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Writing Prompt - Blog Posts
during one of the excavations of an unknown female pharaoh's tomb in Egypt, you find out that Anubis himself guards the tomb and one of the lead archeologists greets him as if they were old friends.
everyone loses their goddamn shit
As a member of an archeological team, your area of expertise isn’t in language, architecture, or anything like that. It’s in convincing the various guardian spirits and protector deities your team awakens not to unleash their wrath in the name of people who have been dead for thousands of years.
Looking for some spooky, creepy, or dark fic to read this Halloween night?
And if you want some more..
Enjoy, and thank you to all who participated!
I want a story where every main character thinks and acts like they’re in entirely different genres like, one thinks it’s a romance, another thinks it’s psychological horror, with the main plot being the character who thinks it’s a mystery trying to figure out why everyone is completely insane, they aren’t the straight man they are just as insane as the others, the only sane one is the character who thinks (and is correct) about it being a comedy because they think they’re the straight man.
Do you see the vision?
Prompt #2
A frightened priest understands, that nothing will help him to exercise the demon.
Meanwhile, a 15 y.o creepypasta cosplayer doesn't understand, why did the first one throw a bible at him.
Prompt #1
You and your girlfriend have been in the relationship for a few months. A bit weird one, since you have never kissed or spent time in bed together, but it didn't matter much to you. You love her, after all. One day she approached you and said:
"So, don't be mad, but I have something to tell you..."
She sighs, her hands are trembling a bit.
"I hope you don't change your opinion about me after this, but... I like you. Romantically."
You chuckle, relieved that it's just a prank and nothing serious happened.
"Yeah, I know, I like you too, babe."
Her eyes widened.
"Wait, really?!"
"Mhm. And it's funny how you pull this prank when we're already in the relationship for months."
She is completely perplexed.
"We were in the relationships?"
Suddenly, you're starting to understand why you have never kissed.
"... WAIT, WE WEREN'T?!?"
B.A.S by Megan thee stallion ft. Kyle Richh seems like the perfect song prompt for an otoya x reader or a Oliver x reader where the reader is a cheater too and Otoya/Oliver don't know what to do cause they do the same thing and probably did it first
If someone writes this, please tag me so I can read it 🙏
A promise broken
The two of us had been walking through the Dex, Sophia's hand warm in mine, our fingers intertwined beneath our over-sized sleeves. It was a cold day, so we were wearing sweaters over our uniforms to keep the chill out. I didn't need one, but Sophia insisted, and I just couldn't say no to her when she brings up my health.
We'd been talking about the weather, and whether it'll snow or not when a shoulder slams into mine. I growl and go to say something, but the words die in my throat when I see who it was, memories dulling my tongue at the sight of her. I mumble an apology, and pull Sophia along, trying to put as much distance behind us as possible.
“Who was that? You two know each other?”
Sophia's question, innocent as it was, brings a torrent of memories from behind the walls I've carefully built. Memories of late nights training, movies we were supposed to watch, secrets shared beneath the moonlight, promises of forever made and sealed with kisses. I shake my head, and glance over, my voice soft, as if afraid of being heard.
“Not anymore.”
17 year old dean winchester in the 50s writing a stupid letter to a korean war soldier who he doesn’t even know when he has so many better things to be doing
castiel novak, an 18 year old soldier with no one to write home to, writing back to the sarcastic and frankly rude kid who wrote him because he has nothing better to do
impromptu penpals until dean gets drafted a week after his 18th birthday, to be dispatched as an officer in castiel’s same platoon
Hello!! My name is Rixalynn!!! I am also currently writing a book, and I am slowly going to be releasing prompts from the book!! Yay!! Here is the first one:
Umm, basically this is for ya books🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌
Hey. How about a soulmate AU where instead of eyes meeting for the first time, the world lights up with colour when you first see a genuine, joyful smile on your soulmates face.
Fake smiles would not work. Because when you are comfortable enough around another to show a genuine smile, it means that they have your trust.
Imagine couples knowing each other for years but never knowing they are soulmates because they have only given each other fake smiles.
Imagine someone meeting their soulmate and the world lighting up, only to not be able to return their smile.
Imagine someone peering through a train window to see a stranger smile. The world becomes colourful but the train keeps moving and they pass each other by.
Imagine bitter enemies caught in the middle of a fight and one makes a joke. The other can’t help laughing and the world lights up.
"I can't believe you have to deal with these kinds of...Monsters."
"Many call them men."
“This might be a bad time to mention it, but I really like your cologne/perfume” [Ashlyn + Aiden]
forced proximity prompts
Running. Running is what they were doing. Running from Phantoms, Ashlyn had decided that they would have to hide until they got their things straight. It would only be a few seconds, a minute at best, but that's what they needed. They had just gotten out of a building, expecting nothing since they were out in the forest; but instead they were a few meters away from about 15 phantoms, and that means more than plenty of food for monsters, if they got caught. Or.. would they be food? What would they do with them? What was their goal? No time, Ash got with Aiden and they both went into the storage room, which was really big because a wall had been broken down.. Aiden had taken the job of holding the door shut while Ashlyn was incharge of getting the weapons sorted. She put some on her and Re-aggrend some on Aidens vest, also handing him a taser, just in case.
