#— Daisy's prompts

[whumpypepsigal]

@whumpgifathon | Day 19 (alt. prompt): “Protective”

Tyler Owens in Twisters (2024)

[aashidoodles]

taking care of the houseplants!

Thank you for the prompt! 🌱

[gorygirllovesart]

The green light

From a distance

[levemetal]

Day 2: Timeloop / Xiao Qi and Jiu Ge

I am cringe and I am not even free

Feel free to reuse this idea but 24 hours are not enough for me to finish an entire comic. I could have taken the simpler prompt but nOOOOOO timeloop is too tempting. Past me why are we like this

[ecstarry]

💌 barty and reg having their first kiss

I hate letters.

But you don't. So here I am, with a fucking piece of paper and a pen. A fountain pen at that!

I know you get in your head about dumb shit like this, so I need you to not freak out. I don't trust myself to see you and not kiss you the moment you are near me. But I need to say some things first, so please, read it all the way through.

I can't believe you're gay for me. But also, I like that you're gay for me.

Reg, I had been waiting to kiss you for so fucking long, it still feels like a dream. I don't want to fuck this up.

No, I don't think it was a mistake. No, your breath didn't stink. Yes, you are a good kisser. Yes, I want to kiss you again. No, it wasn't awkward. Yes, you said all the right things.

Yes, I love you.

Say something right after you read this, because I know how fast you read and once I give you this letter I will be able to tell exactly when you get to this point and if you say nothing then I will be the one freaking out.

-BCJ

P.S. Ignore the smudge, I wasn't crying, those are not tears. Leave me alone.

P.S. You look so pretty with swollen lips.

send me a 💌 with a character and situation and i'll write a letter or a cute note from that pov

[bethdehart]

Peachtober Day 1. Daisy

I really like this lil creature. Here we go for inktober/peachtober, let's see how far into it I can get!

(Check out my ko-fi! I have a shop and exclusive perks for supporters! https://ko-fi.com/bethdehart )

[plasticfreckles]

🪶 "how much do they know?" rookanis🪶

[prompt explanation under cut <3]

Lucanis laughs, quietly, and puts away quill and notebook when Rook approaches the bed, both arms spread up as far as they can go an a dramatic, clearly enunciated yawn from her mouth.

"Gods, I can't wait to get in these sheets."

Even so, she stops just short of the mattress, to lift her arms up behind her and lean forward.

Lucanis knows the sweet relief in the shoulders from that stretch, knows the guttural groan from deep within her that is sure to come bubbling up just before her nose touches her knee.

"I'll do my best to leave quietly, then."

Her head lifts. Lucanis can barely see her eyebrows over the mattress and her poofy blanket. He can, however, hear the little, pleased exhale; this posture stretches her chest, as well, evidently.

Taash had once held her up with their arms under her armpits and their hands behind her head, just letting her dangle mid-air for a while, her feet just below his navel.

"Wait, why?"

Lucanis picks up his notebook again, waving it.

"I have a lot of people to meet, tomorrow - Caterina's decided she can't be bothered with them. I'll need to step up. If I want to break fast in peace before that, I'll have to get up with the chickens."

"Ew." Her arms land flat on the bedtop, her head pushing back down toward the floor.

"But I have things to do tomorrow, too. I wouldn't mind getting up together."

"What do you have to do that requires you to wake before noon?"

He doesn't mean for it to sound judgemental, and Rook knows it. She still pinches the inside of his forearm.

"Before you ask, something you couldn't do for me, even if you had the time." A pause then, as she settles on her side and flips her hair over the pillow. A strand gets caught in a stray splinter of the wooden headrest.

Lucanis adds a quick note to his book, to have the carpenter sand it down, fix up the varnish.

"I hope you didn't write down, fix Rook's every problem. I can take care of myself, you know. Mostly."

"I wasn't."

He can tell she doesn't believe him, just from the way her muscles tense, her feet dig into the bed beneath, as she turns around with two fingers in her mouth to squish out the candle to her bedside.

"I'm just meeting with Gigi for breakfast again. No big deal."

"Gigi?"

"Oh, you know."

She crawls across the bed, across him, to snuff out his candles and wrestle him into her arms.

