#I just like writing with them

[undertale-writing-times]

I NEED MORE BEHEMOTH IN MY LIFE

He's so ♥

I would love if you would write a small thang about Y/N's child getting into fights with Puppy, so their teacher pulls in Y/N and B in to talk it over and it basically is like instant connection?

fluffy and wholesome aw

Hey! Hey! Thanks for your ask! (That's my sister :D)

This is what he's wearing

Behemoth was beyond pissed when he first heard that someone was trying to pick fights with his daughter. Puppy was the sweetest person in the world! She was like if every SINGLE bit of sugar was put into a skeleton and fire monster hybrid, then they grew more just to put it into her! She was sweet; she was his little girl! His cupcake. His baby girl... and some random BRAT thought that they were good enough to even talk to her? Let alone bully her? Yeah, no! Behemoth wasn't going to take that crap from anyone. Let alone some punk human kid! If he wouldn't accept that from other monsters, he wouldn't accept that from a HUMAN.

So when he heard that there was someone trying to pick fights, he was rightfully annoyed... until he got there. The two kids were playing together, as if they didn't even remember the fight. Puppy was smacking her doll into the boys doll, while saying, “Bah bah bah! You're dead!” the boy laughs and throws his doll into the air, saying, “Noooo! Bleh, dead.” then lays back and Puppy laughs, jumping on top of him. Huh? He frowns, confused, and turned his head to see the parent sitting over there. It was after school hours so Behemoth knew that that wasn't one of the teachers. He made sure to do checks on the teachers... just in case. Why was he called about his child being in a fight if the children were just playing together? This was not a fight, this was a game.

He slowly walks over to the other parent, his tail swishing slowly behind him, more annoyed than happy but more confused now than annoyed, “Vere vu called apout zee fights too?” the other parent looked up at him, probably having to tilt their head back to see his face. Behemoth WAS 6'11 after all.

Behemoth had ran straight home from work when he heard what happened to change. Of course he didn't want to go there in his uniform! It was gross and messy, at least now he looked a little respectable. The person lets out a sigh, then laughs, nodding in approval, “I was worried too, but it seems as though they don't even remember it.” They look up at him and smile, adding, “I'm Y/n, what's your name?”

Anger was supposed to rush through his bones. Rage from his Puppy being bullied, but none of that came. Instead... his soul felt so warm. It was skipping in his chest and he even feared it being seen through his sweater—even though that was very unlikely since it was pretty dang thick—instead he clicks his teeth together turning his head away, not responding at first. So Puppy was having fun with this boy, that's good, at least and the parent—Y/n—seemed kind.

“Pehemoth. Your poy; did he sdart it or did Buppy? Has zee teacher told vu Hanyzing?” When he got a shake of the head back, he lets out a sigh and sits down, leaning back in the chair ignoring the light creaks from it. It happened just because of his height, even if he did have a 'dad bod' as he heard a few people say in his bakery. What was a dad bod, anyway? He was a father, that was easy to guess! Weren't all dads dad bods? "It zeems as zough, effen if zey had ein fight, zey're getting along now... haffe zey peen blaying long?"

Y/n got a smile on their face and nodded as they said, “Oh, yeah, they have been. Since I got here pretty much... your, ah, child did start a small fire, though. Is that normal?” This time it was Behemoth's turn to laugh. Ah yes, that was very normal! He knew that she had good control over her fire magic, and normally she could control what it burned and what it didn't. It was something that he was very impressed by so he pulls out his wallet and holds it out to them to see, "Ja ja, fery normal. Zee, zis vas zee first time zat sche zet herzelf on fire. Sche has peen like zat zince! I first pelieffed zat sche didn't get Hanyzing from her mozer put look at her now... ja, her mozer is nein longer in zee bicture, put I am zo haby Buppy is healthy. Zee fire von't hurt unless vu schtand in zee middle of it. Plue Hatdacks, Hinteresding, are zey not?"