As he held the door though, a thought came to mind. Does she always smell like that? He thinks it's a new perfume that she has on. Maybe it's the adrenaline pumping through his veins, maybe it's the perfume, maybe he's crazy.. No he's crazy, it's because he's crazy. But at that moment he blurts out, “This might be a bad time to mention it, but I really like your perfume.” he does it with a chuckle to, Ash just looking at him and sighing before yelling to the others ‘on the count of three’ before they go out and kill all the Phantoms.
It goes off and it wasn't that bad, only a few scratches on them. Ash and Aiden go on like he hadn't said that at the worst time ever, and Aiden does eventually find out that she was wearing a new perfume that day.
“‘I'm scared,’ ‘I know but I need you to stay calm, okay?’” [Taylor + Ben]
forced proximity prompts
They were hiding on a roof.. A roof. That's not a good place to be when youre them. It was kind of all blurry what happened, just knowing that now they were waiting to meet up with the rest of the team. Tyler had come through on a breaking out radio signal, and Taylor was so relieved. He said that they would meet them there and to stay put, and they could do that. Although Tyler had requested to talk to Ben, so Taylor had handed him the Radio with her hands shaking, the nerves still up. Once he got the radio close to him her brother said, “You do anything to my sister. I will feed you to the Phantoms. Protect her with your life.” Even though Ben could easily take Tyler in a fight, he was still frightened, but more like disappointed that Taylor's brother hates him… Taylor did give her brother a ‘stooop. We trust him’
They both got off the Radio and Taylor put it back in her harness on her waist. She took a shaky sigh, and tightening up her body posture. They were sitting down by this point so Ben could see how she put her head against her knees. Ben felt bad, even if he was in the same position as her.
“I'm scared.” She looked over to Ben and he could see tears forming in her eyes. Her breathing was faster than normal, and he didn't want her to have a panic attack.
“I know, but I need you to stay calm, okay?” he sighed to her, his face looking genuine. He was scared too. They weren't just talking about this moment, they were talking about the whole thing with being here. It's okay to be scared, it's reasonable to be scared. Maybe later he would tell her he was scared, but right now he wanted to be someone she could talk to without concern. She gave a soft smile that Ben returned too, they were going to be okay in the end.
“We never speak of this again, do you hear?” [Ashlyn + Aiden]
forced proximity prompts
What was she supposed to say? “Thank you for not dying” what, no, she has no idea how to approach this; she does want to say her thanks to him, even though she wasn't even near him, he still fought to live and she had to witness that. She was the leader, she should've been there or done something. Ugh stop thinking about this, why was she so worried? Maybe because they are stuck together for who knows how long and if she messes it up, everything could go into even more hell.
Eventually she did get Aiden to a place where they were alone, even if they were still all in Ashlyn’s house. They went to her room, since it was about 11:00 and she didn't want to go outside in the cold. As they walked in Aiden looked around and had his smile bigger, Ashlyn turned around and looked at him, they were standing face to face. The girl started, “That was good, Last night.” she clarified when she thought he might've not known what she was talking about. “It was dumb, but you fought and survived. I should've tried better to stop you.” She told the truth. It was dumb of him to go off on his own.
“Thanks.” He said “Get over it, I snuck off, my fault. And of course I was fine!” he laughs, ‘Mr. Durable’ she thinks faintly. He doesn't put anything on her for the situation that he got himself into.
They stand there for a bit longer before Ashlyn says something else, “okay, let's go back out there.” Aiden turns around and opens the door, letting Ashlyn walk first with a dramatic hand gesture, following behind her as he hears her say, “We never speak of this again, do you hear?” when they're on the steps. He gives a nod and a thumbs up to her question, and they go back to acting like they don't care all that much for each other.
“I won't let anything happen to you, I swear. [Taylor + Ben]
forced proximity prompts
Taylor woke up gasping, that's pretty normal for them though; Ben also did this at the same time. They had just woken up from the Phantom dimension. Hers didn't stop though, she did have a pretty bad encounter that night though. Ben noticed this and went over to her, it was only them since they had math together and were doing math homework at Ben’s, or Aiden’s, house. They had both passed out at twelve and woke up at seven.
Ben was holding her and trying to comfort her, he was also kind of freaking out because he didn't know how to do this that well. She leaned into him and he let her, moving back her hair so it wouldn't be in the way. She was crying and he just held her through it. They stayed like that for a good amount of time.
When she was just sniffing, and wiping the last of her tears, he pushed her away, with his hands still on the top side of her arms as he looked at her, questioning her silently. “Im okay,” she said, going off clues of what he was asking her.
He let go and put his arms down along with slouching more to be at her height. They looked at each other and there was a promise between that. Maybe neither of them knew at the time, maybe they never will. But it was there, that look of, “I won't let anything happen to you, I swear.” It wasn't just with them, it was the whole group. At some point they all had this moment with each other.
“I never noticed your [---] before. It's cute.” [Ashlyn + Aiden]
Forced proximity prompts
They were sort of in a situation right now, they were stuck at the back of a bus with no where to go, there was a Phantom at the front of the bus and some outside that Ash could hear, Everyone else was at the other bus, Ash volenting to go get the supplies they needed, and Aiden following behind saying that he would help. When they got off that bus it was okay, but then something fell, they didn't get to see what it was or where it went before a Phantom came running for the entrance of the bus. They scrambled to the back and were now hiding in a small corner that wasn't filled with supplies. They weren't on top of each other, more like just kind of squashed beside each other; with their legs and feet tangled a bit.