She knows he'll stay up all night if she doesn't. But she never holds so tight he couldn't escape.

"I.. I don't think I know a Gigi." The closest his mind supplies him is that quack Giovannino, who told his mother to walk off her broken ankle no month before she was murdered.

Rook's hand finds his shoulder, inside his sleeve, rubbing his biceps as well she can in the confined space between his skin and the fabric of his shirt.

"That talker Tia sent me to. Soulseeker, she called them."

Her hand shifts, resting over his breast, as he starts to turn toward her.

Over his other shoulder, the soft yellow gleam of her eyes is just a touch darker than a cat's eye finding even the smallest spark. Narrowed, just a little. Contemplating. Waiting.

"You're not taking a healer's concerns to a market monger only barely not selling ivy smoke, are you?"

"I feel like if I did that, you would already know." Rook pushes closer against his back, and the arm trapped under his neck curls to brush fingers through his hair. "But no. We were just chatting, and she said I could always try to talk to a soulseeker. I promised I'd give it a try, at least."

"Well," Lucanis says. He settles back down, reaches for her plush thigh and pulls it across his hip, hand under her knee. "If you're going again, whatever they do must be working." A pause. "What do you tell them?"

"Oh, nothing. Everything. We sit down with food and drink and I just talk at them until we're both finished. Airing it all out, you know."

He does.

"How much do they know, exactly?"

He almost doesn't want to know the extent, but even so, he's glad Rook does not need him to specify.

From how her belly tenses behind his back, however, he suspects there's a tease incoming.

"Oh, you know. The usual. I don't actually know how much they retain - they're usually finishing up their second bottle of port by the time we part."

"Tell me."

A shrug, both behind him and from within him.

"How we met. How long we've been together. How I feel about you. About us. About how Viago feels about me changing houses, as if I've been privy to his thoughts even once in my life."

A kiss to the back of his skull, then a shudder. From how the mattress shifts and the blanket moves away from him a little, Spite must be settling down behind her, holding her like she holds Lucanis.

An amused huff of air runs through his hair, hits his scalp, both warm and cold, somehow.

Oh-oh.

"How many grey hairs you've got on your left testicle."

Lucanis inhales his own saliva, and as he shoots up, blindly reaching for his waterbottle on the ground, Rook rolls away from behind him, laughing so hard she can barely shape her mouth to make words.

In his periphery, Spite pulls down his pants and tries to count them himself. Then he realizes he's never learned to count. Pouting and grumbling, he moves back behind Rook's ear, trying to goad her into telling him.

What is after Four? Why do WE not know? Tell me, sweet homemaker. TELL ME NOW.

But Rook is too preoccupied with wiping tears of laughter from her eyes, massaging the ache from her cheeks.

By the time they've both caught their breaths, and he settles back down in her arms, and she in Spite's, he decides to stay in bed with her in the morning.

He's already looking forward to her deep, guttural groan upon waking.

🪶

so the prompt was to take the lyric from Fall Out Boy's "The Last of The Real Ones": I wonder if your therapist knows everything about me.

And write a prompt based on that ig?? I took it way too literal and then it got out of hand, like most everything I touch lmao.

@chubritza tagged me.

Write something if you want to, if not, that's cool also.

[~rina]

[whump-galaxy]

I’ve been thinking about the Archive and magical chains again. How they look and feel to the others. I say this on episode #111, so my opinions may change, but here below:

Gertrude-thin and light chains. They crisscross across every corridor and basically encase her office. She doesn’t try to notice them often, knowing it only slows down her work to think about them there.

Michael-one solid chain that snakes throughout the corridors. It doesn’t seem to lead anywhere, though he’s tried to find its end.

Gerry- chains hanging from hooks in every room, but they never look like they’re connected. Just like they appear in any room he’s in. He doesn’t notice them much, and they don’t bother him. He’s freer here that he ever was with his mother, even if chains follow him around.

Tim- One thick chain that connects him straight to Elias. He knows it does. Even if he can’t see it directly. He just knows exactly where it goes. He can try and fight against it, but the weight just drags him further and further down.

Sasha- she never noticed them.

Martin- they wrap around him. They constrict his breath and only release when he records. They feel heavier when he’s around the others and lighter in his office, like they subconsciously want him alone.

