#open prompt blog

[necrotic-nephilim]

as much as I love the common "Tim worships/stalks Jason" trope in TimJay fanfiction because it's Good and making Tim a weird little freak is Fun, I think the underutilized dynamic is where Jason is the one weirdly obsessed with Tim and makes it Tim's problem.

Like, the moment Jason is confronted with the information that a third Robin exists, the first thing he does is cover his wall with pictures of Tim so he can just obsess and torture himself over it. That is the behavior of a man who is Unwell over Tim's existence and I love it.

red hood: lost days #4

And as much as a shitshow as The Titans Tower Incident™ is characterization-wise (though I think it has far more merit in depicting Jason's character than people give it credit for but I digress-) there's something very fun about the fact that even after kicking his ass, Jason respects Tim and is impressed by him.

teen titans (2003) #29

And on top of that, Jason can't seem to stop trying to ask Jason to Tim to work with him in some capacity.

robin (1993) #177

batman: battle for the cowl #2

While Battle for the Cowl is an exceptionally bad comic, especially for its characterization of Jason and the "be my Robin" bit is taken deeply out of context, I do think it's interesting how obsessed Jason is with believing that Tim is extremely competent, only held back by being "brainwashed by Bruce". (hence him leaving Tim for dead later on in the comic.) Jason seeing a darker side of Tim and wanting to bring that out of Tim, wanting to see what Tim could be if he let go of his loyalty to Bruce is so fun to me, tbh.

And in Robin #177, Jason seems genuinely upset Tim doesn't want to work with him. Jason sees such a raw potential in Tim and is obsessed with it, constantly wanting Tim to work for him and see Tim be the type of person Jason is. And despite Tim rejecting him, Jason doesn't shoot to kill Tim. I just cannot get over the fanfic potential of Jason obsessing over Tim, tracking him and seeing what he's capable of and what he could be capable of. Wanting to make Tim see things the way he does. To Tim it's corruption, to Jason it's freedom. Tim trying to 'save' Jason is fun and all, but Jason trying to corrupt Tim? That's even more fun to me. Watching that power struggle between them, Tim unable to get Jason off his heels as Jason gets more and more possessive and bold with each attempt.

And when Jason sees Tim successfully get Gotham back under control after a gang war, he's impressed. He praises Tim, even. And then Tim just. Breaks him out of prison.

robin (1993) #182

The way they're constantly trying to see something in the other that isn't there, hoping the other will come around? That is the most fucked up hate/love dynamic ever. Jason keeps coming back to Tim, keeps trying to find ways to get Tim onto his side. They're always chasing each other. And I think Jason would be the one to confess love first, the one to do anything to make Tim his. And when you consider after all of this, Tim has his Red Robin arc and is at his lowest, getting the closest he ever gets to considering murder? I think it'd be so fun to see Jason take advantage of that and worm his way back into Tim's life and finally push Tim over the edge.

[maybanksprincess]

satisfy you

warnings: 18+, smut, cheating, p in v sex, pet names, kissing, squirting, drinking.

summary: reader is dating rafe, and he isnt satisfying her needs, jj offers to help.

pairings: nice!kook!reader x pogue!jj

you attended this big bonfire that everyone went to every single year in the outer banks.

if you lived in the outerbanks you knew that bonfires were the core place that drama started.

usually you would go to drink one or two beers, have fun, and dance with your friends a little. but this time that wasnt the case.

Rafe had been getting closer with this bartender from the country club, and it was really starting to weigh down on you.

you tried to ignore it at first, but he had started going to the country club a lot more often, more than usual. and he stopped touching you all together.

first he stopped fucking you as often, but then it quickly turned into just no attention or affection from him at all. and it really hurt.

you went to this party to get wasted, and forget about all your problems, even if it was temporary.

you drunk a few beers, and downed a couple shots, now a bit tipsy from the alcohol floating in your system.

you were sitting in the grass, knees pressed up to your chest, back up against a oak tree with a few carvings on the bark of it.

your just staring at everyone partying and having fun, zoning out and just lost in your thoughts.

your snapped out of your thoughts as you see a fit blonde walk in your direction, stopping beside you.

"sup, can i sit?" the blonde asks

"yeah, of course." i look up at him and scoot over, making room.

as he sat next to me in the grass i smelled a mixture of alcohol and weed on him.

"so, what are you doin' alone at a bonfire?" he asks while giving you a once over, admiring the sight of ur curves in that dress.

"jus' trying to get my mind off things, you know?" i look up, finally locking eyes with him.

"yeah? things like what? i bet ur pretty little kook life is awesome." he says as he brings the joint between his fingers to his lips, taking a puff out of it.

"kook life really isnt all that great jay. not as great as you think" you say with a hint of vulnerability behind your words.

"it actually sucks," you continue "all the girls are mean. all they care about is money, and their boyfriends fancy cars. and all the kooks are assholes."

he puffs out the smoke, exhaling and listening to your rambling.

