#one word writing prompt

[trekscribbles]

Prompt: Thief

From the Land of Myth Discord Server: One Word Writing Prompt Game

Word prompt provided by BronteHeart

"That boy is a thief!"

The accusation echoed through the courtroom, unchallenged and unanswered. The cook who'd hurled it stood red-faced before the throne, with Merlin looking uncharacteristically meek beside her. He waited with his head bowed, his hands clasped firmly before him, not daring to lift his gaze from his feet. 

Arthur didn't like it. 

"What has the boy stolen?" his father asked, signaling his own servant to bring more wine. He was distracted today, and disinterested in such a petty case. Both boded well for Merlin, as long as the idiot didn't say anything to incriminate himself. 

"Three rabbits," the cook said. "The very best in Camelot, raised by my own hand and intended for the king's table."

"And what proof do you have against Merlin?" Arthur cut in. It was a good moment—his father had turned to have his goblet filled, and he liked it when Arthur took charge of things. 

"He was the only one who had access to their cages after I left last night," the cook said. Her manner was haughty, which would have set Arthur against her even if he hadn't known the accused. She was one of the most important workers in the castle, after all, and Merlin had only been there a few weeks. Uther would have taken her word over Merlin's and been done with it. 

Arthur should have done the same. Instead, he folded his arms and said, "Merlin. Did you steal the rabbits?"

"No, sire."

At least he had the sense to use titles in front of the king. Arthur returned his attention to the cook. "Were his quarters searched?"

The woman hesitated. "Yes, but—"

"And were the rabbits found?"

"No, but—"

"Do you have any idea where Merlin might be keeping them?"

She swallows. "No. But I'm certain he—"

"I'm afraid that, without proof, I cannot issue a punishment." Arthur kept his head turned away from his father, trying not to read into the continued silence from the throne. "Should new evidence be found, I shall reconsider my ruling. Until then, I must dismiss this accusation."

The cook stared at him, but she had more sense than to argue. With a somewhat sullen curtsey, she mumbled an acceptance of his judgement and turned away. 

"You are too lenient," Uther said, and Arthur suppressed a wince. "A night in the stocks would have wrung the confession out of him."

Arthur let his hands fall to his sides. "That was the last case for today. If you do not require my presence here any longer, I am due at the training fields."

His father dismissed him with a wave, and Arthur strode from the room. Merlin, who had stayed where he was in the middle of the room, hurried silently after him. Arthur led the way into the hall, nodding to the guards to close the great doors behind them. 

"Thank you," Merlin said softly, once the guards had shut themselves in the throne room and left him and Arthur in the empty hall. "For believing me, I mean. I wasn't sure you would."

"I don't believe you," Arthur said, crossing his arms again. 

Merlin blinked at him. "But... you—"

"I don't think you stole the rabbits," Arthur said. "But I'm sure you had something to do with it. So go on, out with it. Where are they?"

Arthur expected sheepishness, or possibly guilt. Maybe another attempt at a lie. Instead, Merlin raised his chin and said, "I released them into the forest."

Now it was Arthur's turn to blink. "You..." he said weakly, but was unable to think of anything else to say. "Why?"

Merlin looked away, a petulant expression crossing his face. "You wouldn't understand."

"Merlin."

"They were just... the cook kept saying how she was going to kill them, and they just kept looking at me, and their eyes were so big, and..." He trailed off, still not meeting Arthur's gaze. 

Arthur took a calming breath. "So you released what was meant to be the king's supper because you thought they were too cute to eat?"

There was a pause, and then Merlin made a motion that was half nod and half shrug. 

Arthur wanted to be angry. He wanted to feel the righteous wrath the cook had felt—which his father would have felt, had Merlin confessed before the throne. Instead, he felt a bubble of something light and unfamiliar rising up in his chest, something which may have turned to laughter if he didn't choke it out quickly enough. 

So he twisted the sound that wanted to be a laugh into a cough and started down the hallway. "Fetch my armor," he said, clearing his throat for good measure.

Merlin took an unsteady breath. "You're not going to bring me back to your father?"

"You didn't steal the rabbits," Arthur said. "That's the crime I was asked to judge, and I've given my verdict. There's no use revisiting it now. But Merlin..." He turned to look over his shoulder, taking in Merlin's bright eyes and disbelieving smile. 

"Yes?" he said eagerly. 

Arthur sighed. He had a feeling he was going to regret the inexplicable fondness threatening to attach itself to his new manservant.

"Maybe avoid the rabbit cages from now on."

[something-tofightfor]

Oooh could I please ask for Marcus Pike and stars? Thank you ☺️

Hi Anon!

Thanks for requesting this one, it was a lot of fun.

This isn't specifically linked to either of my previous Marcus Pike stories/series, but you can pretend it is if you want. (I'd personally say that of the two, it's more in line with Busboys and Poets Marcus).

WC: 1050

He checked his watch as he crossed the parking lot, and even though it was late, Marcus smiled. She’s asleep but I can still call and leave a message. 

As he started the engine and typed the address of the cabin he was staying into the GPS, Marcus drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, thinking. It’s a thirty minute drive back. That means by the time I get there, it’ll be 5 am her time, which is a hell of a lot better than me calling now. 

The decision made, Marcus put the car into reverse and backed out of the parking space at the warehouse, heading for the highway. 

The drive went fast with almost no traffic, and when he pulled into his driveway, he barely gave himself time to unbuckle his seatbelt before he was opening the door and striding toward the cabin. 

But instead of going inside, Marcus rounded the small building and headed down the path and toward the dock behind it. 

It was late for him - almost 2 am - but he wasn’t tired, and so Marcus slipped off his shoes and socks after lowering himself onto the wooden planks. The water was cold, but it felt good after being on his feet all day, pacing back and forth between rooms of the large building. Before he picked up his phone, Marcus tilted his head back, gazing upward. 

