#Prompt 22

[writing-promptsss]

Prompt #22

"You know, sometimes less is more."

"Well, you should know."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You seem more intelligent when you're silent."

#writers #writers on tumblr #writers of tumblr #writing prompt #writing prompts #writeblr #writing inspiration #writing #writerscommunity #writersociety #writer things #writeblr community #story prompt #story prompts #story inspo #story ideas #story inspiration #prompt #prompts #dialogue prompt #creative writing #creative writing prompt #creative writing inspo #creative writing ideas #original prompt #daily prompt #dailyprompt #daily writing prompt #prompt 22

[kybercrystals94]

Just a “Little” Concussion

By KyberCrystals94

Read here on Ao3!

Whumptober 2023 | Day 22 | Prompt 22: Vehicular Accident

Rated: G

Words: 431

Summary: Fives ends up in med bay. I might have gone a little easy on the whump this story…I just felt too nice today.

“You are an idiot,” Kix says.

Fives rolls his eyes. “It was a good plan! If that civilian hadn’t gotten in the way, it would have been absolutely flawless.”

“But they did, so you decided crashing the speeder into a wall was the next best option.”

“It was that or oncoming traffic.”

“The fact that those were your only two options make me think this plan was anything but flawless.”

Fives huffs, settling back comfortably into the stack of pillows he’d somehow convinced the medical droids to provide him with. Kix swore the man had reprogrammed the damned things; although, Fives would argue that he was just that charming. “You have terrible bedside manner,” Fives grouses. “I’m an injured war hero, and you’re over there calling me an idiot.”

“Idiot will be a compliment compared to the names Echo is gonna call you when he gets here.” Kix returns, turning to his data pad.

“You told Echo?” Fives cries.

“Of course I told Echo. I don’t want to be on his bad side. Better you than me.”

“I barely broke my wrist,” Fives whines, “and it’s just a little concussion. What Echo doesn’t know won’t kill him.”

“This ‘little concussion’ you have is making me keep you overnight for observation.”

“It’s not my fault you’re paranoid.”

Kix gives him a look, but decides arguing with the ARC is a waste of his precious time. He dims the lights of the room. “You are to avoid any mental stimulation for the next few hours. Then we’ll reevaluate.”

“That shouldn’t be too hard, he’s got nothing up there to think about anyway,” a voice comes from the doorway.

Fives grins. “Aw, my loving brother comes to visit.”

“I came to tell you you’re a kriffing di’kut,” Echo says, coming into the room.

“You don’t even know what happened,” Fives says.

“I read the report.”

“The report exaggerated.”

“You wrote it!”

Fives yawns. “Did I? Oh, I must’ve forgotten because I have a concussion and I’m supposed to be on mental rest. Thanks for stopping by, Echo.” He closes his eyes.

“We’re going to discuss these impromptu plans of yours later,” Echo says.

Fives waves him away dismissively with his uninjured hand. “Yeah, yeah. Save the lecture. I’ll listen patiently to your whole spiel once Kix clears me.”

Kix quirks an eyebrow.

Echo gives his batch mate a long look before he turns sharply on his heel and leaves, grumbling as he goes.

Once he is safely out of hearing distance, Fives opens his eyes. “Kix, please let me stay forever.”

“Yeah. Not gonna happen.”

END

Tag List: @isthereanechoinhere96 @followthepurrgil @amorfista

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#Whumptober 2023 #Day 22 #Prompt 22 #Vehicular Accident #Star Wars #Star Wars the Clone Wars #The Clone Wars #clone trooper kix #clone medic kix #tcw kix #clone trooper fives #arc trooper fives #tcw fives #clone trooper echo #arc trooper echo #tbb echo #Just a pinch of whump #Speeder accident #Broken wrist #concussion #brotherly bonding #Fives and his crazy schemes that usually go well #but sometimes don’t #Hence this story #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #star wars fanfiction

[cadrenebula]

Prompt #22: Fulsome

Valen had decided to play a little at the small tavern he'd stopped at with Cashmere. A little extra coin wouldn't hurt any. Not that they were hurting for coin right now. It just made him feel a little better to have some extra while they traveled. Plus he was itching to perform anyways.

Starting his little show off with a favorite number as he strummed his fingers over the strings of his small harp. Adding a bit of a merry step as he got the rhythm going. A flirtatious wink towards a nearby woman who was watching him with rapt attention. Though he missed the annoyed look of the lady's company as he spun away.

Moving to a jaunty number after that to get the mood of the place a bit more upbeat. Ever confident on the stage as he danced and played the tunes. Sweeping his arms out and bowing as he finished the last song.

Blowing a kiss towards the crowd at the their tables before he stepped off the small stage area. A couple of ladies flocked up to meet him. Something he was used to after a performance. Smiling warmly at them as he accepted their praises.

But he caught the praises that seemed more than mere fan girl. There was a clear insincerity in the tone he was able to pick up. His smile didn't fade any as he carefully glanced in the direction of the person saying the words.

Ah the woman who had been sitting with the one he'd winked at earlier. Possibly a partner? Definitely not someone he wanted to tangle with though judging by the way her shirt hugged the muscles hidden underneath. A fighter of some kind from his best guess, a jealous one at that. He was used to jealous lovers from his performances.

He let out a surprised yelp as he was suddenly being dragged around from the fan girls in front of him. Calling out apologies to them as Cashmere dragged him off by an arm. Definitely glad for the timely rescue before his adoring fan got him in trouble with her jealous partner. Cashmere was just good like that.

He followed along even after she had let go of his arm and gave him the money from the tavern owner for his performance. "Thank you, my lady." Leaning down to kiss her on the cheek. "You always have impeccable timing and wonderfully good luck."