Jon-I think he has relatively standard chains. But as the series go on they get more visible. Morph in his eyes. They feel like being captured by The Circus. Or being dragged by his legs. Or around his neck knives. The chains drape over every surface.

Basira-she doesn’t feel or see the chains exactly. She knows they’re there, just like everyone else, but they don’t tie her down.

Daisy- she’s not a staff member of the institute, no, but I think she has chains. Burning cold steel that pulls her back to the institute or anything paranormal. I think, like Martin, it restricts her breathing, but it also blinds her. Covers her eyes to who the real monster is, Y’know?

And Elias- oh puppet strings. I have a feeling he’s more like Distortion Michael than his own person anymore. He is an embodiment of The Eye, and even if he is a ‘dead man switch’ for the others, he’s already dead. He’s just a puppet, controlling other puppets. But that’s just a theory

[traintrainingmontage]

Hmm... So for the prompts thing, do you think you could do one with some of the diesels (do your favourites) playing Uno please? :)

Hehehe, this is a lovely idea! Thank you for the prompt! It got a good laugh out of me, so let's see how this goes...

(Humanized engines for this one so that they have the benefit of hands.)

(Want to see me write for a prompt of your own? Details here!)

One mid-summer evening saw a truly odd assortment of figures sitting around the living room table of a well-furnished, albeit slightly "vintage"-looking Wellsworth apartment.

In one doily-laced chair sat a woman with elegantly curled blonde hair, lusciously red lipstick, and a Coach-branded purse, all of which paled in comparison to her eye-catchingly bright green pencil-skirt-and-blazer ensemble. What was even more incredible was the sheer confidence that enabled her to pull off such an audacious look. "Well, I don't know about YOU, Mavis, but I'm afraid that I'll have to move the game along, now! Look at THAT."

With a flourish of her manicured nails, the transfixing Ms. Daisy pulled a single card from her hand and placed it atop the pile, revealing that only four cards were left. However, far more importantly was the card she had played, that being a green Draw 2 card. "Rejoice, my darlings, as this round will soon belong to me!" she crowed, unable to contain her joy.

"Hmph! I wouldn't be so sure, Daisy," came the heated retort from Daisy's left. The game's next player was a sturdily built woman in a yellow and black crop top, dark gray overalls, and red socks, whose well-worn work boots were at rest by the doorway and thick jacket hung up in the hall. "So what if I have to draw two? I bet this won't go so well for you!" Mavis quickly took her two cards, but a flick of the wrist quickly revealed the source of the woman's confidence: a green Reverse card, pointed right back at Daisy, who gnashed her pearly teeth in disdain.

"OOOOOOH! Mavis, you... you! UGH!" Daisy drew a card from the Draw pile, pouting all the while as she added said card to her hand. Mavis, now with seven cards in her hand, grinned triumphantly.

"Goodness, you two sure are cutthroat. No wonder we can't play poker anymore." This cheeky reply came from the player on Daisy's right, who was clad in a full-body orange jumpsuit and could often be seen subconsciously adjusting their hijab. Although their words could be taken as rude, their easy smile and the laughter in their voice showed that they weren't being serious. Finally, they picked a card and placed it on the pile, this one being a Wild card. "Alright, we're going with yellow."

"Yellow again, Rusty?" Mavis groaned, narrowing her eyes at the shortest among them. "Did you just manage to get every yellow card in the entire deck?"

Rusty simply shrugged, a twinkle of amusement in their eye. "Don't ask me; BoCo shuffled."

As summoned by the sound of his name, their host shuffled out of the kitchen, removing his apron as he did so. Dressed in a kelly-green button-up with simple black pants, Beaufort Connor Metrovick was somehow the most understated of the assembled group. BoCo took his place at the table, giving a relieved sigh once he learned that he hadn't missed his turn. "Alright, what's the color?"

"Yellow."

"Yellow again, Rusty? Let me see... Draw 2, Mavis."

"DAMN IT!"

With a snarl, Mavis drew two more cards from the deck, muttering to herself all the while. However, her dismay soon turned into a grin of triumph as she looked over at Daisy, grabbing for one of her newly drawn cards and practically throwing it on the pile. The group's eyes went wide as the card was revealed: a Wild Draw 4, aimed squarely at Daisy.

