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xiaoluclair · 11 months

Note

38 lestappen

38. life or death kiss // lestappen // [ rating: M ] // skip all the way to the end for warnings but beware they do contain spoilers (obviously lol). also: MILD SMUT. not beta read! expect plenty of mistakes oops.

(the format of one section is inspired by a part from all to play for. it's small, but credit where credit is due.)

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there is a prayer in the room, period one:

don’t touch, don’t touch, don’t touch.

it speaks since hasselt, 1997. later (years later), he pictures a wikipedia page: the birth with a 500% death rate.

the baby next door goes home and is dressed in a swaddle of mint green. max goes home and is dressed in black.

a month after, his father asks, “can he still race?” it is not quite acceptance. it is as close as he is given for a while.

they have pets. max, for all he knows about liking things, likes their pets. three dogs, four cats, two budgies, a pigeon. later (years later) he does not remember the soft of their fur, the tickle of their ears, the chip of their beaks.

older, he asks, did we give them to other people?

no, replies his father. you would not let me. now put your helmet on.

they had pets.

under gloves is where it hides, sleeps in pale skin. sweaty summers, blessed winters. winter, coincidentally, is his favorite time. good time, easier time. less poking curiosity from his class. a CONFIDENTIAL watermark over his name, his contract clauses, his life.

his dad finds him within a small patch of daisies by the hairpin. the skin on his hands is breathing, finding sunlight in the air. he says, "put your suit on."

max tries, "just one minute? the flowers are very beautiful."

his dad does not disagree. instead he crouches down, takes max's hand without much force. brings it to the ground between the grass. then, he he lets him go.

max stares up at him. he says, "put your suit on."

"but," says max. put your suit on. his dad only watches. waits. the grass thrums between max's fingers. a tickle touches his skin; a spider has found his thumb.

his dad says, "now." max takes his hand off the grass.

immediately, it starts to turn leathery. the daisies go brown, their stems withering. the spider curls into itself until it is a rib of thin legs, stills. max could touch it now. it would not change.

it is horrific.

what his dad says: "winners do not care about beauty."

what max remembers: winners are not beautiful.

anyway. max wins.

and wins.

he says later (years later), it was always just me and my dad. if i had a mother, it was racing. and i've made both of them proud today i think, so. it was worth it.

it was worth it.

he meets charles in the spring of 2012.

it's almost like meeting two people. in front of the camera, like a polished streak of metal. then on track, the abrasion of him. after, between walls, the thought of shutting him up, quietening his mouth with his own.

you could get me disqualified!

what about me? you pushed me first!

charles glances down more than a few times. max, the memory of a daisy in his head, flips him the bird before walking away.

in the van, he grabs his bottle of water. throws up into it.

anyway. apparently that is the start of a thing (nameless).

he meets charles in the winter of 2018.

he meets charles in the summer of 2019.

he meets charles in the autumn of 2020.

he meets charles in the spring of 2021.

there's the five of them, talking quietly together before the press conference starts. the current topic: charles.

he asks, “you had a problem in f2, right?” and charles, of course, nods. lando lets out a laugh. valterri blinks at the ceiling.

anyway, the red car is in the wall before lap two.

apparently charles is cursed too.

in 2021, max wins his first championship.

in 2022, he wins his second.

in 2023, he wins his third.

in the midst of them, there is a conversation:

he's in a club and the lights are low. sweat drips like rain down his back. he can feel it, the lake collecting in the hollow of his spine as he leans against the seat-back.

it displaces under the warm weight of a hand. 'sup, maximus?

daniel is drunk. he can barely hold conversation so he is very drunk. across the table, pierre is spilling a caipirinha over himself. daniel is also flirty, which says nothing about his inebriety. max, has anyone told you, you're very beautiful.

max rolls his eyes, tucks away the sour that threatens his mouth. winners, he says, the gin and tonic says, are not beautiful.

when he looks up, there are eyes already on him. charles turns, passes pierre another napkin.

in 2028, max retires with 4 championships. in abu dhabi, lando gives him a pack of colored fabric pens. for leather.

"for your." he nods to max's hands. there is latex on them right now ㅡ he has yet to change.

max grins. "thanks, mate. i'll have lots of fun with this one."

lando rolls his eyes. he's probably thinking max will draw a penis.

he's probably right.

in 2032, charles wins a championship. wins his first championship.

he opens the door of his hotel room the next afternoon, mouth like the moon. he offers max some room service soup. they chat, watch replays.

at a point (nameless), max catches charles's eyes. dark, heavy. his swallow gets stuck in his throat.

he thinks: just this once. just this time.

later (minutes later) charles, red, glistening, glowing from face to feet, comes stuttering on max's sweats, all over his glove.

he looks beautiful.

just this once. just this time.

what a load of bullshit.

inevitably probably, charles brings it up. max is crusting in his underwear, thinking of soaking a towel, when he does. he says, "you never touch me."

max blinks. shifts to rest on an elbow. he wiggles a hand, white on latex. "i do."

charles takes it and lowers it to the ruffled covers. "you know what i mean." asks, “why not?”

max bites his lip. glances at charles's own. away again. tells him, “you are beautiful.”

an eyebrow quirks. "so?"