The sky was much darker in Tahoe than it was in Virginia - especially near DC. And despite the fact that he was in the middle of a convoluted theft case that spanned four countries and three interconnected sets of thieves, Marcus was calm in a way that he hadn’t ever been before. 

He took in his surroundings, inhaling the scent of the tall pines and smiling briefly as he caught a whiff of someone’s campfire on the breeze, but he didn’t let himself delay making his call for too long. 

He unlocked the device and hit your contact from the list, bringing the phone up to his ear. Marcus fully expected it to go straight to voicemail - a signal that you still had it on Do Not Disturb and were sleeping comfortably in the bed at his townhouse. But it rang twice, the man’s eyes widening as you picked up - no trace of sleep in your voice. “Marcus? It’s late.” 

The sound sent a surge of warmth through him that the lingering late-summer air couldn’t even touch, and as he swiped a hand through his hair, Marcus closed his eyes, saying your name. “Why are you awake?” 

“Couldn’t sleep.” You cleared your throat, the sound quiet through the speaker. “It’s always harder when you’re traveling.” Sure is. “What about you? It’s what … 2 am?” 

“Close to it. We worked late tonight. There was a ton of stuff in the bust, and it’s going to take forever to catalog it. We only made it through a couple crates, and …” He trailed off, frowning. “You’re going to be exhausted at work today.” 

You laughed quietly, the sound ending as you cleared your throat. “It’s Saturday, Pike. I can take a nap later if I need to.” Saturday? For real? He raised his watch so that he could read the face and was shocked to see that it was in fact Saturday morning. “Did you forget what day it is?”

“I did. I didn’t even realize.” Closing his eyes, Marcus sighed. “Pulled a fourteen hour day today, and tomorrow will probably be the same.” 

“You’re the one that needs to sleep.” He didn’t disagree, his eyes back open and on the sky, the twinkling points of light bright against the inky background .”Are you driving?”

“No, I’m back at the cabin. Sitting on the dock.” Marcus wet his lips. “You’d be proud of me. I took my shoes off and have my feet in the water. I’m relaxing.” 

Your answering scoff made his chest ache, and for a split second, Marcus couldn’t breathe under the weight of missing you. Whoa, that’s … weird. “You? Relaxing? That water must be something else. Send me a picture. I’ve never been to Tahoe.” 

“Alright, give me a second.” Pulling the phone away from his ear, he opened the camera app and aimed it at the horizon ahead of him, his knees visible. He gave the camera a chance to focus and then snapped a picture, the automatic low light setting capturing much more detail than he thought it would. “Sending it now.” 

“Ok.” Murmuring the single word, you went quiet and then spoke again a few seconds later, surprise evident in your tone. “Oh, that’s gorgeous, Marcus. All those trees? Are those mountains in the -”

“Yeah.” He yawned, bringing his free hand up to cover his mouth. “All that’s out here are trees. And water, and -”

“And stars.” You hummed and he heard you yawn, too. “If that’s what it looks like on a camera, I can’t imagine what it looks like in person.” 

“We’ll come back.” He stood slowly, bending over to scoop up his socks and stuff them into the pocket of his pants. “I have a ton of vacation time, and I know you do too, so we’ll come back, and -”

“Ok.” There was no hesitation - something that he was still getting used to when it came to you agreeing with his suggestions. Everything’s different.

As he slipped his feet back into his shoes, Macus smiled through another yawn. “But you need to go to sleep, Marcus. Last thing I want to read is a headline that says something like “Art crimes agent extraordinaire falls asleep and topples into Lake Tahoe never to be heard from again.” 

It was his turn to laugh as he unlocked the back door, flipping the light switch on. “I’m inside, thank you very much. The only toppling I’m going to be doing is into bed for a few hours.” 

“Wish it was with me.” There was no pause - your words came almost as soon as he’d finished, and Marcus felt the same pang from earlier again, though that time it was softer and more centered. 

“Yeah. Me too.” He sighed, slipping his shoes back off and ruffling the hair on the back of his head. “I can’t wait to be home with you.” 

[butchfalin]

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again

[youneedsomeprompts]

~ SENSUALITY & PASSION ~ ONE-WORD SMUT PROMPTS

Feel free to use and reblog!

alluring

touch

seduce

insatiable

devour

yearning

squeeze

hazy

arousing

yield

frantic

supple

lascivious

enchanting

need

besotted

desperation

silky

glow

friction

sultry

burning

urgency

titillating

risque

lewd

charm

tempting

ravish

tantalise

attraction

tease

saucy

curves

dazzling

suave

voluptuous

irresistible

sublime

captivating

enigmatic

blow

caress

tentative

gentle

attentive

tumble

release

salacious

carnal

mischievous

shenanigans

lecherous

frisky

amorous

depraved

affection

rub

seek

united

[deepwaterwritingprompts]

Text: I seek out cults, who all, by nature, invite me in. I am never thirsty these days, but this new one is strange. I can’t seem to leave the small town it’s based in, and everyone’s blood tastes wrong.

[paperultra]

aries and the turtle.

Pairing: OPLA!Vinsmoke Sanji x Fem!Reader Word Count: 1,169 words Warnings: None

asterism (noun): a group of stars; a constellation; a cluster of stars

The first thought that comes to Sanji’s mind when he sees you curled up on the kitchen floor, rummaging through the box of herbs and spices, is that you’re the single most beautiful creature he’s ever laid eyes on.

“Darling,” he says softly, leaning against the doorframe and smiling a bit when you startle, “you could’ve woken me up if you wanted a midnight snack.”