"Ohhhhh, no you don't," Daisy groused, staring daggers at her aggressor as she pointed a sharp finger in her direction. "You have eight cards! There's NO possible way you don't have a yellow card!"

"Are you challenging me, Daisy?" Mavis smiled, her grin almost predatory with the thrill of victory.

Her confidence made Daisy retract her finger, hesitation now worming its way through her. To challenge Mavis and lose meant that she would be drawing six cards, AND lose her turn, to boot! But with so many cards in her hand, there was no way Mavis could back up such a play. She had to be bluffing. She had to be!!

Rusty simply watched this showdown play out in tense, expectant silence. Daisy and Mavis had always been good friends, but game night brought out their competitive streaks, and it was the most entertainment Rusty got to have all week, besides Duncan doing... Duncan things. BoCo, for his part, was keeping an eye on his watch and hoping that he was getting the timing right on his pot roast, but still found time to lock eyes with Rusty and give the other a cheerful wink.

Finally, Daisy made a decision. "Alright, Mavis! Show me your hand!" With deliberate slowness, Mavis rose from her seat, and with exaggerated grace, revealed her hand to her opponent. A green 7... a blue 1... a red 5... a green Skip... Daisy's eyes desperately jumped from one card to another, but she felt her heart sink in her chest. Despite Mavis' large hand, there was indeed not a single yellow among them, no matter how many times Daisy looked or checked for stuck cards.

At last, Mavis pulled away, leaving Daisy to hang her head in disgrace. Steadfastly displeased, but not about to lose any more of her dignity, Daisy reached forward and drew six cards, brow furrowing in increased displeasure. "Red," Mavis smirked as she sat back down, pure satisfaction dripping from that one word.

However, before Rusty could dare to consider what card to play next, a loud riiiiing came from the kitchen. Daisy glanced up at it like it was her lifeline, while Mavis frowned. Barely suppressing a smile, Rusty looked over at BoCo. "Is that dinner?"

"Sure is," the taller man smiled, a hint of relief on his face. "Pot roast's ready. Let's take a break from this and go eat, alright?"

"Yes!" Daisy practically shrieked, while Mavis simply shrugged and stood up once more.

The four made their way into the kitchen, ready to enjoy their meal, and over glasses of wine, delicious food, laughter, and good company, it could only be said that for these four friends, game night was anything but a bore.

[allisluv]

FLUFFTOBER

note: there will be eight flufftober requests (two per week) just so i'm not feeling overwhelmed. the rest will be completed by the end of the year, so feel free to send in as many as you want! <3

characters you can request for: finnick o'dair, johanna mason, katniss everdeen, annie cresta, lucy gray baird, emily prentiss, derek morgan, spencer reid, daisy jones, eddie roundtree, camila dunne, karen sirko, tyler owens and jake seresin.

prompts: you can request from this prompt list or this one. you can send in any other fall themed requests too!

flufftober masterlist

october 1st — karen sirko x reader

october 7th — jake seresin x reader

october 10th — emily prentiss x reader

october 15th — derek morgan x reader

october 20th — finnick o’dair x reader

october 25th — johanna mason x reader

october 31st — annie cresta x reader

[novvasgalaxy]

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃flowers for you part two - pick a flower, get a prompt

[ larkspurs ] - a is a shy student and doesn’t have many friends in college. “could I borrow your charger?” “s-sure.” *a gives b the phone charger and b gives a quick wink* at the end of class, b gives back the charger with a piece of paper with their number on it. “huh?”

[ daisies ] - “oh no, what happened?” a and b love their friends but if plans get cancelled, they are quick to change their clothes to go to bed. *b looks over at a who is on the phone* “no no, it’s okay. tell johnny we said to feel better,” a says while gesturing to b. *b quickly turns on the tv resuming the movie they were both watching*

[ snapdragons ] - *b is planning their wedding proposal for a* “yes, i need to reserve a table for two.” a knows b is hiding something but doesn’t know what it is. “this friday at eight.” *a walks into the bedroom annoyed* “are you cheating on me b?”

