Tumgik
#dramatic prompts
eloquent-edits · 2 months
Text
🗡️ “Do not stray far from me.”
I don’t want you to get hurt 🗡️ protective dialogue prompts
“What in the gods’ holy names was that?! I–We could’ve lost you.”
“At the party C sort of kept cornering me…” “What? Are you okay? Did they do anything to you?”
“Stay back.”
“Who did this to you? I just want to talk to them.” (that’s a LIE AND THEY KNOW IT)
“The idea of you getting hurt doesn’t sit well with me.”
“I don’t like the things they said about you. You’re nothing like what they think you are.”
“I’m not going anywhere until I know you’re okay.”
“My duty is to ensure your safety at all times, no matter the cost to my life.”
“If you dare lay a finger on their head, I will have yours served on a silver platter.”
“These walls are meant to protect you, the world out there is far too dangerous for someone like you.” (villain arc??? 👀)
“I’m right here. You’re safe.”
“Say my name and I will be there. I promise.” (thank you daredevil for inspiring this one)
“I’ll take a sword through the heart before they ever reach you.”
“I should’ve been there. This shouldn’t have happened to you.”
“Will you let me know when you’re back safely?”
“I will kill you and everyone you love if it’s the last thing I do.” “It’ll be the last thing you try.”
“You’re worth saving.”
“My house is a safe haven. Go there if you’re ever in danger and we will take care of you.”
“Get away from them!”
“You don’t need to protect me.” “I want to.”
2K notes · View notes
mcflymemes · 3 months
Text
PROMPTS FOR THE FORCED PROXIMITY TROPE *  assorted dialogue for the moments and circumstances that force two characters to spend time together, adjust as necessary
who said i agreed to any of this?
i said i would help you. i didn't say i would be nice to you while i'm helping you.
you scratch my back and i'll scratch yours.
oh no. don't tell me it's locked.
i was hired to protect you. that's my job.
i'm actually starting to tolerate you, believe it or not.
i don't want to be stuck here with you.
i'll work with anyone but you.
i'm not letting you sleep on the floor.
they're forcing me to work with you and i don't like it.
how long do you think we'll be stuck here?
is that the only tent we have?
i think we're snowed in here. we'd better find a way to stay warm.
it's going to take a few days for them to reach us.
you sleep in that room, and i'll take this one.
you can't get rid of me that easily.
i'm just going to come right out and say it - i hate being here just as much as you do, but we have to make this work.
don't get any ideas.
i'm going to see if they'll switch my room.
until you came along, i had this under control.
if we're going to survive this, we'd better work together.
why did they sit me next to you?
i'd like to be as far away from you as possible.
out of all the people in the world, i had to get stuck with you.
guess you're just gonna have to get over it.
i thought you were worse than this.
i'm not going anywhere, and neither are you.
you're not exactly my favorite person to be around.
well, get used to it. i'm not leaving.
i told them i don't need a bodyguard.
i never wanted to spend this much time with you.
all this time spent together has really opened my eyes.
you're not as bad as i thought you were.
we might as well try to get along.
i guess i should learn a little bit about you.
i think that means we're the only ones left.
there's no way i'm sharing a room with you.
you again? i've seen enough of you already.
i thought [name] was coming. why are you here?
they're counting on us to save them.
since we'll be here for a while... might as well make the best out of it.
i think we can set aside our differences for two minutes and work this out.
honestly, i think i was wrong about you at first.
there's absolutely no way i'm working with you.
fine, but you're sleeping on the floor. i'll take the bed.
as your bodyguard, i'm supposed to stay with you at all times.
i think we're snowed in for a while.
you could always sleep on this side of the bed.
we have to at least pretend we like each other.
the whole point in having a bodyguard is for me to keep you safe.
i don't like asking for your help, but here i am, asking.
you and i are the only ones who can deal with this.
you don't have a say in the matter.
looks like we're stuck here.
just sleep in the bed with me. i'll even make a pillow wall between us.
i'm not sharing a tent with you.
i need you to stay out of my way.
could you at least "guard" me from over there? why do you have to stand so close?
1K notes · View notes
enchantingepics · 1 month
Text
Story Prompt 84
The evening breeze whispered through the ancient forest, carrying with it the scent of pine and earth. Amidst the towering trees, a figure cloaked in darkness moved with stealthy grace, their steps as silent as the wings of a hunting owl.
In a secluded clearing, a lone figure knelt before a small, flickering fire. Tears streaked down their cheeks, glistening in the firelight. "Why?" they whispered, their voice trembling with grief. "Why did you do this? They were innocent."
