“Feel ready for tomorrow?”

“Nope.”

“You gonna study for your exam?”

“Probably not.”

reblog-house:

corvidprompts:

“You’re just a kid!”

“I am not a- human, I’m not your kind. You don’t need to be concerned about me.”

“Fuck that! God, you’re just a child- c’mon kid, let’s get you patched up.”

Is that Hank talking to Connor

it was intended to be that yes

tails-of-a-dragon-rider:

corvidprompts:

Do you need a moment it whispers against your eardrums, the sound winding in a painful whistle. No, you respond, because this is your burden to bury and your quest to complete.

A small look into the past, of a memory almost forgotten.

Keep reading

astons backstory is going to kill me isnt it

dottydaydreams:

corvidprompts:

@tirefirespectacular this is the most goddamn dystopia thing i’ve ever read like seriously??? civilians are expected to do this in their day to day lives?? no

what the fuck america what the fuck.

aren’t most flags made of plasticky shit anyway? why would you burn it?? just dust it off???

No, they’re made from actual fabric. Also you have to fold them and raise them in specific ways.
Another thing that isn’t Official, but you have to be careful about wind. My dad was a color guard member, so he knows that if you out a huge flag in a very windy day, it will beat itself apart. Like they tear and wear and fade like any other fabric.

is there a special wind ceremony??
no wait don’t tell me i’m good

tails-of-a-dragon-rider:

corvidprompts:

“Happy birthday!”

“You know, when you’re immortal birthdays don’t mean much.”

“Doesn’t mean we can’t have cake!”

Aston wrapped their scarf tighter around their mouth, watching the air fog shimmer in the sun. The groceries in their gloved hands swung back and forth as they were walking. The wind blew gently through the branches of the nearby trees, half-melted icicles tinkling together in a beautiful melody with the late spring snow crunching under them. It was all together, a beautiful sort-of-winter day.

They really f*cking hated March.

Keep reading

pained bird noises

Monsters

stimits:

Prompt: “Everything in this room can and wants to kill you, but I called dibs.”
From: @corvidprompts via anonymous submission

“They’re just inanimate objects!”
“Goddamnit, no they’re not! How are you still not seeing?”
Dakota didn’t answer the man in the mask but instead walked around to run her hand over the smooth surface of the flipped bowl. She had no idea how long she’d been in the room. “Why is it,” she started. “That you’ve kept me here for so long?”
The man in the mask remained apathetic. “Seeing you upset makes me feel a little bit at home.” Dakota’s brow creased at this. How sadistic, she thought. She stayed close to the wall for fear of bumping into one of the man’s invisible “aquaintances.” 
“You know,” Dakota is startled by the man’s voice. "Everything in this room can and wants to kill you, but I called dibs.“
Dakota struggled to come up with a response. The best she could think of was a callous “neat.” This made the man scoff. She continued to pet the objects the man had laid out, counting them as she went. When she got to one object, a small blade, she stopped.
There was a peculiar air about it, it drew her to it, and she was completely enamored. The man chuckled suddenly. When Dakota looked up toward the noise, she saw. Her eyes glanced at every horrible monster she’d ever seen. Every single beast she had previously come face-to-face with, stood now before her. Yet, she did not flinch. She knew better.

OOOOOOHHHH PART THREE

here’s the previous fills

hangrytrashpanda:

corvidprompts:

“There are no heros here, little one. Only monsters left.”

“That’s okay!” squeaked the child, revealing a row of jagged black carnivore’s teeth. “Really, that’s better.”

Delilah chuckled, amused. She’d meant her words metaphorically, a dark greeting from one person to another in a hostile world. It was just her luck that the girl wasn’t a person at all. “Really, child? Don’t you know our kinds don’t mix?”

Looking lost in her over-sized boots, the girl thought, then frowned. “Does that mean I can’t come in?” 

Delilah wondered idly if she’d killed a human for those boots, then shrugged. She held out her hand, and the child took it, her tiny fingers icy from the cold. “You can come in, just… don’t eat anyone.”

“Ok, thanks. I’m Kirth, by the way. What kind of monster are you?”

Leading her through the door to the bunker and past an array of weapons, Delilah answered, “The human kind.”