#prompt: compass
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Compass
Part 2 Part 3
Warnings: captivity, restraints, torture, hunting, sadistic whumper
Whumpee trembled in the back of the truck. They had tried to slip the cuffs around their wrists for the last half hour as Whumper drove deeper and deeper into the woods, but it had been to no avail. They were stuck going to wherever Whumper wanted them to go, doing whatever Whumper wanted them to do.
The truck suddenly stopped and Whumpee slammed into the rear window. Whumper chuckled as they climbed out. “Whoops, was a little eager to start our fun early.”
“Please,” Whumpee panted as the world spun around them, “let me go. I won’t tell anyone. I promise. Please,” they begged.
Whumper grabbed Whumpee by the back of their neck suddenly. Their grip was hard and bruising as they began to fiddle with the cuffs on Whumpee’s wrists. As Whumpee struggled, Whumper squeezed tighter and tighter until Whumpee squealed with pain.
“Quit it, will you? I’m trying to get these off you!” Whumper growled.
The cuffs suddenly dropped from Whumpee’s wrists. Whumpee pulled their bruised wrists to their chest, their sudden freedom no longer welcomed. Before Whumpee could say anything, Whumper grabbed Whumpee’s right wrist and pulled.
“Open your hand,” they ordered.
Whumpee complied lest Whumper break their wrist. “I don’t understand. I--”
“You’re going to need this,” Whumper cut Whumpee off gruffly as they dropped a small compass in their hand.
“I don’t understand. Please, let me go.”
Whumper smiled as they stared down at Whumpee. “I am.”
“Thank you, thank you,” the words tumbled from Whumpee’s mouth. They could not believe how lucky they were in this moment.
“You have an hour, Whumpee. I’m letting you go for an hour before I go after you. You escape in that hour, that’s your freedom.” Whumper smiled pleasantly. “However, if at the end of the hour you’re still here,” Whumper’s eyes grew dark, “then I will find you. And I will hunt you down like the animal you are.”
“Please! I won’t tell anyone, I swear!” Whumpee had no idea where they were. Or even what direction safety was. How were they going to get out of there?
Whumper checked their watch. “You have fifty-eight minutes now. I’d get running if I were you. The closest town is about twenty miles due south. You make it there, you’re safe, Whumpee. Run, run for your life.”
Whumpee scrambled from the truck bed and started running. They had no idea where south was. And they had no idea how long it would take them to go twenty miles. But they had to get out of there. Had to before Whumper hunted them down.
#serickswrites#whump#whumpblr#whump writing#whump community#tw captivity#tw restraints#tw torture#tw hunting#sadistic whumper#themerrywhumpofmay#merry whump of may 2023#day 1#no pain no gain#prompt: compass#queue
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An Assassin Child and His Ghost Sword
For whatever reason, Danny has become a magical sword and been thrown through time and space, eventually landing in a completely different world far in the past.
In all honesty, being a magic sword isn't the worst thing ever, to the point he's basically using it as an extended vacation. Whenever he's alone he sleeps, whenever he has a wielder, he gives them advice and extra abilities and the like. If he gets bored in one area, he's able to move himself to another.
However, Danny ended up screwing up somewhere down the line. See, he has the ability to only work for those who are 'worthy' (basically a catch all term for the people Danny likes or can at the very least be civil with). If someone 'unworthy' picks him up, he'll curse them.
Unfortunately, after a long string of unworthy people, everyone now believes Danny is solely a cursed blade, his ability to bless others forgotten when he finally goes down in the history books.
Then when Danny finally come to the modern age, he ends up being found by one Damian Al Ghul.
Damian is all by himself for one reason or another (running from the League, disagreement with the Bats, etc.) when he finds Danny. And frankly, what kid wouldn't want a magical, talking sword that grants incredible powers, especially when you've been trained in how to actually wield them. He doesn't really have a plan, so he decides to just travel around trying to find a place he belongs.
Danny likes the kid and decides to look after him since he's all by himself. He helps the kid travel around the world, teaches him how the world works, helps him with any moral issues that being raised by assassins brings, etc.
Meanwhile, the rest of the world is wondering who this small, wandering child with the sword is.