"Don't be such a drama queen," a voice interrupted, dripping with malice. The figure in the shadows stepped forward, revealing themselves to be the villain. "I already claimed that title."
The hero's eyes narrowed with defiance. "You may have claimed it, but you'll never understand the weight of it. The burden of responsibility."
The villain chuckled darkly, their eyes glinting with amusement. "Responsibility? Please. You cling to your ideals like a child to their favorite toy. But in the end, it's all just a game. And I play to win."
The hero rose to their feet, fists clenched at their sides. "You may think you've won this round, but the fight isn't over yet. I'll stop you, no matter what it takes."
The villain's laughter echoed through the forest, a chilling sound that sent shivers down the hero's spine. "Oh, I do hope you try. It's been far too long since I've had a worthy adversary."
With a flick of their cloak, the villain disappeared into the shadows, leaving the hero alone with their thoughts.
2 notes · View notes
lazylittledragon · 3 months
Note
Hello I love your bg3 content and your Dorian is so lovely! Can we get like an alternative reality with Dorian and Ascended Astarion? What would your headcannon be for them? 🙇
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
something like this, probably
6K notes · View notes
tanglepelt · 10 days
Text
Dpxdc 180
Did Danny abuse the fact the GIW needed his parents tech. Yes of course. Danny not phantom seemed to be the trouble maker as of late. His parent threatened to withhold tech and blue prints from them if the GIW touched their kids.
Did he get caught breaking ember and boxy out of a government facility? yes. He expected the lecture he got.
The next jail break. It was not him. It was sam, Then the third. Also not him. That was Val… then it was Tucker. But not him.
The blame fell on him.
He did not expect to be shipped out of state. The GIW were happy to cover all costs. Even got him into a decent highschool. And had an apartment all arranged.
Gotham?
Not where he was expecting.
The assassination attempts. Also surprising.
Not so surprising. Tucker found out the GIW wanted to “silence” him. Offering a lot of money.
Of course his parents don’t listen. He is 15 perfectly fine to be all alone. Even if he is near some place with the nickname crime alley. Nope. He is just being dramatic. They tell him no one wants him dead.
3K notes · View notes
r3ynah · 2 months
Text
Family of Distinguished People.
So like what if, the Fenton family is just a family full of heroes, villains, and vigilantes. like.. just imagine a long line of people that had or has contributed to the world somehow. Like the Fenton parents as Supervillains, Jazz as a Vigilante, Danny as Hero. Dani just decides to travel not too interested, but does help with her family if needed, Dan does the same thing.
BUT WHAT IF joker is actually a close relative of the Fenton Family (ex. Uncle, Cousin,Family Friend) and like he's just there all happy with his (found)family during family reunions, birthdays and shit.
And the batfam are just like so confused and stressed to why the joker goes missing once a month.
While Joker is literally having a game of Monopoly with the elementary kids at amity park (the kids couldn't bother, they've saw scarier things they handled scarier things) cue Joker giving the kids a hundred dollars because he lost.
This is just one of my what if prompts, that i got locked up in a vault. Might delete this later who knows.
2K notes · View notes
confessedlyfannish · 23 days
Text
Writing Prompt #12
Bruce is reading the paper when the pour of Tim's coffee goes abruptly quiet. It would be hard to pinpoint why this is disturbing if it wasn't for the way the soft, tinny sound the vent system in the manor makes cuts out for the first time since being updated in the 90s. The pour, Bruce realizes, has not slowed to a trickle before stopping. It has simply stopped. And there is no overeager clack of a the mug against the marble counter or the uncouth first slurp (nor muttered apology at Alfred's scolding look) immediately following the end of the pour.
Bruce fights the instinct to use all of his senses to investigate, and instead keeps his eyes on the byline of the article detailing the latest set of microearthquakes to hit the midwest in the last week. Microearthquakes aren't an unusual occurrence and aren't noticeable by human standards, which is why this article is regulated to page seven, but from several hundred a day worldwide to several hundred a day solely in the East North Central States, seismologists are baffled.
Bruce had been considering sending Superman to investigate under the guise of a Daily Planet article requested by Bruce Wayne (Wayne Industries does have an offshoot factory in the area) when everything had stopped twenty seconds ago. That is what he assumes has happened (having not moved a muscle to confirm) in the amount of time he assumes has passed. His million dollar Rolex does not quite audibly tick but in the absolute silence it should be heard, which confirms the silence to be exactly that—absolute.
While Bruce can hold his breath with the best of the Olympian swimmers, he has never accounted for a need to remain without blinking without being able to move one's eyes. Rotating the eyeballs will maintain lubrication such that one could go without blinking for up to ten minutes. But staring at the byline fixedly, he estimates another twenty seconds before tears start to form.