#FFxivWrite2023 #FFxivWrite #Prompt 22 #Prompt Fulsome #About Valentin #Valen and Cashmere

[promptsbytaurie]

prompt #22

“Look me in the eyes and tell me that you really, really believe that.”

#prompt 22 #writing prompt #dialogue prompt

[thedarknesssings]

Prompt 22: Two Birds

Prompt 22: Fulsome - FFXIV Write 2023 Characters:  Kyllian

Kyllian peered down at the letter in his hand.

The invitation was generous.  A weekend away at some resort in La Noscea.  All he had to do was accept.  

He set the letter down on the couch next to him and rubbed his hands over his face.  Leaving Ishgard wasn’t the easiest thing to do for him.  That’d likely require an airship or an aetheryte, and both required the use of his identification.  Kyllian exhaled a long breath and let his hands fall to grip the couch edge instead.  

Kyllian wasn’t a criminal.  Far from it.  Even his current profession, though not exactly in the highest regards with some folks, was still legitimate.  

The problem was the Tribunal and Antoinaux.

This particular gentleman inviting him out had nothing to do with his understanding with the Tribunal and his work for them.  Kyllian had begged the Inquisition not to stick him behind some desk to push papers, and they let him go on his word.  Then again, they knew he was still healing from the accident.  Some personal time at a resort? Maybe he could pass that off as part of his recovery.

Fine.  One problem solved.  

The knight was a larger issue.  Warding his door had become a necessity as were the additional physical locks.  All of which he used the moment he walked in his door whether he was alone or not.  He could just imagine the scene if Antoinaux invited himself inside while Kyllian was entertaining a guest.  So much anger, so much bile spat out.  Antonaux getting violent wasn’t a question of maybe.  

Antoinaux tracking his movements was something Kyllian avoided at all costs.  He always took a longer route than needed to the club on the nights he worked.  Varied what times he left, when he came back.  Whenever possible, he made stops.  Into the bookstore or the tea shop, somewhere decidedly public where he could pass enough time to ensure he wasn’t being followed.  Usually it worked.

Avoidance when using either mode of transportation was so much harder.  He couldn’t fake his aetherical make-up for the one mode.  He was recognizable for the airship route.  Even if he could acquire some way to disguise himself and fake his way on, someone would recognize the once Inquisitor.  Questioning airship workers was a common enough thing over the dozen years he’d served the Tribunal openly.  And that made him traceable.

Fuck.  

His gaze slid to the letter next to him again.  The neat writing and carefully worded invitation was what he expected of the gentleman he was still getting to know.  He sure didn’t deserve Kyllian’s baggage but he wasn’t sure he was in a place he could comfortably say no.  La Noscea was known for its fabulous wine.  Some sun sounded divine to his frozen bones and aching leg.  And seeing this gentleman again appealed.  He’d been kind, sweet, giving.  Things Kyllian didn’t get a lot of in his daily life.  He rose from the couch and started to collect the few things he needed for a weekend away.

Gridania was his only safe option of passage to La Noscea.  The ride was usually quite pleasant so long as the roads were clear and the weather stayed good.  His chocobo needed exercise anyway, and she could enjoy a lovely weekend being minded in a foreign stable that wasn’t covered in snow.  A resort weekend to relax and enjoy for the both of them.

#ffxiv write 2023 #prompt 22 #writers on tumblr #ffxiv writers #Ishgard #La Noscea #elezen #Kyllian

[nought-shall-go-ill]

(For @jilytoberfest’s Prompt 22: Quiet Mornings)

Posting early because of a busy weekend

Bathilda Bagshot may have been old, may have been “batty”, but she prided herself on her exceptional hearing, thank you very much! One didn’t write the best-selling Hogwarts history of all time by just reading after all. So, Bathilda Bagshot knew a thing or two about the auditory medium.

And those Potters, they were loud — so very, very loud.

She supposed she couldn’t blame them. They were probably used to the idea that no one else could hear. Only those with knowledge of the house could, after all. And those people were naturally very few and far between.

But, consequently, they were loud! So very very loud!

And it spoiled Bathilda’s quiet mornings. Her peaceful quiet mornings! Oh, how she had loved her quiet mornings! Revelled in them. Needed them.

And then those Potters came along!

It was mostly the baby, of course. First, the teething. Oh, the teething! Poor mite was up all night with the pain, and Mummy and Daddy did all they could, but the screams came around like clockwork with the rooster’s crow. Bathilda came over with a potion or two from time to time just to shut the poor dear up. And that poor lovely girl always cooked for her afterwards. How lovely! So very kind she was, Bathilda often thought, though exceptionally loud!

And, oh, then, of course, came the talking! The babbling! How was that baby so talkative? So loud! Of course, it was probably from his father. Lovely man, lovely lovely young man he was. Always had a cheeky tale to tell, and so helpful around the house. So charming. Still, never had Bathilda heard a voice so loud!

That wasn’t the worst of though, was it? No, this was a young couple. A young married couple. And Bathilda had been young once too. She knew what it was like! (Knew all too well from when her nephew had stayed with her too, though no excuse for his lack of silencing charms, I dare say.) And well, Lily and James… it was enough to make an old woman blush! No wonder they had that darling boy so young. They certainly had plenty of practice…

Still, everyone involved must have enjoyed themselves, as they were so. very. loud!

It was strange then when that November 1st things became so quiet. The crowds came later, of course, — the paparazzi, the tourists, the aspirant mourners — and they were loud, annoying, irritatingly loud. But that first day the morning was as quiet as a mourner’s mind.

And in that moment, she just knew.

Bathilda never enjoyed a quiet morning again. Why ever had she before? There was no life in quiet.