“O-Oh! Um.” Your voice colors the gentle calm of night into something warmer – and like always, he’s drawn to it like a moth to a flame, walking over and squatting down next to you as you scramble to put back a jar of paprika. “I’m sorry, Sanji, I – er, well, um …”

“What are you looking for? I’ll help you.”

Under the yellow glow of the lantern, you seem to shrink. You duck your head and mumble into the collar of your pretty nightshirt. “That chamomile and lavender tea you made a couple nights ago …” you begin hesitantly. “I wanted to make some.” Your voice quiets further. “I can’t sleep.”

Sanji frowns, angling his head to catch a glimpse of your face. You do look a little more haggard than normal, your eyelids heavy, your shoulders burdened. His heart aches. How long had you laid in your hammock, tossing and turning, until you couldn’t stand it anymore?

“I see,” he murmurs. “Let’s make that tea right away, then, shall we?”

Sanji quickly finds the flowers and some lemon rinds he had sun-dried last week. You insist on helping at least a little bit despite his protests for you to just relax, fetching two teacups and setting some water on the stove to boil as he measures the right amount of each ingredient to put into the infuser.

Once the water is ready, steam billowing up past your heads and to the ceiling, he pours it into the teapot and covers it to steep.

(You don’t say anything while the two of you wait, and although Sanji yearns to coax a smile and a sweet conversation from you, he contents himself with the silence as well, which is just as sweet. You sneak glances at him every once in a while, though. He knows because he does the same, and the attention sends a thrill through his chest.)

Time passes. He pours the tea – first for you, then for him.

“Tell me when.” The silence breaks once more as Sanji spoons some honey into your cup.

“That’s good.”

He stirs the tea up, hands it to you. You blow across the top of it and then take a sip as he watches attentively.

“How does the madam like it?” he asks.

You exhale and meet his eyes for a split second before quickly looking away. A small smile touches your lips. “It’s perfect,” you reply from behind the cup. “Thank you, Sanji.”

Warmth stains his cheeks a gentle pink.

“The sky is clear tonight,” he ventures hopefully as he adds two teaspoons of honey for himself. He picks up his cup and gestures at the open door. “Stars and tea pair well together, if you have an appetite for it.”

You bite your bottom lip. His gaze immediately darts down to it, and he swallows, throat suddenly dry.

“Sure,” you whisper.

And so Sanji gains another precious sliver of time with you. Elbows resting on the railing, hot tea and your presence protecting him from the cold, he stands out on the deck of the Going Merry and tilts his head back to look up at the sky.

He knows how much you love the stars. They are one of the few topics you can talk about without your usual shyness, and he thinks of you every time he sees them, pinpricks of pure light shining through the darkness, guiding weary sailors home. Sometimes he thinks you must have been one yourself, carried down from the heavens. Ethereal. Out of reach.

“This time of year,” you say, and Sanji turns his attention over to the stars reflected in your eyes, “you can see my constellation.”

“Yours?” he questions.

“Yes. Those three stars over there.” Your arm stretches out to point at something on the left, your finger tracing an arc in the sky. “In my home village, parents dedicate their newborns to a constellation three days after birth. Mine dedicated me to the turtle.”

A turtle. That fits you incredibly well, he thinks to himself fondly, considering your quiet tenacity. “How come?”

“Turtles represent good luck and a long life.”

“I see. Well, do you think you’ve had good luck so far in life?”

You hum thoughtfully, looking down into your tea.

“I think so,” you say after some time, hushed. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

A chuckle escapes him. “I would argue that you’re the one who’s brought good luck to us, sweetheart.”

You bite back a smile and whisper a small ‘oh’ as he gently bumps your shoulder with his own. Even now, you’re unused to compliments, but no matter; he’ll praise you at every turn until you finally realize you deserve every word of it.

There’s a brief period of silence before he asks, “What do you think my constellation would be?”

“Your constellation?” It doesn’t take long at all before you reply, pointing upward into a spread of stars that he could never even begin to puzzle out, “The ram. Some call it Aries.”

“What does it mean?”

This question seems to fluster you. You cough and stammer for a few seconds. He sips his tea, the beverage sweet and floral on his tongue as he waits.

“Rams … are artists at heart,” you finally say, glancing over at him. Your eyes, normally wary and somber, glitter. “They’re strong and passionate, but also gentle and kind.”

Oh.

Sanji can feel a blush creeping up his neck to his cheeks. God. Surely, you’ll be the death of him, saying something like that so honestly and with eyes that look like that. He’d move heaven and earth for you if you asked.

“I’ll dedicate my life to living up to those qualities,” he breathes once he can speak again. “Just as much as you’ll live up to yours.”

You take a sharp breath.

“You already do,” he hears you whisper.

And Sanji truly, truly cannot resist anymore.

Your name leaves his lips. He reaches out, hand departing from the dying heat of the teacup and seeking out yours.

You do not pull away when his fingertips brush your cool skin over the railing; instead, you let him turn your hand over until palm touches palm, until the spaces between his fingers are filled with your own and his heart beats to the rhythm of yours.

Sanji squeezes your hand, and every cell in his body begs to falter and fall at your feet.

You rest your head on his shoulder.

The tea cools. But the stars remain as brilliant as ever, and your hand stays warm in his, and everything – everything is beautiful.

[shadebloopnik]

Unrequited/One-sided Radioapple but it isn't treated like an angsty end of the world thing.

Imagine they slowly get closer after all the banters, and eventually becoming close friends. Lucifer ends up catching feelings for him, and after a long while, decides to confess and ask Alastor if he felt the same.

Alastor admittedly does not feel the same.

He's getting uncomfortable, struggling to keep his composure because he's DONE this before. He KNOWS how this ends. He remembers Vox and all his insistent declarations of affection and desperate pleas for Alastor to reciprocate; the possessive entitlement. He remembers how all those sickly sweet words morphed into something venomous when he didn't give the lowlife what he wanted. He remembers the anger, the ridiculous notion that it was Alastor's fault why he was so mad, that Alastor led him on and that he obviously deserved something in payment for it all-

So yes, Alastor knows how this ends.