"i just feel like..im stuck in bubble wrap sometimes. i dunno if that makes sense" you put your head down, feeling like you said too much.

he turns so hes sitting in front of you, his face in front of yours.

"y'know its okay to get outta the bubble wrap sometimes..." he says, his eyes trailing to the hint of exposed cleavage from ur dress.

you dont know if it was the alcohol in your system or the way he was looking at you, but damn, he was so hot.

you find yourself staring, and look away, until he uses his index finger to tilt your chin back so your face meets his.

you felt a familiar pooling between your legs, but it wasn't like the pooling that happened when rafe was around.

you barely got turned on by rafe by the way he treated you, literally having to beg him to touch you most of the time. he couldn't commit to one woman, and the better of you knew that. you just couldn't seem to let him go.

i involuntarily clench my thighs, and it doesn't go unnoticed by jj, his eyes dart down to the exposed skin on your thighs.

his cargo shorts start to tighten, as if he wasnt already hard when he first approached.

you and jj start to pass the blunt, and eventually the tension becomes too much, the weed and alcohol is floating in your systems, and you find yourselves leaning into eachother.

your lips eventually meet, and it only escalates from there.

at first it was sweet and slow, but then it quickly got hot and heavy, your tongues tangling together.

you straddle his lap, grinding your clothed core against his bulge that was straining in his shorts. his hands start to grope your ass, as his dick seeks more friction from you.

he groans, and his arms hook under your thighs, he pushes himself off the ground, supporting your weight easily.

he carries you over to the twinkie, all the other pogues are still occupied out at the bonfire partying.

he uses one hand to open the sliding door, and lays you flat on your back on the surface of the backseat. he shuts the car door and he wastes no time in connecting your lips with his again.

in between kisses, he mutters out "'m gonna fuck you so good, ya gonna forget rafe exists."

following his words, he unbuckles his shorts and slides them down his legs, kicking them to the side, along with his boxers.

you look down at his dick and your eyes widen. you've never took dick that big before, fuck you were panicking.

he smirks at your reaction, and he slides your dress down your thighs, and off, tossing it where his boxers were. he lowers his face to angle it down with yours, his arms on either side of your head.

he strokes his hard cock, his tip leaks salty white precum on your thighs. his hands go down to the waistband of your panties and he hooks his fingers into it.

"can i take these off, pretty girl?" he asks, his ocean blue eyes boring into yours.

you nod, breathing getting heavy, the pool between your legs intensifying by the second. you were really about to get fucked by jj maybank.

you almost couldn't believe it, you both came from totally opposite sides, he grew up in the cut and you didnt. it was weird, but in that moment you didnt care.

all you cared about was getting his dick inside of you.

with the fingers that are hooked in ur panties, he slides them down your thighs with. he tosses ur panties and his eyes zero in on your spread pussy.

he groans, his cock jumping at the sight. he spreads your thighs some more, and the sudden feeling of a warm substance hitting your pussy shakes you out of your thoughts.

you look down to see his cock leaking precum onto your clit.

he spreads his precum on your folds with his tip, you both moaning at the situation. he lines his tip with your entrance and he pushes himself in.

as he slowly pushes in, he dips his head down to kiss your neck to soothe the slight pain from the stretch of his thick, girthy, cock.

he whimpers against your neck at the feeling of your tight walls fluttering around his member.

he starts to slowly thrust in and out, before his thrusts become faster and deeper. you grab onto his shoulders as a leverage, even though you weren't going to fall.

as he continues to thrust in and out of your sopping pussy, he speaks, his voice muffled by your neck. "mm what a fuckin' shame. that kook passed up the chance to fuck this pussy?"

you moan at his words, the stretch of his dick, the sound of his voice, the way his hand comes down to rub your clit, its all too much.

you start to see stars as you throw your head back, pussy clamping down on his cock. your moans and his groans fill the twinkie. the car rocking with every thrust, due to however old the junk was.

his tip nudges the spongy spot inside your pussy that makes you squirm, you start to whimper and let out long moans, signaling your close.

jj can tell by the way your clamping down on him, and the way your eyes roll back, that your close. he starts to thrust into you at a relentless speed, rubbing your clit rapidly, meeting your lips in a heated kiss.

you shout into his mouth "fuck jj!"

he smirks against your lips, pulling away for a brief moment to speak, his speed never faltering "cmon baby; tell me i fuck you better than rafe." he breathes out

i moan, tears flowing out of your eyes "fuck yes, so much better!" your eyes roll back again

he feels your nails scratching at his back, desperately trying to hold onto something. "yeah? who do u belong to now, hm?"