She’d blast her wireless, sing to the birds, tell herself a cheeky story or two, maybe get the cooking started!

Anything to keep it loud.

#jilytober2022 #jily fic #prompt 22 #quiet mornings #this probably wasn’t what the prompt writer had in mind #but never in its life has my imagination played by the rules #and it’s not gonna start today! #yes I realise I could have scheduled this but I’m impatient too

[lire-casander]

Hi! For your “this isn't drama, it's love (the kind you can't get away from)” fic, (by the way, I LOVE THIS FIC!!!!) I’d really love it for prompt 22 if Carlos is recovering from an injury and TK decides to switch shifts so he can stay home with injured and recovering Carlos!!

awww thank you so much for coming to my inbox and sending me this wonderful ask! your words mean a lot to me! i hope you like it!

#22 canceling their schedule just to spend time with them

canceling their schedule just to spend time with them original prompt list here

“Honey, I’m home!” TK announces as he closes the door with his heel. He slips off his sneakers and pads through the foyer and into the living room to find Carlos propped up against some cushions on the couch. “How are you?”

“What are you doing here?” Carlos asks suspiciously, looking up from his book, staring right into TK’s green eyes over the rim of his readers. “Weren’t you supposed to be on shift right now?”

“Yeah, but I switched it,” TK replies nonchalantly. He checks his surroundings, noticing an empty glass on the coffee table. He goes straight to the fridge, opens it and takes out a cold water bottle. “Here,” he adds, uncapping it and filling the glass once again. “You’re all set on hydration now.”

“TK,” Carlos says warningly.

“Anyone would think you don’t want me here,” TK pouts.

“I do want you here,” Carlos reassures him. “But not when you’re supposed to be working, Ty.”

“I switched shifts with Pearce,” TK explains. He checks on the cast covering Carlos’ left foot as if he’s searching for something he evidently doesn’t find since he sighs happily. “It looks good.”

“It looks exactly the same as it did three hours ago when you left for the station,” Carlos mutters. “It’s broken, TK. It’ll be healing for at least three more weeks.”

“If you treat it with enough care, it can heal sooner than that,” TK tells him. “I’m just making sure you—”

“Why would you switch shifts with Pearce?” Carlos interrupts him. “You usually ignore the guy as much as you can.”

“You’re injured!” TK says as if it’s evident.

“And I can take care of myself and my broken foot, babe. Hadn’t you already scheduled all your shifts so you could have two days off in a row right before the wedding?”

TK sighs. “Yeah, but you’re injured, Carlos. I almost lost you.”

“I broke a foot running after a suspect,” Carlos points out. “I fell on my foot on a weird ankle. That’s all. You can’t go on canceling all your schedule and switching shifts every single time I get injured on the job, TK. Getting an injury rather comes with the job.”

“Says the man who left his precinct without as much as saying a word about it when I last was in a coma—”

“I told Mitchell where I was going!” Carlos exclaims.

“—and then you stayed there waiting for me to wake up for four days,” TK continues, blatantly ignoring what Carlos is saying.

“You were in a coma!”

“And we weren’t even together, Carlos,” TK says in an even voice. “That’s what you do when you love someone. You leave everything to be by their side. You were there when I woke up because that’s where you needed to be. Here is where I need to be now.”

“But what about chilling before the wedding, not working and just relaxing?”

“I’ll do it on our honeymoon, babe,” TK tells him with a smile. “It’ll be fine, because we’ll be together. Just like right now. Please, let me be here for you, just like you always are for me.”

TK sees the moment Carlos lets his defenses down and allows him to fluff the cushion under his foot, make him a sandwich, sit down beside him and surf through Netflix until he finds a show he likes.

He knows he’ll be exhausted by the time the wedding comes, after having switched all his days off for the next few shifts so he can stay home with Carlos. But his fiancé is worth that and much more. And he wasn’t lying. He’ll be fine.

Because he’ll be with his husband when everything’s said and done.

#lire's 40 to the 40s #rubinsteinsilva126 #you asked #you ask and lire answers #prompt 22 #prompt 22: canceling their schedule just to spend time with them #tarlos #tk strand/carlos reyes #carlos reyes/tk strand #911ls #911 ls #911 lone star

[kay-elle-cee]

Jilytober prompt 22: Quiet Mornings

Thank you for the prompts, @jilytoberfest!

As I was writing, a bit of dialogue got away from me and a bit off-prompt so I had to cut it. BUT I enjoyed it so much I will be posting under the cut as a thanks to you all and an apology for yesterday's sad entry. 😅

-

A single curtain in the Gryffindor common room is pulled back, allowing a lazy and pale early morning light into the room. James is ambling down the stairs from the sixth-year boys' dorm, pulling his jumper down over his head as he does so. The thud of his feet and the occasional creak of the stairs are the only sounds, save for the low crackle of the fire.

He's halfway to the portrait hole before he's stopped by the sound of someone clearing their throat. Spinning on his heel, his eyes go directly to the chair he knows she'll be in, and a smile tugs at his lips. Lily's holding this morning's edition of The Daily Prophet open in her lap, red hair piled on top of her head in a quick and thoughtless bun, a cup of tea on the table beside her with steam rising from its depths.

Her eyes—green and alert and unfathomably bright this early in the morning—flicker up from the paper to meet his, and her head jerks to her left as if a signal. He follows the movement with his gaze and sees another mug not far from her own, and his eyebrows lift as he takes the steps towards her.

"It's too bloody cold to leave the tower," she murmurs as he approaches, by way of explanation as her eyes go back to the paper. Picking up the mug, he lets the warmth spread from his hands and his heart throughout his body as he glances over at her bundled up figure.

