#Prompt: Personal Space

[dawnrider]

@brain-rot-hour was working on a piece for today's @inukag-week prompt of Personal Space and the conversation evolved to writing about the scenario they created and here we are!

Have a citrus-scented canon universe vignette to go with brain-rot-hour's piece which you will not want to miss. 😏

“Damn monkeys," he growled.   Rolling her eyes, Kagome sighed. "You always let them get to you when they aren't even youkai.” She shook her head with a wry smile. "I can't just kill ‘em. You'd make me feel all guilty.” His face was twisted in a pout, his ears laid back in frustration.  “Pretty sure you'd manage to make yourself feel guilty without my help.”  “Keh.” Deny it though he might, she knew she was right. He was much more of a softy than he liked to admit. “Let’s get that scratch looked at. Don’t want it getting infected.” He nudged her shoulder where his kosode draped down her arm. It was too big, but it was better than her own clothes which were in tatters from the attack. 

She shut the door to the abandoned hut they’d found after herself, waiting for Inuyasha to pass one last inspection and give the nod of approval that it was safe. “Last time I let Shippou rummage through my bag unsupervised,” she grumbled, dropping said bag onto the floor.  The monkeys had been attracted to the smell of fruit soaked into her clothes which the kitsune had spilled when trying to get his crayons from the bottom of her backpack. Needless to say they didn’t understand “no” and “stop that.” Kagome felt lucky that a few small scratches was all she had to show for it. Inuyasha was unfortunate enough to get bitten in the side, so they were taking the time to get cleaned up. Clean water and bandages set aside, Kagome settled herself on the edge of the table so she could get a good look at the bloodied bite just to the left of Inuyasha’s navel. His suikan had been dropped to the floor and she was met with the entire expanse of his torso. A very nice torso that has a bite in it… Swallowing, she used a soft damp cloth to clean the wound, then apologized profusely as she prepared to press the alcohol-soaked cloth to it. She flinched at the same moment he did, but not because of the sting. His large hands, previously pressed onto the tabletop on either side of her, had drifted to her knees and reflexively squeezed when he tensed. He hadn’t caused more pain. In fact… “Sorry,” he murmured. Kagome bit her lip, then went about putting the gauze and tape over his wound. “That scratch… It needs disinfected.” “I can reach it.” “Probably. What if there’s another?” Kagome sucked in a breath as his hands oh-so-carefully brushed aside the length of his kosode, baring her up to her thighs. His nose twitched. “They got your middle too, didn’t they?” “I-I can reach that.” He hummed, his face next to hers so that she couldn’t see his eyes. Kagome felt her heart racing. A shiver went through her when air hit her midriff. “Let me check.” Long warm fingers traced up across her thigh until they met her belly, which tightened at the brush. She struggled not to recoil in surprise, biting her lower lip. “Anything hurt?” A quick shake of her head. His hands returned to her legs, thumbs lightly pushing against the softer skin of her inner thighs until they parted to allow his hips between. “What about here?” he breathed, cheek brushing against hers as he spoke. “Anything stinging?” She murmured that she was fine. “Aching?” She gasped lightly in response. How did he know? She could hear the smirk in his breathy laugh. His hand brushed against the outer side of her knee, fingers curling under and lightly pressing his claws into the soft underneath. “Inuyasha?” she questioned, unable to resist the pull of his soft cheek against her own, the tiniest brush of his lips against her ear. He huffed another laugh at the way she arched into his space. “I’ll make sure there’s not a mark on you.” He paused, pressing a much more intentional kiss to the space just in front of her ear as his thumb pressed a little more into her thigh, claw providing just the slightest prick along the nerve endings. “Not from the monkeys anyway,” he promised. Kagome smiled softly.

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 283

Now Jason would like it known that there was no mpreg situation going on. He isn’t even sure where people got that idea in the first place. Sure, he had taken a few Cores from the goons-in-white who had dared to set up in his turf. 

And sure maybe the excess energy from the pit (no wonder he’d been so irritable) was what said baby halfas (Okay, so they’re half human? Alright) had used to reform. And maybe the oldest is visibly less than a year old. 