[ daffodils ] - a and b aren’t dating because a travels a lot for work. “you’re back in the city?” “yeah, I won’t be moving anytime soon.” *b and a are walking down the street* “what made you settle down?” “im hoping this person will realize that im staying because of them.”

[ petunias ] - “this might be a bad time,” b utters. “should i sit down for what you’re going to say?” *b leads a to a seat* “I know you’ve been very vocal about taking time to think.” “oh my god, b just say it.” *family and friends pop out of nowhere* “will you be my partner?”

[ sweet peas ] - a and b recently had an argument over whether if a’s parents should live with them. “you think so badly of my parents.” “for the love of— your mother accused me of cheating on you. she doesn’t believe our child is yours.” “she what?”

[ marigolds ] - “you are my sunshine, my only sunshine.” b hears a in the nursery room singing. b peeks their head in and sees a singing softly while rubbing her belly. “what happened to the last song?” laughing, “i don’t think i should be singing glorilla to the baby.”

[ecstarry]

@rosekillermicrofic / heart / 342 words tw: mature language and mention of murder / for @star4daisy

“What happens now?” Evan asked. 

“Well, we leave.” Barty stared at him, waiting for a response, but Evan couldn’t speak. He still couldn’t understand how he had ended up here, with bodies under his feet, unable to tell if the blood on his right boot was from the same person as the blood on his shirt or jacket.

“Do you regret it?” 

Evan allowed himself to process everything for the first time. Memories of everyone he once considered important came rushing back—a broken attempt at love and a life that never quite made sense. He had thought about leaving; life seemed utterly boring. It was passing him by, and whether it continued or stopped, it all felt the same to Evan.

Then he met Barty. Suddenly, he began to care. He became aware of every second of every day because each one was a second with or without Barty. He now had desires. All the organs he once thought worthless had become vital. He needed his eyes to see Barty, his hands to touch him, his nose to smell him, his skin to feel him, and his cock to fuck him. He even needed his heart too.

“Evan-”

“Don’t. I made my choice.” Barty nodded in understanding but kept his distance.

For someone who had slaughtered a record number of people with just guitar strings, Barty had the most loving eyes, and it was all for Evan. He glanced down at his hands; Evan couldn’t tell how much time had passed, but the blood on his skin was starting to dry. They needed to go.

Barty cleared his throat and lifted his hand, gesturing for Evan to come closer. Evan obeyed, as he always did, stopping just a few inches away. Barty grabbed him by the nape of his neck and pressed their foreheads together. Their breathing instantly synched. 

“It’s just us now,” Barty whispered in relief. “Just you and me.”

Evan’s heart, the once useless heart, grew fonder with Barty’s words. “Do you promise?”

“I do. It’s you and me, love.”

[jeheiaart]

My second day prompt Daisy! This time I wanted to try animating the fairy lights for the first time and it was difficult. But the more difficult part was getting it into some kind of a loop because the video I exported kept being 1 second long no matter what.

Now I can work on my next two prompts Moth and Mushroom. I will combine these two and it will probably take longer than I think but I am excited for it.

[plasticfreckles]

🪶 Spite time rookanis enjoy 🪶

Thursday Bangers Part 2 - Antivan Boogaloo

@woundedsoul12 hulla.

Rules for your Copy and Paste: Free form a blurb or drawing based on the weekly lyrics prompt. It doesn't have to include the prompt just whatever you're inspired to write, write it! Then tag some friends so they can play as well. It doesn't have to be finished on Thursday just post it whenever you can (you have a whole week between Thursdays).

A hundred days have made me older since the last time that I saw your pretty face - Three Doors Down

I've never listened to Three Doors Down a day in my life lol.

I too am cutting this awfully close. But everything will be fine because I've got lucanis (:

🪶

She's small like this. Fragile. Small and calm and soft.

Spite holds a finger to her nose. The nostril under the calloused fingerpad folds in on itself. It doesn't stop the air from flowing inside, whistling lightly through flesh and mucus.

Rook frowns, rubs the side of her face deeper into the pillow. Then opens an eye. It gleams at him, off-yellow. It looks like Lucanis' eyes feel near magic.

Like it hurts her.

"You woke."