James sits down on the sofa, on the side closest to her. Before he's fully settled, the sports pages of The Prophet are being thrust into his space by Lily's outstretched hand. He takes them gratefully, their fingers brushing ever so slightly in the exchange, and the two of them sit there contentedly, reading their respective sections of Lily's paper, basking in the silence of the still-sleeping tower

It's the silence that makes her periodic shivering so noticeable.

"Merlin, Evans, just come here already," he huffs, laughter in every syllable, as he lifts one of his arms in an invitation.

She shakes her head. "No, not after last time."

"I had a very stern talk with Sirius after that."

She ignores him and continues her reading, until another set of chills makes her gasp.

"Lily, you're shivering so much, I'm not convinced you won't catch your death." He raises his eyebrows, fixing her with his best impression of a reproachful stare. "Either you come here or I will be forced to sit on top of you for your own good."

"Oh, fine." With a big exasperated sigh and show of gathering her papers and mug, she stands and quickly tiptoes to the couch, settling down and nestling into his side; a perfect fit.

They pass the rest of the morning in this way, wordlessly exchanging sections of the paper between themselves, the only sounds coming from the crackling fire and the small sighs of contentment Lily makes every now and then, her head resting on the arm draped around her.

Other Jilytober drabbles here.

Cut Dialogue:

“I gave him a very stern talking to after last time," James assures her. "After all, nothing weird about cuddling your mate. He and Remus do it all the time.” He watches her shrug.

“Well yes, but the difference is that Sirius and Remus are shagging,” she answers, eyes still on her paper.

James chokes on his tea and her eyes dart up to find him, alarmed.

“They’re WHAT?”

“Christ, Potter. I knew you were blind”—she gestures at the glasses on his face—“but are you BLIND?”

#kelsey writes #jily #jilytober #jilytober2022 #drabbles #ficlets #31 prompts #prompt 22

[perfectpaperbluebirds]

Sicktember #22

Prompt: Terms of Endearment/Nicknames

Fandom/OCs: Roaring Twenties OCs (Jesse Hamilton)

Words: 1630

Inspiration: None, really. A follow-up to this snippet by me. 

Author’s comments/background: Read Jesse’s first story here. Jesse was another OC that served a very specific purpose and I have never been able to come up with another good scenario for him, but that Roaring Twenties scenario I wrote a bit ago was so generic that I figured I might as well stick it with an existing OC, so here is the follow-up. This one was fun to write, as it’s an era I haven’t had much practice writing. You all can judge how successful I was. 

