#asks prompts

[bunny-is-cute]

Medical Kink Asks 🚑🚨

Send 🩺 for "What’s your favorite medical roleplay scenario?"

Send 💉 for "Are needles a turn-on or a hard limit?"

Send 🛏️ for "Examinations: exciting or intimidating?"

Send ⚕️ for "Doctor, nurse, or patient—what’s your favorite role?"

Send 🩹 for "What’s your favorite piece of medical equipment to incorporate?"

Send 👩‍⚕️ for "Do you prefer a professional tone or something more playful in medical play?"

Send 🧪 for "How do you feel about incorporating ‘lab experiments’ into play?"

Send 🖊️ for "Charts and note-taking—sexy addition or unnecessary detail?"

Send 🧤 for "Latex gloves: yes, no, or maybe?"

Send 🩸 for "Do you enjoy any blood-related play, or is that a no-go?"

Send 💊 for "Do you prefer scenarios involving care or control (or both)?"

Send 🤕 for "How do you feel about injury or illness scenarios in roleplay?"

Send 🏥 for "What’s your ideal setting: hospital, clinic, or field medic?"

Send 🚑 for "Do emergency scenarios spark your interest?"

Send 🆎 for "How much do you enjoy the visual aspect of whump, like blood or bruising?"

Send 🩻 for "X-rays, MRIs, or scans—exciting additions or too clinical?"

Send 😷 for "Do you incorporate masks or breathing equipment into your scenes?"

Send 🔗 for "How do restraints fit into your medical or whump scenarios?"

Send 📋 for "Do you enjoy the storytelling aspect of a slow recovery arc?"

Send 💔 for "What’s your favorite way to explore vulnerability in these scenarios?"

[lestappenforever]

Hiiii, I don’t know if you’re still doing the lestappen prompts but how about the second one?

2. “Please?” “Those eyes won’t work on me this time.”

Ask, and you shall receive, my sweet. ❤️

---

2. "Please?" "Those eyes won't work on me this time."

"Please?" Charles asks again, looking up at Max from beneath those ridiculously long, full eyelashes.

His green eyes are shining in the gleam of the fluorescent lights above their heads.

"No," Max says, looking away from Charles and glaring at the man standing next to him instead.

He knew this had been a bad idea. Had known it the second Charles spotted the sign of the animal shelter. Had known it the moment Charles had convinced him to go inside, 'just to have a look, Max, I promise'. Felt it in his gut as Charles had spotted the three-legged shiba inu puppy with the big, brown eyes and gasped. Started regretting every life decision that had lead him to this point as the shelter worker had opened the door to let Charles into the pen.

The puppy had climbed into Charles' lap the instant the Monégasque had sat down on the floor, and now there were two pairs of puppy eyes looking up at him.

Only one set of them belongs to an actual puppy.

"Please?"

"Those eyes won't work on me this time," Max tells him with a huff, crossing his arms across his chest.

"But Max, look at him," Charles insists, as if that's the issue here. As if Max hasn't seen the puppy and isn't aware of how cute he is.

Max is aware, thank you very much.

"Charles, we can't adopt a puppy. The cats would hate it. The puppy would hate it," he points out.

The shelter worker decides to pipe up at that.

"Actually, this one has lived with cats before and he loved it."

Max glares at him again, and the man promptly stops talking.

"Max, please."

"No."

Charles sticks his bottom lip out in a pout. He looks ridiculous and Max kind of hates him.

"Pretty please?"

"We're not getting the damn puppy, Charles. End of story."

It's the end of the discussion, and Max feels confident that he's managed to get through to Charles this time.

Until Charles' bottom lip fucking wobbles, and Max is desperately trying to understand how this has become his life.

---

Charles names him Emilian, and Jimmy and Sassy fucking adore him.

Because yeah, they end up getting the damn puppy.

[evanpeterswifeyyy]

when you get this, list 5 songs you like to listen to, publish. then, send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers<3

Yaaayy!!! Jackie!!! ☺️☺️🖤

1. Red Wine Supernova - Chappell Roan

2. The Subway - Chappell Roan

3. I Know It’s Over - The Smiths

4. How Soon Is Now - The Smiths

5. Something Lacking - Capcom Sound Team

[wardensantoineandevka]

is that piece of media actually bad, or is it just not following the blueprint you projected onto it? is that work actually not good, or are you just demanding something from it that is absolutely antithetical to its themes, genre, tone, and narrative goal? is that story actually poorly written, or do you just dislike that it is not the specific things you wanted from it that it never set out to be, never was, and never is going to become? is it actually bad, or is it actually well-executed and you just dislike the story it chose to be because it isn't catering to your specific desires and expectations?

