#prompt four

[ssavinggrace]

day four, prompt four: trans nico

💀⚡️-jasico bingo challenge 2024-⚡️💀

rushed cause school is beating my ass

@jasico-challenges

[the-one-you-thought-of-forever]

Good day to all 37 invitees and those who are not.

This marks a preview of the second week (August 4th-10th).

He liked all the submissions from last week, here's to another week. (Use "#the august challenge" and/or submit it to our blog so he may see.)

I apologize for the location change.

They found him.

This shouldn't happen again.

Thank you all for participating for his entertainment.

[fanfictasia]

Whumpuary Prompt 4

“Help me”

Spoiler: This is an excerpt from The Nighttime Fear

Going under is… strange. Hunter’s been sedated before, but this is different. He feels like he’s floating like there’s something pulling him in.

“I know who you are,” a familiar bright voice says, “You’re Crosshair.”

“How do you know me?” Crosshair snarls back, and the image slowly drifts into focus. Kamino. The brilliant white light is something Hunter would recognize, anywhere.

The image shifts before she can answer. It shudders, darkening, and he sees flashes, fleeting images. He sees Crosshair. He sees the girl.

The surroundings are unclear when it settles again, but it’s dimmer. Crosshair – dreseed in black, and it looks so wrong on him that it hurts – is standing, facing her. His lightsaber blade is ignited and red. That hurts, too.

Her eyes are wide.

She’s wearing a forehead-pendant thing that reminds Hunter of the one Nala Se used to wear, though it was such a long time ago, he couldn’t say if the markings are identical. He’s seen it before, but never so vividly.

“My mission is to find them,” Crosshair says, voice silkily smooth enough that it makes Hunter’s skin crawl. He only talks like that when he’s about to react with violence. “And that’s what you want. I don’t see why that should be a problem.”

“What does the Empire want with our brothers?” she demands. She sounds angry and terrified at once.

“What’s it to you?” he snarks back, stalking forwards.

The girl backs away from him, eyes wide.  “Crosshair, this isn’t you!” she yells as he grabs her wrist. “It’s your inhibitor chip!”

She knows about those, too, Hunter thinks numbly.

“Don’t make this difficult,” he snarls, “They aren’t worth hurting for.”

“Yes, they are!” she yells back at him, defiant and angry. “They’re our brothers!”

“Hunter!” She didn’t speak, because he didn’t see her say it, but he still heard the echo of his name in her mind, calling him. Crying for him.

[emeralddoeadeer]

31 Prompts for 31 Days

A collection of drabbles

4. Jily in the rain

The squelching mud is hardly distinguishable over the sounds of Lily’s complaints, disbelief that her friends have dragged her out here.

“I just don’t see how catching pneumonia in the rain is going to cheer me up after that cow Astrid Pierce, ugh… she—”

Distracted by the sight of a very wet James Potter coming their way, precious broom slung over his strong shoulder, so distracted in fact, that she misses the slick patch of mud, ready to embarrass herself even more today.

Warm despite the rain, two hands grasp her waist, “I got you Evans”. Ok, she feels better.

@jilytoberfest

[kangaroo-writes-trash]

Swordtember - 4. Ghostly

“The Phantom Piercer - their title, not mine. Unlike the previous few, this one is still in use.”