"Mmnh." A hand appears from beneath the blankets, rubs the gleam from the eye. It takes half a heartbeat to return. "Hi, Spite."

"You know. Spite from Lucanis."

"Of course."

"How?"

Rook extends an arm across the mattress. Spite lays Lucanis' body - his body, right now - into her embrace.

"You talk different." The words run through the hair on the scalp like a summer's wind. "The most meaning possible in as little words as you can."

"Talking is hard," he manages. "Moving the mouth needs many muscles."

Rook hums. Spite can't tell if it's from agreement or from tiredness.

"Navigating a flesh sack is exhausting. Even if it's your own, and yours alone, for what it's worth."

Worth. Everything.

"I miss you."

Fingers grab a gentle hold of hair, pull the head back into the neck. A strange noise coming out of his own throat.

"I'm here, Spite. Right here."

Spite can see the way he stains Lucanis' eyes with a purple sheen, reflecting in Rook's yellow glow.

"No. When Solas stole you. Hid you away from us. You said you missed us. We missed you, too."

Muscles relax, yellow light grows a little dimmer. Less straining on Lucanis' own eyes.

"Oh."

"Miss you. Every day. Would tear him up by his legs. If not for you. Need him, to touch you. To be touched."

Nails scratch through the beard under the chin. Feels nice. Soothing.

Spite can't help but trill. The sound makes Rook smile.

"Oh, I'm sure you'd miss him."

She doesn't have to say out loud that Lucanis and him are, now more than ever, a unit, complementing each other like grated cheese over cream sauce.

All the three of them know it, know each other, intimately, to a depth that would render any god that fancies itself all-knowing insane with jealousy.

He lies down again, the ear over the muffled whump-pa-dum-pa-dum encased within her ribs. Fabric shifts by bare toes, pulled into place by another's hand to rest just below armpits. The strange hands wrap around the body, squeezing, almost crushing, less than a breath, then weighing down comfortably.

"I would," he says, begrudgingly, into her soft warm flesh. "Like to see new things. Know things. Taste news. Smell stuff. Can't smell without his nose. Taste without his mouth. Feel without his hands."

Blindly reaches up, pulls down hair to smell.

"Rook smells like whole farm. Like home."

Spite can't place the noise out of her throat.

"You smell like home, too. There's something.. muted, about the way this body smells, when you're guiding it. It's comforting. Knowing there's a demon watching over me. Sounds insane, but here it is."

"Would have torn down Wolf Veil myself to find you. To know you again."

She's quiet. Fell back asleep? No, hand slides into shirt.

"You know, Spite-" Eyes half closed, mumbling, but he understands. He feels it burning up the insides, to be seen, and heard. "Sometimes, I think you're kinda like a cat."

"What is. Cat."

Rook frowns.

"You've seen cats, Spite. The little hairy critters that lounge all around Dock Town. You know, with the tail, and the ears."

Makes her hands triangles that sit on her head.

Oh. Cats. Spite knows cats.

Furry beasts that crawl and claw and cry. Small, but deadly, but also gentle and loving. Stubborn and intruiging.

Like him, and not like him.

"No. Not cat. Spite. Demon with Lucanis' face."

Would Rook like him better if he crawled?

Would Lucanis? Would he?

A tug inside him, a stir between heel and ankle.

What are you doing? Talking to Rook. Let her sleep. She already woke. Did you wake her?

In this space he and Lucanis share between themselves, he feels him sigh at his silence.

I'm too tired to argue. At least promise you won't keep her longer.

When Spite looks up at her, her eyes are closed and her hands a little heavier over the shoulders.

🪶

full disclosure, idk if i like where this went, but i haven't slept, i have a raging migraine and i have like 6 more hours in my timezone to post this so

have at it

call it the Experimental Spite POV.

[~rina]

[jennastarkhasaheart]

imagine if peggy had shown up at area 51 instead of sousa because of whatever. simmons wouldve just collapsed on the spot i think, and the interactions with may, daisy and elena wouldve just been great, imagine peggys reaction to seeing so many female agents as equals/superiors to their male colleagues...

oh no

now i want someone to write this

[kylowanderer]

Green Day - Whatsername.

A sappy reylo edit for today.