#january writing prompts

[scealaiscoite]

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ。 ﾟ。　 january prompts

　ﾟ･｡･ﾟ

¹⁾ amber

²⁾ seven stitches

³⁾ a bare back

⁴⁾ homesick

⁵⁾ gone-cold tea

⁶⁾ kitchen table

⁷⁾ an empty train carriage

⁸⁾ shotgun shells

⁹⁾ blackberry jam

¹⁰⁾ an older woman

¹¹⁾ silver candlesticks

¹²⁾ cheap tattoos

¹³⁾ a shattered windscreen

¹⁴⁾ rosemary

¹⁵⁾ a half-full milk carton

¹⁶⁾ family tree

¹⁷⁾ backseat

¹⁸⁾ a broken lock

¹⁹⁾ thursday

²⁰⁾ lovers’ lane

²¹⁾ unrequited

²²⁾ someone tying up your seatbelt for you

²³⁾ soft persimmons

²⁴⁾ a beaded curtain

²⁵⁾ rusted nails

²⁶⁾ handcuffs

²⁷⁾ lukewarm bathwater

²⁸⁾ a divorce lawyer

²⁹⁾ thigh-high boots

³⁰⁾ cigar smoke

³¹⁾ worship

[angelilacs]

‘i love you, i’m sorry’ ˎˊ˗

⭑ ‘you know i love you, right?’

⭑ ‘you’re so fucking bad at this—’ ‘i’m tryin to tell you i—’ ‘well don’t do it here you idiot!’

⭑ ‘i know you love me.’

⭑ ‘i wish you’d stop trying to run away everytime you think i’m going to say it, i’m not going to tell you i love you!’

⭑ ‘you met my mum.’

⭑ ‘look, i know it isn’t a secret, but you should hear me say it once before we die in this godforsaken place. i love you, sweetheart.’

⭑ ‘i swear to god if you tell me you love me i will slit your throat open.’

⭑ ‘do you think we’ll ever say it?’ ‘we know it, ain’t that enough?’

⭑ ‘i feel like i’m— obsessed with you almost.’ ‘that’s creepy.’ ‘yeah, well not in a creepy way, stupid!’

⭑ ‘never thought you’d have the balls to say it.’

⭑ ‘be a man and say it to me face! tell me you love me while you goddamn kill me!’

⭑ ‘life’s too quiet nowadays. feels too good to be true.’ ‘yeah, i know, imagine what we’d do with a little free time.’ ‘yeah… imagine.’

⭑ ‘i can’t think of anyone else i’d want to be here with.’

⭑ ‘there ain’t no me if there ain’t no you.’

⭑ ‘if anyone touches them i will kill you! i will fucking kill you all!’

⭑ ‘we’ll figure it out together, we will.’

⭑ ‘wanna stare at the stars next to you every single night. forever.’

⭑ ‘wish you’d just spare me the heartbreak and tell me you don’t think of me—’ ‘i’m in love with you.’

⭑ ‘it’s you. it’s always been you, you gotta know that.’

⭑ ‘who is it?’ ‘they just texted me. asked if i’ve eaten today. god they’re cheesy… i love them.’

⭑ ‘always wanted someone who listens to me, who loves me and cherishes our time together. never thought i’d actually find that but you’re perfect for me. you’re the only one i’d spend my life with.’

⭑ ‘not drinking tonight?’ ‘i don't drink at all, hate the taste.’ ‘should’ve said so, i’m not drinking either.’

[bradshawsbaby]

“The safest place is in your arms” for the bradshwas please!

We got a little angsty with this one, but I hope you enjoy!

Before the kids came along, whenever Bradley returned from a mission or a deployment, you knew that you’d be spending at least three solid days in bed with him. Usually more.

It wasn’t just sex, though that was certainly part of it. That first day or two, you’d spend hours upon hours becoming reacquainted with one another’s bodies, describing without words how much you’d missed each other, how much you’d longed for these moments when it was just you and him and the rest of the world faded away.

But it was more than that. Every time Bradley came home again, every time he defied death and made it back safely into your arms, he wanted nothing more than to be held there. Sometimes you’d spend hours simply tangled up in each other’s arms, neither of you uttering a word, just listening to the sound of your hearts beating in tandem. Sometimes Bradley would talk about what he had experienced, about the dangers he’d faced and the emotions he’d felt. Sometimes he’d sob into your chest, clinging to you as you ran your fingers through his hair and whispered soothing words into his ear.

Even when you did have to leave the comfort of your bed to make food or take a bath, Bradley’s arms were always wrapped tightly around you, not wanting to let you out of his sight for a moment.