#dp x dc#dpxdc#dc x dp#dp x dc prompt#magic sword#I got this idea while looking at an isekai#Damian becomes a wandering swordsman who helps protect those who need it#If this is a case of him leaving the Bats they are scrambling to find Damian#Anyone who learns Danny is 'cursed' believe Danny is manipulating Damian to corrupt him#He's actually giving him a better moral compass and is a good source of support for the kid#What Danny's 'curses' were was anything mild like making a person trip at inconvenient times to straight up murder#That one was for someone who killed a wielder he liked
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Writing Notes: Compassion Fatigue
Compassion Fatigue - the burnout and stress-related symptoms experienced by caregivers and other helping professionals in reaction to working with traumatized people over an extended period of time
Can show itself in a range of symptoms and behaviors, such as:
Diminished ability or interest to care for others
Preoccupation with people you help
Mental and/or physical exhaustion
Anger and irritability
Anxiety and/or depression
Intrusive thoughts
Sleep problems
Being easily startled
Hopelessness about helping work
Flashbacks
Hypervigilance
Avoidance of certain activities, situations, or people you help
Feeling like a failure as a helper
Drops in productivity
Emotional numbness
Trouble separating personal and professional life
A decreased capacity to experience sympathy and empathy
Dysfunctional coping behaviors, e.g., misusing alcohol or drugs
Taking more time off work
Reduced decision-making ability
Feeling disconnected
Decreased satisfaction or enjoyment with work (Cocker & Joss, 2016; Clay, 2020; Stamm, 2010)
Some important factors that contribute to compassion fatigue include (Figley, 2002a):
Prolonged exposure. The feeling of responsibility for helping those in pain for a significant period of time—breaks and vacations are important to avoid this.
Traumatic recollections. Emotional memories that the client triggers for the therapist—these may reflect the therapist’s experiences of other clients who were especially difficult, demanding, or suffering greatly.
Life disruption. Any life event that disrupts your routine, schedule, or ability to manage and cope with your daily responsibilities.
Compassion fatigue is a form of stress or tension that arises from frequent contact with traumatized people, where we become preoccupied with the suffering or pain of others (Hunsaker, Chen, Maughan, & Heaston, 2015).
Sources: 1 2 ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs
#compassion fatigue#psychology#writing reference#writeblr#literature#dark academia#writers on tumblr#spilled ink#writing prompt#creative writing#light academia#writing inspiration#character development#writing#theodor leopold weller#writing resources
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DP x DC Prompt #88
Superman didn’t know how to handle having a clone. He was fighting the urge to get close to Kon, guide him in a way no one had been able to Clark, with feeling violated every time he saw the boy. He didn’t want to hate Kon, but he didn’t know how to balance his own emotions.
When Clark admits this to Batman, he suggests someone who can help: Phantom. Dani Phantom.
#finemeal prompt#dp x dc#superman#clark kent#dani phantom#i just think there's a lot of personal feelings clark has about kon#and instead of hating on clark for having emotions and not knowing how to deal with them#we have some compassion#plus in young justice he does come around and try to have a relationship with kon#he just struggles#and that's so real of him#i love you superman#you're trying your best#also i feel like dani would be able to help him from a clone's perspective#and maybe one day he'd have a conversation with danny#who knows#this was inspired by a fanfiction#The Prettiest Star by DisillusionedDanny#it's on ao3#look it up#it's so good#there's a scene in there that inspired this prompt#you'll know it once you see it#dis you're literally so talented and i love that fic btw
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a softer destroyer AU…..2!!!
(part 1)
wait why is writing family drama so fun
SORRY THESE TRANSITIONS ARE KINDA CLUMSY….. bro trust
also i imagine older sabina’s voice being similar to glados :)
(Content: living weapon whumpee, royal whump, familial whump, parental death, dehumanization, beating, PTSD, implied child abuse, implied domestic abuse, brief reference to past noncon, elderly abuse?, verbal abuse, angst)
In the far corner of the room, the kid was curled up against the cushion. The needles he held moved softly, like he was afraid to make too much noise with them. Sabina watched him through the corner of her eye.
