#miniprompt

[twola]

your last rb… there’s something about an angry arthur, covered in dirt and sweat, dirtying his sweet s/o’s blouse and skirts as he rips them from her body so he can ease his frustrations with her 😩

His hands are shaking. He shouldn’t be surprised, with the simmering anger still pulsing beneath his skin.

Goddamn Micah.

The coach that slimy snake was so damn desperate to hit sure as hell wasn't worth the take. Sixty bucks? Certainly not worth the the dead bodies strewn around the road. Not worth getting bucked from his horse and tearing his damn shirt and goddamn it all, he hates that sonovabitch.

It's a good thing its so late, by the time they got back to the camp, most people had turned in for the night. Arthur stalks over toward his wagon and cot and strips his gun belt from his hips, tossing it on his cot along with his worn old hat. His satchel hits the floor. He grinds his teeth as he runs one hand through his hair, absentmindedly thinking that he needs to see a barber soon.

Like a livewire, angry energy pulses through his blood - there was no way he'd be able to sleep anytime soon. Groaning in frustration, he kicks the ground under his boots and leaves the yellow-orange glow of the lantern hanging from the wagon above his cot. Moving toward the woodline, he pulls a pack of cigarettes from pants pocket, having tucked them and a book of matches in before leaving his cot.

By the time he reaches a large oak tree to lean against a bit further away from camp, he's puffing large clouds of smoke from between his lips, the cigarette doing nothing to calm him down.

Goddamn Micah.

"Arthur?"

He breathes out another plume of smoke before tossing the cigarette to the ground, putting it out under his boot before looking up.

You stand a few yards away from him, wringing your hands and having a concerned look on your face. Worry is etched into your features as you eye him up and down.

Goddamn Micah. Now his frustration over this damn job has gotten you worried, the last thing he ever wants to do.

"Are you alright, love?" You ask softly, your voice higher pitched than normal as you take a hesitant step toward him, like a newborn lamb, afraid and fearful of the wolf that he his.

"M' fine." He grits out, unable to hide the hardness in his glare as he meets your eyes. You flinch, radiating discomfort as you come closer, braving the snarling of the wolf you've tied yourself to - knowing that he is not all harshness and sharp teeth.

"C'mere." He drawls lowly, holding out his arm toward you, knowing that you're dubious in your approach.

But approach you do, and he slides his hand around your small waist, absentmindedly noting that you need some more meat on your bones. He heaves you against him the last half step between you, and you stumble slightly before you are secure in his embrace, one large arm locking you in against him.

He knows he's dirtying your blouse, a faded pink that does not stand up to the dirt and grime painted over his blue workshirt, but right now, he couldn't care, closing his eyes and placing his chin on the top of your head, trying to assuage the aggravation in his blood. Your small hands press against his chest lightly as you situate yourself in his embrace, and your movement only stands to heat his blood further.

His hand moves from your waist, down, down to your rear, where he takes an entire handful of your ass as you yelp in surprise, clutching at his shirt as you push against him completely, continuing to stoke him.

Sometimes, there is a part of him that hates the idea of sullying you so - he's brash and dirty and an outlaw - you're meek and quiet and pickpocket when needed, your doe eyes seducing men with their innocence. But lord, when he strips you down and gets you beneath him, the sounds you make are downright filthy, rivaling far-flung whores he's seen over the years across the west.

Goddamn Micah. The heat in his blood and your body against him, he knew, he knew that the only way to power through this frustration was to bury himself inside you. His head moves further downward, nipping at your neck as you yelp again, jolting in his arm and fully pressing yourself against him. You shiver as he kneads your ass cheek, the long, hard line of him pressed against your stomach as he groans into the damp skin of your neck.

"Fuck, darlin'-" Arthur moves up toward your ear, whispering breathily in low tones that make you shiver again, "Lemme have you, right here."

"H-here?" You ask, turning your face toward his and he muffles any further question as he shoves his lips against yours, forcing his tongue into your mouth.

God, you sweet little thing. You never tell him no. You give a little sigh into his mouth and lean into him, giving your approval with a small press of your belly against his hardness, to which Arthur takes complete advantage.

Your pretty clothes, that dusty pink blouse and light grey skirt, pressed against his dirt stained outfit, they will need laundering right away. One of Arthur's hands yanks at the ties of your skirt, and with a bit of finessing, it falls to the ground as he pushes you back slightly, your eyes lust-blown and your lips swollen as he pulls at the hem of your blouse, pulling it up your midriff, up and over your breasts, and over your shoulders as you hold your arms up for him to strip it off you completely.