You understood and you always held him for as long as he needed.

One night, after gently tracing the line of Bradley’s cheek with your fingertips until his eyes began to close, you wrapped your arms tightly around him and held him close, resting your cheek against the top of his head.

“Thank you, honey,” he mumbled sleepily, pressing a soft kiss to your collarbone. “The safest place in the world is in your arms.”

January OTP Prompts

[pie-of-flames]

11 for the writing prompt!

Thank you so much for the request! I didn't know if I'd get any! This turned into something longer than a drabble.

11 Warm Soup and Fresh Bread (from January prompts here)

The trees in Central Park were stark black against the snow as Paul, laden with packages, emerged from a taxi on 72nd Street. He pulled his scarf close against the wind gusting down the broad avenue, pelting snow in his face. There was still a Christmas tree in the high arched entryway to John’s building, he noticed, as the doorman tipped his hat toward him. 

“Good afternoon, Mr. McCartney,” the man murmured, unimpressed by a world-famous rock star, probably since John and Yoko owned half the building. “I’ll let them know you’re coming.”

Paul nodded and hurried inside to escape from the blowing snow. In a burst of optimistic nostalgia, Paul had decided to stop in at the Dakota first thing, even before checking into his hotel. Something about the harsh winter weather, maybe a bit of loneliness from leaving Linda and the kids back in the UK, or perhaps the holidays stirring up wistful feelings of missing John. In any case, something had propelled him to the Upper West Side directly from JFK and he’d hurriedly picked up some gifts on the way so he wouldn’t arrive empty-handed. 

Despite his sense of purpose, Paul felt some trepidation and his heart thudded as the elevator carried him up to John’s place. John might not even be here. Might not even want to see Paul, what with his ever-fickle moods. Paul tried to throw off his nervousness. It was just John, wasn’t it? The key was mentally erasing the last few years like they never happened. Good luck with that, he thought.

A lackey opened the door and ushered Paul into the blinding white living room as he took the packages from him. Pulse racing, Paul glanced around, looking for signs of John or Yoko. “Is, uh, John here?”

“I’ll let him know you’re here,” the lackey said, then disappeared into the apartment. 

When he heard a familiar Liverpool voice, Paul was smoking a desperately needed cigarette, checking out the art and wondering whether the lackey’s failure to mention Yoko meant she wasn’t here.

“What’re you doing here?” Feet bare. John was in a tattered T-shirt and pajama pants. “About to watch me favorite game show.” Smoke floated up from a cigarette in his hand and the sweet, acrid scent of weed emanated from him.

Not exactly welcoming. Paul giggled nervously. “I brought gifts,” he said, as if that would explain his presence. “F.A.O. Schwartz. For Sean.” He peered at John’s eyes behind the granny glasses, trying to figure out if John was on anything else. You never knew.

John glanced at the pile of packages. “Oh, so you did.” He gave Paul a watery smile. “Kind of you.”

They eyed each other warily. Applied themselves energetically to the act of smoking. Putting the cigarette between their lips, sucking and blowing out. There was a familiarity to it, smoking with John, the rhythm soothing.

But Paul’s sense of discomfort remained. “Maybe I should go.” He couldn’t read John at all. This was the worst idea ever. He’d made an appearance, gone through the motions, he could leave now, no harm done.

“No, no, no. Come on, sit.” John sat on the white couch, pulled over a glass ashtray sitting on the coffee table and gestured to an armchair opposite him. 

“Okay.” Paul perched on the edge of the chair, still tense. He tapped ash into a green porcelain ashtray on the side table next to him. Looked out the window at the severe black and white landscape of the park, empty in the inhospitable weather. “Yoko and Sean here?”

John shook his head. “Out on the island. Yoko hates the city during the holidays. Too many people.”

“Ah.” Something in Paul softened and let go, knowing Yoko wasn’t here. “Would’ve liked to have seen Sean. How’s he doing?”

John’s face broke out in a bright smile and Paul’s heart melted. “You should see him, man. He’s amazing. The things he says. Could listen to him all day. Sometimes I do.” John chuckled ruefully.

“Smart, eh?” Maybe he’d stay after all, Paul thought.

They shared a grin. All parents think their kids are the best.

“And adorable,” John added. 

“Of course,” Paul said. “He’s got you for a father.” Oops. That was a bit much. 

John rolled his eyes. “Nothing to do with me.”

“You should send me some pictures some time.” 

John’s gaze shifted away. “Yeah, I should.”