Delta seemed to leave every room that they entered in the beginning. Something in her sunk at the thought. Not that it was a foreign mindset to her. Loneliness was safety. Nobody could hurt her when there was no one around. She understood why he hid. But she had given him the sewing basket in hope that he wouldn’t.
Years ago, she had laughed dead in the Emperor’s face when he had first gifted it to her. She’d spent all of that week embroidering phalluses into his coronation robes. Delta, however, seemed grateful.
At eighteen, he was younger than even she had been when she was taken.
“Can I see it, honey?”
It wasn’t an order, but he rose nigh immediately to fulfill it. He held the mass of yarn out to her, then pressed his hands back together, clasped politely. She noticed a soft blush appearing on his face.
It was a pink cat hat. He was knitting paw pads into them.
“You’re learning so fast,” she praised, which made him shy again. She let his fidgeting go unacknowledged.
“Do this,” she instructed. “You’ve been at it for a while.”
Sabina stretched both of her wrists out. She rotated them within their sockets, then pressed against the individual joints and digits. It helped. She’d been doing a lot of physical therapy in the past years, most of which was just stretching. Delta followed her example obediently. From his expression, the process was novel to him. He seemed mildly entertained by the exercise.
She noticed, inevitably, the ring of bruises around his left wrist. This part she does not leave unacknowledged.
“Who did that to you?” She pointed at the injury, but did not touch it.
For a second, he looked at her like she was stupid. But it fell away quickly. When he didn’t answer, she pushed again.
“Have they been hitting you?”
“…Yes, ma’am.”
It was a redundant answer. Marks like that didn’t appear on their own. But it meant he was okay with talking about it, which counted for a lot.
“How many times, since I told them not to touch you?” She could feel her own irritation spiking. “Both of them?”
“Not Simon,” Delta said hurriedly. “He hasn’t at all. He didn’t even hit me before.”
That last part was a lie. She had definitely seen the scientist swat him at least once, back when the Emperor was alive. She didn’t like the way that man talked to him. But the way Delta was staring at her begged to let it go.
“The other one, then? How many times?” she asked.
He winced.
“…I haven’t been keeping track,” he admitted. She could hear the note of irritation in his voice.
~
“Caned?” she asked. “Can you repeat that?”
Her only son twirled the butterfly knife in between his fingers. His other hand curled up by his mouth when he spoke.
“Ask him.”
Martino stood in the center of the room, the other side of the desk. Both his hands were clasped behind him — and he was unmistakably annoyed at having been called in.
When she had gone to collect him, Sabina had found the doctor in the study — and his charge with him. Delta sat up on the table with his hair gathered up behind him. His shirt had been unbuttoned and pulled down at one shoulder, leaving half of his torso bare and exposed. To see the fabric hanging off him, to see him dead-eyed…
Her chest ached.
Now, though, it was just the three of them. Sabina rested at the edge of the desk to face him. Paris swayed back and forth in the chair, with a weird and restless energy that resisted engagement in all directions. She did the talking.
“Do you remember the instructions I gave you?” she asked. “I thought they were quite explicit. I thought I told you not to touch him.”
“Your Majesty,” he said, all slick condescension, “I’m a doctor. How else would you have me treat him?”
“Don’t get cute. Don’t come in here and act like you need me to teach you how to be decent. You don’t touch people without permission.”
“Your Ma-
He wasn’t taking this seriously.
“You are in my house,” she yelled. “You will follow my orders. And you will keep your fucking hands to yourself! Do you understand me?!”
She stood up then, crossing the room to him. The fabric of the skirt rippled when she moved. He was taller than her, by a good amount. It didn’t matter. She was the one with the crown.
“If you hurt him again, I can have you sent to the gallows without trial. The fact you’ve even escaped it this long is a wonder in itself.”
“Your husband didn’t seem to think so.”
She slapped him. Immediately, she was overcome with a sense of disgust. Not at having done it. But at the fact she’d had to touch him.
Martino stumbled. It couldn’t have hurt that much, but he clearly wasn’t expecting it. He stumbled a bit, which she recognized as simple reflex.
Paris didn’t.
The second Martino stepped to her, he was on him. He’d practically leaped over the table to intervene.