"you jayjay.." you barely manage to get out with the tears flowing out of your eyes.

he kisses your forehead gently, still slamming into your pussy. "cmon, give it t'me princess. cum for me baby."

following his words, you feel a unfamiliar gush of liquid come out of your hole. you've never done that before. it feels different but it feels so damn good.

you scream out, continuing to squirt on his cock.

he thrusts a few more times, groaning and moaning as he cums on your tummy, "your mine now. my fuckin' girl."

after he comes down from his high, he pulls his phone out, and snaps a picture with the flash, adding a text to it that says "jus made your girl squirt, looks like shes mine now, kook 😎"

he sends it to rafe, and then he helps u back into ur dress, then puts his shorts back on after.

"y'know i meant what i said, ur mine now." he seals his words with a quick kiss.

[curlyboys]

From the prompt list: “Breathe. Hi, we found you, just breathe for me, okay?”, please? Thanks in advance!

👀 it's gotta be injured Tommy + worried Buck to the rescue.. send me a prompt or two..

Tommy's awoken by turbulance, jostled in his seat from external forces, except..

It can't be turbulance. He can't be in the air. He's a decent pilot but he can't sleep and fly at the same time. The last thing he remembers was flying over downtown L.A, Lucy saying something about windsurfing, before—

A metallic banging snags his attention, his head throbbing and neck protesting as he tries to turn towards the sound.

The whir and grind of tools, muffled voices yelling— and then a great groaning sound and— bright lights blind his already poor vision, the voices are louder. There's a flurry of activity around him, the hurried capability of professionals doing their job, cautious touches to his body, inspection of his seat. Someone moves behind him, probably to get to Lucy—

"—Tommy?"

"..'van?.." His eyes are screwed shut against the torchlight but he'd know that voice anywhere.

"Tommy!"

"..Y're here.."

"Yeah, yeah I-I'm here— we're here, we got you— we're gonna get you out, okay? Just— just stay with me."

The other voices filter in and out of his awareness. He zeroes in on Evan: he's close, right by Tommy's ear, voice strained but beautiful. He hasn't heard that voice since..

Since Bobby's funeral. Since that night everything went to hell. Since the morning after they..

It's been too long. There's been too much complication and hurt. He misses hearing Evan's voice happy and unburdened. He doesn't want to add to his worry or stress.

As he shifts to try to move— pain lances through his side.

"Woah, woah, easy Tommy," Howie says. He must be the one evaluating Tommy's condition. Which mustn't be great, considering the pain.

"Just hold still," Evan says in his ear, voice wobbly. His hands— they must be Evan's hands— are braced on his shoulders, holding him steady.

He's missed those hands, strong and capable and eager. He'd do a lot to hear that voice again, feel Evan's touch again. Like stealing another helicopter, or..

..crashing one?

"Try not to move, just breathe for me, o-okay?"

Nodding seems like a bad idea and requires too much energy anyway— and he's so very tired —so he settles for humming in the affirmative and focusing on the grounding, heavy warmth of Evan's hands on him.

Lucy groans off to his left, reminding Tommy he's not the only one who's fucked up right now. "..Luce?.."

"..Wha' h'appen'd?.."

Good question.

"Civilian drone," says Howie.

An attack? It's not unheard of, people tend to target police helicopters but from far away it's hard to tell what's LAFD unless you know.

"Dumbass was tryin' to get an aerial shot for his stupid ass zombie movie," says Hen, condescending as hell.

Tommy's missed her, too. And Howie. All of them. He misses Evan's people, his old friends, misses being in their orbit almost as much as he misses Evan.

"Oh m' god— w're gonn' be in a zombie movie, T'mmy!" Lucy snickers as Hen chides her to hold still.

A laugh bubbles out of him, ending on a groan as another flare of pain shoots through him like a lightning bolt. Evan's hands grip him tighter.

"Chim—"

"Buck, just keep him steady— Ravi, get in here with that saw—"

Through slitted eyes, Tommy glimpses a long, metallic shard protruding from his midsection. So that explains the pain. As Ravi takes the saw to the metal, Howie and Evan hold him down.

Just before he blacks out, Tommy could swear he feels lips press to his temple, firm and desperate.

+ + +

There's murmurs and hushed conversation, but it's Hen's voice saying, "He's stable," that are the first clear words Tommy hears as he gradually resurfaces from unconsciousness.

The pain has subsided to a dull ache. He's comfortable, horizontal, and there's the telltale sign of a heart monitor beeping quietly nearby.

He's in a hospital bed. His hand is clasped between two strong, warm hands. Familiar hands. Hands clutching at Tommy like his only tether to this world.

Hen's a great medic, Tommy trusts her assessment, so if Evan was worried about him slipping away it sounds like he doesn't need to anymore. Not that he deserves Evan's concern, but he could probably let go of Tommy's hand now.

Tommy doesn't want Evan to let go. He squeezes Evan's hand.

"'m not a fan of deathbed confessions, j'st for the record," he says, voice low and raw.