But there Was No Mpreg Situation! He is this close to shooting someone! It was annoying (and slightly amusing) when it was just his goons, but now the Bats have seemingly got it in their heads! Dear Gotham it’s a good thing he’s not planning on like, ever revealing who he is because he would never be able to live this rumor down. 

[Winged Ghosts Au too, that seems to be getting lost in reblogs when it's just in the tags lol]

[dandey-lion]

Dad!Pariah Dark AU.

Phantom and Raven are besties.

✔️ Not completely Human

✔️ Bad Powerful Fathers

✔️ Some connection to spirits/ghosts

✔️ Can see things others can’t

✔️ Understand things others don’t

✔️ Lots of abilities

✔️ Big emotions can cause loss of control

✔️ Pressured

✔️ Found Family

Besties.

[hana-no-seiiki]

YAN! BOSS : I would kill for you.

OVERWORKED! READER: With all due respect, I just need a fucking break (or paid vacation).

[dipperscavern]

wondering if cregan stark is a munch or a messy eater... or maybe he goes veeeery slow...

ANONJJNKNNNNNN U GOT ME THINKING THOUGHTS

so, to be real, he gives this very intense vibe. like even if i think his pace would be slower it’s so intense, and has your back arching off from the surface you’re laid on. it really feels like he doesn’t have to try very hard, he’s just good at it. the only reason your squirming hasn’t resulted in you pulling away/moving is the grip he has on your thighs keeping u in place. he’s big and burly.. and he’s strong. believe me, if cregan wants you to stay put, you’re staying put whether you want to or not

but, with that being said, he can definitely change his pace. sometimes he just gets in those moods where he wants to taste you & make you scream. it’s fast, it’s hot, he’s messy & he has your thighs quivering around his head 🙂‍↕️ it’s the northern blood i fear

[akwardsilince]

Person A: "What are you doing?"

Person B: "Trying to summon something."

Person A: "...in the living room?"

Person B: "I'm both grateful and concerned that the location is your main focus here."

[urghblergh]

Doodles. 😌🌌🌈

@kibbitzer-blog

@mcspirkevents

reference pics

@mellon_soup (no Tumblr :( ?)

[emblazons]

"The baggage compartment?" "We'd suffocate."

Mike Wheeler & Will Byers in S04E09 - The Piggyback

[trans-axolotl2]

Fuck the DSM. Seriously, fuck the DSM.

The DSM is and always has been used primarily as a method of rationalizing mistreatment of the people it labels as "deviant." When you look at the history of psychiatry, it becomes clear that things like drapetomania, protest psychosis, hysteria, and homosexuality as a disorder were not just thrown into there randomly. Rather, it showcases the power of the DSM: labeling and categorizing ways of being as mental illness opens up new paths of incarceration, social control, and curative violence. I need people to understand that the modern DSM still works like this: these classifications of madness/mental distress/neurodivergence into psychiatric labels encourage society to treat madness/mental distress/neurodivergence with the apparatuses used to eradicate "deviance." Diagnosis is not neutral.

As mad/mentally ill/neurodivergent people, we deserve access to more explanatory models of madness/mental illness/ neurodivergence than what the psychiatric language of normalcy and disorder offers us. Whether this looks like rejecting diagnosis, embracing varying cultural understandings of mental experience, or any million different ways of interpreting our bodymind, we deserve the option to move beyond clinical language that tries to convince us not to trust ourselves. We deserve to view ourselves wholly, leaving room for all our experiences of madness/mental illness/neurodivergence--the meaningful, the terrifying, the joyful, the exhausting. We deserve to have our own relationship with our madness, instead of being pushed to view ourselves as an inherent "danger to self or others" simply by existing as crazy.

Here's another truth: I hate the DSM, and I still call myself bipolar, a diagnosis that came to me through psych incarceration. While I wholeheartedly reject the DSM and the system intertwined with it, I simultaneously acknowledge and believe that many of the collections of symptoms that the DSM describes are very, very real ways of living in the world, and that the distress that they can cause are very very real. When I say fuck the DSM, I don't mean "Mental distress, disability, and neurodivergence aren't real." Rather, I mean that the DSM can never hold my experience of what it is like to be bipolar, the meaning I derive from experiencing life with cyclical moods. The DSM can't hold within its pages what it's like to see my mood cycle not as a tragedy or disaster, but instead as an opportunity, a gift, to grow and shift and go back to the same place over and over again, dying in winter and blooming again in spring. The DSM can't hold the fact that even though I experience very, very real distress due to those mood cycles--they're still mine and I claim that as something that matters to me. I call myself bipolar as a shorthand to tell people that I experience many things both extreme high and low, but I do not mean the same thing when I say "bipolar" as a psychiatrist does.