“Get back. Get back,” he urged, though he’d already slammed him into the wall, about as far back as he could reasonably go. His head smacked hard against the wooden surface.
Paris had the worst of her temper. His grip on Martino’s blazer tightened. With a harsh, jerking motion, he tossed him to the floor. Though the doctor landed on his hands and knees, the ensuing kick to his ribs knocked him all the way to the ground.
“Don’t ever-“
Paris didn’t even bother to finish the sentence. He wasn’t able to. All he could focus on was driving the boot into that man’s chest as many times as he could. It wasn’t a fight, and it was barely even defense. It was just a beating. They both heard the rib crack. If he kept going, she knew he would’ve killed him.
Sabina wrapped one hand around her son’s forearm to restrain him. She did so without much enthusiasm, but some degree of obligation. Martino wouldn’t have struck her. He wasn’t suicidal. He didn’t deserve to die — at least not for that reason.
More than anything, she didn’t want that for Paris.
He collapsed back against her. When he turned, she saw his eyes had gone glassy. She cupped his face to try and bring him away from it.
“Stop, stop, stop, stop. I’m fine. Look at me. I’m fine. Easy.”
“He was going to-“ Paris gasped. He sometimes got so angry he couldn’t breathe.
“I’m fine,” Sabina insisted. “Calm down.”
He stilled, but he did not calm. She’d gripped his wrist to restrain him — through the skin, she could still feel his pulse beating as if his heart might explode.
~
That was not the last of the re-shuffling. While they’d had succession plans drafted ever since he’d turned fifteen, that didn’t change just how brutal the transition always was. It was still abrupt, still contested. That day’s meeting was particularly bad. All of them had been recently. Paris did not greet anyone when he got back. He cursed to himself, making his way back up the stairs to the Emperor’s bedroom. They still hadn’t cleared out all the paperwork yet. He knew it could take hours of searching for him just to find the forms he was looking for, if they hadn’t been burned or lost already.
He jumped back in surprise to see Delta already inside of it. Draped in one of Constantine’s jackets, much too big on him. He’d been going through the jewelry box when the door had opened. He retreated his hand quickly as Paris entered, as if this did anything to conceal the act.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
Delta froze. It did not help.
Paris laughed incredulously and without humor.
“Oh my god, what the fuck are you doing?”
Delta didn’t answer, which only pissed him off more.
“It’s fucking rude to ignore people when they’re talking to you. What’s your problem? You miss him? Because he was so fucking nice to you?”
No answer. Delta looked back at him as if he’d just slapped him in the face. But Paris couldn’t stop it once he’d started.
“Do you actually think he loved you? Do you think he ever loved anyone but himself? Put that shit down. He bought you and he fucking ruined you the same way he ruined everyone else that he pulled into his life. You think he was better just because he wasn’t holding a whip? That he didn’t know what they did to you, that he didn’t fucking pay for it?! Are you that fucking stupid?!”
That did it. Delta was already on the ground midway through the rant, kneeling, the way he did whenever people raised their voice around him. His eyes were down, bowing his head to keep his expression from view. But his knuckles were turning white from just. how tightly his fists were balled up.
“God fucking damn it,” Paris yelled, banging his side of his fist into the door in frustration. Delta flinched. At the same instant, Sabina appeared by the stairs.
“Paris,” she said his name in low warning tone.
“No, what the fuck is he doing? Why-“ Paris gestured, then cut himself off. He ran one hand through his hair, about ready to tear it out. He knew he was about to cry.
“I told him he could,” Sabina explained, slowly. Irate. “God knows you don’t want any of it. How dare you start yelling at him like that?”
She was mad at him. He hated it when she got mad at him; he couldn’t stand it. He slipped past her, jogging down the stairs before either of them could see the tears forming in his eyes. Sabrina stayed there on the top step. He didn’t see Delta, but he could guess he was still kneeling there, that he’d stay until she gave him permission to get up.
~
“You can’t snap like that again,” Sabina warned him from the other side of the kitchen.
Paris leaned back against the counter, arms crossed over. He rocked himself gently off the edge.
“Why? Constantine was a fucking dog. I thought we agreed to burn all his shit,” he grumbled.