"so," says max, "i cannot."

after a moment: "i thought you said winners were not beautiful."

yeah. he did. his shoulders shrug and something small and heavy slips from their bone. "i was wrong."

after another moment: "i think you are beautiful too."

"good," replies max, cheeky. charles unravels him again far too soon until it is raw, on the verge painful, thin as a thread or the edge of a blade.

max is watching the race from his friend's balcony. he watches: car number 2 trip across the nouvelle chicane, car number 36 nearly slide into the wall at portier, car number 16 cross the line first.

after, in the evening, charles blisters his way into max's apartment. grabs one of max's gloves from drawer of the trophy cabinet. max is pushed gracelessly into the couch cushions.

equalizer 2 plays listlessly in the background as he comes on the leather over charles's fingers, the crude, childish drawing of a penis.

out of the blue one night, charles says, "i am in love with you."

across the couch, a lead weight knots itself through max's stomach. he says, "you cannot say that."

charles glances from the tv to their legs woven in the centre of the couch to max's face. "why not?"

max tries to explain, "it is a big thing."

charles says, "i know."

max thinks he would be more accepting of love if he knew how. if he grew with it. he knows love like: scraped skin, the edge of broken bones, a drop of gold.

he knows love like: the sun, the fur of bumblebees, a field of maize.

he does not know love like hot soup. like the swell of crescendo, like a heartbeat.

but he is learning.

in 2037, charles retires with 3 championships.

he lives in max's apartment in monaco. at some point, two cats appear. (appeared, echoes charles dubiously. max grins, innocence.)

so, they have pets.

once, he touches a plant. is knocked into it really, a rose on display at the garden centre, the edge of his cheek on a petal. it grays, withers, curls in guttering fashion. sickness steals right to his stomach. charles says, hey, a uniform walking by. do you have any fake plants?

the bedroom door locks at night to keep the cats out. sometimes, in the space (nameless) before they sleep, their hands will hold each other. hang above the floor between their beds. breathe in tandem.

charles: climbs a million mountains with his brothers, designs clothes, plays piano, comes home to max.

max: jet skis in every ocean, builds a karting track with daniel, wins sim races, comes home to charles.

and the cats. of course.

for many years, it is a good life.

everything is ready. within touching distance of the covers. a blue tube, piles of hand towels, energy bars, stacks of water bottles.

a laugh bubbles out from somewhere, the last dregs of ink from a pen. "this feels so fucking silly."

"i know," muses charles. "oh, i also brought jelly cubes." he gets them from his bag, puts them on the bedside table.

then. that's it. a gaze kneels in front of his own.

charles spreads his fingers, a flower in bloom. he whispers, "this is the hardest part."

max bites his lip. he puts his gloved hand into charles's palm.

charles's eyes are smiling a kaleidoscope, hair worn and soft between his skin.

this is it. thinks max. i'm about to touch a dead man. the thought makes him laugh.

charles grins too, like he knows max's head. he does, a little. he murmurs, "a kiss to seal the deal?" his eyes flick down.

a memory: you could get me disqualified. what about me? you pushed me first.

max pulls him in the rest of the way.

he pushed me, i pushed him back. you never touch me. winners are not beautiful. i am in love with you. you cannot say that. why not? nothing, just an incident. you are beautiful. winners do not care about beauty. just this once. just this time. i think you are beautiful too. i do. it is a big thing. i know.

i'm in love with you too.

there is a prayer in the room, period two:

don’t let go, i won’t, don’t let go, i won’t, don’t let go, i won’t.

the covers are off to the side. i get sweaty, max had said, when charles tried to lazily tug him closer. charles didn't waste much time expending the duvet after that.

they talk, a lot. more than he would've expected. "sometimes i think that is all we needed. someone else," murmurs max. he is aware of charles's touch as it moves down his stomach. he is also not usually one for what ifs.

(your mother was a racer herself. do you think she would be proud?

i don't know. it was always just me and my dad. if i had a mother, it was racing.)

"maybe," says charles quietly. "or maybe it would have been the same. maybe it could have been worse."

max says, "i wonder if they would've been like me."

charles hums. his hand has burned a line to the crease in max's legs. "i think it might be wonderful," he says eventually, "to have more of you in the world." then his hand slips entirely around him.

the sound max makes hits the back of charles's throat, is swallowed into his belly.

they shower together three times. max presses him into the wall, sinks to his knees. sucks the life out of him. they dry in the air three times, in the worn sheets that once lay made over the beds.

arthur asks once a day if it's normal for sassy to stare at him. she looks carnivorous, his texts read. the other one keeps jumping on me while i'm working out.

charles replies. max folds himself around his back. they laugh, they fuck, they eat, they drink, they shower, they sleep. they kiss, they kiss, they kiss. they touch.

a week is up far too soon.

this is the hardest part, charles had said.

no, thinks max as charles thumbs the skin of his shoulder. his smile is soft honey in the heat of sunrise. his moles glow. he is beautiful. this is.

charles says, "so? was it everything you dreamed of and more?" he is desert hot and clammy. his fingers are tender. the fatelines on his palms press to max's own.

max kisses him. "it was everything."

charles smiles into it. then, he lets go. they both do.

on may 3rd 2052, max goes home and dresses in black.

he has a clasp around his throat, unassumingly rectangular, engraved: CLV. a note in ink: worth it.

there is a prayer in the room, period one:

thank you, thank you, thank you.