Silence rose again. Puff, blow out; puff, blow out. Now the park wasn’t even visible, the snow falling thickly. John crossed his legs and looked out at what was quickly becoming a blizzard, exhaling a slow stream of smoke. 

Paul smashed out his cigarette, then jumped up and headed toward the window, escaping the feeble conversation. He contemplated the flurries, still wondering if this had been a good idea. After a moment, there was a brief touch on his shoulder, then John’s warm presence closed in right behind him. Paul inhaled sharply and tried to relax.

“Getting bad out there,” John said. 

“Yeah. Glad my plane got in before it got worse.” 

“You came from the airport?” John said with a note of incredulity. 

Paul flushed, glad he wasn’t facing John. “Yeah. Spur of the moment.” 

“Linda and the kids?”

“Back home. Linda said she needed a break from traveling and I had to deal with some business here.”

“Huh.” John stepped up next to Paul. Both continued to stare at the swirling whiteness outside. John rocked on his bare feet. “She let you off the leash, then? Trusts you in the big city?” With a smirk, he knocked his shoulder against Paul’s. 

“Could say the same of you.”

“Oh, Yoko definitely doesn’t trust me,” John said. “She has her ways of keeping tabs on me, don’t ask me how.”

“You okay with that?” Paul asked. “I guess so, you’re here.” 

John’s mouth tightened. “We have our arrangements.”

“The inscrutable Ono Lennons.”

“That’s right, got to keep things mysterious. Don’t want the public to get any ideas about what really goes on here, after all.”

“Just the happy house husband, I hear.” Paul looked askance at John.

“Ain’t it the truth.” John snorted.

Paul wasn’t sure what that meant. It was hard to imagine John being happy, well, at all, much less sitting at home taking care of a toddler all day. “Seriously, are you happy?”

Skirting the question, John said, “Actually, I bake a mean loaf of bread these days. Been perfecting my baking skills.”

Paul burst out laughing. “Are you fucking kidding me?” 

“No, I’m not!” John sounded genuinely offended. “What’s so surprising about that?” 

“Uh, because the most complicated thing I’ve ever seen you make is toast.”

“Turns out homemade bread makes the best toast.” He grabbed Paul’s arm and hauled him away from the window. “I’ll show you.”

As he led Paul to the kitchen, John said, “I’ve had some dough rising all afternoon. You’re just in time for the sublime experience of smelling bread baking. And then eating it!” He flashed Paul a big grin and it had the same effect on Paul that it always did: a surge of warmth in his chest, the feeling that despite everything, all the heartache and disappointments, there was only one John and Paul was damn lucky to have met him.

The kitchen felt much more lived-in than the austere living room, mugs of old tea sitting around, green plants at the window, old cat food in a bowl on the floor. As soon as they entered, Paul was hit with the yeasty scent of bread dough. “I can smell it,” he said.

“Fantastic, right?” John rubbed his hands together. “Make you a cuppa while we wait?”

“Ta.” Paul could feel the tension in his body release.

*

Over the next hour, the apartment gradually become suffused with the homey scent of baking bread, something Paul never would’ve associated with John Lennon. They’d had some tea, then wandered back to the living room when John wanted to play some records for Paul. Paul sifted through the stack and found his most recent album. He pulled it out and showed it to John with a raised eyebrow, his pulse surprisingly elevated.

“Yeah, yeah, you found me out, I’ve been listening to it,” John admitted.

“So you don’t hate it?”

John sighed and adopted a put-upon look. “Some of the songs aren’t half bad.”

Internally, Paul yelled, “YES.” Outwardly, he said, “Huh,” in a noncommittal fashion and put the record back in the pile. He’d take what he could get.

As they listened and chatted about the music, their conversation got more animated. It felt like old times as they got excited about certain tracks. “The bass line on that one…did you hear what he did? That little lick at the end of the phrase,” Paul said. “Need to remember that.”

“Yeah, but what about the rhythm in the piano? And when the chorus comes, it’s like POW, hits you right in the chest,” John replied. “That chord change…”

“…on the bridge,” Paul finished.

“Yeah, that one! Love it.”

*

A little while later, John pulled the bread out of the oven and inspected it for doneness. “Perfect,” he pronounced and set it on a rack to cool.

Paul picked up an oven mitt. “World’s Best Dad?” he read out loud. 

John’s pale complexion took on a bit more color. “Birthday gift from Yoko. Kind of a joke.”

“Uh huh.”

“Anyway, moving on…” John rummaged in the refrigerator. “Got something to show you.” He grabbed some ingredients. Paul noticed a block of tofu and a tub of miso.