“You couldn’t burn all that he owned if you had the rest of your life to do it.” She promised. But her eyes had lit up when she said the word burn. She shook her head. “Enough. Don’t take it out on the baby. It’s not his fault.”
“Is he stupid?” Paris asked again. “Doesn’t he know?”
Sabina sighed. She opened the fridge, pouring herself a glass of wine. She was overly focused on the mechanics of it. She rolled her shoulder to undo some of the tension that was forming there.
“Your father is dead, Paris. Isn’t that enough for you? It’s not enough that the both of us hated him, and that he died violent and alone? You also need everyone else to despise him just as much as you do?”
“I do.” Paris said plainly. “Don’t you?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Do you know what all my anger got me, in the end? Do you know what would have happened if I’d kept feeding it?”
He didn’t answer. His mother crossed the kitchen to him, tilting her head to one side. He had half a second to glare at her, but it fell flat on the attempt. Sabina was unfazed. She said:
“I would’ve killed you in the cradle.”
Paris shifted back, pulling his arms tighter around himself. He hated when she got like this — all intensity, like she could hold up all four decades of her life on the edge of her fingers. Time flattened into a blade when she wielded it.
“Mom…” he pleaded. He worried she would twist the knife. She could have. He was fragile then.
But she seemed to realize she was pushing too far. Gently, she cupped the side of his face. He leaned into the touch, not caring that her eyes were still sharp.
“Don’t get cruel,” she said.
Paris withered beneath the gaze, nodding his agreement.
~
Paris looking all over the castle for him. As he stumbled from room to empty room, his dread grew as he realized where he would find him.
He turned the handle of the basement stairs, tracing slowly down to the lower level. To his surprise, Simon was right in the middle of leaving. The scientist shot him a dirty look as he passed, which Paris refused to even dignify. As if he was any better.
In the center of the large basement, the interior bedroom still stood upright. The lock was off of the enclosure now and they’d given Delta a bedroom in the upstairs. But half of his belongings were still in the cage that had been constructed for him.
Paris knocked at the door.
“Yes?” Delta called at the first knock.
“Can you come out?”
He knew the door was likely unlocked, but he had never stepped into Delta’s room before. To do so now felt like too much of an intrusion.
Almost immediately after the request, the door opened. Delta hovered in the entrance way. He’d taken the jacket off.
“I had permission,” Delta protested weakly. He knew there was nothing he could really do to defend himself, in the end. The resignation was obvious in his voice.
“You’re not in trouble.” Paris promised, raising his hands slightly in mock surrender.
He didn’t expect it to do anything. But almost imperceptibly, the muscles of Delta’s shoulders relaxed.
~
In the garden, well into the night, Paris wove flowers in between his hands.
“Do you want it?” He held the crown up to Delta.
“Yes, please.”
Delta placed the daffodils gently onto his head, careful not to disrupt their arrangement.
“Can you teach me how to make those?” he asked.
“Mhm,” Paris agreed. After a few seconds of working himself up to it, he followed: “I’m sorry for yelling at you.”
Delta seemed caught off-guard by this, like he didn’t know what the term meant. Even though he said it at every provocation. It was quiet after that. That was fine. His mom said he had to apologize, never said he had to he forgiven.
“I know he didn’t love me,” Delta said. “I’m not…trying to contradict you. I know he didn’t love me. That’s not what it was.”
The both of them stared out onto the lake. The water reflected starlight off the surface. Even late into the night, the grass was still warm with the midday sun.
“But I do miss him,” Delta admitted.
Paris nodded, afraid to do anything else. He couldn’t agree. But he understood. Delta continued.
“Thank you for letting me stay here. I know you don’t like it. I didn’t mean to make things difficult for you.”
“What?” Paris winced as he sat up. “It’s not difficult. What are you talking about?”
Delta recoiled a bit, like he’d overstepped. He kind of had. Paris rarely heard him speak so much at one time, let alone like this.
“I know you didn’t want me here.” He drew his legs closer in on himself. He was bracing himself now, definitely, still expecting to be hit. But he kept talking. “When I first arrived. You or y- Her Majesty. Thank you for letting me stay anyway.”