This might not exactly fit the spirit of the prompt, since these two are strangers, but I think it’s cute in its own way. 

~~~***~~~

The last time he was in this club, a beautiful dame had promised to buy him a drink. Today his eyes roved over the seats constantly, looking for that dame again, clamping his lips every so often against the persistent cough that was plaguing him. He had all but given up when a pair of big brown eyes locked onto his, and his heart started beating faster. 

She was slowly making her way over to him, hips swinging and that sultry smile on her lips. Excitement coursed through him, pooling between his legs, which he crossed in a hurry. He watched her approach, trying to maintain an air of easy expectation. When she was a few tables away from him, another gent called her name, grabbing her and trying to flirt. Though the coughing man couldn't hear precisely what was being said, he had learned to read lips as a kid, obsessed as he'd been with making sure no one was talking about him or keeping secrets from him. He'd kept the knack for it, and it came in handy in the factories where it was so loud a man couldn't hear himself think. He stifled another cough into his fist as he watched the other gent make a desperate attempt to keep her attention, but he was gratified to see her eyes kept flickering over to his table. She pulled away at last, and the gent pleaded with her not to leave, but she ignored him. Rose Madden, the fellow had called her. Rose was her name. His senses heightened with the thrill of recognition--he knew this girl, or at least he had a long time ago. 

She swished up to his table at last, sliding into the chair across from him with easy grace and a flirtatious smile. "Why fancy meeting you here."

"Evening, miss," he said evenly, leaning back and trying to match her relaxed posture. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"What indeed? It's almost a month since you were here before. I'd all but given up on ever seeing you again. I trust you're in good health?" She pulled out a cigarette in a holder and lit it, taking a long drag, as if whatever he answered was inconsequential to her. 

He shrugged one shoulder, clearing his throat. "I'm still kicking, as it were. And I'm sorry I kept you waiting. I had to go out of town for a few weeks for work."

"Oh, I wasn't waiting," she said carelessly, taking another drag. "I almost didn't notice you, except that you caught my eye, frantically looking around as you were. Were you looking for someone?"

Her eyes held his, unblinking. She knew exactly who held the power here. If he said he was looking for her, she continued to be in control. If he said someone else, she could easily walk away and tell him to bother another woman instead. 

He took the bait, seeing no other option. "Why, you, sugar, who else?" he asked, a little desperate now. As long as she continued to sit with him, he continued to have a chance with her. 

"And why would you be doing a thing like that, I wonder?" she asked, blowing a lazy smoke ring. He thought she was testing him–as if she hadn't quite made up her mind about him yet. 

"You promised to buy me a drink, remember," he said, a little lamely. 

"You don't seem to be hard up for cash. I wouldn't peg you as the type to go to so much trouble for a little free booze," she said, continuing to toy with him, hardly blinking as she scrutinized his every reaction, yet maintaining her careless demeanor. 

"Okay, so it's not just the drink. How could I not look for you after we talked last month, angel? That's like dangling a piece of meat in front of a tiger and then pulling it away."

One of her eyebrows shot up. "Ah, so we're comparing a woman to a piece of meat and making her an object now. I see the originality has already run dry. And here I thought you were smarter than that, with those intelligent eyes and gentleman's posture. What a shame." She leaned away, and made as if to stub out her smoke. 

"Aww, don't go, sugar," he begged, demeaning himself further. It was all or nothing, now. "What do you want from me? Whatever it is, I'll be it. You want intelligent? I can be intelligent. Or classy. Or smooth. Take it slow? Knock you off your feet? Name it and it's yours." He leaned over the table, bridging the gap between them. Unfortunately the wisp of smoke from her cig caught him full in the face as he did, and he was forced to cough into his sleeve, short and harsh, before turning back to her. 

She stared at him for a long moment before, inexplicably, a look of understanding crossed her face. He held his breath as she too leaned forward once more. 

"And what about sick in bed, can you do that one?" Her cool hand was pressed against his sweaty forehead out of nowhere, surprisingly gentle. "Because that's the only place you should be with a cough and fever like that. I'm amazed you came here sick again. What were you thinking?" 

He leaned back, shrugging one shoulder again and trying to keep his face neutral even as his hopes for the night drained away. "Just a cough isn't so bad. Anyway, I'm better than I was last month. I didn't want to keep you waiting any longer."

"I told you, I wasn't waiting for you." She stubbed out the remains of her cigarette thoughtfully. When her intense brown eyes met his once more, though, she was smiling, flirtatious as she'd been when she sat down. "Why don't you come home with me tonight?"

His mood reinflated like a balloon, but her next words gave him pause:

"Mama always wanted me to be a nurse. Looks like I get to practice on you, handsome. Come back to my place and let me nurse you back to health once and for all. You must be miserable, being sick for almost a month as you have." 

He wasn't sure what to make of this strange turn of events, unsure whether he ought to be excited or embarrassed. It seemed she was still flirting, though, so it was time to try to swing things in his favor for the first time all night. There was one bit of leverage he had over her still.

"Well that sounds fine and dandy. But why would you do a thing like that? I'm a complete stranger to you. You don't even know my name."

This was a gamble. She may well know his name, first and last. His family weren't exactly strangers in this area, and he was the young heir. He had strangers approach him all the time, acting as if they knew him after reading a few newspaper articles about him. 

She held her teasing smile, considering what he'd said. "I suppose that's true. But you don't know mine either. It's all been pet names and terms of endearment. So why would YOU do a thing like follow me home?"

He coughed before answering, heightening the suspense, at least in his mind. "Au contraire, mademoiselle. I do know your name, Rose Madden. Your father is a banker, and your mother died years ago. I think you were around ten. Most of the neighborhood attended her funeral. And you were sent away to boarding school shortly thereafter. So you see, you're no stranger to me after all."

He leaned back with a self-satisfied smile, muffling another cough behind his lips. Her mouth dropped open slightly, and he mentally chalked up a point in his favor, and then another when she gave him a look of reluctant admiration. 

"Alright then, have it your way. Why don't you come on home with me and we can have a talk over coffee about how you know so much. You shouldn't be out in the night air any longer, Casanova. You look like you could use a hot drink."