The enraptured crowd watches the over-the-top jester dance back and forth atop his stage, waving an uninteresting rapier around as they go. “Your normal, every day kind of stabby-thing! I bought it just this morning I’ll have you know!” He so effortlessly lied; the same practised line from the same practised set. He presents his palm to the crowd dramatically, followed by an awkward grip on the rapier to poke his hand with the tip. “See? Unless... there’s anyone here who still doesn’t believe me? Come on, show of hands, one of you lovely folks can come and test it for yourself!”  They offer towards the crowd, who, for the most part, couldn’t even begin to fathom where the ‘trick’ would be. They saw the rapier find resistance - they’re convinced. Save for one: a young girl of scruffy dress and dirty brown hair, whose hand shot up the moment the crowd was prompted. “Aha! So there is one of you that doesn’t trust - a smart lady!” He dramatically points the rapier towards the girl as she approaches, much to the crowd’s collective dismay, a few gasps sprinkled within. A smirk and a wink from the joyful jester to the unimpressed child, before flipping the weapon in his hand and dutifully offering her the hilt. “Here we are, young miss! Do be careful!” Her small frame manages to lift the rapier just fine, and after a minute of idle pricking of her fingers, she hands the weapon back. Blade forward. “It seems our inspector here is pleased! Why, how about a round of applause for her diligence! Come on!” He exclaims with a flourishing twirl, the crowd happily following his command. A few cheers of approval are shouted towards the girl, who shrinks back into the once again energetic crowd, disapproving of the attention. “Now that that’s out of the way, how about we get on with the show! I’m going to need one of you fine folks as a volunteer!” “Now, sir, it’s rather quite important that you stop fidgeting.” The jester stage-whispers to the well dressed man who shares his stage, producing a handful of laughs from the on-edge onlookers. In the jester’s hand is the prechecked rapier, its point teasing the make of the man’s tunic. “You’re in safe hands! And if you weren’t... well, there’s too many witnesses!” He says for the crowd, their laughs not helping the volunteer’s heart.  “On my mark, sir, would you mind taking a deep breath in?” A cautious nod from the volunteer and a careful reposition of the rapier, before he lifts his free hand to the crowd, three fingers lifted. “Three, two, one! Now!” He exclaims, followed by a violent thrust of the rapier forward.  The volunteer’s nervous breaths are immediately replaced with a terrified gasp, the same as the ones permeating the crowd. They try to back up, to escape the rapier’s skewering, but the firm hand on his shoulder thwarts his attempts. A wide smile across the jester’s face that he can’t help but see as sinister. But a moment of quiet later, the man looks down to see that the rapier has indeed been stuck through his chest. He feels a weird discomfort from having a piece of steel stuck through his chest, but not a single ounce of pain. Nervous laughter gurgles up from his throat as he cautiously moves his hands up to make contact with the very physical hilt. The jester, his grip still tight on the hilt, slowly moves clockwise around the man twice, forcing the skewered man to rotate in kind. “As you can see, there’s no trick of the eyes! Enters in the front, comes out the back! And, if I wiggle it...” He does so, allowing the crowd to see the other end of the rapier move as they might expect. The volunteer smiles towards the crowd, convincing them only then that they didn’t just watch a man get stabbed to his eventual death.  Without a word for preparation, the jester then pulls free the rapier from the man’s chest, leaving a hole in the front and back of his tunic. He gasps once more as it’s removed, but again feels no pain in the action. The jester raises the rapier into the air and sheathes it with a flourish, and a bow. “Ta-dah!” The crowd erupts into roars of cheers and clapping, much to his and the brown-haired girl’s delight.  

“That blade was meant to kill a king. That was his grandfather’s plan, at the very least.   Yet now, it’s used in a stage play for coin and fame. A two man act - The Court Jester & His Daughter. I rather enjoy it.”  

[figsandfandoms]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Psych (TV 2006) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Carlton Lassiter/Shawn Spencer Characters: Carlton Lassiter, Shawn Spencer Additional Tags: Fluff, Kissing, beer drinking or at least talking about it, @flufftober2021, prompt four, Sparklers and Fireworks Series: Part 4 of Fig's Fluff 2021 Summary:

Carlton was a romantic who never thought he'd get his own Hollywood movie cliché. that is until he met Shawn Spencer.

[greenchristmas]

Ho Ho Ho to our darling Maddie of @wormholxtreme​. As you can imagine, the elves, reindeer and I have been terribly busy getting everything ready for Christmas Eve. We were excited to take a break and dive back into your wonderful blog. We debated our topic of choice for this particular prompt. I mean - Happy’s loving relationship with his children is right up this old Saint Nick’s alley as you can imagine. Old Santa Claus has a soft spot for the kiddos.

However, we decided to be a bit naughty this year and talk about Kaylee’s romantic and sexual history. We adored the detail you put into it. Despite Kaylee being an extraordinary woman, she has had her bumps and bruises in her romantic life. As a writer, a character’s sexual history and the decisions they have made along the way really form a part of that character, often impacting other relationships. Things like trust issues, space requirements, boundaries and risk aversion are all impacted by one’s sexual history.