Oh. Paris felt the guilt well up inside him. He was right, obviously. They didn’t want him there. Of course they hadn’t been receptive to the Emperor bringing home a child in chains, to his building him a prison within their basement.
He hadn’t realized Delta had picked up on the hostility. The thought never even occurred to him. He really hadn’t been thinking about Delta at all.
“You were a kid,” Paris said quickly. “That wasn’t- Nobody blamed you. You get that, right? We weren’t mad at you.”
Delta ran one claw around the daffodil petals, feeling their shape. He swallowed, “I was scared.”
Paris sat with that for a second, returning his gaze to the water where it was easier to look. He recalled the day’s incident, feeling much worse for it.
“You can take what you want from his room,” Paris amended. “Honestly, he’d probably want you to have it.”
Try as he might, he couldn’t keep the bitter edge from his voice. Why was it only ever about what Constantine wanted? Why was there never room for anything else?
“I’m sorry, Paris.” Delta said quietly.
Paris blinked in surprise.
“It’s not your fault,” he replied automatically, trying again to reassure him. “I’m not mad at you.”
“I know.” Delta agreed. “But I’m sorry.”
“Oh.”
The grief was worst at night. He ran his hands through the grass, feeling his throat tighten.
“…Me too.”
~~~
tags:
@catnykit @snakebites-and-ink @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump
@pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckass1000 @fuckcapitalismasshole @defire
@micechomper @writereleaserepeat @aloafofbreadwithanxiety @floral-comet-whump @littlebookworm69
@lordcatwich @human-123-person @paperprinxe @whomeidontknowthem @chiswhumpcorner
@bacillusinfection @ichortwine @whump-queen @lumpywhump
@jumpywhumpywriter @whump-till-ya-jump
#whump#whump scenario#whump prompt#whump community#whump writing#living weapon whumpee#royal whump#familial whump#dehumanization#beating#PTSD#implied child abuse#implied domestic abuse#past noncon#verbal abuse#angst#destroyer#delta#paris#sabina#martino#(sabina gets someone to call an ambulance for martino to which paris derisively replies HES A DOCTOR)#martino leaves in an ambulance and is fired ^_^#i mean if he didnt get fired he would have quit after that. but he was fired. no letter of recommendation.#anyway. despite being low empathy delta genuinely cares about and has so much sympathy for paris. more than paris has earned frankly !!!#and delta constantly underestimates and undervalues his own compassion because hes internalized the idea he’s inherently evil and a monster#um. i love my children.#is sabina a good mother sound off in the comments#i loved writing her
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Liminal Scarecrow
I see a lot of Scarecrow in DCxDP, usually as a plot device in tandem with his fear gas. And honestly, I’ll accept just about anything with a Scarecrow mention in it. However, there is one thing I doubt a lot of DCxDP fans know about from the DP side, which is the Scarebeast.
The Scarebeast is what was created when the Penguin decided to experiment on Scarecrow, essentially turning him into a living weapon.
It’s a giant monster that naturally produces fear gas in its body, and Scarecrow can only return to human form once the Scarebeast has been defeated.
I think that the Scarecrow could easily be a liminal of some sort, and the Scarebeast could be a manifestation of ghostly power.
Now, it should be noted that Scarecrow (to my knowledge) hasn’t died and been revived. He also hasn’t used the Lazarus pits. He gets beaten to hell and back on a regular basis, but he never actually dies.
However, we know that you don’t necessarily have to die to become a halfa. Vlad didn’t; instead, he was shot in the face with ectoplasmic energy by the malfunctioning proto-portal.
Also, we were never told exactly how the Scarebeast was created. Sure, we know that one of the Penguin’s scientists mutated him into existence, but we don’t know exactly what she used.
It’s not really so much of a stretch to think that he could have been exposed to some form of ectoplasm in order to stabilize or power his monstrous form, and as such became liminal (or a halfa).
Hell, all the other (canon) halfas in existence were created in a lab setting! Danny was mutated by ectoplasm and electricity when the portal opened, Vlad was blasted in the face by the previous portal, and Dani/Ellie was a clone.
Basically, give Scarecrow cool ghost privileges. He’s already got the creepy aesthetic. It’s what he deserves.