[unboundprompts]

body language descriptions please?

(eg: she cocked her head)

thank you 💗💗💗

Body Language Descriptions

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

Anxiety/Nervousness

She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, her fingers tugging nervously at the fabric as she struggled to find the right words.

They bit their lower lip.

He looked away, unable to meet her gaze, a clear indication of his guilt.

She absentmindedly rubbed her neck.

He chewed his nails, a nervous habit that he couldn't seem to quit.

They rubbed their hands together nervously.

He tightened his jaw.

She felt beads of sweat forming on her brow, betraying her calm facade as her heart raced.

Frustration/Impatience

Their fists clenched at their sides.

He tapped his fingers rhythmically against the table, a clear sign of impatience as he waited for her to finish.

He rolled his eyes, the gesture full of exasperation as he dismissed her words.

She let out a heavy sigh, the sound heavy with resignation as she faced the inevitable.

He threw his hands up in defeat.

Curiosity

He leaned forward in his chair, eager to hear more, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

She raised an eyebrow, her expression skeptical as she questioned his intentions.

She tilted her head slightly.

He watched intently, his eyes wide with wonder as he took in every detail of her story.

Confidence/Assertiveness

He stood tall with his shoulders back, projecting confidence even in the face of uncertainty.

They sat on the edge of their seat.

She gestured wildly, her hands moving animatedly as she tried to express her excitement.

He stood with his hands on his hips, exuding an air of authority and control over the situation.

They held their chin up high, projecting self-assurance even in the face of adversity.

Defensiveness/Resignation

He crossed his arms over his chest, a defensive posture that spoke volumes about his discomfort.

He braced himself against the wall, a protective stance.

She folded her hands in her lap, a sign of restraint as she fought the urge to speak.

They shrank back slightly, their shoulders hunching as if trying to make themselves smaller in the face of criticism.

He held his breath momentarily, steeling himself for the inevitable conflict he sensed was coming.

She covered her face with her hands, overwhelmed by the situation as she tried to block out the world.

Thoughtfulness/Concentration

She furrowed her brow in concentration, her mind clearly racing as she tried to solve the problem at hand.

She nodded slowly, processing the information, her expression thoughtful and contemplative.

He stared blankly into space, lost in thought as he processed what had just been revealed.

He drummed his fingers on the table, the rhythmic sound a sign of his deep contemplation.

She tapped her foot lightly, her mind racing.

Eagerness/Excitement

He paced back and forth, his restless energy manifesting in the constant movement as he considered his options.

She bent forward, her elbows resting on her knees, a sign of intimacy and engagement in the conversation.

She swayed slightly from side to side, a subconscious display of her nervous energy as she waited for the verdict.

He bounced on his toes, his excitement palpable.

She jumped up and down, a spontaneous display of her joy that couldn’t be contained.

[lazylittledragon]

at the friday panel andrew wincott said raphael and astarion should go on holiday together and i can’t stop thinking about it

[mumblesplash]

i’ve started getting so unreasonably cranky at those posts that are like ‘i’m sick of [aspect of popular media] someone should make [opposite thing]!!!’ by people who don’t seem invested in the idea they’re pitching as anything beyond a subversion of the norm. like ok. i see where you’re coming from but where are you actually going. look me in the eyes and give me one good reason you think that story concept is possible to pull off

[mischievous-thunder]

The morning after Althea had to spend yet another sleepless night because of the two freaks:

Meanwhile Logan:

P.S. Neither of the two idiots was drunk.

[wickcipher]

Botanically speaking, yeah cucumbers are fruits huh

[nightprompts]

&. 𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐬 (𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬?) 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

(  various  dialogue  prompts  to  send  to  your  worst  enemy  (affectionate).  feel  free  to  change  how  you  seem  fit.  )