Arthur pants against you as he takes you in, shielded from his eyes only by a gauzy chemise. Your hands, floating to his pectorals, slowly trace downward, over the muscle of his belly before your fingers land on the buttons of his trousers, his cock pulsing beneath the denim.

He gathers your chemise upward from the waist, pulling it up and over your drawers, and he quickly pushes them downward to pool around your ankles, leaving you completely bare beneath your belly.

You blink up at him, as he returns to kneading your ass with one hand. He breathes heavily out of his nose as his other hand grasps your waist roughly.

"On your knees, little darlin'." Arthur rumbles, pleased when you nod and start to sink to your knees. For the first time tonight, the hint of a smile crosses his face as he quickly reaches toward the buttons of his trousers.

[omegadeanlovesalphacas]

For the miniprompt how about Cas fucking Dean in a glass elevator at his work?

Oh fuck that sounds lovely.

[cyber-streak-2]

Seguestions for easy to run event for the 1K mile stone. You've mentioned having stuff going on irl. Assuming you want to. There's no obligation to do a milestone event.

One word miniprompts- character + word and 100-200 words if what you associate with the word. Kinda like apples to apples. Eg Fucrum + sourdough = A paragraph of ya boi going geting verklempt over the fact humans use wild micro organism to make their food when chemical or even domesticated microbes are available.

Run a raffle for a fic or two. Maybe for one 1K, and 2 5k

Run an in character AMA. Give a list of questions and a list of characters and ask for folks to pick a question or two for the character. Set a limit on the number of times you'll answer for a specific character or question then edit the post to strike them out once you've reached the limit.

Hope this is helpful

Ooh, those seem kind of fun to do, maybe I’ll do one of those later. Thanks.

[chocochipbiscuit]

I feel like I haven't been pushing myself lately or experimenting as much as I would like; or perhaps the old challenges just aren't challenging anymore. At this point, I'm confident in my ability to write longfic (admittedly, given time and only posting 1 or 2 major projects a year!). I'm also confident in my ability to pick up new fandoms (albeit more slowly than some) or write new (to me) kinks and character dynamics.

I want to write in ways that draw attention to the beauty or elegance of the words themselves, not 'just' in service to the story. I want to practice prose that feels more playful and experimental.

So I want to focus on writing as a craft again: the nitty gritty of sentences, vivid descriptions and careful consideration on why I choose a specific technique.

Therefore, I'm revisiting some writing exercises and books.

Word Painting by Rebecca McClanahan - one which I haven't finished reading, but have found very useful

Steering the Craft by Ursula K. Le Guin - a beloved favorite

A Writer's Grammar by C. Beth Burch - haven't actually read this one, but figured it might be useful!

My goal is to read a chapter a week and do the associated exercises for each book. (if I’m feeling particularly ambitious, might open my inbox for miniprompts? Idk, trying to separate my need to create from my need for feedback.)

My current longfic projects:

Awoo AU: finish the first draft!!! I know I can do this in January, so that's my first goal! Revisions always take me a while, but I am confident I can at least finish this first draft! Then, depending on how my other longfic project goes, maybe I can do revisions and post later in the year?

Fallout Necromancy AU: The first draft is already written, and I already know areas that need massive revision. I'm tentatively planning revisions for March, and then (depending on how many more rounds of revisions it goes through and feedback from betas) hoping to post it in October. Thematically spooky, right? As for why I'm guessing it'll take 7 months from first revisions to posting, that's because it's currently 40k words of messy first draft and I know from experience that it takes me a while!

I’m iffy on what exchanges, if any, I plan to do this year. I’d like to do Cephaloparty, and I always have a good time with Black Emporium and the Femslash Exchange, but exchanges also take a lot of juice out of me! So I’ll probably do what I usually do: panic at the last minute and sign up, or sign up for pinch hits!

Last: I’m signing up for Get Your Words Out! I’m doing the habit pledge, and signing up for 240 days of writing this year! I chose this goal rather than a word count because I want to stay in the habit of writing…and focusing on word count alone doesn’t capture the amount of editing or revision I need to do, especially on longer fics!

I'm not bothering to itemize any shorter fics or one-offs, because I know I'll write them anyway regardless of my plans! And a lot of them will probably dovetail with my writing exercises

I love each and every single one of my friends and fellow writers who have done the writing roundup meme, but I absolutely cannot. I’ve written 8 fics, ~53k words total, and over half of those words (5 fics, at 45k words) were F/F.

I think that about sums up my year. It was a good year! But I feel like writing about the stuff I’ve already written will just distract me from the words I actually want to write. :’)

That said: I do have some writing goals for next year. Stay tuned!