The Phantom was still near the front of the bus, deciding if they actually were in here or not since it couldn’t see them. They were patiently waiting for someone to help them, somehow. They knew that they had the rest of the group as a lookout, as they told the two before they went off. Ash was just wondering why it was taking so long.. After a few more seconds of sitting in complete, terrified, silence she heard them killing some of the Phantoms that were outside. Not a lot got in, but more might if they don't hurry up and stop making such loud noises.
Taylor and Tyler finished up killing the last Phantom that was on the bus before whisper-yelling that it was safe, Taylor knowing that Ashlyn heard that. They got up and Ash made sure that there weren't any more Phantoms really nearby, even if it was kinda hard to tell with all the random Phantom noises. They were walking out of the bus quietly when Aiden whispered, “I never noticed your freckles on your neck before. It's cute.” He said it in a way that was mockingly, in reality, or this reality he was just nervous about actually complimenting her. So he plays it off as a joke with his smile.
Writing requests are open!
From now through March you can send me an ask with a (sfw) prompt you'd like me to write! As long as I'm comfortable with it, I'll start working on my responses in April.
Prompts can be for fic or your own original idea and while I mostly write for MHA, if you have smth else in mind there's no harm in asking if I'm familiar with the fandom :)
also, if you're interested in any of the fic wips i've talked about on here (or my in-progress ao3 fics) you can send me an ask with the title and i'll be sure to set aside time to work on them and share snippets of my progress! (fic wips listed below the cut)
I'm excited to see your prompts!!
tumblr fic wips
short for grenade: talked about here, here, and here a la three wise men and a baby (i seriously need a better title for this series lmao): part 1 & part 2 probably not, dabihawks version: here (and the official, slightly more polished version of the platonic-ish bkdk 'probably not' piece is on ao3 here) let it sink in: here spelling bee monster: mentioned at the bottom of the fake tweet post, here trophy husband, who?: here cat-suki: here (legitimately forgot i'd posted about this one lol)
ao3 wips
summer daze: here little troubles: here
Thanks for the prompts! I chose #4 and it felt so good to get into the flow of writing without worrying about how what I write would fit into a full piece. (im experiencing mega writers block with sfg atm)
So seriously, thank you OP
Anyways, here's what I came up with:
“Stargazing,” Kal observed, leaning heavily on her new spear. Jonathan had done good work with it, and the small inscription near its base was, surprisingly, left intact. Loren took a moment to admire the sleek, plated metal Jon had chosen to resuscitate that damn spear from its rightful place in the refuse pile, then turned his attention back toward the mottled patchwork of stars above them. “Is that what you do when you’re not killing people?” she pressed mirthfully. Loren frowned. The battle had been long and laborious and not really worth the sore wrist he’d been massaging for the past half hour, Ilium’s abrasive voice still rattling around in his skull. Kal sighed, lowering herself into a crouch beside Loren’s head. “Fight’s over, Twig. No need to be so serious.”
Loren tilted his head the slightest bit towards his companion, eyes flashing in the dark. “Me? Serious?” he asked. Kal’s attention flitted over Loren’s face, a smile slowly stretching over her face when he offered her the slightest scrunch of his nose. The expression looked somehow sweeter on her, with dried blood crusted over her teeth, than it had in the palace where they’d first met. “The Stone-Faced Twig, telling a joke,” she laughed. “No one’ll believe me.” “You’d share our special moment?” Loren continued mildly. “I’m gutted, Kal. Now what’ll I do with the ring I bought you?” Kal lightly shoved his arm, earning a soft huff that was drowned beneath her own delighted cackling. Loren wasn’t sure, exactly, when the grief had worked its way up her throat alongside the joy. Just that one moment he had told a joke- a good one, it seemed- and the next, Kal was shuddering with her spear gripped too tightly in one hand, its tip digging mercilessly into the grassy hilltop. Not a drop of blood on either one of them in any place that Kal could see. Loren supposed she didn’t really need to see, though, for the blood to linger. With a quiet curse, Loren raised his abandoned staff from the grass beside him and waved it loosely in her direction, easing her grip from the spear, knuckle by white-clenched knuckle, until he was certain she wouldn’t damage the new plating. Loren swallowed the sour taste in his mouth as he poked through Kal’s memories, searching for something gentle. Back and back and back he weaved, as he always did with soldiers, until the Kal in his mind’s eye was so small as to be hardly recognizable. But this Kal was warm, covered head-to-toe in a half-finished, puke green blanket while another, smaller version of someone Loren might have known in another life cheered and clapped and pretended to be struck low by the Kal-monster. “You don’t need to do that, you know,” Kal whispered at half her normal volume. Soothed by Loren’s efforts. Loren flinched. Kal’s hand quickly sought out his in the semi-dark, squeezing tightly when he attempted to shuffle away from her. Her grip bordered on painful. “I won’t tell the others,” she promised. Earnestly, by the sound of it. But sound was a liar that Loren knew well. “I know some of the others appreciate…it,” she continued haltingly. “What you...do for them.” Loren grit his teeth. “Only because they don’t know,” he reminded her stiffly. Kal sniffed and tilted her head, studying Loren in exactly the way he’d been trying to avoid ever since he’d been conscripted. Ever since he set foot in that damn palace. Ever since he lost- “Loren-”