It doesn't mean he isn't disappointed though, because he actually LIKES Lucifer, far more than he ever did Vox. Perhaps not in the way the king might have wanted, but he did. He treasured their little talks, their drinking sessions, their shared love for their instruments, Lucifers singing, their little duets, the banter, the playful jabs, the sparring.

He'd even slowly grown accustomed to the other's touches, not feeling the same surge of disgust and discomfort whenever the shorter man would grab at his arm in excitement, forgetting his usual thoughtfulness of Alastor's touch aversion for the short moment of whatever distracted him. Alastor even enjoyed it at times, relaxing at the feel of soft feathers beneath his claws, or the sensation of gentle scratches against his ears.

Difficult as it was to admit, Alastor had grown to care for the angel, the same way he had for Rosie orv Mimzy.

But no matter how fond Alastor was of Lucifer, it didn't change the fact that he didn't feel the same way romantically, or even sexually. No way in the 7 rings of Hell was he going to lie to Lucifer about either, not going to even entertain the idea of pretending he reciprocated for Lucifer's sake. He respected his friend too much for that.

So a clear, direct rejection it is. It was a shame, but nothing could be done. He said his piece concisely, and waited, shoulders set, back straight, smile and eyes a careful blank canvas as he prepared for the inevitable.

Lucifer nodded, a normal soft smile still in place, "Thank you for your answer, it means a lot."

Which......what? Alastor expected an outburst, or at the very least sharp words.

What he did NOT expect was....acceptance? And not just that but, a happy one? Contentment?????

"You're....alright with that?", he had to ask, he had to. Lucifer was clearly just very good at masking his upset.

But the damn angel just smiled?? And it didn't even look fake, just as bright and soft as his normal smiles, albeit a little confused?? Lucifer smiled at him, his brows furrowing in a bit of confused disbelief, as though Alastor is being the weird one here.

"Uhh, yeah??? Why wouldn't I be??? Yeah I may have some feelings for you but its not like you're obligated to feel the same. Above anything else, we're friends first and foremost and i'm alright with that..."

Then he seemed to have reached his own little conclusion as his words trailed off, because suddenly Lucifer's eyes widened in realization of something, and his words picking up with a sense of panicked urgency.

Alastor would really like to know what Lucifer's supposed realization was about himself because he had absolutely no clue.

"I mean, we ARE still friends right?? I don't- I- I hope this doesn't like- change your opinion of me. You're not- oh gosh I'm not making you uncomfortable am I? I- I won't mention it! You can even forget this whole confession ever happened! We can just go on as before! I don't feel any different or would act any different! Honest! I mean, I don't regret confessing because you deserve to know and I'm not ashamed of my feelings, but I don't want you to be uncomfortable! It doesn't change the way i'll treat you! Or change any aspect of our relationship! I don't even think I like you more as a lover than as a friend! I really, really do love our friendship, it matters more to me than any thoughts of being in a romantic relationship with you! So please just forget it all-"

Alastor let the word vomit wash over him, every word leaving him more confused by the minute.

Because yes, there's the desperation he expected, but...it was more about, convincing Alastor to remain friends?? Reassuring Alastor that nothing has to change?? That their friendship is the most important thing here??

(If anyone asks, no Alastor's heart didn't swell. Only lesser beings would have had the urge to cry, and Alastor is anything but.)

Lucifer is unknowingly reassuring Alastor of every single one of his insecurities about the situation. Because Alastor DID want to remain friends, he cared too much about the man to let it go so easily. It was rare to find people who treasure friendships above romantic relationships.

"I don't tend to forget easily, nor will I forget this one in particular.", he spoke, finally finding his voice. At Lucifer's defeated, pained expression( is their friendship really that important to him?), he continued. "But....yes. I'd like that.. To remain...friends."

He didn't often say the word out loud, being comfortable enough with each other that it need not be reassured with the label. But with Lucifer brightening up like his namesake, relief and happiness palpable, Alastor felt no qualms at declaring their friendship out loud.

So life went on as usual. True to his word, Lucifer remained basically the same. The following weeks were a bit stilted for Alastor, as he put some rather painful distance between him and the angel; limiting their interactions, their usual touches.

Anytime now, Lucifer would break and show his true colors, Alastor would think, waiting for the boot to drop. Lucifer would end up angry, and dissatisfied, and that was that.

But it never happened. Lucifer never expressed discomfort when Alastor avoided him, seeming to be understanding of the others need for space. He was just as affectionate as before, though initially a bit held back, as though gauging Alastor's comfort.

Months would pass, and the king never faltered. Their friendship remained strong, if not growing ever closer than before. Alastor found himself even growing more comfortable with the man. Affectionate touches were becoming common, hugs and head pats and cuddles being a welcome thing, with the reassurance that the shorter king would never disrespect his boundaries.

Lucifer seemed genuinely happy about it, despite being clearly told that none of Alastor's actions hinted at anything romantic. In fact, he seemed ecstatic that Alastor was getting more affectionate towards him as a friend. The embarrassment the radio demon felt at having Lucifer basically tear up (no really, he was crying so hard, full on drama sobbing) with joy in front of him was intertwined with the sheer incredulous fondness he felt for the man at that moment.

They were sitting at a couch one night, more than a year passing since that confession. Lucifer was leaning back, resting against the cushions, while Alastor had his head on the smaller one's shoulder, nuzzling at the crook of his neck, legs tucked close to his body. Both had a book in hand, two nearly empty cups of tea on the table in front of them. Every so often, Lucifer would flex his fingers that rested on Alastor's head, running a digit against the other's ear, often prompting the demon to lean into the touch. White wings enveloped the two, blanketing them against the chill of the night.