[the-element-siren]

Tiny Darklina Prompt

Sorry for spoilers

When Alina kills Aleksander at the end of Ruin and Rising, he wakes ups on the day that he creates the Fold. Now with a chance to change things, what does he do different?

[hellenictabletalk]

Mid-Month Mini-Prompt!

The mid-month mini-prompt for June is a pretty simple, and hopefully fun one, just so everyone can dip their toes in and start to get a feel for this. This month, we’re asking everyone to tell us what your favorite myth is. It can be a classic, or something modern; about any of the Theoi. 

Submissions and reblogs are preferred, but you can also @ us or tag us in your posts!

[dinlukepositivityweek]

New monthly mini-prompts will also be announced in a few days!

Again these are just for some quick warmups to the main event, but if you're on a roll with your miniprompt project you're 100% okay to turn it in late. Just be sure to tag us when you're done!

[op-sheepy]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: One Piece Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Portgas D. Ace/Trafalgar D. Water Law Characters: Portgas D. Ace, Trafalgar D. Water Law, Penguin (One Piece), Shachi (One Piece) Additional Tags: AceLaw Mini Prompts Series: Part 3 of AceLaw Mini Prompts Summary:

A question is asked within a request revisited

For AceLaw Week Mini Prompt #3: Trust

For @acelaw-week's mini-prompt "Trust."

A lot late but here’s the next in the AceLaw miniprompt drabble series. The rest to follow.

[whorphydice]

Miniprompt: Ophelia’s first date and how Orpheus and Eurydice react

BUT BUT BUT OPHELIA DOESNT DATE SHE HAS A FEW HOOK UPS BUT DOESNT DATE (thanks persephone for scaring her away)

[twola]

Sorta got carried away with the prompt list…(I must be ovulating because DAMN the pregnancy prompts got me going)

But #161, 154,151,140,125- where the reader is preggo and miserable walking around camp so the gangs giving out ideas (sexy time) and Arthur’s like ;) then later on the reader is like ya know what get over here.

Do with it what you will.

You do the best with anything you type!

Xoxo

Oh - trust me, I am into this.

I'm also eight months pregnant myself so I am SUPER into this. Am I projecting something here? Perhaps…

Pain Relief

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI, Pregnancy Sex, Breeding Kink

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

You are very over it at this point. Really. Very over it. It’s a struggle to get yourself out of the cot that you and Arthur share. 

The morning sun beats down on the worn canvas of your shared tent, and you know it's by some divine providence that Miss Grimshaw hasn’t summoned you to work yet. Or maybe it was Arthur snapping at her when he saw you struggling to carry a basket of laundry.

That must be it.

But a laze you are not - even now, when your swollen stomach makes any kind of movement difficult - when your sleep is nearly non-existent and the pains and swelling and overall discomfort are driving you crazy.

Pushing yourself up, you huff, annoyed that seven months ago you were chasing down bounty hunters on horseback and now getting up out of a cot makes you lose your breath. 

God, this was terrible. Finally getting around to standing up, you glance at yourself in the small mirror Arthur uses for shaving. Your chemise stretched taught over the swell of your belly. The dark circles under your eyes from lack of quality sleep. Sighing, you run your fingers through your long hair to tame it, or at least attempt to. After fighting with the fabric of your dress to cover your frame, you shove your feet into your boots and breathe out heavily as you sit back on the cot to tie the laces. God damn everything is a struggle with how swollen your belly is.

By the time you make it out of the tent, the midmorning sun beats down, and you shield your eyes for a moment before you feel a small tug on your skirts. You look down to see Jack give you a toothy grin, one small hand fisting the cotton of your skirt and the other clutching the most recent toy Charles had carved for him.

“Auntie, you’re so big! You look ready to pop." Jack pipes up excitedly.

You laugh as you hear a cluck of disapproval as Abigail follows in her son’s footsteps, “Jack - that’s very rude of ya - shouldn’t make comments about ladies like that.”

“It’s alright, Abigail,” You smile at her as she frowns down at the boy, “I do feel ready to pop.”

“Y’look like the baby’s dropped… ain’t long now.” Abigail’s eyes trail down to your belly as she shoos Jack off to play elsewhere.

“Too long in my opinion.” You roll your eyes and Abigail chuckles in return.

“Ladies!”

Susan Grimshaw’s voice cuts through the peace of the morning. Abigail’s gaze looks past you to where the sharp disappointment came from, and you frown as you hear footsteps stomp ever closer before the camp matriarch pushes into your view.