(it was beautiful.)

WARNINGS: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH | MILD SMUT

#DON'T READ THE TAGS IF YOU DON'T WANT SPOILERS #fic: mv1.cl16 #lestappen #xiao: writes #anon my beloved #asks: prompt #soOOOOOOOO #yeah #i DONT KNOW WHAT THIS IS #i actually cannot believe i wrote this anon im so fucking sorry jesus fucking christ FORGIVE ME FOR SKEWERING YOUR PROMPT SO !!!!! DX #yeah the old men fuck and what about it??#i think they'd have plenty of stamina actually #like they're so fucking fit ofc theyre gonna live to like three million years old lol #this devolves so quickly oh my GOD

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cityandking · 6 months

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oc asks: not-so-nice edition

alone: How does your OC deal with loneliness? Have they ever been completely alone before? How do they act when there's no one around to see them?

betrayal: Has your OC ever been betrayed by someone they thought they could trust? Has your OC ever betrayed someone who trusted them?

bound: Has your OC ever been imprisoned or captured? What happened? How did they get out? Did the experience leave any scars?

break: What would cause your OC to break down completely? What do they look like when that happens? Has anyone ever seen them at their lowest?

desire: What's one thing your OC wants more than anything in the world? Are they open with that desire? Why or why not? What would they do to fulfill it?

failure: What's your OC's greatest failure? Have they been able to move past it? Does anyone else know about it?

fear: What is your OC's greatest fear? What do they do when confronted with it? Are they open with their fear, or do they hide it away?

future: What's the worst possible future for your OC? Are they taking steps to avoid that outcome? Are they even aware it's a possibility?

ghost: Who or what haunts your OC? What happened? How do they live with their ghosts?

guilt: What is your OC guilty about? How do they handle their guilt? Do they try to avoid guilt, or do they accept it?

hate: What does your OC hate? Why? How do they act towards the object of their hatred?

heartbreak: Have they ever had a relationship that ended badly? Experienced some other kind of heartbreak? What happened?

hide: What does your OC hide? Why do they hide it?

hunt: Who or what is your OC hunted by? A person, a feeling, a past mistake? Is your OC able to let their guard down, or are they constantly alert?

mask: Does your OC wear a mask, literally or figuratively? What goes on beneath it? Is there anyone in their life who gets to see who they are under the mask?

midnight: What keeps your OC up at night? Do they have nightmares? Fears? Anxieties? What do they do in the small hours of the morning when they should be sleeping?

mistake: What's the worst mistake your OC ever made? What led to them making it? Have they been able to fix it? How have they moved on?

monster: Is your OC monstrous in any way? Is there something that makes them monstrous? Are they aware of their own monstrosity? Do they accept it or reject it?

nightmare: What does your OC have nightmares about? How do they deal with their nightmares? Do they tell people, or keep it to themself?

pain: What's the worst pain your OC has ever felt? Do they have a high pain tolerance?

secret: What's one secret your OC never wants anyone to know about them?

skin: How comfortable is your OC in their skin? Do they grapple with anything that lives inside them—a beast, a curse, a failure, a monster? How do they face the smallest, weakest, most horrible version of themself? Are they able to acknowledge it at all?

torture: Has your OC ever been tortured? Would your OC ever torture someone else?

wound: How does your OC handle being wounded? Are their wounds mostly physical? Mental? Emotional? What's the worst wound your OC has ever experienced?

#whump #whump ask #oc asks #oc ask game #oc ask prompts #oc ask meme #ask meme #ask game #character asks #character development #mine; ask meme #meme resource #please feel free and encouraged to reblog! or to send asks but I probably won’t get to them til next week #now with minor edits for clarity!

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creativepromptsforwriting · 28 days

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Asking for permission

"Can I hold your hand?"

"Is it okay to kiss you?"

"Can I hug you?"

"Can I call you later?"

"Is it okay if I sleep here tonight?"

"Can I touch your hair?"

"I would love to spoil you, can I do this for you?"

"Can I tell people about us?"

"Would you allow me to walk you home?"

"Is it okay to randomly text you?"

"Can I take a picture of you?"

"Can I use a picture of you as my background?"

"Is it okay if we cuddled while watching the movie?"

"Would you let me take care of this for you?"

"Are you okay with me calling you my girl/boyfriend?"

#asking for permission #writing prompts #prompt list #writeblr #writers on tumblr

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urfriendlywriter · 7 months

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How to write angst ?