The fact that Kaylee has an imperfect romantic and sexual history makes her a better and well-formed character. This speaks volumes as to your skill as a writer. Everything from what breaks her heart to what makes her hot are all important facets of Kaylee and as important as any other part of her. We like how she’s a little naughty and a little kinky. It would have been so easy to make Kaylee a Mary Poppins type of character. She is beautiful. She is powered. She has a good and loving family. It could have drifted into some dull terrain. But Kaylee is so much more than that because of your skillful handling of her life. Her real life. It is all too easy to rely on childhood trauma and bad parenting to make a character feel rich and complex. It is much harder to give them a loving family and a good heart and then still make them feel rich and complex.

Kaylee is so real and when you write her, we all agree that you can hear her voice so clearly. She is a fantastic and well-rounded character.

Well done, Maddie. Brava to a talented writer and roleplayer. Keep up the good work. We look forward to seeing you continue to hone your skills and develop your wonderful muses.

Merry Christmas and all the very best to you and your family in 2021.

[egg-of-mankhad]

Prompt Four: Shifting Blame

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast

That damn child's wailing pierced through the fragile walls of the tent like a tiny dagger. Ringing throughout Bruuv's I'll suited horns. It was always like this. The thing's wailing. All it did was cry and cry, with no end in sight. Never resting save for when it was bright as day and small integrals in the night. Never ceasing except when it sucks on the test the belongs to the old woman who calls herself Bruuv's mother. Damn them. Damn them both.

"<Will you SHUT up?!>" he roared from his floor mat. Furs covering his head in an effort to block the sound from reaching his horns. "<I can't fish if I can't sleep! I can't trade if I can't fish! And if I can't trade NO ONE'S surviving the winter!! You insufferable piece of-- >"

"<What in the blessed name of the Sea is going on here…?>"

The mother of Bruuv. Of Egel. And of Salam. She was always a patient woman. She had to be, raising those three. The relationship between the siblings had been a strained one, even before the death of their father, Viisk. Averi would always be there to dispel any and all quarrels between them, and there were many. Shouting quarrels, fist fights, beatings, even blood. Salam and Bruuv never got along, being two brothers close in age, they both have had different beliefs on who should inherit the title of Khatun. Egel was the eldest so inheritance was her right, and Bruuv in his youth fully believed this.

Salam's idea for a well suited leader was different however. He was the second eldest, but he was always the most loyal to their father. He dreamed of the days when the Mankhad -ruled- the coastal shores of the Ryakgyr Peninsula. When their name struck fear into the hearts of men, rained blood upon the sand and the waters. They were great. They were powerful.

Egel; she was delusional. Egel, with her tiny and innocent beliefs that their tribe was already great, in spite of how small every Mankhad family was. How utterly removed and separated Mankhad were from each other, and the rest of the Steppes. Egel still insisted they were great. She had idolized her father. Averi often found she had concerns for the way both she and Bruuv treated him as a God. And eventually, even her dear husband started seeing himself as one; as he reached his old age. She went into the seaside caves to fetch algae once only to see the picture of her husband atop a thorned throne. Twin whales circling around a crimson sun around his head. And a great serpent in the water below. She still did not know who painted such a macabre photo.

Bruuv; he was frustrated. He was always such a frustrated child, who often would be the one to receive a hint of scorn from his father. Harsh criticism, harsh standards. Physical abuse. It trickled down into the way Bruuv's own siblings treated him. He was always the ugly one. The clumsy one. Always the one to fuck up. Always the idiot. Always the loser, the meek, the runt of the pack.

Bruuv became angry. Averi tried her best to stop it. To quell the burning flames. To put out the fire before it spread. She tried to bring her husband back to reality, her children back to reality. That they were small and that they only had each other. They needed to look out for each other. But as they all grew and aged. Everything would steadily get….so much worse.

The moment the Garleans came and targeted their miniscule corner of the world was simply the spark their situation needed to explode.

It's so easy now, to shift the blame on the Garleans. It's certainly easy for Bruuv to blame the rest of the world. It's easy for Bruuv's siblings to blame him and each other. It's easy for Viisk to blame his children, or his wife. It's easy for Averi to blame her husband ...And also herself.

Everyone wants to blame someone for the reason why things are this way, for the reason why this small gorgeous baby boy is crying, wailing for the milk of his mother. Only to receive the milk of his concerned, and frankly frightened, grandmother instead.

"...Eej. <I am going out to do some fishing.>"