As Alastor turned the page of his own book, relaxing into the touch of his dearest friend, he wondered how he ever got so lucky in hell.

[ghostbsuter]

John Constantine was in prison.

No, not a normal, mortal prison. Those wouldn't be able to hold him like this one does.

No, he's imprisoned in the Infinity Realm.

The warden of the establishment is Walker, someone whose blood sings Witch Hunter.

If that wasn't bad enough, with every second, it gets worse. Angels decided to interfere in a realm not in possession of their God.

Who's idea was it to go against the Infintiy Realm? Are they nuts?

"John Constantine," One of the messangers steps forward. There is no weapon in sight, yet.

"Under the scrutiny of Heaven, we were sent to retrieve you for a trial." Their voice clipped, blond hair shimmering a soft green and John is sweating buckets.

"Your deals with various demon folk and such shall be judged unter gods court and—"

A loud bang echoes through the hall, Walker's men are surrounding the beings of heaven and particular brave soul steps forward.

The lad is young, can't be older than Bat's Robin. He walks with an air of authority, white hair floating against gravity's rules and towering before the flock of messangers.

"How dare—"

The boy, the godling– growls.

He blocks their view of Constantine, staring them down.

Some of the angels fall back, wings arched and ready for a fight, weapons still not in sight however.

"I am Phantom, King of God's of the Infinity Realm." The child with a title too much for such small shoulders bear, introduces himself.

It sends the flock into mild panic. Constantine is just a bit satisfied at the change.

"Returns to your god and tell him this, every Constantine bearing the title Laughing Magician is under my protection."

For such a small stature, his voice is booming, the command thinly veiled as a threat and icicles forming around him.

"Tell him that if he ever dares to breach my territory once more, I will not hesitate to call war upon heaven."

The main angel of the flock, the one that had read out Constantines sentence, hesitated only for a moment before urging the others to leave.

Posture stiff and movements jerky.

They didn't expect to be told off like this, John muses.

He only slightly dreads when phantoms attention drifts to him finally, a light knock on the metal bars and the whole wall was gone.

"Follow me, John Constantine."

And John does.

He'll sweet talk himself out of this on the way to his doom. Like always.

—

("Unpopular belief, but I actually quite like you." Danny had stated once in the garden, sitting on a table and drinking tea. John hadn't touched his cup nor desert at all, cannot trust those of the infinite after all.)

(A rip into the green before them had created a portal, a gateway.

"Leave, Laughing Magician. Hold onto that necklace, it will ward off anyone with the intent to harm and deals as a warning to those working for the immortal."

And as John steps forward, his eyes meet toxic green.

"We will see one another again, sooner or later. Farewell, Jester."

The portal spat him out in his apartment in New York, if it wasn't for the protection charm, Constantine would have believed it to be a mere dream. A warning.)

[mischievous-thunder]

Wade with a massive crush on The Wolverine before meeting his Logan:

Wade after spending two days with his Logan and falling head over heels in love with him:

[scealaiscoite]