@urfriendlywriter | req by @everynowandthenihaveacrisis @aidyaiden :)

know your character. from their deepest fears to what they cherish the most. know your deepest fear, ask yourself how you will react and feel at that moment. "oh shit, if this happened to me I'll lose my mind" what's that type of scenario for you? write it. :)

decide on the type of angst you are going for!

major, minor, physical, emotional, paranormal, spiritual, verbal, abusive, quarrel, misunderstanding, etc.

and then, decide on--what reaction you can take out of your character by doing what to them.

are they gonna be, held at a gunpoint to give something up? or have their soul wrecked by whom they thought were close to them? or is it going be horror, or etctec, decide on it.

moving on to actually writing it-

Tip 1 - Use sensory details.

her eyes brimmed with tears

his chest heaved

pain clawed at his heart, as his face twisted with hurt

his scream pierced my heart

her lips quivered

she dug her nails into her palms (to distract herself, to stop it from shaking, etc)

show what is happening to ur MC, instead of telling it.

Tip 2 - how to actually write it.

If they're panicking, make them notice too many things at once, show every detail that they're seeing, feeling, from touch, to that burning sensation on their eyes, the blood on the ground, that dryness of their throat, the buzzing in their head and their parted lips unable to trust their own sight, and--and, boom! have them register that they're really really in trouble. and that they've to act fast.

use short, very minimal type of writing for this. make it long, but not long enough that it feels like it's being dragged.

the readers should hold themselves back from skimming the page out of curiousity, they should be in their toes to find out what happens next.

what does your MC do in times of panic? do they chant calm down to themselves, do they get angry, or start crying.. or?? what makes your character genuinely feel an emotion so hard that they'll burst?

there's always something, someone that'll always give them love and easily can be that something or someone to take it away. yk.

Tip 3 - crying.

what is close to your character that u can deprive them of? will it make them cry? beg for it?

what will make ur character cry so hard, that their scream fills everyone's ear, stays in their minds like ghosts and always haunts them?

make a character who never cries, burst out with tears.

while writing crying, focus on the 5 senses, one after the other.

focus it on their breath, make them run out of breath, gasp for air, feel like they're being choked, cry so scrutinizingly. it shud punch the reader's gut.

have them replay what had just happened over and over again in their head

best books and writing styles (for angst) to analyse and learn from (in my opinion);

3rd book in the AGGTM series (yk it hit hard like a truck. it got me depressed in bed the entire time lmao)

Five Survive by Holly Jackson. The moments of red outside of the truck, and moments leading to it.

there's this book called " Warm by @untalentedwriter127 " in wattpad. the author served angst for breakfast, lunch anddd dinner.

and if there's more angsty ones, drop em in the comments! :)

Hope this helps, tag me when yall write a masterpiece! ;)

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unboundprompts · 4 months

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I don't know if you've done this before but what are some good ways to describe speech?

Ways to Describe Speech

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

His voice was deep like the rumbling of the earth.

She had the voice of a singer, smooth and rich like chocolate.

Their voice reminded him of spring rain.

He often paused in his speaking, like a car radio that had lost signal.

She had a lilt to her voice that made it seem like she was asking a question.

Their voice was monotonous, threatening to put her to sleep with every word.

He couldn't put her voice into words. It was... otherworldly.

Her voice was brittle, as if she were on the verge of tears.

Their voice was authoritative. Their words carried like a loud command.

His voice, unapologetic and unwavering, made her shrink back.

Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Their words were cold with anger.

Other Words to Use to Describe Voice:

Firm

Formal

Frank

Hesitant

Humorous

Passionate

Playful

Professional

Respectful

Serious

Sympathetic

Smug

Superior

Croaky

Dry

Forceful

Grating

Hateful

Insincere

Nasally

Snarky

Tuneless

Wavering

Breaking

Coarse

Flat

Hoarse

High Pitched

Husky

Mellow

Raspy

Rough

Scratchy

Strong

Trembling

Boisterous

Booming

Screeching

Faint

Feeble

Frail

Penetrating

Piercing

Quiet

Raised

Shrill

Soft

Weak

Whisper

Captivating

Deep

Feathery

Hypnotic

Lilting

Mesmerizing

Rich

Smoky

Soothing

Breathy

Delicate

Warbling

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider donating! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi!

#writing prompts #creative writing #writeblr #prompt list #ask box prompts #how to describe speech #how to describe voice #how to write #writing help #writing inspiration #writing tip #writing ideas

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puppetmaster13u · 5 months

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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.

#batman au #batman #dc #dcu #prompts #cryptid batfam #cryptid batman #technically human batfam but doing their darndest to convince people they aren't #and it's working #Justice League #batfam #They are making LORE for themselves #batfamily #Hilariously there's gonna be some panic from a few of the rogues that B has been with lmao #Somehow they convinced several people that the stabby Robin was made by Batman alone #There was no mother and people are very confused and a little scared to ask #I just want Chaos

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finemealprompt · 5 days

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DP x DC Prompt #16

When Hal had asked him which town he protected, Danny was more than happy to tell him, "Amity Park!" When Hal asked Danny where it was, Danny hadn't thought the response, "At this moment? Or where it was last week?" would've caused such chaos in the meeting.

Danny knew not everyone's town traveled across the country, but he didn't think it was odd enough to warrant this kind of reaction.