Wet with tears, her eyes reflected the moonlight. “My mother’s name was Moon,” Loren suddenly confessed. Kal’s smile wobbled, eyes travelling uncertainly to the sky. “And my uncle’s name was Butter.” Loren sighed. “Are we naming the donkey, too?” Kal asked lightly. “Because we can do it if it’ll make you feel better, Twig, but one day Truth will catch you by the throat and it won't be pretty.” Loren pulled his hand away again and Kal let him. Still, Loren didn’t rise to his feet like he’d intended to. He dug his fingers into the grass at his sides, digging up the scent of dirt and mulch. The wind changed and Loren thought he could smell the stew, too. He took a deep breath and let it wash over him, blocking out the muted murmurs of their company in the distance. “What happened to 'Loren'?” he asked her without opening his eyes. Kal’s hand fell companionably to his shoulder. Her temple against his own was quick to follow. “Moment of weakness, Twig.” Loren chuckled sharply, slowly peeling his eyes open to peer up at the moon that watched over him, thinking of the Moon that did not. “You’ve known the whole time?” he ventured carefully. Loren felt Kal shrug against him. “Kind of easy to spot, you know? Your type never need much muscle to do the heavy-lifting, do they?” “Twig,” Loren realized. Kal hummed, gently shoving him over as she climbed to her feet and reclaimed her spear, idly testing out the balance as she dithered. “Everyone’s wondering where you went to,” she said with forced casualness, poking at imaginary enemies. “So. Unless you want me spilling your dirty, stargazing secret…” Kal’s attention drifted to Loren, then, and her restless hands slowly lowered to her hips. A wide, conspiring smile crept over her features. “You better beat me back to that damn campsite.” Loren frowned. “Beat you-?” “Go!” Kal shouted, tearing down the hill with her spear and her smile and the blood in her teeth. For a moment, all Loren could do was watch her go. The he cursed and grabbed his staff, rushing down after her with a grumbled complaint, something heavy still caught in his chest. But, somehow, lighter than it was before.
WRITING PROMPTS - Stars
One day, the stars disappeared from the sky, like a blanket over the earth.
"I think the stars are getting bigger."
The stars shift in the sky, and whisper messages into the ears of every child.
"Stargazing... is this what you do when you're not killing people?"
Stars have ears.
"I love the stars, because they love me."
What if the stars were gods?
"Watch the stars as you die, and they'll take you with them."
Writing sprint tag game!
(Even if you haven’t been tagged, you are happily invited to participate!)
Here’s how the game works:
1) set aside some time to complete a 10-20min writing sprint, breaking up your writing time and break time however you see fit (I’ll prob do 10 min writing, a 5 min break, and then another 5 or 10 min of writing)
*if you want to do a shorter or a longer writing sprint, that’s totally fine too! 10-20min is just a low-pressure guideline
2) complete the sprint!
even if you cringe at the words you put down, the point is simply to get more words on the page than what you started with, so write that awkward sentence! skip that fiddly bit to write the scene you have inspiration for! anything new that ends up on the page is progress and anything you don’t love can always be edited later
3) have fun :)
remember, this sprint is a little nudge to help you reconnect with your creative writing. it’s 100% low-pressure, anything goes, and we’re all in it together 💪
4) share your sprint results
this part is totally optional but if you’d like to play along, reblog this post (or copy-paste the rules into a new post) with as many (or as few) answers as you feel comfortable sharing
*and if you make a new post, pls tag me so i can clap and cheer for you!!
how long was your sprint?
how many words did you write?
*anything more than zero is great!
what project did you complete the sprint for?
what did you end up adding to your WIP (or new project)?
*no need to share specific lines since the sprint’s focus is quantity over quality, but absolutely go wild with the overview. did you add a whole new scene? a new character? important dialogue for character development? a fun side quest you hadn’t planned on? an interesting bit you have no idea what to do with?
what part of your new writing excites you the most?
5) connect with your fellow writeblrs!
tag people in your response post to keep the creative energy flowing and offer encouragement and kudos to those who participate and share their progress!
gently tagging my writing moots to get this started:
@peaceheather @antsday @moody-tortured-artist @agirlandherquill @ohromeoraine @sorrowsfallallaround
shoot me a message or comment if you don't want to be tagged in these sorts of things (or if i haven't tagged you and you would like to be tagged in the future for writing things)
for the last prompt:
“Don’t touch those books, sweetie. They have souls.”
Miranda hesitated with her fingers poised over a golden spine.
“Excuse me?” she asked, wide-eyed and more than a little fearful.
The librarian simply rolled her eyes, adjusting the hem of her coffee-colored sweater. “Did you not read the danger signs we passed?”
Slowly, Miranda lowered her hands and laced them behind her back. “Thought that was another of Dougie’s pranks,” she murmured quietly.
The librarian sighed.