These are the thoughts Bruce distracts himself with, because he doesn't dare consider how Tim and Alfred haven't made a (living) sound in the past forty-five seconds. About Damian, packing his bag upstairs for school after a morning walk with Titus that was "just pushing it, Master Damian".
There is a knife to his right, if memory serves (it does). In the next five seconds—
"Your wards and guardian are fine, Mr. Wayne," the deepest voice Bruce has ever heard intones. For a dizzying moment, it is hard to pinpoint the location of the voice, for it comes from everywhere—like the chiming of a clocktower whilst inside the tower, so overpowering he is cocooned in its volume.
But it is not spoken loudly, just calmly, and when he puts the paper down, folds it, and looks to his right, a blue man sits in Dick's chair.
He wears a three piece suit made entirely of hues of violet, tie included. He has a black brooch in the shape of a cogwheel pinned to his chest pocket, a simple chain clipped to his lapel. Black leather gloves delicately thumb Bruce's watch (no longer on his wrist, somewhere between second 45 and 46 it has stopped being on his wrist), admiring it.
"You'll forgive me," the man says with surety. "Clocks are rather my thing, and this is an impressive piece." He turns it over and reveals the 'M. Brando' roughly scratched into the silver back. He frowns.
"What a shame," he says, placing it face side up on the table.
"Most would consider that the watch's most valuable characteristic." Bruce says, voice steady, hands neatly folded before him. Two inches from the knife. To his left, there is an open doorway to the kitchen. If he turns his head, he might be able to get a glance of Tim or Alfred.
He doesn't look away from the man.
"It is the arrogance of man," the man says, raising red eyes (sclera and all) to Bruce, "to think they can make their mark on time."
"...Is that supposed to be considered so literally?" Bruce asks, with a light smile he does not mean.
The man smiles lightly back, eyes crinkling at the corners. He looks to be in his mid thirties, clean-shaven. His skin is a dull blue, his hair a shock of white, and a jagged scar runs through one eye and curving down the side of his cheek, an even darker, rawer shade of blue-purple.
The man turns the watch back over and taps at the engraving. "Let me ask you this," he says. "When we deface a work of art, does it become part of the art? Does it add to its intrinsic meaning?"
Bruce forces his shoulders to shrug. "It's arbitrary," he says. "A teenager inscribes his name on the wall of an Ancient Egyptian temple and his parents are forced to publicly apologize. But runic inscriptions are found on the Hagia Sophia that equate to an errant Viking guard having inscribed 'Halfdan was here' and we consider it an artifact of a time in which the Byzantine Empire had established an alliance with the Norse and converted vikings to Christianity."
"The vikings were as errant as the teenager," the man says, "in my experience." He leans back in his chair. "I suppose you could say the difference is time. When time passes, we start to think of things as artistic, or historical. We find the beauty in even the rubble, or at least we find necessity in the destruction..."
He offers Bruce the watch. After a moment, Bruce takes it.
"The problem, Mr. Wayne, is that time does not pass for me. I see it all as it was, as it is, as it ever will be, at all times. There is no refuge from the horror or comfort in that one day..." he closes his hand, the leather squeaking. And then his face smooths out, the brief severity gone. He regards Bruce calmly.
"You can look left, Mr. Wayne."
Bruce looks left. Framed by the doorway, Tim looks like a photograph caught in time. A stream of coffee escapes the spout of the stainless steel pot he prefers over the Breville in the name of expediency, frozen as it makes its way to the thermos proclaiming BITCH I MIGHTWING. Tim regards his task with a face of mindless concentration, mouth slack, lashes in dark relief against his pale skin as he looks down at the mug. Behind him, Bruce can see Alfred's hand outstretched towards the refrigerator handle, equally and terrifyingly still.
"My name is Clockwork," the man says. "I have other names, ones you undoubtedly know, but this one will be bestowed upon me from the mouth of a child I cherish, and so I favor it above all else. I am the Keeper of Time."
"What do you want from me?" Bruce asks, shedding Wayne for Batman in the time it takes to meet Clockwork's eyes. The man acknowledges the change with a greeting nod.
"In a few days time, you will send Superman to the Midwest to investigate the unusual seismic activity. By then, it will be too late, the activity will be gone. They will have already muzzled him."
"Him."
"There is a boy with the power to rule the realm I come from. Your government has been watching him. The day he turned 18, they took him from his family and hid him away. I want you to retrieve him. I want you to do it today."
"Why me?"