He nodded, standing and pulling on his jacket. "I'll take you up on that. Long as you'll be there, I'll go anywhere you like."

He was putting the power back in her hands, but he was quickly becoming too tired to care, now that he had met his objective. 

She smiled as she looped her arm through his. "I'll treat you right, don't you worry."

They made their way out the door and onto the sidewalk as one. The cool night air felt heavenly on his superheated skin, and the quiet was a relief for his aching head. She tugged gently on his arm and began to lead him out of the neighborhood.

"You know it's only fair if you tell me your name, since you know mine," she said as she walked. 

He looked down at her and almost argued to keep hold of his last vestige of control. Then she smiled up at him, and he had to smile back. 

"Jesse. Name's Jesse."

"No last name?" she prodded. 

"Not yet. I'm not sure you've earned that information."

Her arm moved, and he almost thought she was going to pull away, but in the end she kept walking with a private smile. "Suit yourself. You'll tell me sooner or later."

"And why would I do a thing like that?"

"Because when I nurse you back to health you're going to fall madly in love with me, Mr. Jesse, and then you'll tell me anything I ask, just as they do in the war stories."

He chuckled softly, the sound floating up to the night sky. "Well I look forward to seeing how that plays out, then, Miss Rose."

#sicktember 2023 #skt 2023 #prompt 22 #roaring twenties ocs

[chocoblep]

#22: Truer Words

Lydi and Arivel sat eating lunch, talking and laughing and teasing each other, when Kellen came to straddle the bench on Arivel’s other side. Lydi’s work partner froze, ducking his head with a pretty blush to his cheeks as Lydi continued talking.

“... And then he told me that I was cute!”

“You are cute, Lydi,” Arivel said, and Kellen leaned his elbow on the table to look at her, nodding in agreement before resting his chin in his meaty hand.

“I–I mean,” she spluttered, looking between the two men with a bit of pink in her cheeks as well. “I think he was just being overly complimentary, but you know me, I can’t ever tell if someone is genuinely interested in me!”

“Well,” the new arrival said, running his free hand through his black hair and fixing her with a look. “Maybe it’s time for someone with a keen interest in your happiness to suss that out, eh?” The Highlander reached out with the hand he wasn’t leaning on and snaked that arm around Arivel’s waist, pulling him in toward his chest. “After all, you did do me a solid all those moons ago.”

Arivel spluttered, almost dropping his apple, but he snuggled into Kellen’s warmth all the same, and Lydi smiled at the pair. “Wait, what’d she do?” he asked, looking between Lydi and Kellen.

“Well, I have a theory that when she bumped into me on the lift the day my comm broke, she kicked it through the grate on purpose,” Kellen said, and Arivel lost a bit of color in his face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lydi retorted, turning to straddle the bench and face them fully. She had this look on her face, though… Lydi was a terrible liar, and Arivel saw through it immediately.

“You set us up!?” he asked, and Kellen just laughed, leaning in to kiss the crown of Arivel’s head.

“Well, you were in a shitty relationship and you needed a push, and Kellen had been looking at you like a love struck puppy for like, two moons, and–oh, tell me I was wrong!” She looked at Kellen, whose face had also lost a bit of color.

Arivel shifted against the highlander, looking up at his face. “Really? Wait, how long did you…”

“Half a turn,” Kellen interrupted, and then cleared his throat. “But we’re talking about Lydi and this guy who definitely likes her, not us.”

“Wait, half a turn before we got together?” Arivel questioned. “That would have been when you first got here–”

“Yes,” he said, and Lydi smirked. She had successfully turned the conversation away from herself once more.

“But that would mean that you…”

“He had a crush on you since the moment he saw you, Ari,” Lydi said, and that had Kellen clearing his throat.

“Anyway, this guy of yours. Did he use any strange body language? Try to stand close? Smile at you a lot? Laugh at stupid shite he had no business laughing at just because you said it?” The Highlander was like a dog with a bone, and Lydi couldn’t help the sigh that escaped her lips.

“No, he–well, wait, he did seem to always be stepping into my space. And he did laugh at a stupid joke I made about ice cream flavors…”

“Definitely likes you,” Kellen said with a solemn nod. “You should talk to him again.”

“Why?” she asked, and it was Arivel that perked up to reply.

“Why? Because you’re always making everyone else happy, and it’s the ones who put so much effort into making others happy who are the most unhappy!”

“But making others happy makes me happy,” she protested, and Kellen just smiled.

“Not going to force anything on you, obviously, but when you go home today, take a few moments to think about what happiness really means to you, independent of your desire to see those around you happy. And if that personal happiness includes a companion? Then talk to the guy again.” he shrugged, as if it were really that simple.

She thought about it for the rest of the day, and when she finally got home, she walked into her sparse little apartment and looked around. Everything was in its place. It wasn’t put away, exactly; Lydi lived in a state of organized chaos, something that only really worked for her and lost its meaning to anyone else. It was something that was hers, and hers alone.

Alone.

There was no mystery of some little thing having been moved, no sign that anyone but herself was ever here. No little sounds to alert her to another’s presence, no easy companion to tell all her worries to, or muse about the things that had happened to her over the course of the day.

It’s the ones who put so much effort into making others happy who are the most unhappy.

Arivel’s words rang through her mind, and as she looked in the mirror and brushed her teeth, her ears wilted against her head and she took on a sullen expression. She hated that statement, but not because it was objectively true.

She hated it because it was true for her, too.

#FFxivWrite2023 #FFxivWrite #Story #Lydjana Silvaret #Prompt 22 #Fulsome

[angrypaperearthquake-tbbb-main]

Hey! Congrats on the 200 followers 🎉🎉🎉🎊🎊🎊. I wanna summit a prompt for the 200 follower drabble prompt challenge! I'm thinking platonic Shin-ah and Jea-ha with prompt #22 Asking for advice! I think it would be funny to have Shin-ah suddenly ask for advice from Jea-ha (I had a hard time choosing who to pair with Shin-ah cause all of them would be their own kind of funny 🤣) pls and thank you!!

Hello sweetheart!

Thank you so much for participating in the 200 Followers Drabble Prompt Challenge event!

I think that idea is hilarious! I hope you like what I wrote and it's what you were looking for! Please enjoy 🥰

Title: The One That Got Away Fandom: Yona of the Dawn/Akatsuki no Yona Characters: Jae-Ha & Shin-Ah Prompt: #22 - Asking for advice Word Count: 100