"You're not dying," three voices say at once. A smile tugs at the corner of Tommy's mouth. Howie and Hen sound a little exasperated, but fond. A hint of humour colors the latent urgency in Evan's voice.

Tommy blinks his eyes open to find Evan smiling, tentative and gorgeous, blue eyes big and red-rimmed, brow unfurrowing as tension sloughs from his shoulders on a sigh, his messy curls limned by the morning sun. Evan could put the brightness of the sun to shame even when he looks exhausted.

"m' sorry, 'bout us. I shouldn'.. shouldn'..ve.. left." His brain is still a little foggy, words coming a little slow, but he can't wait for it to catch up. He needs to say this now. Evan needs to know.

And he'd forgive Evan for asking: which time? because he'd deserve the jab for being a coward more than once, for not fighting for them.

"No— I'm sorry," Evan says instead. "I didn't mean to push you away, and I-I should've reached out sooner."

Why didn't you? Tommy doesn't ask, because he's not sure he wants to know the answer. But he knows for certain that Evan has been grieving Bobby's death and so doesn't blame him for their lack of correspondance following the funeral. It's a two-way street, Tommy could have picked up the phone, but he didn't. Maybe he was giving Evan space after everything or maybe he was using circumstance as a scapegoat so he could stay couched in his own fears.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," Evan says, eyes shining, brow furrowed.

Tommy squeezes his hand again and manages a small, sad smile. "M' neither." He wants to pull Evan in, hold him close, beg for another chance, promise to never run away again. But he doesn't know if it's welcome, and he doesn't know if he can trust himself anyway. He'd want to, for Evan. He'd do his damndest to not screw this up a third time, to stay despite his fears.

Evan adjusts his grip, strokes a thumb reverently over the back of Tommy's hand. "I've missed you."

Tommy's heart flutters. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. You were open and honest with me that night, and I-I should've said this then— I wanted to tell you, but I-I needed— and then I—" Evan shakes his head, clearing it to refocus. "In the helicopter, I decided. Afterwards, I was gonna ask if we could talk, but.."

Tommy squeezes his hand.

"Everything's been so messed up, Tommy," he starts again, "for so long—" He pauses to take a steadying breath, "I don't wanna lose you. I wanna fix this— us— because I miss you, and.. I love you." His hands cradle Tommy's. "I love you."

The second I love you — and Tommy's head spins at the words — seems to settle something in Evan. Tommy's heart is soaring. His eyes are welling up, voice cracking as he says, "Yeah?" lips twitching up.

Evan nods. "Yeah."

"Well, then.. y'should know.. I love you, too."

Evan breaks into a watery grin. "Yeah?"

Tommy blinks, a tear tracking down into his hairline as his own smile breaks free. "Yeah."

It's just the two of them, hand in hand and laying their hearts out on Tommy's hospital bed.

"Thought you weren't one for deathbed confessions," Howie chimes in.

Tommy totally forgot he was there. Hen tsks and half-heartedly whacks his shoulder as she and Evan both say, Evan chuckling now, "He's not dying."

Hen's eyes are glistening and she's trying to hold back a smile. Howie looks touched, too.

"Hey," Tommy tugs on Evan's hand. "What're y'doing Saturday?"

Evan laughs and ducks his head. "Uh. Today is Saturday."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. And I, uh." Evan threads their fingers together. "I was hoping to spend the day with my boyfriend."

Tommy beams. "Lucky guy."

"Yeah, I am." Evan's smile turns soft and intimate.

Tommy adores him.

Buck blinks in surprise.

"D'I j'st say that out loud?"

"Uh-huh," Hen and Chim pipe up in unison, but Tommy only has eyes for Evan.

"S'true," he says, knowing he'll say the words again with intention and feel just as content in having them known.

"I'm kinda crazy about you. Hope that's okay?"

Tommy was lucky enough to glimpse a bit of Evan's crazy during their first try at this. The thought of being the focus of that intense emotional spectrum makes him giddy. "I like y'r crazy."

"You two are sickeningly adorable," says Howie.

Tommy lowers his voice to a stage whisper. "Wan' make out in front of th' pean't gall'ry?"

Evan laughs, the sun flaring above the city skyline behind him nothing compared to his light. "Yes, yes I do."

"So this is the thanks I get for saving your life again, huh?" Howie balks.

"Ravi handled the saw with expert precision, I gotta say," Evan tells him.

"R'mind me t'.. send him.. muff'n bask't.." The exhaustion is creeping back in, trying to pull him under.

"Buck's got you covered on the baked goods front," Hen adds.

"..Hmh?" His eyelids are heavy as he blinks in slow motion, trying to focus as his brain slows down again, urging him to rest.

"Just, uh. Some of my crazy," Evan admits, a shy note in his voice.

"Hm.. g'd.." Tommy hums happily as his eyes lose the battle to stay open.