“Miss Pickery-"
“I still don’t know why you hired my brother,” Miranda interrupted, eyes slipping back to the shiny, golden book she had been tempted to pull off the shelf. “He’s not exactly…bookish. Or terribly employable.”
“Well, he doesn’t attempt to touch the books with souls, for one,” the librarian replied.
Miranda pressed her lips together firmly, attention slipping guiltily to the carpeted floor and catching on an oblong stain that the librarian gestured to with the toe of her heeled boot.
“And he doesn’t suffer the consequences of such misbehavior like my previous apprentice, Ronald.”
Miranda couldn’t help the startled gasp that left her as she drew her arms closer to the center of her body, head whipping back and forth in the narrow aisle to ensure no part of her was near any part of these…these murdering, soul-having books.
Seriously, if Miranda had known about Ronald the Oblong Stain when she’d received her brother’s stupid email about checking out his “cool new job”, Miranda would have deleted it without a second thought. Unread, unreplied to, and un…un-in danger, Miranda thought sternly.
The librarian frowned back at her, all sharp featured and unimpressed, like she was privy to Miranda’s imaginary word making.
“U-um, so where is Dougie, anyway, Miss?”
“Late,” the librarian replied. She raised her right wrist to peer at a square watch wrapped over her sweater sleeve, the arms curved like octopus tentacles and spinning far faster than the plain, round one on Miranda’s own wrist. “Or perhaps early, depending.”
“Depending on what?”
“Oh, what I wouldn’t give to be conversing with Ronald, instead,” the librarian murmured to herself, causing a deep frown to appear over Miranda’s face.
Oblong Stain-Man, one. Miranda, zero.
“Well, he invited me here,” Miranda petulantly reminded the woman. “I’m still not sure why, but I doubt it was to kill me so is it possible for us to wait for him in a different section of the library? Maybe one without, you know, danger signs?”
The librarian gave Miranda a swift once-over, then peered up at the ceiling, expression unchanging.
“No. Here will do.”
“Oh, okay,” Miranda whispered shakily. “I’ll just stay here and try not to turn into goo, then.”
“Oh, pish posh,” the librarian dismissed, waving her hand in the air. “That Evelyn has much more flare than that. She would have ignited you, most definitely.”
“E-Evelyn?” Miranda repeated, peering behind herself for other, potentially-murderous library patrons. Perhaps one carrying a blowtorch.
“The book you were going to touch,” the librarian explained. “She has quite a flair for the dramatic, that girl. Your death would have been very phoenix-like.”
Miranda eyed the golden-spined book with far more wariness than before.
“Phoenix-like…” she echoed. “Like…as in I’d come back to life?”
The librarian’s nose scrunched. “As in you’d go up in a spark of flames and crumble to ash before you could say-”
“Mimi!” Dougie called out happily, appearing in a cart-like contraption over their heads. Dougie tugged gently on a hanging rope within his cart and the whole thing slowed to a squeaky stop.
Miranda eyed the small cylinder of metal attaching the cart to the track embedded in the ceiling with open skepticism.
“Took ya long enough,” he said, smiling.
“Took me-?!” Miranda began to sputter, only to be silenced by a hand from the librarian.
“Douglas,” she greeted calmly. “Anything to report?”
Dougie’s smile turned slightly bashful, and he scratched the back of his head. “Not yes, Miss. But with Mimi here, things should be fixed in a snap!”
“I fucking hate that name,” Miranda muttered darkly beneath her breath.
“Quit whining, girl,” the librarian said, not unkindly. “It’s time to go.”
“Please,” Miranda agreed, quickly ascending the thin, metal stairs that had stretched out from Dougie’s cart like a particularly slow accordion. She would happily go anywhere to get away from Evelyn and Ronald and who knows who else.
The librarian followed quickly after.
“Where are we going?” Miranda asked, cringing at the grating noise emanating from the ceiling as the cart rocked jerkily back into motion. “To lunch?”
Dougie’s email had promised lunch.
“Uhhh, not to lunch,” Dougie admitted, ignoring Miranda’s heavily disappointed sigh. “We need you to fix something, actually.”
“And it’s not a sandwich?” Miranda pressed hopefully.
“Sorry, sis,” Dougie laughed. “It’s…uh, well it’s a little bit bigger than that.”
“These swinging death cages, then?” she tried next. Because they could use some serious oiling, but otherwise seemed mostly stable. Even if the eccentric design didn’t invite anything but distrust.
Dougie pulled on the rope again as they entered a new room and Miranda brought her hands up to cover her ears while she peered curiously over the edge of the cart, still hoping in vain for a cafe or a bistro.
What she saw instead was a massive, boiler-looking thing, with moving arms on just about every square inch of its rusting, bronze surface, rounded caps lifting periodically to release hissing trails of white steam.
What really caught her attention, though, was the small door built into its base, boasting a massive dent and an odd array of talon-like scratches along its surface. And one scrawled out word.
Miranda Pickery.
“...well,” Miranda said slowly, hands falling to her hips as she quietly examined the structure. “Surely I’m not the only Miranda Pickery in the area. Total coincidence, really.”
The librarian’s wrinkly hand landed on Miranda’s shoulder, her other pointing towards the far end of the boiler room.