“There’s laundry to be done,” Susan eyes you up and down, “You can certainly sit and still do the washing. C’mon, get to it.”

She waves her hands at you dismissively, Abigail rolls her eyes and starts to head over toward where the other women have started doing the day’s wash.

You scowl at Grimshaw’s retreating figure, rubbing your aching lower back as you too make your way over to the edge of the camp, where the large tub is filled with soapy water and the pile of men’s shirts seems to be overflowing. You sigh tiredly, finding the stool 

Mary-Beth places her hand on your back slightly over your own, massaging gently as you sigh in a moment of temporary relief. 

"Try walking, I hear it helps. Tilly and I will cover for you for a few minutes.”

You thank her quietly and slowly make your way to the woodline of camp, taking a few minutes to walk back and forth before giving up and sitting down on the stool, letting out a long, labored breath as you wince in pain.

“Y’know….”

You open one of your eyes to see Karen across the tub, a mischievous look on her face. Cocking your eyebrow, you wait for her to continue.

Karen smirks, "You should try having sex."

Well - volume was never her strong suit. Across the camp, the men’s conversation falls silent as several pairs of eyes glance at you.

You flush from your hairline to your chest as you dunk a shirt into the tub, trying to ignore the stares you know you're getting as Karen merely chuckles.

“Aye, Arthur- sounds like you're needed elsewhere.” Javier chuckles and you're mortified.

You spare the quickest glance up in his direction, the man who got you into this mess in the first place. You can see Arthur’s smug grin from under the rim of his hat.

-

You silently scrub at the rest of the laundry load, handing shirts to Tilly for her to wring out and hang on the line.

“Don’t let her get to you, you know how Karen is. Tilly places a hand on your shoulder and squeezes gently to assure you before returning to the laundry. You sigh, taking another shirt and dunking it into the water.

A pair of boots land in your vision before a hand reaches down toward you. You look up to see Arthur ready to pull you up to stand, a gentle smile on his face.

“C’mon now sweetheart.” 

You sigh and take his hand, secretly grateful for the assistance to stand up. He steadies you before pulling your hand to his lips and pressing them to your knuckles.

“How’s about you lay down for a little.” He offers, holding his arm out to you as you wind your own around it, letting him walk you slowly to the tent, holding back the canvas for you to step inside. 

You let out a long breath, bracing your lower back with both hands for a moment before sighing. There was just no getting comfortable at this point.

“C’mere, let me help you.”

Arthur stoops down on one knee and loosens your bootlaces enough that he can pull them from your feet one by one. You let a breath out once both boots are off, unable to deny it felt good to get your swollen feet out of them.

“Better?” He looks up at you for a moment and you nod, your hand moving from his shoulder that you were balancing on to your lower back again, idly rubbing at near-constant ache that has settled there. 

Arthur stands up and places a kiss to your forehead before turning around and taking his hat off, placing it on the small table where he kept his shaving kit.

Karen’s suggestion echoes in your mind as you watch him run his fingers through his short hair absentmindedly.

You roll your palm over your distended abdomen, frowning.

“You don’t have to lie and tell me you want me.” Your voice cuts through the silence and Arthur swings around to look at you, puzzled.

“Darlin’, it ain’t a lie. It’s never a lie.” He responds softly, taking a step closer to you.

“Really? Lookin’ like this… it does something for you?”

Arthur blushes before looking down at his boots. “Well, I… uh... Yes?”

You quirk your eyebrow, placing your hands on your hips, “I’m a goddamn watermelon-”

“You’re pregnant-”

“Literally swollen up like a damn cow-”

“C’mon now darlin’-”

And damn, if you can’t hold back the tears from collecting on your eyelashes as you spin away from him.

His broad arms wrap around your swollen waist, pulling you back half a step and against his large frame. One hand spreads wide over your belly as you feel him press his lips to the top of your head.

“I… ain’t the woman you was chasin’ after anymore.” You admit with a cracking voice, the tears spilling down your cheeks as your hand falls upon his over your belly, “Who knows when I’ll be able to ride or shoot or do anythin’ like that again.”

His lips move from the top of your head down to your earlobe, where he nips gently. Arthur’s low voice rumbles in your ear, causing a delightful shiver down your spine.

“Whole world knows you’re mine -” He pulls you another half backward and you gasp as you feel the long, hard line of him against your rear, “Christ, you’re the most beautiful thing alive, all big with my child.”

“A-Arthur - ” You whine as one of his hands cups a swollen breast through your blouse.

“Have half a mind to keep you like this.” Arthur continues, his other hand moving downward to slide between your legs and the needy sound that escapes your throat is loud enough to make him shush you as he presses at your core through layers of cotton.

