#prompt7

[joyseuphoria]

I’M BACK, BABY!

Even The Sun Sets In Paradise

Chp 5 - Con là Brisa

Jily talk and catch feelings (well, they were already caught)

@jilytoberfest prompts

6: 🎶Touch my thigh, I could blush, I'm so shy, Rest your head on side, We could stay in my mind, We could be what we like🎶 - Theatre by Etta Marcus

7: getting engaged (used very loosely)

Also, all the chapters are unedited. Thanks to @practicecourts , cuz this story takes place in Italy

Read from the beginning

[oceansssblue]

100CELEB VOTING RESULTS!!!

Hi guys! Voting period has ended, and without any more delay, here are the 10 winning ideas I'll be writing next!

– prompt4. Angel&demons AU

– prompt5. Super powers&fantasy AU

– prompt6. Historic Period AU

– prompt7. Sex worker/pornstar

– prompt8. Pirates AU

– prompt9. Mermaids AU

– prompt14. Telepathy

– prompt15. Arranged marriage/fake dating

– prompt 17. Prince&servant AU

– prompt 22. Share heat/one bed

I'm so exciteeed! I've already got most of this thought through and a plan for each in my head!

-I've actually finished writing prompt 22 already with Wrecker, which I will publish tomorrow.

-Prompt 4 is going to be with Echo. I've already sketched the whole story (it's going to be a multipart) and the AU I've thought of is going to be so interestinggg i'm so excited to share it w u!

- I'm opened to write any pairings you like for the rest of the prompts. You can sugest a clone either in this comment section or send a dm or request vox. I will also publish an individual post for each prompt with a list of clones you may vote for.

That said, stay tunned! I will be opening pairing votes and I will be publishing this stories throughout the summer, so make sure to check my account from time to time.

All this stories will be tagged with "100blueprompt". Let me know if you want to be tagged in all/any of them!

Thanks for following me and interacting. See u around!

Xx,

Blue.

YOU CAN FIND THE VOTING POSTS HERE:

[shame-is-a-wasted-emotion]

Hi! So I would like 7 please and Klaine of course…Thank you!

Hey @esilher! Thank you so much for your prompt dear. Sorry to delay posting the stories. I am glad that I finally made it. I hope you like it. So since the stories are short, I had to write two stories.

Kiss prompt7: To shut them up

Story 1: The Droop Interruption

Rating:General Audiences

Archive Warning:No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:M/M

Fandoms:Glee (TV 2009),Glee-Klaine,klaine fandom

Relationship:Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel

Characters:Kurt Hummel,Blaine Anderson

Summary:

Kurt Hummel-Anderson was super exhausted and his husband was going on and on about his day. He wanted to sleep but how could he politely "shut up"Blaine? Here is how.

Read the story on Ao3 (Wavingthroughawindow)

Story 2: The Pacifier Problem

Rating:General Audiences

Archive Warning:No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:M/M

Fandoms:Glee (TV 2009),glee-klaine,klaine fandom

Relationship:Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel

Characters:Blaine Anderson,Kurt Hummel,Original Anderson-Hummel Child(ren)

Summary:

Kurt and Blaine Anderson- Hummel are in a situation of trying to make their toddler daughter accept her pacifier and they did. Through a proposal!

Read It on AO3 (Wavingthroughawindow)

Hope you like these stories. Happy Sunday everyone!

[iracarterart]

#SHARP #Prompt7 #collagetober23 #marianneburgerstudio @marianneburgerstudio Sharp-Dressed Man

[cptjh-arts]

HurtComfortBingo2024

Reed900 Edition

#Prompt7

[#1][#2][#3][#4][#5][#6][#8][#9] [BingoCard]

Please do not repost, share without credits or use for commercial purposes.

@sweetspicybingo

[eyesofsteelandsky]

FFxivWrite 2021 Prompt 7: Speculate

A familiar tug at Kasen’s arm was enough to know that her half-dressed wife was wanting to get a proper kiss before the roegadyn went off to another day of work, something the taller woman rarely needed much prompting to indulge in. A smile settled onto the miqo’te’s expression once she finally leans back out of the meeting of lips. “Have a good day! Me and Little Storm are off to the market in a little while, need me to get anything for you?”