“Jae-Ha, how do you pick up girls?” Shin-Ah asked. “Ah, Shin-Ah, you’ve finally come to the age where you want to meet a girl,” Jae-Ha responded warmly while slinging an arm over Shin-Ah's shoulder. “Let me tell you all about it.” Jae-Ha regaled him with harrowing stories of his youth and all the women he dated. “And that is how you pick up girls,” Jae-Ha smiled proudly. Shin-Ah stared at him, bewildered, “But what if they start wiggling?” “Come again?” Jae-Ha asked, confused. “How do you pick up girls so you don’t drop them?” Shin-Ah asked. “Oh no…” Jae-Ha answered.

Don't ask me where the idea came from, because I have no clue 🤣 It popped into my head on my way to Dunkin. I had to pull over and write it down so I didn't forget. I hope you liked it!!!

Again, thanks for participating!!! 💚

All completed drabbles will be posted on my A03 account.

#200 followers event #200 followers drabble prompt challenge #drabble prompt challenge #prompt 22 #asking for advice #jae-ha #shin-ah #jae-ha & shin-ah #drabble #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #yona of the dawn #akatsuki no yona #akayona

[midcinmancave]

"Who said this is a good idea?"

When good ideas go comically awry. Complete Story Source

Fictober Story #25 Fandom:  Midnight Cinderella Featuring:  Byron Wagner, Albert Burckhardt, Nico Meier, The Princess Warnings:  None Rating/Genre:  General Audience, Comedy, Romance Writer:  KoW Writer Project

#Fictober22 #fanfiction #Midnight Cinderella #22 #Byron Wagner #Albert Burckhardt #Nico Meier #Kingdom of Wysteria #MidCin #イケメン王宮 #Prompt 22

[idanwyn-et-al]

(XIV||22-22): Veracity.

(Continued from here.) (♪)

She sneezes, despite her best efforts to stifle it. To her surprise, the Temple Knight holding her right arm pulls a mostly-clean handkerchief from her pouch, cleaning Anne-Sophie’s nose. The gesture of kindness shames her further, hot tears stinging her eyes in the algid wind. It makes her miss her mother, who will surely be present in Ishgard.

Seven-and-thirty springs old, needing her nose wiped and missing her mother like a girl in ribbons and gowns. Part of her wishes to call Glass to her side, to escape yet again. But she cannot; she will not. She continues through the snow, and catches sight of the covered wagon up ahead, robed and armored figures surrounding it.

---Previously, in the Coerthan Central Highlands:---

Anne-Sophie bit hard on her lower lip to keep from whimpering as she poured the icy water over her head and shoulders. In many ways, her travels had made her much stronger; in others, they’d spoiled her to softness. Despite a lifetime of waking in the barracks, bathing in waters heated until they were just this side of freezing, she had grown reliant upon warm showers and temperate springs for her ablutions. She would have foregone bathing altogether had it not been necessary to wash her red locks black with Noémie’s alchemical shampoo; whatever sweat managed to rise beneath her travelling clothes didn’t warrant more than a quick scrub of what her aunt Elodie called ‘the three pits’.

Toweling herself dry, three pits included, her teeth chattered beneath bluish lips as she dressed as quickly as she could. Today’s journey would be an unhurried one; down to the Observatorium, then onward to the North Shroud. She could only hope Vendredi wouldn’t fight his dress barding too vehemently; the Mystic Knight knew it reminded him of the battlefield and its attendant suffering, but it was necessary to help him blend in.

Camp Dragonhead’s chocobokeep was now another handful of gil richer, and Anne-Sophie and Vendredi had purchased further freedom from suspicion and capture. Once her steed’s ground-eating strides had carried the pair a good ways south, she guided him off the path, aiming for a fortification within the Skyfire Locks she knew to be largely vacant these days.

Her current fugitive status was not a good enough excuse for her to neglect her morning training regimen. If anything, it provided good impetus to do so, and so she did, Vendredi keeping a nervous eye on the road as his mistress went through her sword forms. Anne-Sophie began with the basics, then added the aetheric augmentations she’d learned some twenty years past.

Earth, for defensive maneuvers, steady and unyielding: Glass’s blade widened, ready to intercept incoming blows.

Fire, for merciless offensive strikes, to be used only when paired with a sword-and-shield defensive companion: the magicked weapon kept its signature blue-wrapped pommel, but otherwise lengthened and sharpened its blade to a keen edge.

Air, the first element she’d learned, for quick, precise strikes and augmented acrobatics: a balanced rapier was the reflection the Fury’s Looking-Glass took on.

Now she’d worked up a sweat worthy of a bath, frigid or otherwise. Her heavy panting echoed against the inside of her helm as the Mystic Knight willed Glass’s configuration back to its defensive broadsword guise, then tied it to her hip. Keeping it attached to her body by mundane means lent her disguise another ilm or two of veracity to the casual observer; if she were to let it float through the air beside her as she often did, that would surely catch someone’s eye sooner or later.

“Kwe--eeeh ♪,” Vendredi trilled, the sound shattering her idle musings. Instinctively, she fell to her stomach, arms akimbo so her elbows could hold her head above the snows her feet had kicked up during her training regimen. The sun had yet to rise; the cloudy skies were still dark, oil-filled torches dotting the snowy locks serving as the only sources of light. There, on that nearby peak---she thought she spotted something ascending swiftly and silently into the gloom. Vendredi whistled again. Curiously enough, the sound was the bird’s friendly tone of greeting someone familiar. A snowlark, perhaps? He was fond of birds, be they larger or smaller than he.

A quarter bell passed while she lay in silence, the sweat she’d worked up quickly becoming clammy before her specialized gambeson and cowl wicked it away. Vendredi did not sound any further alarums; the wind whistled through the spruce trees, snowflakes whipped aloft from the frozen earth pirouetting on its currents.

At length, she got to her feet, stretching out her sore muscles as quietly as her armor would allow. Climbing into Vendredi’s saddle once more, she continued her journey to the Observatorium, praying to the Fury that her ruse hadn’t failed her.

(Continued here!)

#FFxivWrite2022 #my writing #Anne-Sophie Bale #XIV Write 22 Anne-Sophie Story #Prompt 22 #Veracity #Vendredi the Chocobo

[cadrenebula]

Prompt #22: Veracity

Lothaire sighed heavily as he rubbed his hands over his face. Once more here is sat at this desk. Looking over the books. Again. He hated this part of his life more than anything. Mostly because it involved his mother messing with things when he wasn’t around. 

Scratching out yet another change he recognized wasn’t his writing. Oh she tried to make it look like his but there were subtle differences in the handwriting. He wasn’t going to let her fund this with the family money. Not when he knew how dirty and underhanded this group played.

“I thought you had finished the books today already?” Lady Aurifore asked as she entered the room to frown at her youngest son and lord of the house. 

“I did. But I keep finding someone who has made changes.” Lothaire comments dryly as he looks up at his mother. He knew who it was but he wasn’t going to call her out on it. It was likely she knew that he did. He just tried to keep the peace since he was the one that had to live with her. Either she could be honest, unlikely, or keep up her lies.