When we build community as mad/mentally ill/neurodivergent people, I want us to have room to share, relate, and care for each other in ways that isn't calling to the authority of a fucked up system with strictly defined categories. I don't want us to take those same ways of thinking and rebrand it into advocacy that claims to fight stigma, but really just ends up reinforcing these same ideas about deviance, cure, control, and danger. I dream of the day when psychiatry doesn't loom as a threat in all of our lives, and I think part of that work requires us as mad/mentally ill/neurodivergent people to really grapple with and untangle the ways we label and make meaning of our minds.

ok to reblog, if you want to learn more about antipsychiatry/mad studies check out this reading list.

[citrinesparkles]

stormy weather

jason todd x gender neutral reader. 720 words. notes: a very abstract take on 'write a true story about you with characters instead of people', one of the prompts from the ever lovely @reaperintheroses drabble december! this was more 'write about feelings', but i tried. warnings: vague bad headspace on jason's part

he was in a mood.

you weren't sure what mood, but it wasn't good.

it was, however, familiar enough that you weren't surprised when he walked through the bedroom like a ghost.

all he took with him as he left it was a nail file.

you sat quietly, listening for the window.

there it was, about half a minute later: the sliding sound of the window in the frame was quiet but unmistakable, as was the sound of it sliding shut behind him.

fire escape brooding.

you sighed- that was a surefire sign that the mood had settled in completely. you had hoped, somewhat naïvely, that it would be a "wrong side of the bed" situation; had hoped he would be able to shake it off.

with the mood here to stay, you put your phone aside and slid out of bed.

it wasn't something to fix. not days like this. as much as you wished you could carry the weight of this for him, you settled instead for trying to share the load.

you took your time walking through the apartment, giving him his space for a little while as you boiled water and steeped tea for him.

you dug out his largest, warmest sweatshirt, tugging it on to brace against the cold you knew was wrapped around him both mentally and literally. then, with a glance at his silhouette in the window, you picked up his mug and approached.

he barely reacted to the sound of the window opening, only shifting slightly so his ear was towards you in silent acknowledgement.

"i made tea," you said softly, leaning on the sill. "interested?"

jason hesitated a moment, the only sounds the traffic below.

he shrugged, twirling the nail file between two fingers.

you reached over, gently pressing the mug into his free hand, watching as he pulled it to his chest with a hum.

"do you want space, or would you prefer i join you?"

"...you can." his voice was steady, but uncharacteristically quiet and lifeless. "not gonna be much company right now."

you slid out the window, closing it behind you, and he glanced up at you blankly. "you don't have to be," you said firmly, quietly, as you sat down beside him. "i'm just here."

the metal was freezing, even through your thick sweatpants. it would take more than a stretch of the imagination to call it comfortable, but you settled in like it was memory foam.

you sat in silence, listening to him breathe beside you and watching it fog in your peripheral.

you sat until your legs ached and your nose felt about ready to fall off from the cold. you sat for far longer than it took him to drain his mug. you sat long enough that the rush of lunch traffic came and went below you.

you sat watching gray clouds churn in the sky, offering the only comfort you could: he wasn't alone.

eventually, he inhaled deeply, and you felt something shift.

"you want a grilled cheese?" his voice was rough and quiet, but using it was a good sign.

you recognized the offer as the thank you that it was.