There's whispered voices around him as his breathing deepens and evens out.

"Call us if either of you need anything, Buck."

"I will. Thanks, guys."

There's footsteps and rustling. A dip in the bed and a warm solid presence at his hip. Evan takes the hand covering Tommy's to brush back some wayward curls from his forehead.

Evan likes his curls. He said it more than once, but it was his hands and even his eyes more than his words that clued Tommy in.

Plush, bitten lips press a lingering kiss to his brow, Evan's hand cradling Tommy's skull, thumb scritching against his scalp.

"Get some rest," Evan murmurs between them, the gentle pressure and comforting warmth of his forehead pressed to Tommy's.

I love you, Tommy thinks, and a warm puff of air ghosts over his lips.

There's a smile in Evan's voice when he says, "Love you, too."

Tommy surrenders to sleep, his last nebulous thought being that he can't wait to wake up to this.

[ancient-siren]

Open RP!

Sienna was calm as she baked in the kitchen. The child's gate was up for safety reasons. Birdie was playing in the living area. Which she saw straight through, her curls tucked back in a scarf as she made cupcakes and cake. A small party was to happen with all the people they loved.

She already made a Ribeye roast, mashed potatoes, sauteed vegetables, dinner rolls, salad, along with a vegan pasta as well.

She was calm as she sings in the green kitchen she just finished remodeling. Adding in their touches to their new home. It was decorated with fairy lights. Large plants filled the living area, a matures rubber plant. A few ivy hanging down over a few shelves. A large monstera was by the entrance way. Plants littered the home. They've only been in the home for maybe a month now. Married for a month now.. it felt comfortable. It was, home.

NPT, Don't have to interact if you don't want to!: @buckybuck-barnes @steve-rogers-language @captain-sam-t-wilson @falconanon @sunflower-0180 @weekeewee @baby-banshee-barnes

[batink]

Rp blog ask game - Mun/Mod edition!

Leave this in the mun/mod's inbox and they'll answer questions about the muse(s) of their blog!

🔪 - How good are your muse's cooking skills?

📝 - Was your muse created for this fandom you're roleplaying in? If not, what was their original media of origin?

🎧 - Tell us a song that reminds you of your muse

🧣 - A fun fact about your muse's design

🎉 - When is your muse's birthday/What's your headcanon date of muse's birthday?

👏 - How are their hands like? (Are they cold or hot? Are they dry or sweaty? Do they have scars of them? Why?)

🏳️ - What's their nationality?/Headcanon about their nationality

🩸 - Has your muse ever killed or harmed someone?

🍓 - Do they have any food allergy/do you headcanon them with any allergy?

🍿 - What is their favourite movie?

✒️ - What inspired you to create your muse/What inspired you to make a blog for your muse?

💬 - How many languages does your muse speak?

Specify for multi-muses blogs!

[pain-in-the-everywhere]

Thinking about a whumpee that died and came back as a ghost, but because they're a ghost there's no way to patch up their injuries so they're forced to float around with gaping wounds and gashes on their body for all eternity.

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #94

Danny falls through a portal to the DC world from a natural portal that opened up while he was in mid fight with Skulker a fight that began at Vlads where the creep put a collar on Danny that kept him in ghost form, Vlad thought he’d force Danny to reveal his secret to his parents by taking away his human form. Looking around he’s in a dark city with dark smog colored skies. Unfortunately he’s stuck here as the portal closed leaving him trapped. He tried to find help but no one can see him in his ghost form. He starts tailing the vigilantes of this world and eventually follows one onto this space station through this tube (possessing inanimate objects sure comes in handy). He wasn’t expecting for the random British guy in a trench coat to see him.

[theeccentricraven]

Writecamp Day 6 ⛺

Credit goes to @agirlandherquill for setting up this writing prompt tag game ❤️

I'm late posting this since I had a pretty big day, but had to get it up. 🙂

Rules: choose a prompt (or as many of them as you like) from this list, write something and share your creation with the rest of writeblr, and share the game with others, because as we all know writing is a gift and it deserves to be shared!

For the Day 6 prompt I chose the narration prompt: "The day. as brutal, as bloody, as soul-wrenching as it was, was finally done."

Once again, this is a passage from my main WIP, my YA Dystopia The Blood Cleaners. This passage happens right before the scene I posted on Day 4 😲This is the start of Chapter 47 of Draft 2, pretty late in the story (border of Act 2 and Act 3!)

*********************************************************************

The day. as brutal, as bloody, as soul-wrenching as it was, was finally done. Justin basked in comfort to know that lives were saved after a strenuous day of helping out the lil brigade. Never would he have thought he’d see lils in their fully fed form, plump with blood and large as a Great Dane. He wanted to steal a moment to speak with the mayor, but each minute only gave the choice to rescue another life or to steal away. Tomorrow would have to be another day. He hated each day that passed by. He was ready to return to his bed in Naomi’s house, though not before having dinner with her. 