“I think you are just mistaken, dear. You should come down to dinner.” She turned to leave the room.

It was always the same. Lothaire shaking his head with another sigh. She always played the kind mother card when she suspected he knew she might be lying. “At least Lance is always honest. Unlike the rest of the family…” Putting aside the books. He’d finish fixing things after some dinner.

#FFxivWrite2022 #FFxivWrite #Prompt 22 #Prompt Veracity #House Aurifore #Lance and Lothaire #It feels weak and short but I am Tired #and at least wanted to make sure I did something #So have Lance's little brother Lothaire #Lothaire is a sweet bean an deserves better #Both of the Aurifore sons deserve better

[amarantine-amirite]

Lost Before the Dawn

Heather picked up her phone, turned on Siri, and said, "Hey, Siri, call Tippy Tinkletrousers."

Tippy Tinkletrousers is the mad scientist from the Captain Underpants books formerly known as Professor Poopypants. They're not real, so they can't pick up the phone. Heather phoned a fictional character because she gets antsy and needs to do things if she has to wait for an extended time. Many people she knew had a ton of theories about why she struggled with waiting. Her grandpa on her dad's side thought she couldn't tell time and didn't know how long she had to wait because of this. Her parents thought she didn't always understand the reason for waiting. Her friends thought that she was never sure what to do while waiting.

The truth was far more complicated. Things happened in Heather's life that reinforced the belief that if she didn't get it now, she would never get it, such as being in a restaurant that closed for the night before her family got a table. People told her to wait her turn even though they had no desire to include her in whatever they were doing. Worse still, the adults in her community had unrealistic expectations related to kids and patience. Her peers spent a lot of time at daycares and with babysitters with very little to do, so they got accustomed to not having anything to do for long periods. She knew a few people who would wait for two hours before phoning someone who forgot to pick them up because they could quite happily stay where they were all day.

To her shock, the phone dialed through. "Uh, hi?" Tippy asked.

Heather sat there in disbelief. "Holy crap, that worked?" she said.

"Well, yeah," Tippy scoffed, "it's a working phone number."

"No," Heather chuckled, "I didn't mean punching a number in my phone. I called you through Siri."

Tippy's demeanor went from confused to disgusted. "Oh, I see. Not funny, asshole!"

Heather couldn't stop giggling. "Yeah, it must suck sharing your name with the bad guy in Captain Underpants''. While it might have not been the appropriate thing to say, she had a point. Everybody laughs if you share your name with something from a series of kids' books about a fat superhero in his underwear.

Heather soon discovered the situation was far more complex - and far more dire - than she expected. "you don't understand! It's worse than that!" Tippy grumbled in subtle fear, "I didn't used to be Tippy Tinkletrousers!"

"Are you able to just change your name back?" she responded, oblivious to the gravity of the situation.

By now, Tippy went into a full-blown panic. "That's the problem! I can't! I'll die!" they barked before hanging up in disgust.

Suddenly, witness protection didn't feel so safe. Tippy decided to pretend that didn't happen and go back home now. Getting home was harder than it looked. Fainting in terror so hard you circled back to sleepwalking made it worse.

The walk home normally took about ten minutes. After an hour, they didn't get any closer to home.

If they were conscious, they would have known they were on the boardwalk. They would have seen the seagrass sticking up about the water, a dense layer of fog, and nothing else. The only thing that they could have seen beyond the fog would have been the odd flash of lightning. It was only dumb luck that they did not walk off the end of the dock into the drink.

They didn't know it, but Hurricane Karen would descend upon the coast.

In a matter of hours, the storm whipped up a frenzy on the ocean. The crashing waves slammed into the pier, destroying the dock and the boat launch. High winds, torrential rain and seawater slammed into buildings, bridges, the boardwalk, and ultimately Tippy!

As for Heather, she had no idea how badly she ruined, if not ended, someone's life.

@nuttynutcycle

#writing #writers #writers on tumblr #short fiction #short story #flash fiction #prompt 22

[slythindor100]

25 days of Draco and Harry The challenge is to write a drabble, ficlet, story, whatever for each of the pics. Your fic for each prompt must be a minimum of 100 words - but there is no maximum. They can be twenty-five one-shots or each one can be a part of a bigger story. Yes, you may combine this with other holiday challenges. But to be part of 25 Days of Draco and Harry – Draco and Harry MUST be a couple. You can post your fics anywhere, but please post the header below - with a link to where ever you post. I highly recommend you post to the AO3 collection set up for this challenge: 25 Days of Draco and Harry 2022.

You can do this easily by posting the work to your AO3 account and where it says post to collections start typing 25 Days... a list will come up and you simply need to select: 25 Days of Draco and Harry 2022 (25_Days_of_Draco_and_Harry_2022). When you post it's included in the collection. Easy!! This will help me for the recap I'll put together. ♥ But you are NOT obligated to post to AO3. A hint for those of you writing one, big story is to click "this work has multiple chapters" when you make your first post. That way you can add a chapter to it each day and people can find it easily. Also, if you're doing 25 not related fics – click "this work is part of a series" and then title your series something like sassy_cissa's 2022 25 Days of D/H series (but using your name, of course) or something that will uniquely identify it on AO3. NOTE: your fic does not have to be a story of the picture - you can use a part of the picture or whatever that picture says to you. For those doing traditional style – the prompts must be used in order – as stated in the guidelines. This does not apply for early-bird participants. The challenge of this is to write and post within the 24-hour period between prompt postings. There's no penalty if you don't, but if you'd like to challenge yourself you can. Otherwise, you can post anytime for any prompt if you are posting for fun. You can also combine prompts if you're not able to write one day. The hope for this is for it to be fun and low-stress. And because your mods want more H/D loveliness during Christmas!! NOTE: your work doesn't have to be beta'd for this challenge.

Each day at midnight (EST) beginning on Dec 1st - the prompt for that  day will show at the top of that day’s post.

NOTE: THIS CLOCK is the official clock. If you have any questions or concerns - feel free to contact the mods at [email protected]. If posting on tumblr, please tag all entries: #25 days of drarry, #25 days 2022. Thanks

#25 days of drarry #25daysofdracoandharry #25 days 2022 #2022hols #drarry #traditional #prompt 22 #holiday challenge