“Bestill my heart. Are you going to make fucking miso soup? You, John Lennon?” Paul put his hand on his chest as if he were having a heart attack.

“Shut up, you,” John said mildly, as he pulled out a cutting board and started preparing the ingredients. “I’m a proper househusband, I am. Don’t you believe the papers?” He winked at Paul.

“Oh right, of course.” They both knew the papers were rarely accurate when reporting anything about the Beatles. Especially when it was a Beatle himself putting out the BS. John and Yoko had been doing that for years. Which was why Paul never knew what was really going on with him. This was a unicorn moment, getting to spend so much time alone with John. Paul had been a bit down over the holidays, probably drinking too much, but now he could feel the darkness lifting a bit. 

*

“You’re right. Toast from homemade bread is something else,” Paul said when they finally got to eat the bread, slathering a slice with butter and taking a big bite.

“Told you,” John said through a mouthful of toast.

Bowls of steaming, golden miso soup were laid in front of them, garnished with delicate bits of tofu and seaweed that Mr. John Lennon had cut up himself. The fragrant loaf of wholemeal bread was on a board, several slices cut and ready to devour. They’d moved on to beer, their glasses on the table half drunk. 

Paul looked at the spread and said, “You know what? You’re not a half-bad househusband, after all.” He smiled at John, filled with a sense of well-being. “Thanks. Everything’s delicious.”

John beamed at him. Then he wiped a pretend tear from his eye. “Gosh, Mr. McCartney, I never thought I’d hear you say that.” He batted his eyes. “I guess the saying is true, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

Paul threw the World’s Best Dad mitt at him. Then he picked it up from where it had fallen next to John’s chair and as he got up, he whispered into John’s ear, “You always had my heart, silly bugger.” With the mitt, he swept his hand over John’s head as John stared at him, mouth slightly open. Then he ruffled John’s hair like he didn’t mean it, as if he could take back the words, breaking the moment.

Part 2 here

[shay-the-writer]

January Writing Prompts

Happy New Year! I was hoping to make progress last year, but all I did was add more files to my backlogs. So, we move on.

This year, along with the two prompts, movie quote and TV quote, I'm adding a year-long project to it.

2025's year-long project: Finish 5 fanfics and 3 original works. This is, for me, to make a dent on that backlog. If I exceed 5 fics (probably unlikely) before the year's end, YAY ME. If not, well ... that was predicted, wasn't it? I doubt I'll finish 3 original things, but if I can further them along in development, that's fine, too.

The prompts are:

The tight hugs Character A gives to Character B after they come home, B squeezes back and melts into A because A is their home.

"It's actually a funny story, but yeah ... we got married."

MOVIE QUOTE: Peach: That's the shortest red light I've ever seen! (Finding Nemo)

TV QUOTE: Emma Peel: (admiring an antique bed) You know, I've always rather fancied myself in one of these. / John Steed: So have I. / Emma: Hmm? / Steed: I mean, I have, too. (The Avengers)

NOTE: The TV and movie quotes can be used out of context from their original source.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

a list of "beautiful" words for january

to try to include in your next poem/story

Accollé - in heraldry: entwined about the neck; also: collared, gorged

Bacciferous - bearing berries

Commorient - one of two or a number of persons perishing at the same time by the same calamity

Dreikanter - a three-faced pebble faceted by wind-blown sand

Estaminet - a small café

Frondescence - the condition or period of unfolding of leaves; foliage

Graveolent - having a rank smell

Hwyl - fervor, excitement

Ichnite - a fossil footprint

Jardiniere - an ornamental stand for plants or flowers

Knop - a usually ornamental knob

Lacustrine - of, relating to, formed in, living in, or growing in lakes

Mucedinous - having the nature of or resembling mold or mildew

Nomistic - based on or conforming to moral law

Oblivescence - an act or the process of forgetting

Pabulum - intellectual sustenance

Quodlibet - a whimsical combination of familiar melodies or texts

Risorgimento - a time of renewal or renaissance; revival

Saeculum - a period of long duration

Trouvaille - a lucky find

More: Lists of Beautiful Words ⚜ Word Lists ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[year-of-whump-tropes]

Here's the tentative list for the first month! It may change a little as I finish the rest of the final prompts list, but it's something to start with at least. And I won't be picky about it if you create for the prompts as they are now instead of the finalized version given how late I'm finishing things.

January: Living Weapon Whump

Week 1: Dehumanization

Day 1:

Weapon name/number/designation

What was your first experience with whump?

Day 2:

Skill presentation

“Keep your dog on a leash”

Day 3:

Treated like an object

What kind of living weapon whumpee most appeals to you?