"yeah," you matched his volume, gently breaking your silence. "that sounds good."

it wasn't over, not by a long shot. you could feel it in the air around you, as though jason was a storm and the front was rolling in. it would be a few days, you suspected, of this- of disconnect, of that distant look in his eyes.

and that was the best case scenario.

he pushed himself up and off the ground, wincing when his bad ankle popped unpleasantly, and you changed your mind. he wasn't the storm. a storm in his own right, sure, strong and beautiful and immovable to all the world, but in this case he was standing on the coast and watching the storm turn the ocean angry.

he reached a hand down to help you up.

you took it, squeezing it once, twice, three times in quick succession as you hauled yourself to your feet. once there, you relaxed your grip.

he kept his, keeping your palm against his own. bracing himself against the wind.

you'd be damned if you let him board up the windows and sandbag the doorways on his own.

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 192

Danny feels exhausted. His stupid ghost-puberty is annoying, and is affecting even his human form. Which wouldn’t be that bad, except for the fact that instead of having a simple elemental or obsession core, he happens to have a Space one. Technically the Space Core seeing as apparently he’s the newborn Ancient of Space. Or something. 

Urgh, he just wants to get some food from the dollar store down the street, not deal with whatever attempted mugging this is. He’s hangry, and just wants to get some food and curl back up in his mass of blankets back in his tiny apartment. 

So maybe he overreacted. He might have released his very careful hold on his less-than human traits that have been attempting to leak through the last several weeks. On the bright side, he, uh, isn’t hungry anymore and is now back in his nest of blankets. 

On the other hand, there is now a vigilante in his window. 

[fieldlands]

remember the golden rules of discourse everyone

thoughtcrime doesn't real

disgust is not a moral indicator

[landwriter]

2!

Hounds of Love by The Futureheads. Oh! What a gem!! I first loved this song when I was a wee bab and rediscovered it this past summer. It, along with all my top songs, was on a summer driving playlist which is why it is so insanely high haha. There's a sort of lovely pastoral wildness to this and I think that suits our lads so well.

An outdoorsy AU with competence kink out the wazoo, where Dream is a bird specialist at a wildlife rehabilitative centre, who becomes a minor TikTok celebrity (much to his enormous apathy) when the centre starts doing interpretive meet-birds events and the internet falls in love with this dour hottie who only smiles when he's talking about birds (Matthew, naturally, runs the account). Hob is a hunter - bow, mostly - who is regrettably very on TikTok, very on all social media - he hates the term but he is unquestionably an 'influencer'. He just likes sharing his knowledge and passion, alright? And the gear sponsorships are nice.

He sees Dream, and sees, mostly, a really great collab opportunity, so he messages him, and Dream (who is Matthew, and just shouted HOB FUCKING GADLING? IN MY DMs? at his phone when he got the message, immediately sets up a meeting at the centre. Then he breaks the news to Dream, specifically when Dream is holding Jessamy, so he can't be murdered.)

Dream, of course, expects Hob to be some like, swaggering font of red-blooded machismo talking points, and suspects Hob is only popular because he looks like an advertisement in Outdoor Living. (Matthew showed him pictures.) He disregards Matthew, who says Hob is actually super cool, because Matthew has terrible taste and would be the first to admit it. But his interest is piqued when Lucienne also knows who Hob is. It turns out Hob is deeply involved in nature and wildlife conservancy. Gives talks at schools. Gets involved with land protection initiatives. Teaches orienteering to youth. But everyone seems to expect him to hate Hob, which he would find faintly insulting except that he also expects himself to hate Hob. He doesn't. Not that much. Even when he shows up in a plaid shirt that is made of 'technical' fabric, because he's smart and excited to talk to Dream about birds, has an encyclopedic knowledge of the history of falconry, and most importantly, Jessamy takes to him immediately.

They run into each other again at a renaissance fair, another thing Dream hates but has been strong-armed into doing, and so they are both dressed in very silly clothes when it happens: the first time Hob watches Dream demonstrate falconry, the first time Dream watches Hob use a longbow made from a yew tree he fell himself, the first time they go from a wary sort of respect for one another to a wanting.

Dream, who has a recurring fantasy about running away from it all, listens to Hob tell tracking stories and thinks, If I went into the woods, you would find me. But he doesn't want to run from Hob - except sometimes, when he sees Hob chew on his lip consideringly before giving a thoughtful answer about the guiding industry, or when Hob grins wildly at the crowd after his archery demonstration, and most of all, when Hob phones him out of the blue one day - he doesn't text, he phones - sounding a little breathless with excitement, and asks Dream if he wants to come with him for a week in the mountains, on "probably a wild goose chase" and promises "all sorts of birds if nothing else." (Hob had meant to only share the news with Dream. Fuck, he thinks. I am so fucked.)