Your hands fly to grasp his forearm as he gently gropes at your breast, and you turn your head up toward his and he greedily pushes his lips upon your own, tongue pressing inside your mouth as you moan into his.

You have no idea how long it is you spend wrapped up in his arms - your hips pressing back into his, his hands groping at your breasts and cunt, your knees shaking as you pant into his mouth. 

Those damned hands of this, they keep you under his spell as somehow, he unlaces your skirts and they fall to the ground in a heap around your ankles. He spins you around in his embrace, and his lips fly to your neck as he opens the buttons of your blouse. You let him pull the sleeves down your arm, leaving you in just an old cotton chemise stretched tight over your belly. The seam of your bloomers, soaked, chafes delightfully against your cunt.

It’s only another moment before he’s shrugging your chemise down over your shoulders to free your breasts.

“What’s gonna be the best for you?” Arthur whispers into your ear, his warm, somewhat rough palm engulfing your breast, squeezing it gently.

Your head tips backward as you lean against him, a high and flighty moan bubbling up from your chest. “On- on my side-”

Your chemise flutters to the floor, along with your bloomers, his hands pushing the cotton down of your body.

“Go on, get in the cot and get comfortable.” Arthur nips at your ear again and gives a playful swat to your rear.

You nod, eyes falling from his face to his hands as he pulls his suspenders down his arms and begins unbuttoning his work shirt. You back up two steps to the cot, slowly sitting down upon it, your gaze refusing to leave him as he strips himself down.

With the speed of a man on a mission, he rids himself of his boots and the rest of his clothing and stalks the few steps to the cot.  You turn yourself over to lay in it, burdened by your stomach as you let out a long breath as you finally settle down on your side, facing the wagon that makes up the side of the tent.

Arthur slides into the small cot next to you, that warm, big hand finding its way to your belly as he situates himself behind you, pressing all six feet of his frame against you, his body hard, hot, and wanting.

“You tell me what feels good, darlin’.” He mouths against your neck as his hand retracts behind your hip to stroke his cock.

You moan lowly and press your hips back against him, you can feel his smile on your skin as he guides himself to your entrance. The blunt head of his cock presses into the rim of your cunt, and his hand moves to sling your thigh back over his, opening you to him more.

“Mm, that feels good.” Your voice strains as he slides himself deeper into you, a deep, satisfied rumble coming from his chest when his hips press fully against your rear, fully sheathed in your cunt.

His arm swings across your hips, pulling your thigh backward even more as he languidly rolls himself into you. His fingers find that small bundle of nerves as he nibbles on your earlobe.

You mewl aloud at the stimulation, panting as he continues to press himself into you. His low, rough voice whispers in your ear, vacillating from sweet nothings to filthy utterances. The slide of his cock into your cunt is the constant, grounding thing as his fingers that rub at your clit speed up and slow down.

“A-Arthur-” you pitifully whine, gasping as you huddle toward that precipice. He grunts into your ear as he slightly picks up the speed of his hips rolling into yours, still gentle. He pinches at that nub and you’re gone, your legs shaking and hips seizing as you meek through your release, your slick glossing his cock and dripping from your body, even with him filling you.

“Tha’s my girl…” Arthur slurs as his hand moves up to cup at your lower belly, “Christ, I ain't ever gonna be able to stop fillin’ you-”

His murmurs fade into a groan as he presses forward one final time, burying himself deeply in your warmth as he shudders his release into you.

You sigh in contentment at the feeling, warmth blooming from your joined hips. His lips touch the back of your neck as his large hand rubs gently at your hip as he catches his breath.

Arthur gently pulls out, you gasp slightly at the feelings of the loss of his flesh and the dripping of his warm spend from your body. He shushes you with a kiss over your jaw, rubbing circles over your swollen belly.

“Feelin’ any better?”

Your hand covers his over your belly as you lean back fully into his embrace.

“Much better.”

[omegadeanlovesalphacas]

Miniprompt: Cas does that thing where the partner stands behind their partner and gently lifts their pregnant belly to give them some relief from the weight of it for a moment.

That's very sweet!

[ikesenlemonadestandstories]

Merino

A big thank you to everyone who sent in prompt ideas for me for the 600 follower give-away! I had a blast and I hope you did too! Feel free to check out my Master List for all of my other Ikesen works. 

Prompt from Nonny: MINIPROMPTS!!! Can I request Mitsubun with feeling something ridiculously soft or fluffy?

I’ve been a touch under the weather so it took a little longer than I would have liked to get this out to you but here it is! I hope you enjoy!

