor, missing the couch entirely and deciding it didn’t matter, sitting up with a grin that faded as she thought for a moment.

“Michiru was better at that stuff than me. I wouldn’t even know she wanted me to do it, but I did it, she just…” Haruka scoffed, “Guess she was better at a lot of stuff than me.”

It had all been Haruka’s fault, Mina would say later, the way she had turned things quiet and sad, the way her next laugh had come at her own expense, a dagger she plunged into her own heart as Mina settled in next to her.

“Guess I’m impossible.”

They sat on the floor, side by side, leaned up against the couch, laughing together, and Mina rested her head against Haruka’s shoulder. Her cologne, or maybe she just smelled that way, was warm and soft, weaving in and out of the fabric of her sweater.

Haruka was handsome, Mina observed, tall and athletic, if a bit lanky in a way that would not resolve itself until middle age, and the grey of her eyes could be as soft as kitten fur when she was relaxed, which was not often, but it happened from time to time, and the slate hardness of them was just as attractive.

But she had noticed these things as a human being with eyes, with no personal relevance to Mina herself.

Sitting here on the floor, both of them laughing and near crying over the girls that didn’t love them, that she had not noticed these things on a more personal level seemed silly. Haruka was blustery and bullyish and loud, but Mina had seen her when she did not know she was being watched, or when it was the two of them, locked safely in the apartment, and Haruka could be funny and friendly and even tender at times.

And they were both alone.

Mina drew her arm behind Haruka’s head and rubbed at the back of her neck absent-mindedly. Haruka leaned into it, drawing her arms around Mina and pulling her close, drawing her onto her lap, kissing her deeply. Mina could still taste the cheap beer on her lips.

The next minutes felt like either seconds or hours, for all they recalled them, and all the times they burst into laughter as they recalled them in bars. Mina’s hand was up her shirt, pulling against the buttons under her sweater, feeling the hard tips of her nipples barely concealed by the thin, soft bralette she wore. Haruka’s hands were nimble, one in her hair and the other about Mina’s back, unhitching her bra with a grace Mina was reminded only came to other girls.

The room felt hot, and Mina stripped off her bra, not sure of what she was doing or why she was doing it, but just wanting to empty herself into Haruka, to know that Haruka wanted and desired her. To know that Rei was a fool. To make Haruka feel that Michiru was.

Haruka kissed her neck, but then held back and hesitated a moment before kissing it again, softer this time.

“Haruka?”

“No, I’m fine.” She kissed Mina’s collarbone, harder now.

Mina sighed. The pause had made her sense come to her. Haruka was not this kind of girl. Michiru had been the first woman Haruka had ever touched like this, though she did not know Mina knew, and would never have admitted it.

And Haruka was handsome, and Haruka was strong, and Mina was quite coming to enjoy her company, and yet her stomach felt odd too, as if there was some odd and stomach turning scent in the air.

She pulled away from Haruka. “Bud,” and the last piece slid into place, and Mina could see exactly why not even drunkenness and hurt and need could help her jump this fence, “What we doing here?’

“You started it.” Haruka said, terribly romantically.

Mina looked at her for a moment, tilting her head slightly. It was easy enough for Mina to know why Mina did things. Rei hurt her, and made her angry, and she needed a reminder that she was beautiful, and sex was as meaningless as she wanted it to be. It could be a candy bar, picked up on an impulse and devoured, or it could be a twelve course meal, and it was easy for Mina to decide which one before it ever started. So why she did these things, never surprised her.

But she had seen those flashes of Haruka’s memories, seen how she had wanted for affection her entire life, and knew all the reasons why a girl who was not anything like Mina might pretend to be.

“You don’t have to do this.” Mina shook her head slowly. “You don’t want this.”

Haruka scowled at her and pulled back, leaning against the couch and crossing her arms. “Okay, god, just say you don’t want to. Fuck.”

It was easy to get angry with Haruka when she did this. When she pushed away, when she grumbled, when she yelled. Haruka was a brittle piece of spaghetti more than she was anything else, and all feelings became anger in that alchemy she had created for herself, where she was strong. Where she was a soldier. Where no one could hurt her, they could only make her angry.

Mina reached out and touched her shoulder. “Come here.” Haruka flinched, just a little, but she did not pull back.

She barely resisted as Mina pulled her close, laying Haruka’s head on her shoulder and holding her tight, and she felt the choke in Haruka’s throat as she laid her cheek against the side of her head.

“It’s okay.” She said in a voice she rarely used, one that was soft more than bright, “It’s okay to just want to be touched.”

“Don’t.” Haruka said, but drew her arms around Mina, as if begging her not to listen.

Later in their lives, when Haruka’s smile came easy, and she roared with laughter as Mina made fun of her, when she Mako no longer fought, and Haruka no longer fought herself, Mina would refer to this moment in their lives as “The time Haruka tried to have sex with me because she wanted a hug.”

And one time she would say it, and Haruka would shake her head, and pat Mina’s hand.

“You know what it was for me?” She’d smile “It was the first time I knew you really cared about me. You were my friend. I never had a friend like that. My friends were all guys. Girls thought I just wanted to hit on ‘em, they weren’t gonna touch me. I’m tall, and you know, she’d shrug, “manly, I guess. But you did. Didn’t know I was allowed to want that.

Sufficiently touched, Mina would tell her to shut up, and toss a fry at her.

But the Mina who sat on the floor with a tall and gawky lesbian nearly sobbing in her arms for the tenderness of being held did not yet know this day would come, that someday the Haruka of anger would be so much more rare than the Haruka of gentleness and of humor. All she knew was that the girl existed, and was as easily frightened away as a rabbit, heart beating fast.

“You’re not impossible,” She said ruffling Haruka’s hair, “You’re not impossible at all.”

It had all been Mina’s fault, Mina would know for the rest of her life, and if it was a mistake, it was the luckiest one of her life.  

[soda-rebel-writes]

Demony Things

A lil somethin for @creatorsofhetalia prompt day! I did the prompt “You ate what?” for a little domestic demon au.  Pairing: usuk Words: 273

Alfred nearly dropped the groceries he was holding. But only nearly. He just happened to be surprised by what his housemate had decided to reveal at that very moment. “You ate what?!” he yelled at Arthur. “The soul of your neighbor. Not that there was much of a soul there anyway,” Arthur replied. His dark wings twitched amusedly as Alfred scrambled to pick up the scattered cans and other foodstuffs. “You can’t just eat souls out here. Isn’t there like, some demon code that you can’t break?” Alfred asked while stuffing a bundle of oranges into a bag. “Why the fuck would we have that?” Arthur said, rolling a can of soup around the countertop. Alfred sighed, trying to think of some upside to this situation. “He’s not dead, right?” Arthur only laughed at him, though Alfred knew it wasn’t malicious. “Of course not! He’ll be just fine. He probably didn’t need it anyway.” Whatever Arthur meant by “needing” a soul, Alfred wasn’t so sure of. He couldn’t work up enough of the nerve to ask. “What do they even taste like?” Alfred asked. Though it was more out of courtesy that he was asking. Alfred didn’t want anything to do with the consumption of souls in any form. Arthur abandoned the soup can he was fooling with and paused for a bit, hovering just a few inches with a few beats of his wings. “It tastes like nothing, actually. It just makes me feel...I don’t know, whole I suppose.” “Oh,” Alfred said. Alfred came to the conclusion that maybe, he might be okay with Arthur eating souls. Just a little bit.