Day 4:

Transported as cargo

“It’s not like it’s a person”

Day 5:

Assessment

What kind of dehumanization do you find most fun as a trope?

Day 6:

Self-dehumanization

“Just leave it.”

Day 7:

Maintenance

Not being acknowledged

Week 2: Emotion removal/repression

Day 1:

Emotionless

Going through the motions

Day 2:

Breaking down

“Are you okay?” “I have not sustained any damage.” “I meant like…emotionally.”

Day 3:

Silent tears

Attack dog living weapon or killing machine living weapon? Why?

Day 4:

Leaning into conditioning to escape the pain

“Weapons don’t have feelings”

Day 5:

Detached

What part of living weapon whump most appeals to you?

Day 6:

Unsure how to feel

“Something’s wrong.”

Day 7:

Malfunction

"It's better this way"

Week 3: Orders and obedience

Day 1:

Blind obedience

Mission

Day 2:

Target practice

“You’re a weapon, aren’t you? So fire.”

Day 3:

Killing on command

What’s the most challenging kind of character to write?

Day 4:

Contract(s)

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Day 5:

Unreasonable orders

What’s your favorite setting for living weapon whump?

Day 6:

Chain of command

“You have your orders.”

Day 7:

Reluctant obedience

“You're not meant to think, you're meant to do as you're told”

Week 4: Defiance

Day 1: 

First assignment

“Never.”

Day 2:

Refusing to do harm

“Don’t touch me!”

Day 3:

Desertion

Would you be defiant or compliant as a whumpee?

Day 4:

Re-conditioning/going back to training

“Struggle all you want.”

Day 5:

Turning against handler

What kind of handler do you enjoy most in living weapon whump?

Day 6:

Malicious compliance

“It’s useless to resist.”

Day 7:

Made an example

Inciting rebellion

(discussion prompts are italicized, dialogue prompts are in quotes, trope prompts are plain) (prompt fills will not be reblogged before 2025)

[thepromptfoundry]

The Prompt Foundry will be kicking off the new year with Genreuary: A Genre Exploration Extravaganza!

We all have our favorite genres and it's always fun to explore new ones! That's what Genreuary is all about—make something to celebrate your favorite examples of some classic genres, try your hand at creating original work of your own in genres you've never played in before, or run with the excuse to stick your blorbos in some genre-swap AUs!

If you use this list, please tag me here @thepromptfoundry, I’d love to see your writing and art!

Feel free to combine different days' prompts with each other, or combine them with other events! Use your favorite characters from media, make some OCs, give us some academic analysis, make art that's all vibes, whatever tickles your fancy.

Respond to as many prompts as you want or as interest you, don’t worry about missing or skipping any. Remember, this is supposed to be fun!

If you have any questions or musings, check our FAQ, and if you don't find your answer, shoot me an ask.

Plain text list below the cut:

1 Suburban Sitcom 2 Urban Fantasy 3 Steampunk 4 Regency Romance 5 Magical Girl 6 Political Drama 7 Slasher Horror 8 Detective Noir 9 Gothic Romance 10 Time Travel Adventure 11 Post-Apocalyptic Survival 12 Dysfunctional Family Drama 13 Sword and Sorcery High Fantasy 14 Isekai 15 Contemporary Slice of Life 16 Historical War Drama 17 Cyberpunk 18 Spy Thriller 19 Investigation Procedural 20 Courtroom Drama 21 Paranormal Romance 22 Courtly Drama 23 Gothic Horror 24 Western 25 Courtly Intrigue 26 Workplace Comedy 27 Starship Adventure 28 Boarding School Drama 29 Alien Invasion Sci Fi 30 Disaster Thriller 31 Communal Living Sitcom

[givethispromptatry]

It is not love that makes humans dangerous.

Love is predictable. Love has rules of engagement.

Spite, however, makes the illogical logical to humans. It creates options in the human brain that should never have been considered.

[monthlywritingchallenges]

🎼 Song List

Here’s the list of songs from various genres, all celebrating fresh starts, hope, and new beginnings. Let the lyrics, melodies, or emotions guide your creativity!