He finally enjoyed her chili as he seated at the ornate carved table next to the central stove. 

Linda sat next to him. Her round dark eyes stared at him. 

Justin scowled. It was enough to live with the guilt of his betrayal. After a lifetime of being taught that fate was fiction, he knew the inevitable. He would have to tell Joselyn the truth. He’d have to promise to mend her broken heart. The last thing he needed was for yet another girl to taunt his attention.

He raised his eyebrows like an angry dog. “WHAT!”

Linda slid down the bench. She grasped her shirt, her lips quivering. 

Naomi got up from her weaving loom. She called out something to Linda in Navajo.

Justin sighed, ashamed. “I’m sorry, lady. I didn’t mean to be mean to your granddaughter.” On any ordinary day he would have laughed at his pun. It was not an ordinary day.

Naomi and Linda exchanged a few more words, ending with Linda sleuthing up to their bed.

Naomi stepped up to Justin. “Not your fault. She’s just lonely.”

Justin lay his head on the table, grunting. 

Naomi patted his shoulder. “I haven’t known you long, but I’m the wise woman of our people. If you need healing, I'm here for you.”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’m tired. I have a lot to do tomorrow.” 

******************************************************

Tagging (optional only) and open!

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@kitkins13 @buffythevampirelover @willtheweaver @poethill @acmartin

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[ruidailyrui]

Day #9 : Dear My Fellows.

oops sowwy late again

[what-would-ahsoka-tano-do]

Hi, Padawan Tano? Um, I'm from the lower levels of Coruscant - like, low low levels, we see some weird stuff day to day. Never actually met a Jedi or anything, and don't know how to contact your temple. So this was my best bet.

But, um, someone's selling your light swords down here. Not your light swords specifically as far as I know, unless you're missing them. A jedi's light sword, or several jedi's light swords i guess. My family figured you were our only shot at reporting it to someone who could do something about it?

So, yeah, good luck with the war and everything. And don't die? I don't know much about the upper levels or the rest of the galaxy, but your blog is a great look into it for us lower-level dwellers!

Hey civvie!

I’ve been down to those lower levels a few times, I know what you’re talking about. I’m not really… an official channel? But uh what works works I guess. The senate was supposed to set up a helpline but I guess they couldn’t afford it.

WAIT REWIND WHAT DID YOU SAY KRIFFING HELL! I heard about a knight that got karking ambushed in those lower levels and they never found his saber. He had a kriffing padawan too. Kark this fripping poodoo that’s a big deal. That’s his soul! They’re selling his soul! Thank you so much for reporting this Kriff I need like… someone official I need to tell Master Kenobi about this… he’s on the council.

Yeah uh. Thanks. I’ll dedicate the next battle to you, or something. I really need to get the council in on this…. I need to tell master Koon too! He’s way more put together than Master Kenobi…. Glad my blog could help

Tano out!

[the-cypress-grove]

Hi hi I saw ur "So, you want to write ..." post for vamps and zombs would it be possible a werewolf one be made?

Love ur blog by the way makes my brain happy

So, You Want To Write Werewolves....

I had been planning to do werewolves next so I had already been making a list. As always, take the bits you want/need, don't feel you have to answer every question I write, and always always do what works for you and your story.

Werewolves Through History

Lots of myths around the world feature some form of werewolf, or at least people in possession of the ability to turn into animals. Sometimes they're helpful like the Wulver of Scotland who leave fish for people in front of their houses. Sometimes they're malevolent forces like the Skinwalkers of Native American legend.

In Europe, France especially, there was a fear of these creatures and many were killed because they were believed to be one. In some cases, these people were at least partially skinned as it was believed that a werewolf had fur on the inside.

If you want to research a particularly notable case of werewolves, then you should look into La Bête du Gévaudan, France. It was believed a werewolf perpetrated 210 attacks resulting in 113 deaths and 49 injuries. 98 of the attacked were partially eaten. Eye witnesses and survivors of these attacks claimed that it was a wolf the size of a donkey and then came the belief about werewolves for which some people were executed. All these attacks took place within about fifty miles of each other. These attacks were so bad it was brought to the attention of the king at the time, Louis XV, who sent people to deal with the creature.

You might want to make a note of the beliefs about werewolves i.e. their strengths, their abilities, their weaknesses, as these will be useful when you come to design your werewolves.

The Complete Book of Werewolves by Leonard R.N. might be worth reading if you find this interesting.

2. Genre Decisions

Before even beginning to design your werewolf you're going to want to decide what genre you're writing in. A werewolf in a horror story will have different qualities and weaknesses compared to, say, a werewolf of in a romance novel. There are usually fewer werewolves in a horror story and larger packs of werewolves in stories where the werewolves are more friendly.