"His parents do not have the resources you do, both as Batman and Bruce Wayne. You will dismantle the organization that is keen on keeping him imprisoned, and you will offer him a scholarship to the local University. You and yours will keep him safe within Gotham until he is able to take his place as my King."
This is a lot of information to take in, even for Bruce. The idea that there could be a boy powerful enough to rule over this (god, his mind whispers) entity and that somehow, he has slipped under all of their radars is as frustrating as it is overwhelming. But although Clockwork has seemed willing to converse, he doesn't know how many more questions he will get.
"You have the power to stop time," he decides on, "why don't you rescue him? Would he not be better suited with you and your people?"
"Within every monarchy, there is a court," Clockwork. "Mine will be unhappy with the choice I have made," he looks at Bruce's watch, head cocked. "In different worlds, they call you the Dark Knight. This will be your chance to serve before a True King."
Bruce bristles. "I bow to no one."
"You'll all serve him, one day," Clockwork says, patiently. "He is the ruler of realms where all souls go, new and old. When you finally take refuge, he will be your sanctuary." He frowns. "But your government rejects the idea of gods. All they know is he is other. Not human. Not meta. A weapon."
"A weapon you want me to bring to my city."
"I believe you call one of your weapons 'Clark', do you not?" Clockwork asks idly. "But you misunderstand me. They seek to weaponize him. He is not restrained for your safety, but for their gain."
"And if I don't take him?" Bruce asks, because a) Clockwork has implied he will be at the very least impeded, at worst destroyed over this, and b) he never did quite learn not to poke the bear. "You won't be around if I decide he's better off with the government."
"You will," Clockwork says, with the same certainty he's wielded this entire conversation. "Not because he is a child, though he is, nor because you are good, though you are, nor even because it is better power be close at hand than afar.
"I have told you my court will be unhappy with me. In truth, there are others who also defend the King. Together we will destroy the access to our world not long after this conversation. The court will be unable to touch him, but neither will we as we face the repercussions for our actions. I am telling you this, because in a timeline where I do not, you think I will be there to protect him. And so when he is in danger, even subconsciously, you choose to save him last, or not at all. And that is the wrong choice.
"So cement it in your head, Bruce Wayne," the man says, "You will go to him because I tell you to. And you will keep him safe until he is ready to return to us. He will find no safety net in me. So you will make the right choice, no matter the cost."
"Or, when our worlds connect again, and they will," his voice now echoes in triplicate with the voices of the many, the young, the old, Tim, Bruce's mother, Barry Allen, Bruce's own voice, "I will not be the only one who comes for you."
"Now," he says, producing a Wayne Industries branded BIC pen. "I will tell you the location the boy is being kept, and then I would like my medallion back, please. In that order."
Bruce glances down and sees a golden talisman, attached to a black ribbon that is draped haphazardly around the neck of his bathrobe, so light (too light, he still should have—) he has not felt its weight until this moment.
Bruce flips the paper over, takes the pen, and jots down the coordinates the being rattles off over the face of a senator. By his calculation, they do correspond with a location in the midwest.
"You will find him on B6. Take a left down the hallway and he will be in the third room down, the one with a reinforced steel door. Take Mr. Kent and Mr. Grayson with you, and when you leave take the staircase at the end of the hallway, not the elevator."
The man gets up, dusts off his impeccably clean pants, and offers him a hand to shake.
"We will not meet again for some time, Mr. Wayne."
Bruce looks at the creature, stands, and shakes his hand. It feels like nothing. The Keeper of Time sighs, although nothing has been said.
"Ask your question, Mr. Wayne."
"I have more than one."
"You do," Clockwork says. "But I have heard them all, and so they are one. Please ask, or I will not be inclined to answer it."
"What does this boy mean for the future, that you are willing to sacrifice yourself for him?"
There is a pause.
"So that is the one," Clockwork says, after a time. "Yes. I see. I should resolve this, I suppose."
"Resolve what?"
"It is not his future I mean to protect," the man says. "It is his present."
"You want to keep him safe now..." Bruce says, but he's not sure what the being is trying to say.
"I am not inclined," Clockwork repeats, stops. His expression turns solemn, red eyes widening. In their reflection, Bruce can see something. A rush of movement too quick to make heads or tails of, like playing fast forward on a videotape. "Superman reports no signs of unusual seismic activity. With nothing further to look into, you let it go in favor of other investigative pursuits. You do not find him, as you are not meant to. He stays there. His family, his friends, they cannot find him. His captors tell him they have moved on. He does not believe them, until he does. He stays there. He stays there until he is strong enough to save himself."