“Shake It Off” – Taylor Swift

“Roar” – Katy Perry

“Stronger (What Doesn’t Kill You)” – Kelly Clarkson

“Dog Days Are Over” – Florence + The Machine

“Start Again” – OneRepublic

“New Year’s Day” – U2

“Don’t Stop Believin’” – Journey

“Times Like These” – Foo Fighters

“The Times They Are A-Changin’” – Bob Dylan

“Wide Open Spaces” – The Chicks

“Wake Me Up” – Avicii

“Titanium” – David Guetta ft. Sia

“Midnight City” – M83

“Here Comes the Sun” – The Beatles

“What a Wonderful World” – Louis Armstrong

“Changes” – David Bowie

“Golden” – Jill Scott

“Survivor” – Destiny’s Child

“The Middle” – Jimmy Eat World

“On Top of the World” – Imagine Dragons

"This Is Why We Fight" - The Decemberists

"Battle Cry" - The Family Crest

"Drinking Song for the Socially Anxious" - The Amazing Devil

"Ruin" - The Amazing Devil

"Meet Me in the Woods" - Lord Huron

"Point of No Return" - STARSET

"Jupiter" - Holst

"Adagio for Strings" - Samuel Barber

"Nessun Dorma" - Giacomo Puccini

"The Legend of Ashitaka" - Joe Hisaishi

"The Lark Ascending" - Vaughan Williams

[zazuprompts]

Picture ID under the cut:

[ID: A list of prompts in three columns. The background is a desaturated photograph of a single yellow flower in water, causing ripples. The bottom corners have credits on them. The right corner is the credit for the background, which is to Sophia Sideri @ Pexels.com. The left corner is the credit/signature of the blog, Zazu Prompts. The title and prompts are as follows:

January 2025 Prompts List:

Icy

Sit

Latch

Shell

Cloud

Formal

Ground

Dust

Skit

Drawer

Awkward

Waste

Shove

Whale

Octopus

Twitch

Default

Survey

Traveler

Curl

Money

Rot

Side

Metal

Chip

Junk

Fist

Splash

End ID]

[angelilacs]

never leave me in the dark ˎˊ˗

⭑ humming their partner’s favorite song to calm them down when they’re too nervous.

⭑ “i’ve never done this before. sorry.”  “don’t worry, me neither.”

⭑ holding hands during a stressful situation.

⭑ hiding in their partners chest when they’re scared.

⭑ their safe word for wanting to leave a place because it’s too overwhelming is kissing the other’s hand.

⭑ “hey, c’mon, don’t do that. we can leave any time you want.”

⭑ making the other their favorite tea.

⭑ “i don’t think i’m dying but i’m bleeding a little.” “you’re what? no— are you serious!”

⭑ “they’re just my parents—” “a night out with a wild animal sounds better right about now.”

⭑ “i was serious about this being my first… everything.” “i know, and i’m here every step of the way.”

⭑ wearing a bold outfit and their partner being proud of them for putting themselves out there.

⭑ running out the first time their partner takes off their clothes.

⭑ “we’re fine.” “our phones are dead and we’re somewhere in the middle east.” “see? at least you know we’re in africa.”

⭑ not being able to sleep so they drink a ton of coffee, their partner waking up and dragging them to bed.

based on this ask !

[bradshawsbaby]

I love you but that’s a terrible idea for the bradshaws

Here’s a little domesticity with the Bradshaws!

“I love you, but that’s a terrible idea,” you insisted, bouncing your one-year-old daughter on your hip as you gazed across the kitchen at your husband and your three-year-old son.

“A terrible idea or a wonderful idea?” Bradley countered, looking up from his spot at the kitchen table where he and Goose had been hard at work building some sort of monstrous imitation of a gingerbread house out of all of the leftover desserts and candies from Christmas and New Year while you had been giving Lydia a bath.

“A terrible idea,” you emphasized, cradling the back of your daughter’s head as she started to doze on your shoulder. “Besides the fact that the two of you have turned the kitchen upside down, now someone’s going to be on a sugar high for the rest of the night,” you explained, arching an eyebrow as you looked from your husband to your son.

“He hasn’t had that much sugar,” Bradley replied weakly, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to recall exactly how many pieces of candy Goose had consumed since they’d started this little project.

“Oh, really?” you asked skeptically, shooting a pointed look at the frosting coating your toddler’s chin.

Bradley winced. “I thought it would be a good way to get rid of all the leftovers,” he explained sheepishly. “I realize now it probably would have been smarter to wait until tomorrow.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the crestfallen look on your husband’s face. He looked like a wounded puppy. Walking over to him, you dropped a kiss on his forehead and ran your fingers through his hair. “It’s okay, honey. We’ll clean it up tomorrow.”

“Mommy, look!” Goose exclaimed proudly, showing off his masterpiece with sticky fingers.

“It’s beautiful, honey. I love it!” you praised him, holding the back of Lydia’s head securely as you bent down to kiss your son’s forehead. You looked down at his sticky face and hands and smirked. “Daddy is going to have so much fun giving you another bath.”