3. Origins

In almost all stories the origins of werewolves as a species are entirely unimportant. This might be something you want to include / explore in your story so I'll touch on it briefly.

Was it a gift or a curse? Was it simply evolution? Have werewolves changed from the time of the first werewolf to the time your story is set? Were they created by a higher power? Was it magic?

4. Wolf Behaviour

Something you might want to look into is the behaviour of real wolves. If your werewolves lose their human mind / have wolf instincts do these follow the patterns of real wolves?

This will help you know how big a territory they might have, what leadership structure they might follow, what techniques they might use to hunt their prey.

Bare in mind, different types of wolves have different behaviours. Does this affect your wolves? Do different wolves of different regions behave in different ways?

5. Werewolf Design

So, now the fun bit. You get to make your werewolf.

Are they affected by the moon? When they turn, do they keep their human mind? How much like a wolf do they look? Are they wolflike or do they have wolf qualities but walk upright? Does shifting forms hurt? How long does it take?

Do you have to be born a wolf or can you be tuned? Does silver affect them? How can they be killed? Do they age? Is their aging process slowed? In some stories werewolves have soulmates, is that the case for yours? Do they live in packs?

How quickly do they heal? Are they strong and fast even in human form? What are there sense like compared to a human? If their abilities are better than that of a human, is it the same in both forms or are their abilities weaker when in human form?

Pick the qualities the suit your story / selected genre the best.

6. Themes

The beast is among us.

Themes of werewolf stories often depends on the genre. In a horror story the themes centre around the struggle between man and beast, humanity and the natural world, secrets, deception, and the illusion that we are in control.

7. Pack Dynamics

If your werewolf knows others amongst their kind then they will most likely be at least one pack in your story. You need to decide the size of the pack, how they function on a full moon vs when they are humans, how are they funded, their leadership structure. Are their packs strictly werewolf only, or can others be found amongst them?

8. Threats

What threats are there to your werewolves? Is it others of their kind Another species? Are there werewolf hunters? Who knows that they exist? Is it common knowledge or do they keep themselves hidden? How far are they willing to go in order to protect themselves?

[ask-johnlaurens]

OPEN PROMPT

Laurens sits alone, underneath a tree. He's completely zoned out and silent, except for the occasional blink. He sighs, looking up for a split second before his gaze averts to the ground again.

He's not even sure what's wrong himself, but something just feels.. off.

TAGS: any Hamilton ask blog.

@yourgeneralcharles

[starry-sophrosyne]

Just.

a WOTC spinoff au where Sophist doesn't get banished but Bertrand still joins the rebellion (as/becomes the leader now, maybe for a diff reason like he got suspected instead of sophist for killing his father or something idk-) and Brent is forced to marry Cherie anyways, while he can only watch/help him prepare for his wedding as his best man (around the same time as WOTC, maybe Brent delayed marrying anyone for a few years due to the unstability of the kingdom after Bertrand left and his dad died)

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i might write somewhat of a full version of this as a drabble but i would need to read up on versions of this writing prompt (i need ideas bc motivation for this drabble idea is lowkey low) but GOD the amount of things that would go UNSAID. In this universe, he gently pushes his friend towards the ballroom again, only without a lingering feeling on both of their lips. Because how could he? Right before he was about to get married, and unaware of his true feelings for him too? No, instead, without realizing it, he tears up:

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"Never thought you'd cry at my wedding." — Brent's eyes widened in shock, a look comprised of genuine surprise and concern on his face just as Sophist realized the tears trembling in his waterline. Trying to play it off, he hoped his dear friend would take it as a moment of emotional vulnerability in opposition of what he currently felt.

"Oh, shut up! Am I not allowed to care about you for once? God, you asshole, of course I do! Why wouldn't I? I'm just.. really glad to see you so happy." — He rambled, ripping his glasses off his face with more emotion than he would've liked. Swiping the glassiness of his eyes onto his cheeks, he tried to force a painful smile, but still. He stiffened as Brent gave him something of a somber smile, heart cracking with every second that ticked by. Reasoning and rationality threatened to be swallowed up by his turbulent emotions, even as he gripped his hands together so hard they shook, because why? Why were they put through this? Was it unlucky fate that disdained them, or maybe.. Maybe it was just him. If that was all, then how could he ever be mad or guilty? He didn't deserve this, but he didn't deserve him either, and if Brent truly didn't feel anything for him at all, then he could never ruin his happiest moment. But even still.

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Please, he thought, as he bit his lip so hard he thought it'd bleed, don't walk back to me. Don't give me a reason to make a bad decision.

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"Yeah.." — The room went silent, replaced with wavering smiles and palpable tension. What would he even say at this moment? This was his finality, his never-turning-back.

"Go get em buddy, knock her dead with your dressed up looks!."