Happy reading fam!

T~

Merino

You were deep into winter and Kyoto had grown so cold you had finally decided to pull out the flannel bed sheets, the merino wool throw, and the softest onesies you owned. It was the best you could do to try and make sleeping a little more comfortable since the heat in the building was out, and while it was better, it still wasn’t the best.

By the time Mitsunari managed to make it home you were already nose deep in the pile of extra soft fabrics curled up with his cat. There was a moment's pause as he stepped closer to the bed before a sweet smile took over his features.

“You look warm,” Mitsunari said as he placed a hand on your head, running his cool fingers through your hair.

“Not nearly warm enough.” You found yourself speaking louder than usual to fight the muffle of the blankets as you rested your head against his hand. “Come join me? You look chilled. I left out some PJ’s for you over there on the heater.”

Quickly Mitsunari took off the simple sweats he had himself dressed in to visit the library and stepped into the onesie, eyes growing wide as he zipped it up. “(YN), this is so soft.”

Mitsunari stood stock still in the middle of the room, slowly running his hands up his own torso. You gave him a cute giggle as you pulled your arms from your burrow. “If you think that’s soft you have to come here and feel all of these blankets.”

Snapping out of his reverie Mitsunari wandered to the bed as you lifted the soft and heavy blankets up, he stood and waited while you wiggled over to the side to make room for him. Gingerly he slid in where your hand patted at the bed as his face went blank.

“Mitsunari, babe? You okay?” You asked, a little unnerved by his silence. You had seen him zone out before, but usually, it was with a book, or something he could engage in, never like this.  Cautiously you carded a hand through his bangs, brushing your fingertips against his forehead before you dragged them down his cheek.

He hummed a quiet yes as he leaned into your touch, falling forward until the both of you were a tangled mess of limbs and fuzzy fabric. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything so soft before.” Mitsunari’s eyes were wide with astonishment as he nuzzled in closer to you, planting a kiss to your forehead. “It’s almost as nice as your hair.”

You felt yourself stutter and flush a deep crimson at the compliment, quickly burning our face against his chest as you let out a “thank you.” only to have it muffled by your position. It wasn’t long after that the two of you dozed off, curled up with one another.

[timelessmulder]

miniprompt: the lost light crew goes to the space carnival. what disasters occur?

The fact there hadn’t been a rule about Brainstorm being allowed to wander a carnival was a little astounding, but in the long term it did not seem to matter much.

As the crew explored, each in their holomatter avatars, Rodimus spotted Brainstorm at a shooting game, flanked by both Percy and Nautica. The two were looking over his shoulder, as he fiddled with the cheap plastic gun before pressing it into Percy’s hands. The man, whatever species of alien he was, stared at the group and Rodimus thought, for just a moment, that maybe. Just maybe. He should intervene. But he was just so curious.

Percy, ex-sniper of the Wreckers, lifted the gun. Adjusted for the fact he wasn’t holding a rifle. Fired. And missed.

There was a distinct shout of “This is rigged!” from Nautica, and the guy behind the booth just shrugged.

“Maybe your friend isn’t that great a shot,” he shot back.

“He’s a sniper!” Nautica said. That was Rodimus’ cue.

He pushed towards them, placing a hand on both Nautica and Brainstorm’s shoulders.

“Guys, I really don’t want to get banned from another carnival.”

[whetstonefires]

do you have any fics involving tim drake in the works? also, what type of miniprompts would you like to recieve (ex: one word, sentence, premise outline, dialogue snippet,etc.)?

*dying moose sound* Okay so here’s the thing. I keep writing stuff about Tim and then being profoundly dissatisfied with it. Perfect becomes the enemy of good!

Tim’s character core kept getting revised as he aged; he was often being written simultaneously by three different writers who weren’t always checking each other’s work, they made him blatantly a neglect victim and accurately portrayed many of the results in his behavior, and then consistently denied that this was a thing. And in his last few years as Robin they took him straight up off the rails, so I have a very hard time feeling like any characterization of him really gets him. There’s always something missing.

So, yes, and yet. So little makes it to completion.Having very little experience writing to prompts, though I’ve always thought it looked fun, I can only say that a premise outline that doesn’t leave me something to solve is very unlikely to work for me. Like, if you give me a premise and I have to figure out how even, I could work with that, but if it’s just filling in the actual words part of a developed concept, nah. I can’t even do that when I came up with the idea.

So basically idk, try me. ;]

[misssophiachase]

VALENTINE'S DAY MINIPROMPT!!! Box of Enchanted Chocolates gone wrong (Canon-ish?? Harry potter au?? the possibilities are endless!!)