Clockwork speaks stiffly, rattling off the chain of events as if reading a Justice League debrief. "He is King. He will always be King. He is strong, and good, and compassionate, and he is great for my people because yours have betrayed his trust beyond repair. He throws himself into being the best to ever Be, because there is nothing Left for him otherwise. We love him. We love him. We love him. My King. Forevermore."
The red film in his eyes stall out, and Bruce is forced to look away from how bright the image is, barely making out a silhouette before they dull back to their regular red.
"I am not inclined," Clockwork says slowly, "To this future."
"Because of what it means in the present," Bruce finishes for him. "They're not just imprisoning him, are they."
"They will have already muzzled him."
Clockworks is right in front of him faster than he can process, fist gripping the medallion at his neck so tight he now feels the ribbon digging into his skin.
"Unlike you, Mr. Wayne," and for the first time, the god is angry, and the image of it will haunt Bruce for the rest of his life, "I do not believe in building a better future on the back of a broken child."
"Find him," the deity orders, and yanks the necklace so hard the ribbon rips—
Clack!
"sluuuuurp!"
"Master Timothy, honestly!"
"Sorry Alfred!"
1K notes · View notes
the-witchhunter · 3 months
Text
DP x DC: Phantom Punk: Bottle
Back on my punk au BS
-Dani physically is her actual age making her about 4 at the time of this
-Danny, Teen Parent and punk needs to support his little girl
- #Dead but not a deadbeat
- he’s a musician
-Leaves her with her aunty Jazz so he can stay out late and play Punk shows so he can pay his bills
-after a show, he’s outside having a smoke and drinking a beer
-sees Batman and Joker
-Joker is monologuing while Bats is decking goons
-Danny hates that bastard
-Throws his beer
-Interrupts joker mid sentence by hitting him in the head
-knocked him out cold
-someone filmed it
-Danny GTFO’s
-Oops, made the news
-Joker is pissed
-Jazz is pissed
-Punk teen dad avoiding both the Batclan and the Joker
What could possibly go wrong? (Hint: a lot)
2K notes · View notes
Text
Clockwork sees how stressed Danny is from trying to be the goodest boy and never do anything remotely bad that could turn him evil and thinks he may have overdone it. At this rate his panic over never doing anything evil is going to force him to emotionally burn out and stop caring. Then he'll turn evil anyway.
So Clocky does something that sounds completely ridiculous in theory. He scoops Danny up and drops him into a universe full of superheros and villains and tells him to "Do whatever you want. There will be no consequences for you." Then he leaves.
And just like that, Danny goes apeshit. He decides to do the one thing he always wanted to do but was too afraid to because he didn't want to be judged, or worse, forced to join his parents.
He becomes a supervillian. Not as Phantom, no. But as Fenton! He goes full super genius mad scientist and terrorizes whatever city he's in. The local superhero is being driven insane as Danny builds death rays, shrink rays, his own modified version of the GAV, ect.
The best part if that the local heros can never catch him for long and when he is caught he always escapes before he is transported to whatever facility they wanted him in. He always ends up back in his home dimension where he goes back to acting normal and no one from either human dimension or the Infinite Realms knows what he's up to (except the stop watch of course)
After a particularly fun day in which Danny highjacks all broadcasting services to teach everyone in the world how to make insulin at home so you didn't have to pay a ridiculous amount for necessary medication, the Justice League was now on his tail.
Danny just laughs, thinking there's no way they'd ever be able to arrest him. Little does he know some guy calling himself Batman is leading the mission and he has no intention of arresting him. Danny, much to his horror, becomes far to familiar with adoption papers. As in he keeps having to set them on fire.
10K notes · View notes
princessbrunette · 11 days
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
kitty!reader is feisty, so naturally — jj is always coming up with creative ways to keep her in check.
the first time he did it, it was played off as a joke. just jj being silly. nothing new. you were bickering, getting in your man’s face merely out of bored and irritation — something he was all too used to.
“stop being mean.” you hiss, narrowing your eyes up at him making him jab you at your waist before yanking you closer.
“oh i’m mean? for not lettin’ you play with my dick in public, i’m mean.” he deadpans, raising his eyebrows like he was accepting the challenge.
“yes. you’re rejecting me! i’ll bite you.” you threaten, raising an eyebrow.
“first of all — no the hell i’m not. second of all — go for it, knock yourself out. it don’t bother me, sweetcheeks.” he shrugs making you glare harder up at him like you’d be able to make him explode with just your eyes. “aw now i’m really scared.” he dramatises, rolling his eyes.
“you want scary? okay how’s this — next time you fuck me m’gonna keep riding it and riding it and not let you pull out so you knock me up.” you stand on the toes of your shiny black mary-janes, getting all in his face ‘til he was pushing your jaw away with a gentle hand and a smirk.