Miranda followed her gaze to a large, hand-painted mural spanning the entire length of the flaking wall. The figures were all done in black, or perhaps a very deep blue, and nearly impossible to make out in the dim space. The orange light from the boiler only illuminated the lowest section, where there were rows and rows of what looked like people, carrying stacks of what looked like books, and a few, hanging, claw-like feet that suggested an array of birds above their heads.
The librarian clapped and the space flooded with blue light. Hovering orbs lined the room like street lamps- above the boiler but below the cart- revealing a concerning amount of bookshelves lining this room, too.
A concerning amount of bookshelves and Miranda’s likeness, that is, painted in the very center of the mural with such detail that any hopes of pawning off this mystery onto some other hapless sod immediately wilted and died within her heart.
“Oh,” Miranda said dumbly.
“Oh,” the librarian agreed.
“So…” Dougie started, awkwardly clapping his hands together. “Lunch, anyone?”
WRITING PROMPTS - Library
A 24/7 library has no staff, but those who enter never think to steal.
"We can't make out! This is a library!"
A magical university has a library that changes its contents entirely whenever it hits midnight.
"Shh! Reading time."
A library is the only building unaffected by a massive earthquake.
"Where did you get that book?"
A group of academics decide they want to be buried alive in the cursed library that the government are burying.
"Don't touch those books, sweetie. They have souls."
looking for fellow writers!! togachako writing game edition
interested in writing a second part to a short togachako fic i wrote?
i dont really plan on doing anything with this piece so i think it'd be really fun to see people's takes on how to continue it! like a super low pressure writing game
if you do participate, pls tag me or reblog so i can see your contribution!! even if its just a few lines!
the fic is a loose play on frankenstein with some adam & eve elements thrown in (and the unnamed girl is ochako)
have at it! :)
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Toga was a bloodied thing, she knew.
She was born with cold metal kissing her bare skin and electricity shrieking down her spine. Her first breath- a choking, cut-off scream- was not even her own, the memory too tightly braided with the boom of Dr. Garaki's laughter in his small laboratory.
I made you, he had explained, pain still ringing oddly in her skull.
She had been made, not born, and no one loved to remind her of this fact more than Dr. Garaki himself.
Pet, he called her, grinning indulgently in his tall, wingback office chair. The reflection of his glasses shone like fire. Like the spark that had jolted her alive.
I made you, he’d say. I made you.
But what am I? Toga would ask, twin pinpricks of too-sharp teeth digging into her too-wide lips while she fumbled out the words, warmth dribbling from her rosy smile.
Dr. Garaki did not like this image, nor the question.
You are my creation, he’d snap, the floor rumbling with the force of his rise from the wingback chair. Do you not trust me, pet?
Toga would watch the sky flash outside the dark windows of the laboratory and nod, nod, nod because she did not know what she was but she knew punishment well.
All Toga knew was punishment and Inside.
The Inside of the laboratory, which smelled faintly of the coins that slipped between uneven couch cushions, and the Inside of Toga- drawn from her own disordered lips- red as plush velvet and twice as sweet.
Good, Dr. Garaki would say from behind his wide, unbreachable desk. Now behave.
Behave, behave, behave.
This word buzzed around Toga’s head like the constant drone of heavy machinery in the lab. It followed her when she closed her fists around home-smelling coins, retrieved from their hiding places late at night, and when she draped her goose-bumped body in the off-limits, grass-green curtains, and, louder still, when she peered out of small, dirt-smeared windows, asking after the word for grass.
Red had leaked from her cheek, then, bursting forth from the skin by the rings adorning Dr. Garaki’s punishing hand. But the word had slipped out as he’d shouted.
Toga’s tongue had darted to the corner of her mouth and she’d imagined the word blooming over her tongue- swallowed and safe within herself.
Yes, Toga knew of Inside well. She craved the taste of Outside, now.
Outside she saw a girl with red flowers in her hand, picked from the border of Dr. Garaki’s property, and high on her cheeks laid a dusting of soft-petalled blush.
Toga had never known the color red could be so gentle.
Toga longed to be picked from the laboratory like the thorned stems in the girl’s steady hands. To be lifted up. To be held.
“You’re not supposed to be looking through there,” Twice whispered from over Toga’s shoulder. “It’s bad.”
Toga gnawed on her bottom lip, drawing red to the surface until she matched the roses being carried further and further from the laboratory.
“Why?” she asked.
Toga didn’t know who she was asking- Twice, the disappearing girl, or the flowers?
Twice was the only one to respond.
“Because Dr. Garaki said it’s bad,” he reminded her nervously.
Toga watched the girl’s form begin to blur on the horizon.
Twice shook her shoulder and Toga’s gaze slipped to the touch, observing the firm boundary between Toga and Twice. His fingers held the same shape as Dr. Garaki’s- more same than Toga’s- yet held none of the anger. Only urgency.
“How come Dr. Garaki gets to make all the rules?” Toga asked.
Twice’s hand slipped away like the question had bitten him, and, Toga thought to herself, maybe it had. With Twice’s same-enough hands he could cradle lessons from Dr. Garaki on how to name the objects in the laboratory. His scratching fingers could be gently pulled away from his seams. He could hold close the smiling shape of son on Dr. Garaki’s lips.