Soooo late, sorry Angie. This kind of stumped me (in a good way, I love thought provoking prompts) but hope this kind of lives up to your expectations even if it did go a little differently.

Hot Chocolate

“I believe in miracles, you sexy thing..”

Klaus was the King of this town, undeterred by anyone beneath his station. It wasn’t his responsibility to pretend he cared for them and as Valentine’s Day approached he knew this year would be no different.

Of course his sister Rebekah would try to set him up with the latest and attractive arrival in town. Kol would suggest some fun picking up lonely hearts in Jackson Square after their dates abandoned them unceremoniously and Elijah would retreat into his office but not before scoffing about the whole ‘Hallmark Holiday’ spectacle as he liked to call it. 

Klaus preferred to spend his Valentine’s Day alone, walking through the French Quarter and admiring his handy work. Sad, yes, but all he cared about was total domination of New Orleans and nothing would stand in his way. 

He found himself walking along Royal Street, stopping momentarily to look into the window of the small French bistro he frequented. She sat there alone, her golden waves fanning her face, her tantalising, red lipstick and the black dress seemingly painted onto her body, it was that fitted. He faltered. Klaus liked to pretend he didn’t have needs but seeing her sitting there so perfectly was causing more than a few feelings to stir below. 

He debated about stopping, Klaus didn’t like weaknesses and this woman in the window was a distraction of the highest order. But he stilled, desperate to see what she’d do next. She sighed and for some reason he felt something entirely foreign. Empathy. If he could get his hands on the stupid imbecile who stood her up on Valentine’s Day, Klaus was fairly certain he’d be dust by now. 

He moved inside without much cohesive thought, bypassing the waiter and finding his way to her table, she looked upwards her blue eyes glancing at him wearingly. “I said the cheque can wait.”

“You think I’m a waiter,” he expressed. “Ouch, love.”

“Well if the suit fits,” she scoffed, gesturing to his ensemble. That was the last time he wore that particular black and white combination. “Who are you?” He was taken back, mainly because everyone knew who Klaus Mikaelson was, obviously she was new to town. 

“The person saving you from eating alone.”

“Does that line really work?”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re excused.” Her newbie status, not to mention her brazen nature, was confirmed then and there. 

“Let me guess, stood up?” She glared at him, her eyes narrowing in his direction. 

“Says the guy turning up at my dinner table unannounced, talk about preying on vulnerable females on Valentine’s Day.”

“I’m not preying on anyone,” Klaus baulked. He didn’t care for love or people in general and apparently the first time he decided to intervene he was the subject of a lecture. 

“So, what are you doing here?”

“Apparently I’m a glutton for punishment.” 

“What every girl wants to hear, especially on Valentine’s Day.” She drawled, crossing her legs and leaning in closer, her perfume infiltrating his nostrils. “I’m going to need some tequila if I have to deal with my supposed date and your interruption.”

Klaus didn’t speak, mainly because his throat was becoming increasingly dry from her close proximity, so he gestured to the waiter who was carrying something over. 

“I have a delivery from a Mister…” the blonde didn’t wait just snatched the box of heart shaped chocolates from his grasp before shooing him away after demanding an unending supply of tequila to their table.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered. “Apparently chocolates are supposed to make up for being a no show? Seriously. What does he think, I’m five years-old?” 

“Well, if I can offer my thoughts on the matter…”

“No thoughts, in fact no speaking. You are my drinking partner, nothing else,” she reprimanded him, grabbing the shot glasses from the tray and downing the first in one go. Klaus didn’t feel the need to argue with a woman scorned so took the glass offered and unwittingly joined the pity party.

Twelve hours later 

Klaus awoke slowly, his eyes adjusting to the light and attempting to try to block it out by turning over. He felt a tight tug on his wrists and ankles in the process. Further inspection revealed he was tied to the bed, the enticing blonde straddling him possessively as she placed kisses along the length of his bare chest. 

“Enchanted chocolates, really?” He groaned, trying to ignore just how good she felt grinding against his arousal in nothing but brief, black lingerie. 

“You said you wanted to try something new,” she teased, her tongue now coming to life and flicking over his left nipple slowly. “And after that performance, I think it was definitely worth it.”

“You realise if this town knew I was chained up to your bed and at your mercy I might lose my royal credibility?” 

“Especially if these photos get out,” she chuckled, pulling her polaroid camera from the bedside table and taking another picture. 

“Are you blackmailing me, love?” 

“I’m thinking about it,” she smiled deviously, her attention now back on him, feathering kisses along his collarbone and causing a shiver to take over his body. 