#finemeal prompt #dp x dc #danny fenton #justice league #hal jordon #amity park #amity park moves around #ya know how a lot of people put amity park in different states?#this is my “in universe” reason for it #like amity park just moves from city to city #just living its best life #one day you go to bed in Minnesota #and wake up in California #just another day in the life of Amity Parkers #they're used to it #don't ask me how this works practically #it just works #trust me

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evilminji · 7 months

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Actually? You know what would be darkly hilarious?

If, when the GIW can't get ghosts declared both malicious AND non-sapient/sentient? They push for "dumb animals" instead.

Which is accepted. Ghosts are animals. Checks out, says scientists everywhere.

HOW "dumb"?

What? Says the GIW, mid-victory high fives. They did not expect a follow up question. They SHOULD have, as this is the SCIENTIFIC community and that is literally their job, but here we are.

How. "Dumb"? The scientists repeate slower. What methodology did you use? What is your sample size? Are their different sub-species? Is this dimension like ours? Is Ghost the equivalent to Mammal? It says here their are humanoid ones.

What IQ are we talking about here and HOW DID YOU TEST??

A goldfish, parrot, and dolphin are all animals. WILDLY different levels of intelligence. You can't treat them the same. Technically speaking, WE are animals.

The GIW does not like where this conversation is going. Tries to shut it down.

.......well NOW the scientists are both offended AND invested. How DARE you try to push faulty science and hide the Truth from them! They're gonna do their OWN studies! *picks up the phone and dials that one embarrassing spiritualist friend they had in college* Hey! You still think you can summon ghosts? I'll pay you to try it for Science!

And like? As a Ghost? It's degrading as hell. But ALSO these fuckos just Whoopsie'd you into having both protections under the law, since animal abuse IS illegal, AND just put the ENTIRE planets scientific community on their asses.... by accident.

So you take a deeeeeeep breath you don't even need. Remember you're doing this for the little ghost babies and fluffy ghost animals. And show up at a research facility like "yes, hello, I am Ghost. Here for you to poke and prod at. Please ask me to name the object on the flash card or whatever IQ tests do these days."

Should you HAVE to prove your own fucking sentience? No. But? You do it. You're even polite about it. Ask for a copy of the study they plan to publish so you can BEAT some mother fuckers with it. The scientists nod in understanding and use the BIG font for your copy so it'll hurt more.

They've been there.

And just? Shitty people getting what they wanted only to have it blow up in their faces?? I see all these angst "but what if they were declared ANIMALS" prompts and I just?? Are we talking PARROT or goldfish!? One has the average intelligence of about a human 4yr old and the other is a FISH! People get RIGHTFULLY furious when you treat INTELLIGENT animals badly.

And would, in fact, adapt pretty easy to discovering one of said animal has become HUMAN lvl intelligent. It's easy to grasp the idea of human intelligence lvl dolphin or monkeys. Maybe there was some mutated strain, maybe in uetro tampering. Who knows. But if I tried to sell you a human intelligent housefly? Gold fish? Lizard?

You wouldn't believe me. There is some kind of trick at play.

So if GHOSTS are seen as animals? Everyone nods and then later? Someone comes in TV and very excitedly informs you "we found INTELLIGENT LIFE amongst the ghosts!" You'd believe it. Probably be really excited by your conversation starter for the day. Get a taco and move on with your life.

But? Having to willing sit for a barrage of testing? Is going to suuuuuuck so bad. Poor Danny. SATs all over again. For HOURS. At multiple facilities, just to be CERTAIN it's not a one off. All because he not certain he can insure good behavior from other ghosts and This Is IMPORTANT. He ALSO can't be certain it's even SAFE.

Might be a trap.

But if he has to do it again and again and again? Mexico to Bavaria to China to the Maldives? If this is what it takes for the scientific community to bitchslap the GIW into ORBIT before the UN? Hand him that pencil.

He has no where more important to be.

@hdgnj @nerdpoe @mutable-manifestation @ailithnight @the-witchhunter

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #you wanna call me an animal?#well check mate!#SO ARE YOU #now they're asking what KIND of animal i am!#and THIS ghost is sayin SAPIEN!#i am in your scientific community #disproving your theories!#your studies were bad and you should feel bad!#danny phantom

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nightprompts · 4 months

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&. 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. ❜

#rivals #enemies to lovers #sentence starters #dialogue prompts #roleplay memes #roleplay prompts #rp prompts #rp memes #inbox memes #ask memes #ship sentence starters #ship prompts #random dialogue

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regonold · 7 months

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I kinda want danny who's been adopted by the wanyes to be schmoozing it up at a gala (because listen nothing is funnier than the image of Gotham elites being like oh whats this one's gimmick cus all the other's have something only for danny to just be a dude) only for like the giw to raid the place to get danny ( cus he's a ghost? Cus he's a Fenton? Who knows)

Only for danny to pick up a bottle chug it smash it and vault out a window shouting you'll never catch me alive

Now this increases his reputation with most Gothamites and rouges and absolutely worries the fuck out of the batfam why is the government chasing you danny and hiw are you so good at running

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dp x dc prompt #listen i just want danny to jump out a window is that so much to ask?#not for bad reasons #just #imagine it danny screaming and leaping pulling all the jack fenton energy he can