Twice held the honor of being made same-enough while Toga’s hands and heart and smile were wrong, wrong, wrong.
Pet, Dr. Garaki said, teeth glistening behind a simper. Filthy-
“Mr. Garaki wants what’s best for us,” Twice said, twitching on the last syllable and scratching the ragged line carved down his forehead.
“Does he?” Toga questioned.
How do you know? she wanted to ask. She craved his certainty with a desperation that left her Inside chest pounding hard against the firm line of her Outside body.
Twice twitched.
“I trust him.”
The dull roar of the laboratory seemed loud today, and Toga felt restless.
“Do you trust?” Twice asked.
Toga’s mouth quivered and she turned her gaze back to the small window. The girl was gone now but she would be back tomorrow.
Toga flinched as the door slammed open and Dr. Garaki appeared a moment later.
Pet or-
“Filthy woman,” Dr. Garaki muttered, striding forward to yank the green curtain from Toga’s body. The view of Outside disappeared.
Toga shivered.
“Don’t you know your shame dirties you?” Dr. Garaki continued, staring at the Outside of her body.
Could he see the Inside?
Toga desperately hoped that he couldn’t.
“It’s unbecoming of my creations,” he stated before spinning on his covered foot to stride through his office door, a box of rattling machine parts held in his arms.
Toga’s trust in Dr. Garaki was as brittle as the vase she had tipped over the other day, fascinated by the sound it made when it hit the floor. Left in a puddle of red after Dr. Garaki had found her.
Inside herself, Toga said, I do not trust Dr. Garaki, and shame bloomed hot and heavy in her chest.
She felt like the vase, one breathless moment before it shattered.
“Toga?” Twice whispered, eyes drooping with concern.
“It’s cold,” Toga whispered.
Twice fidgeted for a moment, his nails hesitating a few inches from his sewn-together face. After a furtive glance towards Dr. Garaki’s closed office door, he gave into the urge to scratch, leaving raking, red lines across his Outside.
“I know,” he murmured. “Do I? I…yes. I know.”
Toga blinked away the blurry heat gathering in her eyes and reached out with her not-same-enough hand until it rested on Twice’s knee.
Slowly, she ran her hand up and down one length of his leg. Then faster.
Twice stared.
“See?” she whispered. “It makes warmth.”
“I…” Twice peeked over his shoulder, towards the door Dr. Garaki had disappeared behind. “…see. I see. I do.”
Toga removed her hand and watched Twice repeat the action for himself.
Toga turned back to the green curtain, looking in the place she knew the window lived, and began rubbing warmth back into her arms as she imagined the girl.
I trust her, Toga decided.
And how lovely was it for there to be a her that wasn’t Toga? A her that Toga might be same-enough for.
Dr. Garaki cursed the Outside people but Toga bit her lip and danced with the idea that the girl from Outside might see Toga- red as the roses she always returned to- and pluck her, instead.
And then maybe Toga could live how she wanted to. Cursed or not.
Prompt requests open for December!
This time I’m doing a 500 word limit challenge to practice effective storytelling and characterization so if you’d like to send a request please leave a comment or send an ask like this:
[Character] + [headcannon] + (optional) [canon-verse or AU]
If you don’t have a preference for the setting, I might play around with AUs or maybe different aspects of the canonverse
I’m gonna limit this to MHA for now but that’s still a pretty wide range of characters so please don’t hesitate to request something! I'd really love to hear your headcanons! As always, please only sfw requests
Here’s one i wrote for practice as an example but i hope i get much better with practice (fic below the cut!)
500 words | Katsuki Bakugou + afraid of frogs + AU: no quirks (and this is part of a larger au of mine where aizawa/present mic are bakugou’s guardians)
"You!" Katsuki shouted, socked feet planted on top of the dining room table and Aizawa's heaviest textbook held threateningly above his head.
Aizawa paused with his hand still resting on the doorknob of their home, blinking slowly. The bag on his shoulder was heavy with ungraded essays.
"Me," he agreed flatly. "What are you doing on the table?"
"I've fucking told you not to leave the backdoor open!"
Aizawa hummed, pulling off his shoes and setting down his things in the entranceway. Vaguely, he remembered stepping onto the back patio with a cup of coffee early this morning, though he couldn't remember opening the door at all, let alone sliding it shut.
"How many frogs are in the house?" Aizawa asked, stepping around the table to warm up the kettle. He could feel Katsuki's glare doing its best to burn a hole through the back of his head.
"Four," Katsuki seethed.
Aizawa kept a careful ear out while he opened the cupboard above the stove, debating between the cat mug he'd found at a yardsale and the orange one Hizashi had made for him last christmas. Faint croaking carried over from the living room. And maybe the staircase.
"Didn't you fucking hear me?" Katsuki demanded, his reflection blob-like in the silver kettle.
"Four frogs," Aizawa repeated, though he suspected there were only three.
"Four pests," Katsuki shot back through gritted teeth.
"I believe the neighbor's call them 'beloved pets', and I'm not willing to cover up another murder like I did with Rafael."
Katsuki scoffed, though the sound was reedy with unease. The croaking had grown louder.
"Stupid thing shouldn't have jumped at me while I was using the blowtorch."