The question is met with a short shake of her head and another farewell before she made her way off for the day..

------------------------------------------------------------------------

The light was swiftly fading as the sea wolf made her way back home, recalling that statement that her wife had gone shopping today. Normally that meant mostly things they needed, or at least she thought they needed, but occasionally that also meant coming home with some strange new item from some oddball merchant. A few dozen bizarre possibilities race through the woman’s head as she pushes the door to their home open, finding her wife and daughter waiting for her in the hanging whicker chair. Both have brand new matching headwear that wraps all the way around and buttons under the chin. The top poofs well above the top of either’s head, with the face of a frog stitched into the fabric. The one year old was making a face and pawing away at the toad hat. It took a couple of moments for the roe’s brain to catch up to what she was seeing. “Wha-”

Cutting her wife off was Tempest holding up a single finger, then responding with a simple and flat tone.

“Baby Mode.”

[eorzean-wayfinder]

FFXIVWrite2020-Prompt7-Nonagenarian

He had the patience of the Kami. At least that’s what they all kept telling him. Kuroji really wasn’t sure. In reality he had drawn the short straw out of the other shinobi to ‘assist’ the more elderly residents of the enclave that week. 

Kuroji carried bags of flour, hung laundry, retrieved cats and other pets from strange places, dug in the mud to help plant the rice paddies, and other various things that he’d rather not think about. It was just going to be some time before he’d be cleaning cooking pots without gagging. 

The reward he got for all of his hard work was often a pat on the cheek when they could reach or his arm when they couldn’t and be told he was such a ‘nice young man.” Kuroji grumbled about it to the other shinobi but in reality, they often had a lot to teach him. He learned so much about how to plant rice, take care of chickens, baking bread, and most importantly valuing family and loved ones and finding a balance in your life for everything. 

All good lessons to take to heart with decades of experience to back them up.

[damereycreations]

Prompt #7

Art Prompt:

Writing Prompt: 

Who is driving? Who is in the car? What is going on?!

Go forth and Create Fam <3

Don’t forget to tag #damereycreations and #prompt7

(Credit for the base art goes to @scribbled-death)

[ofloveandaether]

Prompt #7: Nonagenarian

If it had not been for the ceaseless light of day, Alysia might have considered the violet canopy that blanketed Lakeland to be quite beautiful. There was nothing quite like it in the Source but what it lacked made it glaringly ugly. No birds sang in the trees. The winds felt warm and stagnant. Everything was constantly glaring and invasive, no sense of wonder or mystery. The hyur exhaled as she sat on the windowsill in her room at the Pendant. It was the only real sanctuary available to her. Her friends meant well with their concerns but it was hard to ignore the gravity of the predicament she faced. At least in these walls, she could be alone with her thoughts and aches. She could be vulnerable and just be Alysia; not the Warrior of Darkness.

The gruff sound of someone clearing their throat punctuated the silence. Her lips curled up in a small, cynical smile. Of course, she had forgotten that even in this place, she was never truly alone. Head turning to rest her cheek upon her shoulder, she spotted the imposing apparition lingering in the center of the room. She’d become accustomed to his presence for the most part but still to see him doned in his armor, with monstrous battleaxe strapped to his back was quite a sight to behold.