❛ oh great, it's you again. ❜

❛ you? kill me? that's funny. ❜

❛ for being someone you hate, i'm sure on your mind a lot. ❜

❛ you're the last person i wanted to see, actually. ❜

❛ do us both a favor. stay away from me. ❜

❛ you really are an asshole, you know that? ❜

❛ i'm the asshole? what does that make you then? ❜

❛ sometimes i think you must hate me. ❜

❛ i thought you said you never wanted to see me again. ❜

❛ if you want me to go, then you have to tell me to leave. ❜

❛ well, someone's cranky today. ❜

❛ well, someone needs to shut the fuck up. ❜

❛ just stay out of my way. ❜

❛ of all the idiots in the world, i'm stuck with you. ❜

❛ what is it you want this time? ❜

❛ sometimes i wonder if you're in love with me. ❜

❛ do you honestly think this is easy for me? ❜

❛ why would i ever want to be friends with you? ❜

❛ can we please just talk? ❜

❛ there is nothing for us to talk about. ❜

❛ you can yell at me later. just let me help you. ❜

❛ touch me, and you're dead. ❜

❛ oh, so now you care? ❜

❛ there is something deeply wrong with you. ❜

❛ i know i'm the last person you probably want to see, but... ❜

❛ you don't think we could be friends, do you? ❜

❛ i'm tired of fighting against you. ❜

❛ don't pretend you give a shit about me. ❜

❛ you're an idiot, but... i trust you. ❜

❛ oh, don't be cute. ❜

❛ wait, did you just say that i'm cute? ❜

❛ we're not good for each other. ❜

❛ if i say yes, will you shut up? ❜

❛ don't you have to be stupid somewhere else? ❜

❛ maybe we should kiss just to break the tension. ❜

❛ i'm sorry i can't turn off my feelings as easily as you. ❜

❛ maybe there's a universe out there where we're friends. ❜

❛ how can you be so smart yet so dumb at the same time? ❜

❛ don't think this changes anything between us. ❜

❛ you look ridiculous in that outfit, by the way. ❜

❛ if you die, i'll kill you. ❜

❛ is that a challenge? ❜

❛ ah, so you're not heartless after all. ❜

❛ i don't think i've ever seen you smile. ❜

❛ you never cared about me, so why now? ❜

❛ why didn't you kill me when you had the chance? ❜

❛ i don't even remember why we started fighting. ❜

❛ i don't have time for distractions right now. ❜

❛ you're not as bad as everyone says you are. ❜

❛ enemies make the best lovers, you know. ❜

[lestappenforever]

Omg after watching the Charles post race interviews from the Hungarian GP I feel like I need 8 and 37 for established lestappen 😭

Bestie, the way my heart has fucking shattered over and over again for Charles this weekend. The sadness in his eyes after the race is just devastating. 😭

8. and 37. for established Lestappen coming right up! ❤️

You're also getting a bonus 19. "Can I play with your hair?" and 20. "C'mere sweetheart."

---

8. "Relax. I've got you.", 37. "Oh, baby... c'mere...", 19. "Can I play with your hair?", and 20. "C'mere, sweetheart."

The Hungarian Grand Prix adds another crushing blow to Charles' never-ending list of crushing blows in 2023.

Qualifying P5 wasn't ideal, but it could have been worse. A lot worse. Charles went into the Sunday hopeful — confident — he could overtake Zhou early, and then set his sights on Lando and Oscar. And he did.

But everything went to shit after that.

The absolute low point of the day — and there were quite a few to choose from, including the ridiculously slow pit stop — was Xavi telling him they'd discuss the race strategy at the end of the race.

The race strategy for this race. When they were smack dab in the fucking middle of it, and Charles had ideas that could take him to a higher position if the team would just fucking listen to him.

He wants to laugh when Xavi tells him good job at the end of the race.

A P7 finish after a P5 start is not a good result. But he supposes that his engineer thinks so just sums up their season altogether.

When he's roped in for his post-race interviews, Charles feels frustrated and sad and tired. He's just so fucking tired of everything.

He's tired of every race feeling like a fucking struggle with a car that can't seem to perform the way Charles needs it to. He's tired of having a team around him that won't listen to a word he says, and seem to have made it their life's mission to screw him over with their strategy one way or another, every single race. He's tired of feeling like with every passing week, another team outperforms them and passes them in the overall standings.

But most of all, he's tired of feeling like he's not enough. That nothing he does will ever be enough. Even though he knows, deep down, that he's not at fault for the way this terrible season is turning out.

Because Charles will never not blame himself. It's in his blood, his genes, his very soul.

Once he finishes his media duties, Charles retreats to his driver's room and is fully intent on staying there until the paddock is as close to empty as possible.

He doesn't even have the energy to change out of his racesuit, only unzipping it and pushing the top half down to expose his fireproofs. Then, he just sits on the floor with his head in his hands.

He doesn't cry, though. There have been so many tears already this season that Charles doesn't think he has any left at this point.

Charles convinces himself that's a good thing.

As he sits on the floor of his driver's room, staring ahead without seeing anything, Charles feels nothing.

---

"You need to see this," Lando tells Max as they wait to be called in for their post-race press conference, handing his phone over.

Max takes it with a frown, looking down at the screen as Lando taps the screen to start the video.