Bradley sighed. “Yep. I deserve that.”

January OTP Prompts

[pie-of-flames]

Part 2 of January OTP Prompt 11: Warm Soup and Fresh Bread

Part 1 Here List of January OTP Prompts here - send me a request! The OTP is McLennon.

I'm really trying not to belabor these or get too worried about the product. Which is hard. It's just practice and that's the whole point! How about a title? "A Snowy Evening at the Dakota"? Maybe not. "Bread in a Blizzard"? lol

From that moment, the atmosphere thickened. As John cleaned up, Paul caught him sneaking looks at him from under his lashes as Paul sat at the table smoking, tapping his foot, wondering what the hell had gotten into him. A sudden burst of honesty seemed inappropriate and completely unnecessary at this late date. No need to make things more complicated than they were, but it had slipped out before he knew it. He supposed it was due to being alone with John for the first time in eons, the blizzard making him feel like they were the only people in world, hidden away in the protective castle of the Dakota.

John was uncharacteristically quiet. Nervous, Paul watched him at the sink, noticing a certain tension in his body that hadn’t been there before. Under his worn-out T-shirt, John’s shoulder blades shifted as he washed dishes. Most men got thicker with age, but John had become leaner, as if the delusions of youth had been washed away, leaving a sleeker, more clarified form. Leaning over, John’s neck was exposed, the knob of his spine looking oddly vulnerable, pale skin disappearing under soft curls that made Paul’s heart clench. That vulnerability was a contrast to the John of the early days, slicked up hair like a helmet, all aggression and sass, protecting himself with cruel humor. In this safe cocoon of the home he’d made with his wife and child, maybe John felt free to be himself at long last.

Contemplating this possibility and what it might mean, Paul found himself observing the way John’s pajama pants clung to parts of his ass. They were blue striped and they looked soft and worn in…like they’d be nice to touch…The T-shirt was half tucked in, half out and Paul felt an urge to pull it out all the way, so he could slip his hand under it and touch the warm skin underneath…

Bloody hell, Macca, pull yourself together, he told himself. John was an old mate, that’s all. The best mate he’d ever had, the one he’d conquered the world with, the one he’d created the best music of his life with (let’s face it). God damn it, he missed him… 

“Paul, d’you want some whiskey, I said,” John was practically yelling at him. He’d finished the dishes and stood near the table, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel covered with cats.

“Oh, sorry, must’ve wandered off, so to speak. Jet lag, y’know.” Paul stubbed out his ciggie and jumped up from the table to hide his embarrassment.

John peered at him from behind his glasses. “So, I was saying, you up for something stronger?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” he said, following John back into the living room.

*

They settled in on the white sofa with glasses of whiskey as the snow continued to fall outside. Paul’s anxiety about visiting John without warning had dissipated with the good food and music. But letting his guard down had led to another problem. He couldn’t take back what he’d said in the kitchen, it was out there. So now he found himself gulping whiskey and warily watching John, fiddling with a cigarette.

John was already up getting a refill, and he gestured with the bottle to Paul to ask if he wanted more. Paul nodded and John poured a measure into his nearly-empty glass. 

“You should just stay over,” John said, waving a hand toward the windows. “Looks bad out there. Won’t be any cabs.”

Paul choked on the whiskey he was swallowing. “Yeah?” he sputtered. 

John laughed. “‘Course. Why not?”

Paul could think of a million reasons why not. “Don’t suppose Yoko would be too happy about it.” 

“She already thinks I’m in love with you.”

“What?” Paul stared at John as his chest exploded. “What are you on about?”

John was being disgustingly nonchalant and was that a smirk? “You said it yourself a minute ago. I have your heart. Goes without saying, you have mine. Yoko’s always known that’s just the way it is. That’s part of the reason she wanted us to move to the States.”

Paul gaped, then made some sounds in his throat that didn’t quite approach actual speech.

John grinned. “Your face.Take a drink.”

Paul dutifully took a giant swig, grateful for the reprieve. When he got his wits back, he said, “I don’t know what part of that is more difficult to wrap my head around. The hearts bit,” he waved his hand vaguely between them, “or Yoko knowing.” He swallowed some more whiskey. “And she’s okay with that? Your…feelings?”

“Well, comes with the territory. I can’t do much about it.” John looked away, taking a drag on his cigarette. “I mean, her strategy worked, right? This is first time we’ve been alone together in how long?”