.☽༊˚ three hundred one-word prompts

¹⁾ balcony

²⁾ sunlight

³⁾ voicemail

⁴⁾ hillside

⁵⁾ tent

⁶⁾ lavender

⁷⁾ candle

⁸⁾ hipbone

⁹⁾ bandaid

¹⁰⁾ wrinkle

¹¹⁾ scar

¹²⁾ curtains

¹³⁾ armory

¹⁴⁾ shell

¹⁵⁾ bouquet

¹⁶⁾ necklace

¹⁷⁾ shotgun

¹⁸⁾ apricot

¹⁹⁾ cheek

²⁰⁾ floorboards

²¹⁾ jacket

²²⁾ bruise

²³⁾ flight

²⁴⁾ streetlight

²⁵⁾ carafe

²⁶⁾ lipstick

²⁷⁾ scars

²⁸⁾ poolside

²⁹⁾ cockpit

³⁰⁾ petals

³¹⁾ mirror

³²⁾ lawyer

³³⁾ cloudy

³⁴⁾ butcher

³⁶⁾ bleach

³⁷⁾ sawdust

³⁸⁾ crib

³⁹⁾ ribbon

⁴⁰⁾ wallet

⁴¹⁾ pearls

⁴²⁾ steam

⁴³⁾ chain

⁴⁴⁾ deckhand

⁴⁵⁾ whiskey

⁴⁶⁾ frost

⁴⁷⁾ lace

⁴⁸⁾ camping

⁴⁹⁾ bakery

⁵⁰⁾ traitor

⁵¹⁾ cherries

⁵²⁾ lightning

⁵³⁾ hide

⁵⁴⁾ tattoo

⁵⁵⁾ bonfire

⁵⁶⁾ reverse

⁵⁷⁾ passenger

⁵⁸⁾ speedboat

⁵⁹⁾ bare

⁶⁰⁾ concrete

⁶¹⁾ lieutenant

⁶²⁾ chili

⁶³⁾ tiptoe

⁶⁴⁾ office

⁶⁵⁾ skull

⁶⁶⁾ bikini

⁶⁷⁾ cabinet

⁶⁸⁾ lumber

⁶⁹⁾ laboratory

⁷⁰⁾ paint

⁷¹⁾ arch

⁷²⁾ bitter

⁷³⁾ staircase

⁷⁴⁾ priority

⁷⁵⁾ cell

⁷⁶⁾ subordinate

⁷⁷⁾ tapes

⁷⁸⁾ mangoss

⁷⁹⁾ bralette

⁸⁰⁾ whiplash

⁸¹⁾ syringe

⁸²⁾ cinnamon

⁸³⁾ tequila

⁸⁴⁾ garden

⁸⁵⁾ cigarette

⁸⁶⁾ sofa

⁸⁷⁾ rain

⁸⁸⁾ teammate

⁸⁹⁾ oleander

⁹⁰⁾ boss

⁹¹⁾ pillar

⁹²⁾ amethyst

⁹³⁾ footpath

⁹⁴⁾ driver

⁹⁵⁾ massage

⁹⁶⁾ stitches

⁹⁷⁾ jeans

⁹⁸⁾ brand

⁹⁹⁾ blackout

¹⁰⁰⁾ sunglasses

¹⁰¹⁾ lunar

¹⁰²⁾ velvet

¹⁰³⁾ captain

¹⁰⁴⁾ afternoon

¹⁰⁵⁾ ivy

¹⁰⁶⁾ salty

¹⁰⁷⁾ portrait

¹⁰⁸⁾ strawberries

¹⁰⁹⁾ torn

¹¹⁰⁾ cocktails

¹¹¹⁾ roommate

¹¹²⁾ bridge

¹¹³⁾ table

¹¹⁴⁾ hotel

¹¹⁵⁾ jasmine

¹¹⁶⁾ armchair

¹¹⁷⁾ satin

¹¹⁸⁾ bedsheet

¹¹⁹⁾ hedgerow

¹²⁰⁾ thigh

¹²¹⁾ cliff

¹²²⁾ gravel

¹²³⁾ apartment

¹²⁴⁾ keycard

¹²⁵⁾ coffee

¹²⁶⁾ babysitter

¹²⁷⁾ fire

¹²⁸⁾ chalk

¹²⁹⁾ hurricane

¹³⁰⁾ crickets

¹³¹⁾ amber

¹³²⁾ sherriff

¹³³⁾ lamplight

¹³⁴⁾ flag

¹³⁵⁾ airport

¹³⁶⁾ gasoline

¹³⁷⁾ cherub

¹³⁸⁾ clementine

¹³⁹⁾ scalpel

¹⁴⁰⁾ motel

¹⁴¹⁾ parish

¹⁴²⁾ lighter

¹⁴³⁾ highrise

¹⁴⁴⁾ crowbar

¹⁴⁵⁾ sundress

¹⁴⁶⁾ newspaper

¹⁴⁷⁾ screws

¹⁴⁸⁾ uniform

¹⁴⁹⁾ gold

¹⁵⁰⁾ buckshots

¹⁵¹⁾ coast

¹⁵²⁾ handcuffs

¹⁵³⁾ gunpowder

¹⁵⁴⁾ badge

¹⁵⁵⁾ orchids

¹⁵⁶⁾ chef

¹⁵⁷⁾ levee

¹⁵⁸⁾ tea

¹⁵⁹⁾ helicopter

¹⁶⁰⁾ cemetery

¹⁶¹⁾ ice

¹⁶²⁾ heirloom

¹⁶³⁾ tarpaulin

¹⁶⁴⁾ rural

¹⁶⁵⁾ sergeant

¹⁶⁶⁾ tsunami

¹⁶⁷⁾ lemon

¹⁶⁸⁾ debt

¹⁶⁹⁾ skyscraper

¹⁷⁰⁾ caramel

¹⁷¹⁾ hottub

¹⁷²⁾ rum

¹⁷³⁾ pet

¹⁷⁴⁾ tradition

¹⁷⁵⁾ perfume

¹⁷⁶⁾ bracelet

¹⁷⁷⁾ secretary

¹⁷⁸⁾ degree

¹⁷⁹⁾ braids

¹⁸⁰⁾ prescription

¹⁸¹⁾ invitation

¹⁸²⁾ cocoa

¹⁸³⁾ ransom

¹⁸⁴⁾ boxers

¹⁸⁵⁾ theatre

¹⁸⁶⁾ mascara

¹⁸⁷⁾ sand

¹⁸⁸⁾ collar

¹⁸⁹⁾ shoulder

¹⁹⁰⁾ lipgloss

¹⁹¹⁾ membership

¹⁹²⁾ heatwave

¹⁹³⁾ disco

¹⁹⁴⁾ cabin

¹⁹⁵⁾ popcorn

¹⁹⁶⁾ altar

¹⁹⁷⁾ radio

¹⁹⁸⁾ bayou

¹⁹⁹⁾ bodyguard

²⁰⁰⁾ glitter

²⁰¹⁾ mustache

²⁰²⁾ protector

²⁰³⁾ contacts

²⁰⁴⁾ bullets

²⁰⁵⁾ groceries

²⁰⁶⁾ raspberry

²⁰⁷⁾ microphone

²⁰⁸⁾ coconut

²⁰⁹⁾ villain

²¹⁰⁾ earlobe

²¹¹⁾ purse

²¹²⁾ flood

²¹³⁾ shot

²¹⁴⁾ windbreaker

²¹⁵⁾ granite

²¹⁶⁾ highway

²¹⁷⁾ eggshells

²¹⁸⁾ hoarse

²¹⁹⁾ chocolates

²²⁰⁾ trembling

²²¹⁾ buttercream

²²²⁾ rings

²²³⁾ holster

²²⁴⁾ briefcase

²²⁵⁾ wrist

²²⁶⁾ piercings

²²⁷⁾ cowboy

²²⁸⁾ ashes

²²⁹⁾ ankle

²³⁰⁾ neroli

²³¹⁾ orchard

²³²⁾ tires

²³³⁾ salmon

²³⁴⁾ peaches

²³⁵⁾ rooftop

²³⁶⁾ toast

²³⁷⁾ gala

²³⁸⁾ sage

²³⁹⁾ graduation

²⁴⁰⁾ reporter

²⁴¹⁾ belt

²⁴²⁾ antidote

²⁴³⁾ ship

²⁴⁴⁾ officer

²⁴⁵⁾ wine

²⁴⁶⁾ corridor

²⁴⁷⁾ cold

²⁴⁸⁾ hangover

²⁴⁹⁾ fingertip

²⁵⁰⁾ vintage

²⁵¹⁾ cupcake

²⁵²⁾ saviour

²⁵³⁾ gentleman

²⁵⁴⁾ loan

²⁵⁵⁾ hostage

²⁵⁶⁾ evergreen

²⁵⁷⁾ denial

²⁵⁸⁾ housewife

²⁵⁹⁾ riverbank

²⁶⁰⁾ marshmallows

²⁶¹⁾ books

²⁶²⁾ hockey

²⁶³⁾ lizard

²⁶⁴⁾ silver

²⁶⁵⁾ dinner

²⁶⁶⁾ pear

²⁶⁷⁾ bound

²⁶⁸⁾ waiter

²⁶⁹⁾ tender

²⁷⁰⁾ fallen

²⁷¹⁾ banquet

²⁷²⁾ announcement

²⁷³⁾ roast

²⁷⁴⁾ sneer

²⁷⁵⁾ exes

²⁷⁶⁾ stovetop

²⁷⁷⁾ brass

²⁷⁸⁾ clay

²⁷⁹⁾ valet

²⁸⁰⁾ schoolbus

²⁸¹⁾ exhausted

²⁸²⁾ field

²⁸³⁾ hoodie

²⁸⁴⁾ sugar

²⁸⁵⁾ palmtree

²⁸⁶⁾ burnt

²⁸⁷⁾ diner

²⁸⁸⁾ snake

²⁸⁹⁾ fever

²⁹⁰⁾ domestic

²⁹¹⁾ plaid

²⁹²⁾ wreck

²⁹³⁾ courtyard

²⁹⁴⁾ dozen

²⁹⁵⁾ earphones

²⁹⁶⁾ blueberry

²⁹⁷⁾ anklet

²⁹⁸⁾ shower

²⁹⁹⁾ venom

³⁰⁰⁾ lover

[trekscribbles]

Prompt: Precarious