Charles' face stares back at him, and the Monégasque looks so fucking tired, so fucking sad, that it makes Max feel sick. His eyes are shining with tears Max knows won't spill. He watches the way Charles wipes at his face, touches his mouth, licks his lips, rubs at the back of his neck, looks away from the interviewer and the camera as he talks about the race.

It's every tell-tale sign of the chaos going on in Charles' mind — in his heart.

He's doubting himself, blaming himself, trying his damnedest to find a way to shift the fault of the race to himself as opposed to where the blame truly lies: With the team.

It's infuriating, and Max kind of wishes Lando hadn't shown him this now, before the press conference. Because now Max needs to pretend like he isn't thinking about Charles as he sits with Lando and Checo on that couch, answering questions about his own race.

Max sighs as the interview finishes, and he hands Lando his phone back just as a woman comes out to collect them.

Behind him, Checo pats his shoulder in sympathy.

"Do you think he's okay?" the Mexican asks quietly, low enough for only Max to hear him.

And Max sighs again, shaking his head. "Would you be?"

Checo doesn't answer, but that's answer enough.

---

When Max lets himself into Charles' driver's room after the press conference, the Monégasque is still sitting on the floor, staring blankly ahead.

Max shuts the door behind him and goes to sit next to him on the floor. He waits.

When a full minute passes and Charles doesn't speak, Max reaches out to take one of Charles' hands from where it's danglig limply between his bent knees, lacing their fingers together.

The contact makes something dislodge in Charles, and the numbness that's been holding him together disappears, replaced by every heartbreaking emotion he's been trying so hard to ignore. His shoulders begin to shake as the tears Charles was sure he was all out of well up in his eyes and spill down his cheeks.

Max sees it right away, because of course he does.

"Oh baby... C'mere," he says without missing a beat, letting go of Charles' hand in favor of curling his arm around Charles' shoulders and pulling him against his chest.

"C'mere, sweetheart."

Charles goes willingly, turning slightly on the floor so he can press his face into Max's chest, tears wetting the fabric of Max's fireproofs. He curls a hand in the fabric by his face, holding on for dear life, as Max's other arm wraps around him, too, holding him close.

And he cries. Flat-out sobs against Max, his heart breaking over and over again in his chest as the sheer hopelessness of the situation washes over him for what feels like the millionth time this season.

Max kisses his head, again and again, as Charles trembles violently against him.

"Relax," Max whispers into his hair, tightening his hold around the Ferrari driver. "I've got you."

It's said like a promise, and Charles knows he means it like one.

It takes Charles a long time to get his bearings enough to make his voice work, but eventually, he manages a whisper.

"Can I play with your hair?"

Max is already pushing the orange cap off his head before Charles can finish the sentence.

"Of course you can," he murmurs, as he wraps his arm back around Charles.

Charles lets go of Max's fireproof shirt to reach up, tangling his fingers in the blond strands and toying with them. It’s an act he always finds to be incredibly soothing, and it helps calm his racing mind.

The fact that Max fucking loves it too is a nice bonus, as the Red Bull driver lets out a pleased hum.

It won't make it all better. Won't make the pain stop or make the devastation of it all go away.

But amidst what is shaping out to be a truly horrible year for Charles, Max is the only constant he knows he will never have to worry about. Because Max loves Charles more than he loves anything else, and Charles loves Max just the same.

It won't fix anything. But it will make it bearable.

And at the end of the day, that's all that matters.

[evanpeterswifeyyy]

21 <3

“21: What you love most about yourself”

My eyes.

I have hazel eyes, but they do this cool thing where they reflect certain light differently, so sometimes my eyes are brown, hazel, green or auburn. ❣️

[stealingyourbones]

There’s a new drug in Gotham making the rounds, one synthesized by Two-Face’s people; if you take it you will have a 50/50 chance that you’ll experience the greatest high of your life or that you’ll die.

Batman is desperately trying to find the main lab and cut off the production from the source and hasn’t been able to find a lead in weeks.

That’s when Gordon gives him a file that was given to him by a “white haired ghost kid”. It’s a detailed report written similarly to a scientific journal with detailed sources that are mainly first hand accounts from deceased victims of the Two-Face drug.

At the very end of the paper there’s an address to a Gotham University dorm room with a sticky note next to it that says “if you need help with death or the undead. Yours truly; Danny Fenton.”

[unboundprompts]

Can you do some more body language descriptions? For different emotions like Worry, sadness, love, etc!! Ty🩷🩷

Body Language Descriptions

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

Worry

She wrung her hands together, her fingers twisting nervously as she struggled to keep her thoughts in check.

He glanced over his shoulder, his gaze darting anxiously around the room.