“Blue attacks?” They asked, then lean over to look at the picture and laugh, “Who is that other skeleton in the background freaking out?” they ask, and he looked at the picture again before snorting and starting to explain that that was his brother. The 'true' owner of the bakery that they have. Behemoth himself handled all of the baking. His brother, the selling. That was why Behemoth normally smelled like sweets... while they spoke the children played until the teacher came in and said both kids got a warning. The parents, luckily, didn't seem to exactly CARE and they started to plan meet ups! Erm... for... for the kids! Of course!

[fromcainwithlove]

author’s notes today: hey guys so just a warning there isn’t 100% explicit verbal consent even though they’re both really into it so remember this is FICTION, also they don’t use a condom :((( but in real life safe sex is important!!! please be safe out there everyone

a/n back in the day: kept thinking about ____ stabbing knives through both of _____’s hands to pin him in place while they fucked so here you go lol =P

[beepboopappreciation]

Is this anything

[daisywords]

One of my biggest nitpicks in fiction concerns the feeding of babies. Mothers dying during/shortly after childbirth or the baby being separated form the mother shortly after birth is pretty common in fiction. It is/was also common enough in real life, which is why I think a lot of writers/readers don't think too hard about this. however. Historically, the only reason the vast majority of babies survived being separated from their mother was because there was at least one other woman around to breastfeed them. Before modern formula, yes, people did use other substitutes, but they were rarely, if ever, nutritionally sufficient.

Newborns can't eat adult food. They can't really survive on animal milk. If your story takes place in a world before/without formula, a baby separated from its mother is going to either be nursed by someone else, or starve.

It doesn't have to be a huge plot point, but idk at least don't explicitly describe the situation as excluding the possibility of a wetnurse. "The father or the great grandmother or the neighbor man or the older sibling took and raised the baby completely alone in a cave for a year." Nope. That baby is dead I'm sorry. "The baby was kidnapped shortly after birth by a wizard and hidden away in a secret tower" um quick question was the wizard lactating? "The mother refused to see or touch her child after birth so the baby was left to the care of the ailing grandfather" the grandfather who made the necessary arrangements with women in the neighborhood, right? right? OR THAT GREAT OFFENDER "A newborn baby was left on the doorstep and they brought it in and took care of it no issues" What Are You Going to Feed That Baby. Hello?

Like. It's not impossible, but arrangements are going to have to be made. There are some logistics.

[bruciemilf]

Need a teen! Bruce au where he’s exactly like Justice League! Batman and Battinson in one. That mf put the fear of every god in Ra’s Al Ghul.

Everytime he’s in a room with someone over 30 “Teenagers” by My Chemical Romance plays in the background.

Despite that, in his own way, he’s as gentle as can be with his league. Give me a young Diana who’s getting spat on and ripped apart by the media in a way not one of her male teammates get.

And she’s Wonder Woman. She shouldn’t be affected by it. And she is, anyway. Bruce relates to that in an uncomfortable degree.

“When I first became Batman, weak men tried standing in my way, too. “

“And what did you do?”

“I stepped over them.”

He has a tiny Robin he occasionally has to keep on a leash.

Give me somewhat teen mom Bruce who struggles to wrangle his unruly six year old who likes flipping from rooftop to rooftop and thinks fighting Bane is a piece of cake.

“If Tati can do it, so can I!”

“Dick,” he paused, before handing him a handfull of candy. “Wonderful emotional manipulation. Good job.”

“:D”

[detentiontrack]

When Mabel comes out to Stan, she’s really scared that he’s going to reject her and have an issue with it, so she’s emotional and asks him if he still loves and supports her and he’s just like “??? Kid I’ve been telling you all summer I’m one of the LBTGs” and then it’s her turn to be like “wait what??” because she thinks he had never mentioned a sexuality before, and it turns out Stan had been constantly telling the kids that he’s “ambidextrous” because he thought it meant the same thing as bisexual.