“What’s wrong? You look sad…” Ardbert bluntly stated the obvious. Alysia inhaled deeply and forced a smile that did not meet her eyes. “It’s nothing. Just a little homesick…” She replied, not feeling particularly conversational at the moment. The throbbing of the Light she had consumed was a constant discomfort in her chest; even more so since her last battle with the warden. “I miss the sea…” Ardbert slowly approached the window, keeping his usual distance from her. His arms crossed over his chest and he seemed to lean against the wall just opposite of her. “Are you afraid it will change when you return?” He asked, trying his best to provoke some sort of conversation. Not that she could blame him. When you couldn’t talk to anyone for nearly a century, there was a new novelty to idle chit-chat. Alysia ran a hand over her face and gave her head a shake.”Change is always inevitable. It’s more the uncertainty of not knowing what is happening in my realm that nags at my thoughts.” There was the war with the Garleans, Ascians, City States and the welfare of her allies to consider. The ghost murmured thoughtfully. “Some things are just beyond your control. Take it from me. I have had to endure watching everything fall apart and feel the weight of that responsibility. You do what you have to in the moment in the hopes that your actions will bring about a better tomorrow.” The red head couldn’t help but chuckle at the rather thoughtful insight of the warrior. His brow furrowed at her reaction, starting to fidget in his embarrassment. “What? What’s so funny?” “Maybe I’m wrong.” She admitted, looking at her companion with a certain fondness. “Maybe not everything is subject to change. A hundred years and you have every reason to be skeptical and pessimistic about the state of your world.” WIthout thinking, she reached out to touch the man but when her fingers phased right through his arm, she withdrew quickly and looked ashamed in her thoughtlessness. Ardbert looked equally as frustrated, though not for anything she had done but his own disappointment for his current circumstances. “What I mean to say is that, after everything you’ve endured. All the salacious rumors and falsehoods, you’ve never given up. Even in death, you still are here trying to help me better the world. A hundred years and you are still as much a hero as you were then.” Alysia continued with genuine appreciation. If a ghost could blush, Ardbert likely would at her compliment. He looked down at the slender woman before him and scoffed loudly. A hand brushed the back of his head and he seemed unable to look her in the eyes. In him, Alysia saw herself, a kindred spirit of sorts. If her deeds and actions could someday measure up to his own, she might finally feel accomplished. For now though, there was much to consider and at least her words would garner her a few moments of quiet before the ghost finally managed to compose himself.

[sunaokami]

I found that there is a prompt for this years Junicorn challenge, and decided to try a few. Did not thought the darn thing would take more then 2 hours to make. Oh well, doesn't matter, had fun :D #junicorn2019 #prompt7 #seahorse #junicorn #underwater #fantasyart #traditionalart #sunaokamiart #watercolor #ink #fabercastell #glassinkpen #unipin #orange #yellow #blue https://www.instagram.com/p/BybGnULCiek/?igshid=1mm4090sv4ip9

[luminarypuppet]

INKTOBER X WITCHES

Prompt #7

7. SEAMSTRESS/TAILOR WITCH

Somewhat rushed, I know it's horrible but take this shit-

[daily-writing-prompts]

Prompt #7

I gasped, pulling my hand away. "Did you... feel that too?"

[vattenlilja]

Happiness

Bloganuary 2022 prompt for January  7, 2022: What makes you laugh? Well not exactly a laugh but happiness. My son once remarked when seeing me busy with photographing thnings that it seemed that I was immersed in the experience of taking photos. And when I find a good photo in my stash either a newly taken or one that has been taken a while ago I feel content. So I looked into my digital shoebox…

[eyesofsteelandsky]

FFxivWrite 2020 Prompt 7: Nonagenarian (Mild NSFW)

Some very mild NSFW elements!

For what was probably the half dozenth time in short order, Mosh’ka popped her eye open behind the cover of her dark sunglasses and swept her gaze over to the elderly elezen woman a little way down the beach from her. Again the woman was looking over her way, but even a slight turn of her head that direction would get her suddenly interested in anything other than the sun bathing viera. She wasn’t one to be in any form ashamed by displays of her body, not after all the work she’d put into making it how it was after all, but the suggestion someone was ashamed to be caught looking upon her had the woman’s attention. Leaving her beach towel and basket of supplies aside, she finally popped up properly and started heading her admirer’s way with a broad smile and an energetic wave.

The aged elezen looks like she’s ready to try and get up and bolt off, but aged joints and slow reactions leave her barely ready to stand by the time the subject of her attention was already within ear shot. “Do not be alarmed! I only mean to introduce myself. I’m not bothered by eyes and their wanderings.” Inviting herself onto the elder’s towel, she plops down next to the wrinkly featured elezen and offers out a hand. “I am Mosh’ka. I take it you have not seen many viera?”