“then you better take that plan b and stop playing with me.” you feel the threat in his voice, very vaguely. like — he was subtly jabbing you not to say things like that if you don’t mean it.
“and if i don’t?” you pur, sharp nails digging into his shoulders making his eyes flutter as he tries to ignore it.
“oh? well — i’ll have’ta just —” he reaches round you and you think he’s going to give you a hard swat on your ass, but instead, his hands dive right down the back of your skirt, grabbing a fist of your cotton underwear and yanking them up— the sound of the fabric stretching to a near tear. you gasp, falling into his chest and erupting into giggles.
“jay! let go, stop!” you squeal and surprisingly he does, dropping the material with a smirk leaving it hanging out the back of your waistband stupidly. he gives your ass a tap before stepping away.
“yeah, s’what you get for messin’ with papa J— remember that. i got new antics now.”
you don’t take it much to heart, so you’re blindsided the next time it happens. it becomes a habit of his, one slither of an attitude and he’s fisting at whatever underwear you got on and yanking it up so hard it hurts, nearly lifting your damn feet off the ground. “what was that? huh? say sorry. go ‘head. say it.” he’ll chant in your ear, like some kind of high school bully in an 80s movie robbing you of your lunch money. it starts to become less funny very quickly, and more of a way to humiliate you — especially when he threatens to do it infront of the pogues. you bite out a response just a little too irritably and the hand that was resting on your lower back will slither down the back of your shorts, twisting his finger round the black lace of your panties.
“hm? repeat that real quick?” he’ll taunt just for you to hear and you’ll immediately shrink, shaking your head.
but much like any other punishment, you eventually find a way to enjoy it — rendering it useless to the blonde as he’d thought he’d finally found a way to keep you on a tighter leash. it’s one night in your bedroom that you’re rolling around with him play fighting on your bedroom floor when you just take it that little bit too far, sinking your teeth hard into his arm to get the upper hand.
“ah—” he immediately disarms you with a sharp slap on the cheek, disorientating you as you groan and fall onto your back on the floor, the fluffy rug tickling your arm as you rub at your cheek. he hovers over you. “awww, what? did that hurt?” he coo’s unsympathetically. “already told you mama, i only play nice if you do.” he dusts his hands off as you pout before he’s eyeing you, sprung with his usual ideas. “matter’a’fact…”
suddenly he’s flipping you to lay on your front making you squirm as you realise what’s coming. straddling the back of your legs, he flips up your skirt and uses two hands to pull your baby pink panties up your back making you wince and mewl.
“ow! stop it!” you complain as he smirks, tongue parked sadistically in the corner of his mouth.
“nuh-uh babydoll. you asked for it.”
you find a way to roll onto your front beneath him as he still hovers above your knees, lots of fighting spirit left in him as you grin up at him victoriously. however, he finds a way to wipe that smile off your face fast when he grips the front of your panties — barely noting the pretty cursive ‘Kitten’ scrawled across the front as he yanks it up the same way he’d usually do to the back.
his own evil grin falters when he looks up to see your expression, jaw dropped and brows knitted at the sensation. it was different, the fabric forced to slide right up against your clit. your hips twitch and knees fall open.
“wow— seriously? this shits doin’ it for you?” he’s amused, giving the panties a couple more rough tugs upwards making you squeak.
“jayj— qu—quit it…” you try to shift, but any wriggling of your hips only makes it worse as your boyfriend has you pinned, continuing to pull up and down.
“i know you’re not tellin’ me what to do, kittycat.” he ticks his head with faux disapproval, not seeming to want to stop any time soon. your breath hitches in your throat and your socked feet kick out.
“jj— really y—you have to— s’gonna… m’gonna—”
he laughs and it’s mean, leaning forward a little as he continues with his repetitive ministrations.
“yeah? can’t get those words out now, huh? shit babe, only you could cum in your pretty little panties just from being bullied.”
Tumblr media
557 notes · View notes
eloquent-edits · 3 months
Text
🗡️ We don’t have much time…
dramatic and angsty prompts for the characters who are probably suffering
I need you to do this for me. It’s for your—our safety.
There’s gotta be a way out of here. There has to be.
You have to trust me on this one… Please.
Well if I have to watch the world end now, I guess I’m glad I won’t be alone. You’re a horrible person, but you’re decent company.
Will you stay with me?
I can’t lose you. I won’t lose you.
(on death’s door) Could you make sure the carpet doesn’t stain?
Hey, hey. Don’t cry. It’ll be okay.
Tell me the truth before I kill you.
