Prompt Post

[tomboy_typist]

Here is my infamous writing list.  It is subject to change, of course. As things are done, they are published and linked to in the comments, this way you'll be notified when the request is filled.

I also added drabbles which are to be expanded on in the comments section, for my own reference.

THIS IS A GOOD PLACE TO GIVE ME A PROMPT IF THERE'S

Comments

[tomboy_typist]

Cersei/Jaime | beige:
"Oh, that stain," Cersei complained. "Why won't it go away?"

Jaime sighed, looked at the sheets. "I suppose you could always die them. Maybe beige will be the new trend for linens, next year."

Prompted by Pel.

[tomboy_typist]

ickle!Cleeg crushing on Galie:
There were moments when he wanted to take her in his arms and snuggle her like one does a baby. The little cousin was young, so very young, that often, Celegorm felt over protective. He wanted to touch her hair when she was in the Tree's light and glittered. Then she turned her too-wise eyes on him, and he felt woefully inadequate, and went away.

Prompted by Lise.

[tomboy_typist]

Something with Ar and Eol:
There were moments where life in Nan Elmoth was pleasant, even if she hated to admit it to herself. There were times when looking at the man who called himself her husband, she found him beautiful, because his hair was dark and his hands were strong. In those strange occurrences, when he laid his hands on her, she closed her eyes and believed in love, fleetingly.

Prompted by Lise.

[tomboy_typist]

Something with Robb being Awkward, bonus points if Theon horrifies him somehow:
It wasn't impossible that Theon was doing it on purpose. Dragging Robb to the village had been easy enough - it was just on a pretense to get fresh supply for Winterfell's kitchens. It was just an excuse, though.

He'd dragged Robb to the Tavern, and the wenches had greeted them loudly and excitedly, sprawling on their laps and nibbling at their flesh. Well, at Theon's. Robb was busy looking indignant and being beet red.

It was even more fun that way, Theon mused.

Prompted by Lise.

[tomboy_typist]

Theon:
She must have been just sweet sixteen. She was bringing him warmed wine, in a moment where he'd had the flu. The girl was sweet and Theon felt sturdier than maester Luwin seemed to think. He grabbed her hand, kissed the inside of her palm. The rest was easy.

Prompted by Lise.