From the Land of Myth Discord Server: One Word Writing Prompt Game

Word prompt provided by The New York Times Word of the Day

“Gaius!” Merlin screamed.

Gaius’s heart lodged in his throat. The vial he’d been holding dropped from suddenly nerveless fingers, shattering at his feet. Merlin’s voice had been muffled by the closed door, but Gaius could hear him moving about his room. He’d sounded frantic, desperate.

Panicked.

And anything dangerous enough to panic a sorcerer of Merlin’s abilities would have no trouble with Gaius.

His pulse pounding in his ears, Gaius moved as quickly as his aching bones allowed him, fairly running up the steps to Merlin’s room and throwing open the door. He’d expected—well, he’d been trying not to picture what kind of horror was taking place within, but the scene which greeted him was nothing he could have imagined.

Merlin stood on his bed, reaching futilely for the top of his wardrobe, atop which perched a tiny white dragon. She had grown in the time since Merlin had brought her home (against Gaius’s wishes) and was now the size of a small cat. She looked cat-like now, sitting at the edge of the wardrobe with her tail wrapped around her feet, gazing down at her half-hysterical handler from wide, disinterested eyes.

“Gaius!” Merlin gasped, spinning to face him. “Please, you have to help!”

“What…?” It was all Gaius could manage, frowning at the scene and searching for the source of Merlin’s agitation. “What is the matter?”

Merlin twisted the edge of his tunic in his hands, wringing the fabric between long, scorched fingers. “I can’t get her down!” he said, despair sharpening his voice. “She’s still just a baby, Gaius. She’ll fall!”

Gaius frowned at the dragon. Her position looked anything but precarious. “How did she get up?” 

“She climbed, I think. Or jumped. She’s getting good at that, but she’s still a little clumsy, and if she falls, she’ll hit the end of the bed or the table or—”

“Merlin,” Gaius said, willing his voice to stay calm. “She is a dragon. She can fly.”

At that moment, Aithusa apparently decided she’d had enough of whatever game she’d been playing. She stood and arched her spine, lifting her wings high as if proving Gaius’s point. With a flick of her tail, she leaped off the wardrobe and soared gracefully downward, where Merlin stood ready to catch her.

“Oh!” he cried, pulling the creature against his chest and easily dodging the playful, snapping bites she aimed at his chin. “Gaius, you did it!”

Gaius raised an eyebrow and frowned. “But I didn’t—”

“I knew you’d know what to do,” Merlin said, beaming. He stroked Aithusa’s snout until she let out a contented chirp and settled on the bed. “Thank you!”

The tension went out of him as he listened to Merlin alternate between admonishing the baby dragon for her reckless behavior and praising her for her beauty and skill. He let out a sigh and backed out of the room, closing the door behind him.

“I told you Gaius would save the day,” Merlin said quietly, still completely absorbed in his dragon. “You can always rely on Gaius.”

With warmth replacing the fear that had coursed through him only moments before, Gaius took up his broom to clean up the remains of yet another broken vial.

[marlynnofmany]

I was reading about how big and apocalyptic hailstones can be, as you do (we only get the tiny ones where I live), and I can't help thinking it seems like such a fantasyland concept. Lumps of ice big enough to kill you just fall from the sky sometimes? Usually a lot at once? Clearly you've pissed off something supernatural, and you'd better figure out what.

(Alternately, you might cast your own spell that makes the hailstones splash into water on contact, or flowers, or who knows what else. Repopulate The Frog Population With This One Simple Trick Mistake. Whoops, that was the wrong spell. No one will notice, right?)

[siren-of-agony]

Answers to "please stop"

No.

I can't.

I won't.

I don't want to.

I don't know how.

I will soon.

But then how will you learn?

We're almost done.

It's almost over.