#dcxdp#dc x dp#dp x dc#dpxdc#dp x dc crossover#dc x dp prompt#liminal scarecrow#yes scarecrow is my little guy and one of my favorite rogues. yes I’m biased. what’s your point#writing this after waking up from a nap so it’s probably choppy and incoherent. don’t care you all have to hear me out#also when the comics actually care about his character he’s really interesting#like the one where he attacked his ex-student’s assaulter after she came to him for help#or when he acted like a fucking slasher villain to help a girl get back at her bullies (even if he was betrayed in the end)#he’s an interesting guy and I’d love to see more of him in the dcxdp fandom#like he HAS a moral compass#it’s fucked up beyond all belief but he does have one
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genuinely need a dark-ish!morgwen fic where morgana decides to trust gwen a little more and tries to win her over to her side, the topic of gwen's father's unjust death by magic laws is explored and gwen gets to actually see the process of morgana's change and go through it with her. where maybe not at first, but gradually gwen begins to feel torn between her loyalty to camelot and arthur and her compassion for morgana and all who are unjustly persecuted and her personal resentment for uther she tried her best to bury deep down. where morgana takes over the crown in s3 finale and gwen understands why. but she also sees how morgana's judgement is clouded by her anger and resentment for uther and how she begins to blame all of camelot for the faults of it's king and gwen tries to make her see sense. and maybe morgana handles it all a little bit better and the shooting at townspeople doesn't occur. and when morgana is gone gwen misses her more than she resents her, because for all of her faults, deep down, gwen understands. and she sees how morgana's actions steer from reason and feel more like a cornered animal lashing out than some evil masterplan. and when they meet again, a swords crossed, neither has it in them to truly land a strike. and gwen knows that morgana is injured, and her army scattered, and she probably laying somewhere bleeding all by herself and she knows she changed, and this is not the same morgana she knew, and still she can't simply let it go. she goes into the woods at night, and she finds morgana there, weak and unconscious and in the moment she doesn't seem like a dangerous sorceress but a girl who used to cringe in her sleep and wake at night crying from terror and whom gwen used to hold tightly for hours, sweet whispered words and kisses to her hair and in that instant gwen knows. that she is going to stay with her and care for her because nobody else will. because she needs morgana back, and she may not be the same as she knew, but deep down, it's her.
#morgwen#morgwen prompt#merlin fic idea#fic prompt#someone please write this#it can end with morgana's redemption#or two toxic yuri queens in ep dark tower fashion#but it's about gwen's compassion and morgana's madness that comes from anger that also comes from compassion#morgana pendragon#gwen pendragon#guinevere#morgana#bbc morgana#bbc gwen#bbc merlin
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Writing prompts centered on the theme "before we forget kindness.":
A Forgotten Act: A young adult discovers a dusty, handwritten letter in the attic. It's addressed to someone who had once shown them an act of kindness that changed their life. Determined to find this person, they set out on a journey before it's too late.
Last Day of Memory: In a dystopian society, people’s memories reset every 24 hours. Before the clock resets, a group of rebels tries to leave behind reminders of kindness, hoping that even without memories, the world can still become a better place.
A Jar of Memories: In a small town, an elderly woman has been secretly leaving jars filled with handwritten notes of kindness and encouragement around the community. When she passes away, the townspeople band together to uncover her story and continue her legacy.
Kindness Currency: In a futuristic world where emotions can be transferred like currency, kindness is on the verge of extinction. When an inventor discovers an old diary full of forgotten acts of kindness, they try to recreate a device that could revive empathy in a society that has long forgotten it.
The Kindness Contract: Every citizen is required to perform an act of kindness each month or face severe consequences. But when one person refuses to do so, they uncover a hidden truth about why kindness has become regulated and artificial.
The Last Kind Word: In a world where negative words are magically erased from existence, people begin to forget how to express cruelty. But when the last surviving "kind word" mysteriously disappears, a linguist must journey to recover it before the concept of kindness is forgotten entirely.
Echoes of Kindness: A time traveler inadvertently changes history, causing acts of kindness throughout time to be forgotten. Now they must retrace their steps, right the wrongs, and restore kindness to the timeline before humanity loses its way.