The racing in the old woman’s heart likely would have been a great concern to the both of them if there at little more aware of it, but she’s trying to return the smile with a polite one of her own. “Oh.. oh by the Twelve I am sorry if I disturbed you! I just.. well, where I am from most people don’t look like you. Not.. not just over the ears, mind!” There’s a motion in general to the bikini clad form next to her, though her eyes do linger on the rather tight fit of the bun’s bottoms. “You ah.. you aren’t like anyone I’ve ever seen at all.” Despite the lines of time and the subtle washing of her skin tone with age, there was clearly some color rushing into the elder’s cheeks.

The motion and the eyes weren’t lost on the viera of course, who just barely managed to hold down a laugh over the nature of her earlier peeking. She’d heard so many tales of judgmental people, including elezens, that she thought perhaps it was a matter of how open she was with her body. Instead she was seeing a now very familiar set of reactions. “Perhaps if I were not in the Spring and yourself so deeply within the Winter, we might have been able to.. better make use of your appreciative curiosity. I’ve never been with anyone so... blue, before. But I imagine such things would be.. dangerously exciting, at this point.”

Though the beach-fanatic had expected her ‘gentle’ guidance away from the concept to be met with a drop of disappointment, Mosh’ka was instead met with a wrinkled held up to her face while her suitor fussed about in her pack. Some boldness had been instilled in her by the bun coming and plopping down next to her, and even suggesting she would have been interested. A moment or so later she presents a vibrant red feather, marked almost as if it had flames. “A phoenix down.. kept in case of emergencies!” The item’s presentation gave the viera pause, and she blinked a few times behind those dark sunglasses.

“Well then... ever fucked on a beach?”

[commaraderie]

I’m a storyteller, and I’m a painter, but I’m not so sure I’m an artist. My favorite thing to paint is book covers. So, I make journals for a living. Naturally, the Christkindlmarket is where I make most of my profits during the year. So many tourists from all over, looking for Viennese food, wine, and gifts. Under the winter snow and soot, the plaza would look barren and desolate, but the candle-glow lights strewn every which way over the signs and the posts and the walkways, they light up the inner child of even the most worn-out parent at the market. They invite your heart to dance amongst the wine stands, the ice skating loop, the vendors.

I paint names onto the covers of my journals, constructing stately spurs and stems and loops and ligatures to spell out not only “Sarah,” but also “Sara.” I hate it. I spit out grosses and grosses of volumes that I have to sell as “personalized” and “unique” when there’s truly nothing unique about a name. It’s just another assortment of letters.

Would I like to make art? Sure. Would I like to craft each off my journals meticulously, painting a new idea, the discovery of sensation, onto every cover? Create textures that hug the grooves of your skin and draw your soul through your fingerprints, impelling you to confide the song in your heart into the bundle of cardstock you hold? I guess. But people wouldn’t want to buy that in Vienna, especially not at the price it’s worth. Not even at Christmas. They just want a cute little journal they can use to write down their oh-so-interesting, philosophical thoughts for two days, and then write down their grocery lists and appointments they’ll forget anyway.

So, that’s why I’m here before you selling journals with names on them, each one as unique as how many other people share the name “John.” Seriously, the Americans all pick “John” for their sons, how dull. However, the people who come to the market are entertaining sometimes. Not when they come by with their big poofy scarves and all crowd around a selfie stick, and not when their stupid little kids walk around whining about how they don’t like their cider. I’m talking about the ones with stories.

Once, on a December 23rd, I saw a man walk by my aisle. His outfit was rather boring, but looked like it cost a lot of money. Crisp leather shoes, wool slacks and a tailored, grey coat. The first time I saw him, he was hunched and walking fast, but he was alert, scanning the stalls with intent as if one of them contained state secrets The second time, he had a mug of mulled wine with him, and though his pace was quicker, his gaze seemed to go through the wares he passed by. I figured this was just because we were about to close the day before Christmas Eve. By the third and final time I saw him, he appeared to have refilled his wine. His face was now quite red, probably a mix of the alcohol and the incredible stress he seemed to be experiencing. It was on this go-around that he saw my stand. His eyes popped open, and he zoomed straight towards me and immediately began scanning the covers on display. Though I was apprehensive, a customer was a customer, so I turned on the bullshit.