Ask me again!

Oh well, if you're asking that politely…

Fine. For now.

Only once I've come up with something more fun.

Only once you've come up with something more fun.

Or what?

I know you can go a little bit longer.

You know I won't.

I love it when you beg.

I hate it when you beg.

I'm so bored by your begging.

Not until you're too weak to ask me to.

But I don't have anything better to do.

I wish I could.

Alright! See? All you had to do was ask nicely.

I'm not doing anything.

What, exactly?

Just once more, I promise!

Just once more, I promise! (🤞)

You're doing this to yourself.

You wanted this.

You want this.

You know you made me do this.

Are you ready to give me what I want, then?

I will once you give in.

What will you give me in return?

Why should I?

You know there is only one way to end this.

You know there is only one way this will end.

(Answers to "it hurts")

[cursedzucchini]

You know what? Fuck it

DC x DP prompt #3

I think at least lmao.

Anyway! Jason starts making videos on YouTube for one reason or another (is really stressed, no one listens to his rants Abt books who cares). His content is mostly bad books he read or really really really long rants Abt pride and prejudice. Like 3 hours on one tiny detail he noticed on his 214th read through.

He's kinda popular, mostly bc his terrible books videos. He talks Abt the ones that made him the most mad, which coincidentally are mostly romance and supernatural. Like he's one of the well known figures in the supernatural romance critique group (whcih is pretty small, but well). (Also he doesn't show his face on camera, bc secret identity and stuff, it's just his voice over a video of something mundane, like the sky or a room in which is a fly or something)

And now this can go two ways, that i can think of (w dead on main in mind at least)

1) one day Jason finds a book which is supernatural romance and is actually good. It has a kidna cliche system for the supernatural stuff, but with a refreshing twist. The characters have depts and flaws, yet are still very likable. The plot is actually interesting and overall the story's theme is death, not belonging anywhere and overall stuff that is very close to Jason's heart. The story doesn't shy away from violence and it is suprisingly accurate.

(I'm.gonna reblog this w pretty long idea of what this book could be Abt, bc i don't wanna annoy ppl lol)

Anyway Jason kinda falls in love w it, and it becomes famous for being the first novel Jason rated positively or something.

Meanwhile Danny, who was told by jazz writing is good way to get his feeling out, and just wanted to make a quick buck, is really fucking confused how tf did his book become so popular and who tf is this nerd who rates books for a living.

(basically big fan Jason and suspicious/awkward Danny lmao)

2) there is a famous series on Jason profile. It's the worst fucking series he ever read and it's just fucking awful. All the characters are fucking terrible, always going on and on about one thing, the romance sucks in a way that isnt even funny. Jason would love to believe some wrote this as a joke, if it wasn't for the absolute cringefest this was, and it wasn't a whole ass series!! Like who writes 12 books for a joke?

Danny ducking Fenton that's who. Dude was so ducking annoyed at his rogues, he threatened them w writing a terrible romance novels abt them. The ghosts, knowing his terrible grade in literature backed off for a moment, before someone crossed the line. And write Danny did. It was the worst thing he had ever written, the love interest was perfect caricature yet still faithfully go the original. And Danny, because fuck them he lost sommuch sleep over that one prank, decided to publish it. (The book was pretty thin so it didn't take that much time writing it). Unfortunately it became immensely popular in the infinite realm. So the ghosts started crossing lines on purpose. Before Danny figured it out, he had already published his fifth book and was writing another three. After some bargaining, getting a book written Abt them as a piece of shit love interest became a reward.

And while yeah, he had to say his writing was terrible and the books sucked, some small part of him was kinda proud y'know? Like a mother of her twelve ugly as fuck toddlers.

So when he saw some nerd on the internet not only shit talk his book, but also get money of it?

Danny decided to haunt him (just like his books did him, now that everyone knew Abt them thanks to this guy)

(enemies (sorta it's not that serious tho) to lovers ala terrible writer Danny who hates his books and kinda famous YouTuber hasn't who also hates Danny's books)

--

Fuck this is way too long wtf. Anyway imma reblog this w 1) book idea. Might add whatever i think the twelve books could be Abt. Pls if u want to add anything to this pls do!!

[creativepromptsforwriting]

constellations (for the ask game!)

Constellations

There are stars in her eyes and he never wants to be the reason for them to lose their light.

She feels her partners finger, gliding over her back, caressing the skin. Drawing constellations on her body like she was his universe.

It was a scene right out of a romcom. Lying next to each other on the grass and staring at the sky, they tried to come up with stories about the different constellations they could find.

He was able to identify all the constellations in the starry sky and she was not getting tired of listening to him talking about all of them.

It was a thoughtful gift. A framed picture of the constellations that had been above their head the moment they had met.

The constellation of power in this group was obvious and while it didn't need an explanation, maybe it did need a riot.

One Word Prompt Lists

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #96

Everyone knew when your soulmate died as the bracelet like band around your wrist would stop glowing. But thankfully there was a way to summon the spirit of your soulmate to allow you some closure of some kind. Most people don’t as by the time their band stopped glowing they had married and assumed the parter they were with was their soulmate. Magic did exist to find out your soulmate but few people could actually afford the ingredients which were quite expensive.

Of course Damian would be upset when his band stopped glowing when he was 14. His grandfather had told him never to pursue his soulmate as it would be seen as a weakness within the league to exploit. Father however had the means to acquire what was needed to find out your soulmate and they had plans just like with Grayson, and maybe Todd if he felt like it, to perform the ritual to find them. Damian was looking forward to his too but to find out his soulmate died before he’d even get the chance?

Damian broods on this for months before deciding fuck it I’m doing the summoning ritual. For some reason the ritual summons a kid his age whom very much wasn’t dead. He wasn’t sure what was going on but he’d for sure find out.