"Do you hear that, frogs?" Aizawa called out, flicking off the stove. "Beware of blowtorches in the hands of teenaged boys who should not have had them in the first place."
Aizawa spared a backwards glance to find the textbook finally drooping, though Katsuki's grip on the pages remained white-knuckled.
"Are you ever gonna let that go?"
Aizawa leaned his back against the cold countertop, cradling the orange mug between his hands and blowing lightly at the steam. "Not in your lifetime." He could see a frog resting on the third stair. "Why don't you call your friend already so she can catch them?"
Katsuki's left eyebrow twitched- temptation, Aizawa was certain- before drawing low.
"Fuck no! Frog Face is my second mortal enemy!" Then he crossed his arms. "Besides, I saw some exposed wiring on their house yesterday."
"You cannot blow up their house," Aizawa sighed. He could still remember a six year old Tsuyu returning a handmade eviction notice to their door, Rafael poking out of her shirt.
"He spelled eviction wrong," she'd said before skipping away, unbothered.
Aizawa tipped his head to the side. "But at least your tactics have evolved."
Katsuki glowered. “You're not. Helping.”
"Fine," Aizawa said, pulling their butterfly net from its place on the wall. "I'll play hero."
"Bastard," Katsuki hissed. “Hurry up.”
Hey, I want to share my brainrot.
Broke: Superman is actually a bad person who doesn't love his bi son Kon because he thinks the kid is going to be a future villain.
Woke: Superman is understandably standoffish to his nonconsensually created clone made to replace him when he was dead. Superman didn't step up when and how he should have - that doesn't mean he didn't have character growth and learn to love Kon, even if he have the kids a name that is a Kryptonian slur.
Bespoke: Superman would LOVE to get to know and mentor this new guy, but whenever he looks at the kid his lizard hindbrain registers DANGER and it freaks him out. He doesn't know why, there's just something intensely Uncanny Valley about Kon. Clark has never understood humans talking about creepy dolls or being afraid of mannequins until now and he doesn't know how to process it? He doesn't even know how to explain it because everyone around him is acting like Kon is perfectly normal and fine and safe and Superman's the asshole for never engaging with him.
Human scientists fucking around with alien DNA made it so that Kon is permanently sending out Aggression in subtle, Kryptonian-only ways. By scent or sub-vocalizations, or posture, or some other alien subconscious way, Kon is both peacefully hanging out with his friends and at the same time indicating that he's about to murder them. Neither Kon or Clark know this! Clark unlearned most of these instincts when he was being raised as human and is used to the people around him not hearing/seeing/tasting/smelling quite right. Until there's this guy here, serving these VIBES.
(about the slur name. Consider that Nightwing is Superman's dear friend and nephew. Consider that he calls himself Dick. Imagine if Clark named Kon "Kon" as a way to honor Dick and like, it's his genuine belief that future Kryptonian speakers will think of Kon as a name first and a slur second, because this person is going to be so amazing)
Stephen was standing in a corner nursing a drink when he was approached by a young man who had a look of determination on his face. Great. Either its someone who idolize him, wants him to be a mentor or a gold digger. They were at the mingling period for the conference he was attending about the latest and greatest break through in the medical field.
" Dr. Strange... it's an honor to meet you sir"
" I'm sure. Look, I'm trying to have a nice quiet evening. Get what you came over here to say. I'm single but I'm not looking for a partner currently no matter how cute you are. I'm not looking to mentor anyone. If you have what it takes then I'll see you back here next year kudos to you. If your just gonna fan boy and tell me how great I am, you have two minutes. If your going to tell me how I inspired you with my talent you can-"
" You did inspire me. But not for the reasons your thinking of. 10 years ago my uncle died on your operating table. "
Stephen steps back and stares into the brown eyes of the young man infront of him. He has a hardly had any deaths in his records. He swallowed a sip of his drink, clearing his throat.
" I am sorry for your loss... I assure you I would have done everything in my power to save him."
The guy sighs and nods his head glancing down and then back up at him.
" I hated you. For years. You were the best of the best, that's that the nurses said. And yet my Uncle still died under your knife. ... I swore I would never let anything like that happen again to anyone else. That you must have made a mistake.... that you weren't good enough to save my uncle."
Shifting his feet a little he glances over his should looking around the room. " But no one could have saved him from that wound.... I went to school, graduated early with honors and I know... I know you did everything you could, it just that the tools we had available at the time weren't good enough. -
It's why I'm here, I've created a several new tools that help out the field and I wanted to thank you."
He smiles and reaches his hand out for a hand shake
" My hatred for you pushed me to help others more. The designs and tools I've help patent... they are going to save lives. And I have you to thank for that Dr. Strange. It's an honor to be in the field with you"
Stephen stared at the young man longer before reaching out and shaking his hand.
" What's your name?"
The young man blushes as he shakes Stephen's hand
" Oh! Um Peter, unm Dr. Peter Parker Sir... forgot to introduce myself"
" Well Dr. Parker, let's get a table and you can tell me all about these new patents"
A dumpster is the entrance to a secret world
Writing Prompt
Students are the ones who get to decide if they are ready to move up a grade.
Writing Prompt
A woman wakes from a coma thinking that she is in a different incarnation