A weight pulled at Paul. “Yeah. Guess so.” He suddenly felt depressed and resentful of Yoko, for the millionth time in his life. Not that he had any idea how things would’ve gone differently without her. But he always wondered. “You act like you have no say in any of this, Johnny.”

It was John’s turn to gape. Then he frowned. “That’s not true, I…” He stopped and thought a moment, took a drink. “You might be right. It’s just easier to do what Yoko wants. No excuse but…” He shrugged. “Never claimed to be a particularly good person, did I?”

They fell silent, and smoked and sipped their drinks, looking out at the swirling snow. Paul’s heart continued to thud precariously as he tried to process all of this. He was in the midst of raising the glass to take another drink when, out of the blue, John pried it out of his hand and put it on the coffee table.

“Here, put that down.” Abruptly John’s face was too close, he was right there, their knees were touching, and Paul couldn’t stop looking into John’s eyes. He couldn’t remember when they’d been so physically close. It was both familiar and disconcerting, now that they’d both talked about “feelings.” He could feel a stirring between his legs.

“No more talk. We’re gonna make up for lost time,” John whispered, his arm closing around Paul’s shoulders. “And I’m gonna make it up to you.”

Somehow Paul’s hand had ended up on John’s thigh, warm and solid under the soft pajama pants. “You are?” He was feeling lightheaded. “We are?”

John twisted his mouth and looked down. “I shouldn’t have let Yoko come between us all these years. You’re not just my ex-bandmate, you’re my…well, I don’t know, I mean, yeah hearts and stuff.”

Was Paul still breathing? “Where’s my mate John and what have you done with him?” His heart pumped rapidly. “Did you slip some acid in my drink? ‘Cause I think I’m hallucinating.”

John smoothed his hand down Paul’s chest, coming to rest on his belly, right above his belt. A wave of heat rolled down to Paul’s crotch and he felt like he was gasping for air.

“You’re not hallucinating, love.” John deliberately set his glasses on the table and leaned in closer. “But enough talk,” he murmured, before pressing his lips to Paul’s. 

For some moments, there was only the soft, moist heat of their mouths moving together, tongues hesitantly exploring, and the feeling that this couldn’t possibly be real, it was some kind of dream, and Paul would wake up momentarily. But his hands on John’s shoulders felt real, the lean muscles under his T-shirt felt real, wanting more and more and more, not able to get enough, felt real. 

When they pulled apart, Paul said breathlessly, “I think I better stay over after all.” His hands roamed hungrily all over John’s body, like he was learning its shape for the first time. “Don’t you think?”

John bit softly at the juncture of Paul’s neck and shoulder. “For sure. We have so much lost time to make up for, after all.”

[shay-the-writer]

January 2024 Writing Prompts

I'm going to do things differently this year. There is no main prompt for the month. I picked out several of last year's main prompts and put them in with the rest of my creative writing prompts, so we might see them again. Mostly, my goal this year is to work on any of my WIPs (there are so many of them ...).

But, I will post two writing prompts and a TV quote and a movie quote like I did last year.

WRITING PROMPT 1: Person A: I love this. / Person B: What? / Person A: Us.

WRITING PROMPT 2: "I've seen you flirt with anyone at the drop of a hat, but this time you froze." They grinned at their friend, brimming with excitement. "You actually caught feelings!" / "I don't know! Maybe? Shut up!"

TV QUOTE: Paul Buchman: All I know is I want to wake up naked with you for the rest of my life. (Mad About You)

MOVIE QUOTE: Tracy Lord: I'm going crazy. I'm standing here solidly on my own two hands and going crazy. (The Philadelphia Story)

NOTE: The TV and movie quotes can be used out of context from their original source.

NOTE: Like last year, all creative writing prompts come from other sources. They could be from a couple books I got from the library a while back, prompt books I bought, from googling and some websites, some from my own head, and from various tumblr sources (mostly @creativepromptsforwriting because there are some damn good ones there)

[magicalmonthlyprompts]

The Smuttening - January 2025

It's a dice roll prompt game! Each column has five prompts, with 6 being a free choice (so if you roll a 6, you get to choose whichever prompt you want)

Each chart comes with 5 categories: location, kink (two BDSM ones included), item (based on the monthly theme), a line of dialogue, and one of the five senses

You roll the dice for every category, leaving you with five prompts altogether to create something steamy.

How you interpret your prompts is totally up to you! Fic, art, dojin, moodboard, you choose the medium that's best for you.

Open to any and all fandoms, as long as the characters involved are 18+.

Use #smuttening or tag the page if you post it on Tumblr!

Happy creating! ~Muse of Mystery