“Any chance we could just be an actual couple without the secrecy,” he murmured, trying to ignore just how good her mouth felt against his skin. 

“Where would the fun in that be?” She mumbled against his skin as she travelled north and captured his crimson lips with hers. Their tongues tousled, Klaus ready for round seven or whatever it was given he’d lost count but reluctantly puling away.

“I love you.” She was shocked, extracting herself from his embrace immediately. He was worried he’d scared her away. 

“No, you don’t,” she mumbled, standing up and beginning to pace the room furiously. “We’re having fun, that’s all.”

“Maybe you are but I fell in love with you the first time we met,” he replied sincerely, briefly wondering just how pathetic his confession would look tied up to her bed.  

“And you took this long to tell me,” she cried, finally stopping to throw a barrage of cushions at him. 

“Now, I know why,” he groaned from beneath the cushions. “Last time I checked you wanted to keep things casual.”

“Because I thought that’s what you wanted,” she shot back, pulling off the cushions one by one.

“All I want is you to be my Queen forever.”

“Are you proposing?” She squealed excitedly. Klaus smiled, glad they were finally on the same page.

“In my current state,” he growled, gesturing to his position. “Hell no. If my siblings got wind of this they’d never let me forget it, not to mention the whole city.”

“Lucky I love you then,” she smirked, untying him slowly. By all reports Klaus Mikaelson proposed over a candlelight dinner at the Four Seasons Rooftop Bar at sunset. In actual fact they ravaged each other senseless before he placed the ring on her finger lying content and naked in each other’s arms. 

[robininthelabyrinth]

Miniprompt Jiang Chang is romantically successful with women who are not Wen Qing.

can be read as a continuation to this minifill

“I just want to be clear about expectations,” Jiang Cheng said, and the female cultivator – Lu Xue – nodded. She was still smiling. “Your expectations, to be clear. I don’t want you to enter into this with any sort of illusions or anything.”

“Of course not,” she said agreeably.

“I’m not actually looking to marry,” Jiang Cheng stressed. “Not now, anyway, and maybe not ever. Even if I did, there is zero guarantee that if I did marry, it would be with you.”

“Yes, you made that clear.”

“I’m not looking for anything exclusive, either. I’m looking to have as many children as possible. There will be other women.”

“You said, yes.”

“There’s no way for me to say right now that it would be your child that inherits the Lotus Pier, either. So you should go in assuming it won’t be, because if I see the slightest hint of intrigue, it’ll disqualify both you and them immediately.”

“I understand. A reasonable policy.”

“To be perfectly honest, I don’t even think it’s possible for me to fall in love, so definitely don’t expect that.”

“So noted.”

Exasperated, Jiang Cheng scowled and said, “Then what are you getting out of this?”

“Respect,” Lu Xue said promptly, and he blinked at her. “A child of my own, with an honorable surname and a guarantee of a good life – a father who will recognize them as his own and care for them, love them regardless of merit or achievement. Freedom to do as I wish, without restriction – you said that I could keep night-hunting afterwards, if that was what I wanted…?”

“Of course,” Jiang Cheng said, aghast at the mere thought. He remembered very well how much his mother had chafed at the restriction on married women; he’d always thought that his home life growing up would have been infinitely easier if only she’d been allowed to continue doing that, rather than taking out her frustrations on all the disciplines instead. “I would never impose such a limitation on you.”

“And you wouldn’t be upset if I eventually fell in love with someone else, either?”

“Of course not. That would be rather hypocritical of me, wouldn’t it?”

“But if I wanted to stop night-hunting, I’d have a place at the Lotus Pier?”

“For as long as you live,” Jiang Cheng said seriously. “Even if you never do end up conceiving. I would never enter into this type of agreement lightly.”

Lu Xue spread her hands out as if to say You see?

“It helps that you’re honest and upfront about it,” she added, even when he scowled at her as if to respond that’s it?! “Most men will promise the moon if it gets them what they want.”

Jiang Cheng supposed he understood that much, at least. He certainly wouldn’t appreciate being deceived.

“So, shall we go to bed now, or would you prefer to have dinner first?”

“…dinner,” Jiang Cheng squeaked. Lu Xue was the fourth young lady Nie Huaisang had (successfully) arranged for him to meet, and he was starting to think he’d severely misjudged how bold most female cultivators were. “Dinner, a medical check up –” Nie Huaisang had insisted, lest someone try to plant a cuckoo on him, even though there were bloodline-tied treasures a-plenty to test it with after the child was born. “ – and then we can proceed. If that works…?”