She pulled at her sleeve, the movement repetitive and absentminded as her mind raced.

He bit the inside of his cheek, a habit that betrayed his inner turmoil.

They hugged their arms tightly across their chest, as if trying to hold themselves together.

She paced the room, her steps quick and uneven as she tried to shake off the nagging sense of dread.

Sadness

She wiped at her eyes, even though no tears had fallen yet.

He let his shoulders sag, his whole body slumping as if the weight of the world rested on him.

She clutched her scarf tightly, her fingers gripping the fabric like it was the only thing grounding her.

He kept his head low, staring at the ground as if afraid to meet anyone’s eyes.

They let out a shaky exhale, the sound heavy with unspoken grief.

She blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill.

Love

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her smile soft and shy as she met his gaze.

He brushed her hand lightly, the touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

They leaned closer, their knees nearly touching, as if drawn together by an invisible force.

She tilted her head slightly, her expression tender and full of quiet affection.

He laughed easily, the sound warm and unguarded, his gaze never leaving her face.

She reached out to fix his collar, her fingers lingering as she adjusted it carefully.

Guilt

He avoided her eyes, his gaze fixed firmly on the floor.

She rubbed her temples, her hands trembling.

He shifted his weight from foot to foot, unable to stay still.

She clasped her hands tightly behind her back, her knuckles white as she fought to remain composed.

They bit their lower lip, their jaw tightening.

He fidgeted with the edge of his sleeve, his movements jerky and hesitant.

Fear

She took a step back, her breath quickening as her eyes darted to the nearest exit.

He clenched the fabric of his shirt over his chest, as if trying to steady his pounding heart.

She froze in place, her body stiff and her movements tentative, like a deer caught in headlights.

He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing visibly as he fought to calm himself.

They pressed their back against the wall, their hands splayed out.

She whispered under her breath, her words shaky and barely audible.

Jealousy

He crossed his arms over his chest, his jaw tightening as his gaze followed her every move.

She tapped her foot impatiently, the rhythm sharp and irritated as she forced a smile.

He clenched his fists at his sides, the tension in his knuckles betraying his calm demeanor.

She cast a sideways glance, her lips pressed into a thin line.

They shifted in their seat, their shoulders stiff.

He ran his fingers through his hair, his movements brisk and frustrated as he fought to contain his thoughts.

Relief

She exhaled deeply, her shoulders dropping as the tension melted away.

He ran a hand down his face, his smile faint but unmistakably genuine.

She laughed shakily, her hand pressed to her chest as if trying to steady her racing heart.

He slumped against the nearest chair, his legs suddenly too weak to hold him up.

They let their head fall back, their eyes closing as a soft, contented sigh escaped their lips.

She smiled faintly, her fingers tracing idle patterns on the surface of the table as the weight lifted from her mind.

Embarrassment

She tugged at the collar of her shirt, her cheeks flushing as she avoided everyone’s gaze.

He rubbed the back of his neck, his lips twitching into an awkward, forced smile.

She bit her lip, her hands fluttering nervously.

He let out a strained laugh, scratching the side of his head.

They hid their face in their hands, peeking out between their fingers with a sheepish grin.

She stumbled over her words, her fingers twisting the hem of her shirt as her cheeks burned bright red.

[creativepromptsforwriting]

Do you have any prompts for late night calls? Thanks!

Late-Night Calls

lying in bed, phone next to them on the pillow

speaking in hushed voices, so no one gets woken up

pressing a hand on their mouth, to stifle their laughter

talking about a million things and nothing

having their guard down and being open with each other

imagining the other person next to them in the dark

missing the other person even more than during the day

first calling just to say good night, but it turns into hours

wanting to be the last person the other hears at night

not wanting to hang up, they both try to stay awake

finally, one falling asleep, leaving the other person to fall asleep to their breathing

- Jana

[puppetmaster13u]

You know what I need more of? The Batkids completely fucking with the Justice League and their rogues and coming up with stories for their existence.

Like I am talking about the creation of demigods sort of stories, like Loki sort of stories.

Duke has convinced all of Gotham that he's the Bat Signal brought to life and that's why he's never seen at night and why the signal literally doesn't work during the day. He's waiting giddily for the story to spread outside of the city.

The batkids have convinced half the League that Nightwing is quite literally Batman's lovechild with Justice. Hey, Constantine had a one night stand with the manifestation of a city and they've dealt with gods before, so surely it's not that surprising? Right???

I need more of the Batkids being little shits, of Alfred the-greatest-enabler Pennyworth backing them up and Bat(the-biggest-troll)man to never confirm the stories, but he doesn't deny them either.