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xiaoluclair · 1 year

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lestappen - i don’t need your pity (for the prompts thingy)

it’s been a while anonsie and for that i can only say i hope you’ve stuck around long enough to see this (or maybe not because i had no idea WHAT i was doing). its been off and on in my mind but i only figured something out recently so thank you for unknowingly challenging me, it was certainly Something to write and i’m glad it was! i hope you enjoy if you find it hidden somewhere in the dash <3

warnings: waffle | severe lack of coherent thought from author (that is grotesquely obvious in the story mess(tm)) | not exactly the fluffiest thing i've ever written | parallel-universes-esque storymessline | post monza 2022 | not exactly a happy ending ... oopsie??

word count: 1926 (aka so much longer than i thought it would be wtf)

- ꭘıаӧᴸu℄ɐiɾ - ꭘıаӧᴸu℄ɐiɾ - ꭘıаӧᴸu℄ɐiɾ -

Question: What Happens When Two Stars Collide?

Answer: They Merge Into A Single Star.

On one side of the door, in fluorescence and sweats, is a man. In his hands is a little bag. His name is Max. He raises a hand and knocks.

On the other side of the door is a space of silence. Into it moves another man - a different man (how different, this is unclear). His name is Charles. He tilts his head back and stares at the moon touches on the ceiling and exhales.

Max knocks again after a few seconds. His fingers are flush to the base of the bag, collecting the warmth that remains. What the bag is, this is not yet known.

When Charles opens the door, this is the second thing he considers. The first, is that the man on the other side is soft and smiling and tantalizingly alive. Then, we get to the bag.

“What is this?” he asks. A thing the room missed: the hollows under his eyes. They are easier to see in sick yellow light, stark with cowering shadows. They glitter slightly too - Max does not notice this.

He holds up his arms like an offering. Fitting, because what else could this be. “Dinner for us?”

Pity, perhaps. After all, what is more pitying than someone sad for no pinpointable reason of their own other than someone with an exact pinpointable reason. Charles thinks about this too much. He does not want to think about it now but.

“What do you want, Max?”

“I want to be with you." Max's answer is simple. It is how he feels, after all. And what is the truth other than simple.

Charles considers it for a bare amount of time. He says bitterly, "I do not want pity."

Max only says, again, "I want to be with you."

It takes a moment. A few moments. But then he steps to the wall and gestures the offering inside. Max comes with it.

It is not something so much worked out as simply occurring: Charles sits on the bed, close to the wall and curled around himself. Max sets the bag upon the sheets, between both of their bodies. He is stretched over the other side, his legs doused in moonlight.

They share two little tupperwares of tomato soup between them.

Max's chest is warm and beating. Charles listens to it until sleep weighs his eyelids, stomach filled, and lost at the edge of peace.

Answer: The Smaller (If There Is A Smaller) Is Swallowed.

"What do you want?"

This is, objectively, a simple question. Simpler when you regard the context:

Sex.

Something like it, anyway.

There are two men. One - blue - is flush to the wall. The other one - red - is flush to the blue. Hands are gripping, teeth clashing, and the tyres beside them are not the only things that are hard.

Perhaps a silly observation: there is no purple between them.

"I do not- I do not know." Red is breathless. He is also lying. The truth is, he wants it all. He wants to place himself against the wall without a care, he wants to be asking What Do You Want because he already has everything he wants. He does not want pity. He wants pride.

Surrounded by red, he wants to be Blue.

It does not matter. He is only kissed harder, crushed closer. Blue takes his face with reverence. Red cannot afford this. But he tries anyway, because the last thing he wants right now is to crumble. He lets himself be held together and touched and tries his best to do so in return. To give back the emotion he is being pressed with. For whatever reason, he thinks he fails.

The air twitches.

Blue pulls away, happy and hazy and blinking away the dilation from his pupils. He and Red share a stark look. His body moves, forceful nod of his head.

Panic pushes Red right behind the tall tyre trolleys, his breath held and lungs screaming. There are few gaps between the blankets. He looks through these as best as he can and listens for all the rest.

"Max?" Surprise - his teammate. "What are you doing here?"

"I was looking for you," says Blue as they share a shake of hands. "Are you free for dinner?"

"Sure, man. You have something in mind?"

Blue does actually. Tomato Soup, Blue is thinking, but he cannot say this. Only, he cannot think of anything else to say. So he says, "I really want tomato soup."

A laugh, "That is very specific. I will take it."

"Excellent!"

Conversation continues to ebb between them as they leave. Blue feels bad, but only a little. He will leave tomorrow and Red will stay but they can always Facetime. Besides, he has Italy to explore tonight, a win to remember, and a friend to share it with along with some soup.

Left in shadows, Red crouches in his own garage. He hides until the pain does not trail down his face and his eyes feel less itchy. He wipes his mouth, still sticky with saliva that is not his own. It comes away on his hand, reflective. He licks his lips.

A bitter taste lingers.

Answer: A Neutron Star Is Born That Dissolves Into A Black Hole.

If you stood on the ground, among the fairy-lit treeline and quartz potted gerberas, and tilted your view up to the sky, you would see stars, fresh with memories of red seas and Dutch anthems.