He says yes, for the birds, of course, and tells Matthew the next time he's at the centre.

"So what's the wild goose chase?" asks Matthew.

Dream plumbs his memory of the phone call and says, "Hob told me he received a bighorn sheep tag." Matthew gapes at him.

"Holy shit," says Matthew. "He's in love with you."

"He is certainly not."

"Uh, no, respectfully boss, he 'certainly' is. Lucienne!" he shouts, "Hob invited Dream to come out on his Dall sheep tag. What the fuck, right?"

Lucienne comes in and raises her eyebrows. "Oh dear," she says. She's smiling.

"What," says Dream. "It's a sheep. I don't understand."

Lucienne and Matthew exchange a glance.

"Him. I cannot believe Hob chose him," says Matthew.

"Love works in mysterious ways," says Lucienne.

"I am right here," says Dream.

Matthew turns to him, "Have fun in Alberta," he says.

this would ft. nights of wild stars, rugged terrain, type ii fun, sexual tension around a campfire, homoerotic form checks, tent sharing, dream glassing beautiful birds with hob's $3000 binoculars while hob stares at him in abject adoration, dream watching hob strip off his clothes and jump into an alpine lake, and refusing to join him out of pretended prudishness when it's really because he's suddenly so hard it hurts, camp coffee, confessions about themselves instead of confessions about their feelings for each other, sore muscles for a VARIETY of reasons, and lots of allegories about wildness and taming and running away from things, and SO MUCH COMPETENCE KINK, friends. so much. i would probably write it like - act one them leading their separate lives, their desires and aches etc., act two - meetcute and circling one another, act three - The Trip. this one has a very happy ending i can tell

[bug-ina-rug]

Never tell a writer cool space facts...

THAT'S A LIE GIVE ME MORE PLEASEEEE

IMPORTANT NOTE: when I say "love" in many of these, i do not exclusively mean romantic love, I will specify if there is one that is exclusively romantic. Otherwise, think of this love however you want! ( I will note my favorite forms of love at the end of each, please add your favorites! )

1-A black hole and a white hole; they know of each other but they might never see each other, the are deeply in love even though they are gazillions of light years apart. They are in love even though nothing can prove to them the other exists. (romantic, familial (sibling/cousin), platonic)

1.5-A white hole in love with a black hole; the black hole doesn't know this white hole exists, it just sucks things up, with no thought as to where it all ends up. But this white hole, on the other side of the universe, pays attention to every particle it releases, constantly thinking about why exactly the black hole chose THAT particle to consume. (Familial is my absolute fav with this one, younger/older sibling, parent/child maybe aunt who cant have kids and her niece/nephew)

2-(inspo) Life as earth knows it (green) and life as this other planet knows it (purple) are in love, but they cannot survive in each others habitat, so even if they only connect through distant dust particles transported back and forth by people, they will always be together. (romantic)

3- /ROM...Our solar system (or any for that matter) is one big polycule; god do they wish they could just hold hands but no...that would destroy them, so they are forever stuck in this endless dance around eachother, trying so hard to find ways to share their love without touch

3.5- this could apply to any two or more planets lol, this has probably been done before but i like the idea of a sort of love triangle between the sun the moon and earth, i love how flexible that triangle is too..like yeah the earth loves the sun and is anoyed by the moon but its also totally true and accurate that earth and the moon are in love and the sun is jealous.

[Please add your ideas I would love to hear more, and feel free to write any ideas you got from this! Show me when you're done I would love to read them!]

[pallases]

english prof just left LOADS of feedback on my essay omg this is so exciting

[unnonexistence]

do you ever start writing something and go "hmm this one element doesn't quite make sense, I should come up with a good explanation for it," so you start trying to come up with an explanation...

and then you black out and wake up 3 days later with extensive worldbuilding that has gone WAY OFF TRACK and STILL DOESNT EVEN MAKE THE ORIGINAL THING WORK