[spyres]

[charbroiledchicken]

reblog if you're a writer but would rather drink straight cyanide than show any of your family members your work

[turnaboutstar]

THE TRIPS TO EUROPE TO SEE EDGEWORTH ARE ACTUALLY CANON????? I THOUGHT IT WAS JUST A RANDOM THING PEOPLE HEADCANONED

[tariah23]

The manga industry, especially JUMP, needs to hurry up and do away with weekly scheduling for mangaka. There needs to better regulations put into place for their health and safety because this is pitiful. Two weeks - monthly updates should’ve already been the standard for the manga industry at this point. These money grabbers will only continue to put the lives of these artists at stake for the sake of capitalism unless some serious changes are implemented.

[ronanlynchbf]

tshirt that says NO LIVE ORGANISM CAN CONTINUE FOR LONG TO EXIST SANELY UNDER CONDITIONS OF ABSOLUTE REALITY

[howlsnteeth]

24/05/2020

[shouyuus]

vi who sleeps in nothing but a pair of boxers/plaid pants (coz she runs super hot)...good luck trying to get any sleeping done next to allat ( . 人 . )

right. we are so back (i say, as if i've fucking gone anywhere except or being chronically online here writing vi fics) but pls put ur hands together for the original shirtless sleeper vi anon; our one tru savior who spawned all those topless vi hcs

18+, nip mention, college roommate!vi cinematic universe

vi, who runs super fucking hot all the time, sleeps in nothing but boxers or boy shorts, always kicks the blankets off the bed. before you got together, you'd sometimes find her passed out on the couch in the living room, snoring, her shirt rucked all the way up, her abs out on full display, on hand thrown over her head, the other dangling off the edge of the couch.

you've had to wake her up more than once, tug her over your shoulders, and half-drag, half-walk her to her own bedroom, dumping her on the bed, coaxing her into a semi-normal sleeping position before tucking her in.

but the next morning, when you'd wake up to check on her, you'd always find her somehow with all the sheets thrown off her (even in the dead of winter), and her shirt magically discarded somewhere on her floor, her torso bare, her nipple rings glinting in the morning light seeping in from the cracks between her eternally closed blinds.

sometimes, you'd linger over the sleeping shape of her, a stupid little indulgent smile on your lips as you sigh and walk back out of the room.

now that you're together though, it's even worse (and by that i mean better) bc she's a cuddler, you know she is. and she loves wrapping herself around you when she sleeps, digging her nose into the nape of your neck if she's big spoon, or just curling herself over your body, her leg thrown over both of yours, one of her arms looped around your middle --

except she's a human furnace, and in the summers, you've already got the ac blasting, but somehow its still not enough, and you always wake up in the middle of the night, skin sticky with a thin layer of sweat, trying to get some air. but when you try to roll away from her, she'd always whine and chase you, pull you back tighter into her arms, nuzzle against your cheek and mumble something about not leaving her.

"vi -- i'm not going anywhere, i'm just sweating --"

"mm... turn the ac up more..."

"okay, but you have to let me go first."

"mmm.... don't wanna..."

but the fact that her tits are rubbing up against your arm, her nipple rings cool along your skin -- you shiver, and she chuckles.

"can't be that hot if you're shivering like that."

you groan; she sounds way more awake now than a second ago. fuck.

"j-just -- lemme go turn down the ac --"

"don't -- i'm comfy." she locks you into her chest, her nose pressing into your cheek as she ghosts her lips over your skin. you can't help the tiny whimper that squeezes out of your throat.

you've got a quiz tomorrow (technically, later on today since it's like 4am in the morning) in fluid mechanics and you really can't be losing sleep like this but --

vi's already shifting, twisting you towards her, cupping your cheek to turn your face. your lips meet and you know it's a lost cause to try and resist.

"c'mon pretty girl -- spread those legs for me -- gotta work up a sweat first if you wanna cool down after, right?" she says as she tugs your legs open with one of her ankles hooked over yours, keeping your leg pinned beneath hers as her free hand slips beneath the waistband of your panties.

needless to say, you don't get much sleep for the rest of the night. you still manage to make it to your fluid mechanics class the next day, and the quiz goes... okay. but your ac bill is really really way too high that month.

[inkskinned]

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

[feelo-fick]

request doodles on stream in a server :D

[lucabyte]

monologue