"Oh shut up the fuck up." — He laughed once more, but even as he turned around and gripped the door knob, he wanted to stop. Ever fiber of him wanted to turn around, run towards him. Embrace him, kiss him, run away with him; but he couldn't. Not because he didn't want to, but because he simply, couldn't. Too much depended on this marriage. His mother was relying on him, his kingdom was relying on him, Cherie was relying on him. His mother had lost too much, his kingdom had too much to loose, and Cherie was a woman that could bring them the power to end it all; But even still.

Taking a deep breath, he grit and ground his teeth so hard he thought they'd crack. And then, he turned to look back at him once more. And oh, he looked wonderful. His purple brocade vest was embroidered with violet, donning a lacy ruffled cravat as were the cuffs of his sleeves. His pants slim fit and tailored, he looked just like a regular noble, except for his signature mask, which was similarly styled to match his clothing; though his traditional jacket and hat were absconded for the event. Even still, he was perfect, and he wasn't his.

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His eyes lingered just a bit too long, just enough for his hardened heart to crack as his eyes revealed everything he'd wished to hide, unsafe from his best friend's astute observations.

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He swore he saw Sophist's expression change, eyes breaking open into a pool of glassy sorrow, but instead, they closed as he offered Brent an encouraging smile. They squinted back open just slightly but teasingly; a playful gaze that taunted him: "Cold feet, gonna chicken out?" He could practically hear his irritating voice, nagging him in an oh so familiar and lovely way. It helped, as he chuckled and his heart settled just a bit, but even still, he takes a deep breath. He's walking away from what, no, who he loves, but.. as long as he can remain by his side..

It's just enough for him to take the leap forward, as he twists the door knob with a conviction; but even as the light shines on his face and the ballroom explodes with noise, his heart cant help but sink.

[ancient-siren]

OPEN RP

Sienna was calm as she laid on the rooftop. Her curls swaying underneath her, dresses head to toe in her black bodysuit. Her hands flexed against the leather gloves she wore. Her leather combat boots thud on the floor as she stared off.

She was having memories again. Bucky wasn't around to keep her brain busy or distracted. Birdie thankfully was with Steve and Natasha.

Yet Sienna has grown so accustomed to being around others. She forgot how to be alone again.

Her brown eyes shimmer gold as she sighs. Sitting up as she softly stared out to the gleaming New York skyline. Those beautiful colorful lights shined.

She was quiet as she observed the city. Her knees tucked to her chest. Arms wrapped around them as she softly sang out sweetly. A sad tone of a once home she knew. She was fully aware how the world looked at her.

An evil woman. A horrible villain. A monster. A mutant. A disgrace to the human race. A creature of the devil-

She's heard it all. Her eyes gleamed with tears as she softly wipes them away

Charles nor Erik taught her to be scared of her mutation. To embrace it and remember it was apart of her. Even if the cause of it was experimental....

She let a soft sigh out as she sang in Italian. A song her father loved once ago.

"Una mattina, mi son svegliato,

O bella, ciao! Bella, ciao! Bella, ciao, ciao, ciao!

Una mattina, mi son svegliato,

E ho trovato l'invasor.

O partigiano, portami via,

O bella, ciao! Bella, ciao! Bella, ciao, ciao, ciao!

O partigiano, portami via,

Che mi sento di morir.

E se io muoio da partigiano,

O bella, ciao! Bella, ciao! Bella, ciao, ciao, ciao!

E se io muoio da partigiano,

Tu mi devi seppellir.

E seppellire lassù in montagna,

O bella, ciao! Bella, ciao! Bella, ciao, ciao, ciao!

E seppellire lassù in montagna,

Sotto l'ombra di un bel fior.

E questo è il fiore del partigiano,

O bella, ciao! Bella, ciao! Bella, ciao, ciao, ciao!

E questo è il fiore del partigiano,

Morto per la libertà!"

Her tone was soft as she finished the song out. Her eyes coated with tears as she wished she could of said good bye properly so very long ago. She never heard whoever was coming up on her....

[parsley-torments-guys]

Hey if anybody wants read whump but doesn't like to read the labels "whump" "whumpee" and "whumper" you can send me requests for prompts. I'll refer to the whumpee as "character" (because they are almost always the POV character, you would know what I'm talking about.) or a specific name if you ask. I would call whumper by whatever TYPE of whumper they are (ie "scientist whumper"would just be "the scientist." "Nonhuman whumper" would be "the monster" or whatever species it's supposed to be depending on context.) Caretaker and stuff would still default to caretaker, I think, but I would use something else if you wanted me to.

[gothidaii]

🩹

The roll of bandages is messily spread over the floor.

"Goddamnit" he swears "This cant be so fucking hard"

The ice used to comfort his pain was rapidly melting, and his hand was definitely worse than before. The 20, or maybe 30? Long minutes he had been up in this rooftop trying to bandage it up were starting to take a tool on him and his poor hand.

He tried once again, when suddenly the sounds of steps caught his ears