If you tilted your view just a little but lower, you would see a man.

He lifts a hand, hollowed with shadow, and itches the skin on his cheeks. Again, and again, and again; one side, then the other. This might have continued forever. It does not.

His hand moves, instead to the dust beside him. And then his entire self moves, swallowed into the darkness breathing behind him. But wait, for a few seconds. You see him, spat out with his elbow bent. Squint and there is the movement of his mouth, voice sucked into the base of the phone.

Lip-reading from so far down - impossible, probably.

This does not matter. We simply go a little closer.

If you sat with your spine curled flush to the glass - cold, freezing - you would hear a voice, see it being spoken. "I am fine."

If you inched a little closer, until his skin - freezing, cold - pressed to yours, you would hear the reply. "So you are not crying in your room?"

"No," laughs this man in front of you. "Of course not."

"Tell me, what are you doing?"

Teeth worry over lips for a moment. A flash of red is left behind, swept up by the smooth motion of a tongue. "Just watching TV, writing a little bit. Might take another shower but I do not know if I should take a warm one or cold."

Static sounds, a moment. "Sounds like a simple evening."

The man makes a noise. Something like happiness if happiness were a Wikipedia article. "Very."

They breathe together, for a long long time. You might breathe with them if you were more than an apparition, a ghost. But even bodiless, the quiet flush of thermia set on this man's cheeks is clear, slight tremor in the phone as the surface refracts the moon.

"Hey."

He stays silent.

The line continues. "I love you."

Finally, a smile. It brightens as few things do: small, flickering, absent. Joyous and pained.

"I have to go but. You did really really good today. And I am sure next weekend will be better."

The inevitable beep sounds then, of a line hung up. Warmth still lingers though from the explicable words, comfort in every syllable.

To you.

The man - Charles, it would reason - his eyes are drawing up, tight. Much like the corners of his mouth. Where something light once rested, darkness is swallowing, stamping its hooves.

If you were to swim between the neurones in his brain, you would be dead. So would he.

His thoughts are his own only. All that is there is the twist of his lips, as though closed around something bitter.

Answer: Supernova.

On one side of the door, in fluorescence and sweats, is a man. His hands are pressed together in his hoodie pocket. He is thinking something about tomato soup, but it is difficult to remember with a mind so addled by gin. His knuckles rap. He calls, "Charles?"

Louder: "Charles!"

On the other side of the door, another man is rushing. It swings open in bare seconds. "Max?"

"Charles," says Max. He is happy. He is squinting.

"What the fuck?" says Charles. He is not.

The smell of alcohol is filling the air, of champagne. Like a taunt.

“What do you want?”

Max shrugs, smiling dripping a little less. “To be with you.”

Because Max does not think like this. After all, he has no need to taunt anyone, he has no threat. Especially not from Charles. And if he does not come to taunt, then there is only one other thing.

Charles starts the inch shut the door, hinges giving way freely. “I think I should be alone.”

Max steps forward, a hand flashing out. "What?" He holds the wood still, presses against Charles's weight and his eyes are searching. He is drunk; he focuses on small, insignificant details. "Why? Are you- you have been crying."

Charles shakes his head and the undersides of his eyes glimmer again. "Go away."

Patience is something racing will often inevitably drag with itself. There are ways to place a car and ways to keep it placed and ways to change its place, all perfectly times, all learned and being learned by the two men in this hallway and this room.

It is too bad, then, that being human comes with hiccups even in something akin to heartbeat.

"What is wrong?" asks Max. The door has stopped shoving into his palm; he does not stop shoving his palm into the door. It cracks open, loud into the plaster. A dent - neither of them care or notice.

“Nothing!” says Charles, only now he sounds hysterical. Case in point: his arms are up, like crackers shooting to the clouds, pupils dilating even under the drench of gutted yellow. Only he does not stop: "I hate you, I hate you."

The reply is factual. "You do not."

What once glittered only, now flows. "I love you." It breaks. "I love you."

"So tell me," says Max as though waving a wad of cash against a bag of groceries: tomatoes, onions, herbs, a stick of butter. "What is wrong."

There is this thing in competition. It is well-known and well-played and when rested on a tongue, makes it curl in unpleasant ways.

Charles takes Max by the plastic-ended strings of his hoodie then. It hurts, the crack of their teeth together. The door crashes shut behind them, and mattresses are not hard but perhaps this one is. It nearly breaks Max's back.

There is nothing lovely about this. It burns with ache and pain and, aloud in every touch Charles feels, something unspoken. It makes him pull away, skin flush and sliding thickly against the man below him, stretched out and pliant. An invitation - Do what you wish. I can afford it.

It rises a hiss, a far cry from prideful Ferrari: "I do not need your pity."

Who knew the bitterest thing of all could be a smile.

#lestappen #max verstappen #charles leclerc #f1 rpf #xiao: writes #asks: prompt #xiao: asks #ficlet: mv1.cl16 #anon my beloved #danke danke d a n k e #this was harrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr to write but thank you for the lil push!#definitely think i put too much into this #and yet it all turned out to be a complete assfuck!#i love me and everything i do i still tell myself :3

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phantasmalatelier · 2 years

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How Intimidating Am I?