But I’m going to make sure you get out of here alive. I promised him that I would.
Imagine: This—thing—breaks out and everyone on the planet dies OR we disable the core in the next five minutes and everyone gets to live. I really feel like the choice is obvious, but that look you’re giving me…
A kiss before I never see you again?
21 notes · View notes
mcflymemes · 4 months
Text
PRE ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue to help set up already existing relationships between your muses and give them past scenarios to reference, adjust as necessary
CHILDHOOD BEST FRIENDS
we were only kids back then. we didn't know any better.
you promised me we'd be friends forever.
you've changed quite a bit since i saw you last.
how are your parents doing? will you tell them i said hi?
i've known you for years, and you haven't changed a bit.
you've always been like this.
remember the last time this happened?
sure, i made a lot of mistakes, but so did you.
do you remember how we met?
you always stood up for me, no matter what.
i've always had a lot of love in my heart for you.
when i was struggling, you were always there for me.
I TOLD YOU TO STAY AWAY
i thought i told you to stay away.
you've got a lot of nerve, showing your face around here again.
i really don't want to see you again.
you're supposed to call and warn me before you show up here.
there's never going to be a "next time."
this is the last time you show up like this.
last time i said i never wanted to see you again, and yet here you are.
you can't just show up here unannounced.
you remember what happened the last time you showed up.
every time you show up here, shit hits the fan.
you're putting us all in danger by showing up here.
don't you have somewhere else to be?
ROMANTIC FEELINGS
i'm sorry, but i can't stop thinking about you.
after the time we spent together, you've been on my mind.
can we discuss what happened between us?
the last time i saw you, you were going to say something... and then you stopped.
did you mean it? any of it?
i wish we were still together.
would you go on another date with me?
it's hard to deny how you make me feel.
you've always had an effect on me.
i can't stop thinking about the way you look at me.
GENERIC "I'VE KNOWN YOU FOR A WHILE"
do you remember what you told me?
i can't believe this is happening to us again.
the last time this happened, we were better prepared.
i tried calling you a hundred times, but you never answered.
this was never supposed to end like this.
didn't you see my text?
i know you better than anyone else.
you can't lie to me. i can tell when you're lying.
you're making "the face" again.
you promised me you'd stop doing that.
2K notes · View notes
obsessedwithstarwars · 7 months
Text
FIGHT SCENE (that came to me while sick and slightly out of it so bear with me if it sounds CRAZYYYY)
Jazz is fighting some villain. Villain tries to use her dead brother as emotional collateral. She ignores it, seemingly unaffected, and continues to fight.
At some point the villain will be almost defeated, awaiting the final blow. They try one final plea to the red haired woman defeating them, “What would your brother say?”
At that moment, a boy falls through the ceiling, landing on the ground in front of the woman with a smug smile on his face. “I’D SAY -Actually wait hold on a sec.”
The boy gently tugs on the woman’s foot. “Jazz c’mere!” He loudly whispers.
She lets out an irritated sigh, says “Fine.”and hops over until her foot is lightly resting on his stomach. It’s almost picturesque. Her standing triumphantly on the boy who has now dramatically put his hand to his head.
He cries out (with a shit eating grin on his face), “OVER MY DEAD BODY!”
Villain: …
Danny: …
Villain: …
Danny: GET IT? Because I’m DEAD???
Jazz: “Ugh, you’re SO dramatic.”
Danny: Eh, it was funnier in my head.
Villain: …But he’s not dead?!
Danny: Would a LIVE person be able to do THIS? *does something completely normal and human*
Villain: …
Danny: …
Villain: yes.
Danny: Dammit. How about THIS? *does another completely normal human thing*
Villain: …
Danny: …
Villain: …also yes.
Danny: You’ve gotta be shitting me.
Jazz: Just soup them already!
Danny: No no! I will figure this out! How about THIS?
Villain: Yes but WHY would you WANT TO?!
Danny: Ugh Fine. What about this one??
Villain: …I personally don’t know how to do that, but yes that is something a person could do.
Danny: Really? It’s easy! Here, let me show you!
Jazz: …
Jazz: I’m going home.
868 notes · View notes
swedenis-h · 11 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
The girls are figghtttinnggg!!!
June 13th prompt: Battle Couple (@dinlukeweek)
1K notes · View notes
bisexualfbiagents · 6 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Come on Scully, it'll be a nice trip to the forest.