“Good evening sir, how can I help you?” I said this with a smile because the tourists seem to think that’s important in the exchange of goods for money.

“Your books… she loves books, she reads all the time, how much?” He did not look me in the eyes once.

“Eighteen euro, sir, for the small ones, and twenty-six for the larger, although I also have some…” I trailed off because the man had started to use his whole body to search my stand, spasming his posture left, then right, stepping forward and then to the side. I had the feeling he wasn’t listening.

“Sir?”

“Her name… her name isn’t here.” His breaths became puffs, and his face somehow became redder and paler at the same time. He appeared to be in danger of exploding.

“If you tell me her name, I can-” I tried to appease him.

“Why don’t you have her name! What kind of a salesman are you?” He shouted, like water flicked onto hot oil.

“Sir, I can-” I wondered if he would notice if I Googled how to deal with very stressed customers.

“This is all my fault. I’m never going to make this up to her, ohhh God…” His hands were together in prayer now, but it was the worst prayer I’d ever heard. I knew then that I would have to talk to him like a person, not a customer. I just hoped he didn’t actually need a priest.

“Um��� are you alright?” I asked tenderly. Well, it was more timid than warm. The man didn’t answer, but he sighed, and his already-hunched posture seemed to deflate even further. It was another few breaths before he spoke.

“I’ve really fucked up. I have a little girl, she’s my niece, she’s six and a half, her parents are both… well, her father is dead, and my sister is… she’s in a coma.”

“Well that’s… fucking terrible.” Here, he finally made eye contact with me. Then he tried to laugh, but it came out like a long rattle.

“I’m in charge of her, I promised Anne that… I’m just so busy at the office but I thought this trip would make up for it… and I got her some presents, but she hates them all, she hates it here… and I think she hates me, she hates me! Fuck, I’ve never said it, but now I know it’s true. I thought one more gift would make it all a little better, she loves reading and… but I’m just no good at parenting.”

Truth be told, I don’t remember what he was doing in the few seconds after his speech because I was freaking out. What do you say to that! Should I give him parenting advice? I have none. Should I try and console him about his sister, buy him another drink? In the end, I just stared at him dumbly and said:

“These are blank books.”

“...what?” he asked.

“They’re blank.” I held one up and leafed through it for him. “See?”

At this point, the man just wailed and threw his hands up. I had not succeeded in consoling him, so I had to think of something else to say, and quick.

“You think I’m just a painter right?” The man just looked at me mid-wail, so I went on. “Or a book-maker, which, whatever, but I also like to write. Painting, writing, creating, ti makes me feel amazing. Like after I’ve given so much of myself, my time and my feeling to my work, I don’t feel drained, I feel filled, my heart is gushing with joy, purpose, fulfillment, yada yada the point is, I can make your daughter her own journal for writing, but we’re about to close, so you’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

The man’s knees buckled, only a little bit, thank God. “Thank you, thank-”

“But, you have to agree to take her straight home after. She doesn’t hate you, but she probably hates being away from her mother on Christmas.”

This time the man’s knees really did buckle to the alarm and frustration of my neighboring vendors. The man gave me his daughter’s name and left without any real sort of goodbye, but I knew he would be back. So, I got home and got to work. That night, I really let myself loose like I hadn’t in so long. I splashed magenta, grew vines of wisteria, invited the wings of a bird to curl around the little girl’s name. It took me hours, but those were hours filled with that full feeling I described to the man just that night. I didn’t get much sleep, but the man was my very first customer after we opened. He gave me a very large amount of money, not that he remembered the prices I gave him, and thanked me profusely. He had to go collect his niece after that, for they had a flight to catch. I thought I would feel emptier when he turned the corner and I watched him scurry off for the last time, but I was wrong. I felt fuller.

[semesadique]