Send 🐹 for "You? Intimidating? Hell no.”

Send 🐰 for barely intimidating

Send 🐭 for slightly intimidating

Send 🐱 for moderately intimidating

Send 🦊 for fairly intimidating

Send 🐯 for very intimidating

Send 🐻 for “MOTHER OF GOD PLEASE DON’T EAT ME--”

#inbox meme #askbox meme #ask meme #rp meme #symbol starters #emote starters #emote prompts #symbol prompts #[ inbox memes ]#[ symbol starters ]

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ghostbsuter · 7 months

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"Excuse me?" Jazz's voice echoes in the meeting room in space. She gains the attention of the heroes immediately and sees them tensing up in at her appearance.

Behind her, he swirling green portal is open, waiting for her to return.

A blond, coat wearing man, curses upon seeing her and gives a half bow. "Princess Jasmine," he speaks up, eye twitching.

"What brings you here?"

At the greeting and reveal of her title, few others fall into bows, the lady at the head of the table, wonder woman?, gives her a smile.

Her eyes pin the green skinned man to his seat, who in return tilts his head at her.

"My brothers birthday is soon," she focuses on the man again. "I'm simply here for a present."

The man tenses, another curse slipping. "Ah– king phantom, right? I wasn't aware his birthday would be so soon."

Jazz ignores him, calmly walking to the Martian and placing a picture of Mars before him.

"The tales of your people have brought much interest to my brother. He became a big fan." She tells, sharing her intentions at his light poking.

"I ask for a signature, it would make his day."

Martian Manhunter, alien hero, and once upon a time, a father even smiles. He's delighted yet feeling a deep-rooted sadness. The tales of his people continue to spread in the afterlife, it seems.

Jazz leaves quickly after, not before giving Diana a number, they are cousins after all.

Danny will love her present.

#dcxdp #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #fic prompt #writing prompt #dc x dp prompt #Jazz is the best sister #she literally walks into space like she owns it #(she might not but her brother sure does)#martian manhunter is so /pos #he later asks diana to ask the king if his wife is there too #with their kids #he also gets a copy of the mars pic #jazz isnt a monster #and if he gets imgredients only found on mars after this #he aint telling anyone

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mcflymemes · 2 months

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PROMPTS FOR ORDINARY THINGS THAT FEEL INTIMATE * inspired by this post. these don't have to be romantic - you can specify romantic or not when you send them. in essence, these are simply intimate, affectionate moments to share with someone you love and care about. adjust as necessary, send 'reverse' for the reversal of the prompt

[ lean ] sender rests their head on receiver's shoulder

[ shop ] sender and receiver go to the grocery store together

[ brush ] sender brushes receiver's hair

[ tie ] sender helps receiver with their tie, either by putting it on or adjusting it

[ necklace ] sender helps receiver with the clasp of their necklace from behind

[ zip up ] sender assists receiver with zipping up a piece of clothing

[ unzip ] sender assists receiver with unzipping a piece of clothing

[ shoelaces ] sender bends down to tie receiver's shoelaces

[ swipe ] sender notices a smudge of something on receiver's face and gently wipes it off

[ braid ] sender braids receiver's hair

[ jacket ] sender takes their jacket off and hangs it on receiver's shoulders

[ puddle ] sender hurries to stop receiver from stepping into a puddle

[ drinks ] sender brings receiver a drink from a bar/their kitchen

[ feed ] sender feeds receiver's pet/s for them

[ cook ] sender and receiver cook a meal together

[ feed ] sender allows receiver to try a bite of their dish, holding their fork out for receiver to taste

[ teach ] sender, an expert at something, takes time to teach receiver how it works and how they can get better at it, too

[ readjust ] sender comes up behind receiver and readjusts their stance (maybe holding a gun, holding a golf club, aiming for something, etc.) to help them

[ makeup ] sender fixes receiver's makeup for them

[ bathroom ] sender and receiver go to a public restroom together and have a normal conversation in between the stalls

[ aloud ] sender reads aloud to receiver

[ refill ] sender refills receiver's glass without asking

[ massage ] sender notices receiver looks tense, steps up behind them, and massages their shoulders

[ listen ] sender listens to receiver explain something they're passionate about

[ silence ] sender and receiver comfortably exist in silence together, both of them working or reading or focusing on something different

[ food ] sender brings food over to receiver's house

[ hum ] sender hums along to a song receiver is singing

[ see ] sender sees something that reminds them of receiver and texts them a picture of it

[ admire ] sender stares at receiver across a room, silently admiring and appreciating them from afar

[ win ] sender lets receiver beat them in a game

[ puzzle ] sender helps receiver solve/put together a puzzle

[ carry ] after receiver falls asleep in an inconvenient place, sender carries them to a bed and tucks them in

[ kneel ] sender finds receiver sick in the bathroom ("tossing their cookies"), and kneels beside them, holding their hair back and cleaning their face

[ clean ] sender helps bathe receiver

[ wash ] sender helps receiver wash their hair

[ patch ] sender carefully patches one of receiver's wounds

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