THE X FILES GIF MEME [4/20] EPISODES Darkness Falls (1.20)
606 notes · View notes
dumplingsjinson · 1 year
Text
List of angsty dialogue options which pertains to stupid feelings prompts
“You need to get the fuck out of my head and into my arms right now because I can’t keep thinking about you like this while not being able to hold you; it’s driving me up the walls. You’re driving me up the walls, and the worst part is, you’re not doing shit that should make you drive me up the walls in the first place. You exist, and suddenly I can’t act right or think straight. It’s fucked.” 
“I wish I could hate you, but my wishes never come true.” 
“I’m so deftly terrified of falling in love. Because what if I end up with a broken heart? That thought itself is just so scary to me. I want to, but I can’t get over that fear.” “Then how about you let me be that first step you take into falling in love? I can help you get over that fear, if you’d let me.” 
“I never thought myself capable of feeling things like this, but then you come along, throw a middle finger right in my face, flip my world upside down, and have proven me so very wrong on that.” 
“I don’t like feeling whatever the hell this is.” 
“I could be doing the most interesting shit, and somehow the thought of you will pop up in my mind, uncalled for, and then I end up thinking about you for the rest of the day.”
“I can’t tell if I’m lonely, or if I’m in love. Shit’s a little confusing.”
“Denial can only act as a temporary shield for your feelings. You know that, [name].” “Yeah, but that’s not going to stop me from denying. It’s the only thing I can cling onto for my own sanity, so please don’t take that away from me too.” 
“I see your name pop up on my screen and suddenly I have this huge, stupid smile on my face, and that’s the moment I know I’m more than just screwed.”
“Falling in love feels like a unique type of vulnerable, and I don’t— I don’t want to feel that way.” 
“I’m hung over on something that might never come to fruition.” 
“I’m tired of dancing around with you like this. What exactly are we?” 
“Thinking about you makes me feel so, so, so pathetic, because I can’t have you. I hate it. I hate feeling like this. Why are you making me feel like this?” 
“It’s funny, because I’m missing something that was never meant to be in the first place.”
“Wondering if I like you or if I’m just bored is a pretty shitty dilemma to have.” “You know, maybe I can help you sort that dilemma out.” 
“I think I miss what we could have been rather than what we were.”
“I can be with someone so much better than you, but all I can think about is you, even when I’m with that better someone.”
“People say they fall in love like they fall asleep — slowly, then all at once. But the way I fell for you can only be described as that feeling when you’re drifting off to sleep, only to feel like you’re falling, oh-so-suddenly. So suddenly that it ends up startling you awake; heart racing in your chest because it feels like you fell off the precipice of a cliff. It’s quick and sudden, and there’s no slowness to it. It’s a crash and burn type of love that I feel.”
“I still fell even though I knew it wasn’t going to end well. I knew, yet I still ran head-first into it. What is wrong with me?” 
“I didn’t see you through rose-tinted glasses. I saw the flaws, the red flags, the blemishes you couldn’t hide from me, yet I still ignored them because I thought maybe I could somehow make you a better person despite everything. That’s on me.” 
“You’re always on my mind, yet I feel like I’m not on yours — not even for a second.”
“I didn’t sign up to feeling like this.”
“Can you please give me space so I can get over you?” “…But I don’t want you getting over me.” “You don’t want me getting over you but you’ll never feel the same way I feel towards you! That’s so fucking cruel, knowing you have this hold over me, and despite it all, wanting to keep that hold over me.” 
“I have feelings for you that won’t fuck off, and it’s pissing me the hell off.” 
“I don’t mean to you as much as you mean to me, and it’s fine. I’ve accepted that as my reality.” “Based on what evidence do you think you don’t mean as much to me as I mean to you?” 
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t let go of something which has proven to be hopeless time and time again.” “…Am I not good enough of a reason to not let go?” 
“I’ve given you so many pieces of me, [name]. And I’m spent. You’ve taken everything I could give — even the most important part of me. I’ve given it all to you. I’m fucking empty, because of you. So please, if this is the last thing I ask of you — don’t ask me for more, because I simply have nothing left to give.” 
“You’re everything I could ask for, but simultaneously, everything I couldn’t have.” 
“I could love you for a lifetime, and it wouldn’t mean anything to you.”
“So I have these… Feelings for you. And they have me all fucked up. They keep me up at night, with the what ifs and maybes; with an excitement I don’t think I’ve ever felt before running through my veins, like a fucking drug. They have me acting like someone I’m so unfamiliar with, to the point where it scares me. All I can think about is you, you, you, because you occupy every single space of my mind. It’s like I’m soaring, but then I think about the inevitable: what if all of this comes crashing down one day? That’s gonna fucking suck, so much. Which is why I didn’t want to feel these things, but you made it so hard not to. And now I can’t stop.” 
1K notes · View notes