The Kindness Vault: Deep underground, a secret vault houses memories of all the random acts of kindness humanity has ever forgotten. Only one guardian knows how to access it, and when they receive a vision of the world on the brink of darkness, they must decide whether to release these memories to everyone.
The Last Kind Stranger: A world where people have lost faith in the kindness of strangers. One person takes it upon themselves to perform one act of kindness each day in hopes of reviving the world’s belief in human decency.
Before You Forget Me: A person suffering from a memory-erasing illness writes letters to their future self, reminding them of the kind people they’ve met along the way. When they wake up one day with no recollection, they find a stack of letters, urging them to keep believing in kindness.
#kindness#gratitude#life#hope#compassion#understanding#creative writing#writing life#writing prompt#writing community#writing inspiration#writing advice#writer#on writing#writing exercise#writing ideas#story prompts#prompts list
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How are you painting all of these linktober prompts daily ?!?!!? They’re so detailed and amazing omg
LOL my dear linktober enjoyer, thank you so much for saying this, and I'm glad you asked
Truth is, I'm not exactly doing them daily (ᵕ—ᴗ—)
I started making thumbnails for the prompts back in September. Last year was my first linktober, and I tried to daily draw and finish prompts same-day and I burnt out so hard and bailed around day 10. I learned the hard way that it was just too tough and sadly I'm not good at working a daily pace because I get too invested in my coloring and rendering process.
So basically this year I finished 90% of my thumbnails by end of September, then on the weekends in October I try to fully render like 4 or 5 posts from my thumbnails. I still make little tweaks to various prompts pretty much every day of October. Each of my posts takes anywhere from 1-4 hours to finish, and I can't do that level of drawing nightly because 1) I work in mental health and am too tired at night with no time lol and 2) that would destroy my hand and wrist probably
Here's process of thumbnails from a few of my more recent posts. I try to prioritize getting good composition flow & values, and then throw down local color and call it a day
In my opinion, it's safe to assume that unless someone does art for a living, they are likely doing a lot of prep and baby steps behind the scenes like this. I'm happy to be open about it to give this matter more transparency & normalcy
Moral of the story, there's no shame doing what works best for you so you can actually enjoy your hobbies! :)
#don't judge my weird little reference photos lol#and imma be real I used to HATE thumbnails and always wanted to finish a fully rendered drawing in one sitting#I've had to learn to manage my expectations and give myself patience and compassion lol#Tbh I'm only like 5 prompts ahead of the current day rn I'm slacking a little rn#but I hope this is helpful bc I also used to be like “wtf how are ppl creating so much art so fast” and then suddenly it feels like a race#which is no fun and not the point! at least imo
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God, will my family know, will I wash ashore / Discovered by a fisherman returning with the tide / Or will I disappear for good below like all those before / Another lost sailor in a cautionary tale... Swallowed by a whale!
#em draws stuff#oc time again hehe#moth and compass#the lieutenant: chadwick goodfellow#bweirdOCtober#today's prompt is 'past' and thus we encounter pre-death goodfellow#I've drawn a lot of 'goodfellow standing there' pictures before so let's get a little more interesting with it#his idea of how to be a Good Man TM is deeply weighted in whatever he's being told to do and how he's being told to be at the time#thus. a guy who will dutifully kill for king and country and then sneak off to hook up with a known mutineer in the cable tiers#and then he gets keep-a-hundred-boys-in-jars trapped in a shipwreck for almost a hundred years.#which. Can't say that'd make a fellow any normaler.#redrew the rope border four times but I liked the foreshortening on his hand so much that I didn't want to give up on this sketch#he's easy to draw and so I can confidently try stuff with him. our man who is boring in the face.
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5 Journal Prompts for the Beginning of May
Write about a goal or intention you’re setting for yourself this month
How do you plan to embrace new beginnings and fresh starts this month
What can make me happy this month
What do I want less of this month
What are some ways I can practice self love and compassion this month
#that girl#good habits#itgirl#level up#aesthetic#productivity#growth#self care#self care era#journaling#journal prompts#May#new month#happiness#compassion#self improvement#self development
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Day Twenty Five: Compass
Dude has six ears and can supposedly hear anything and everything, why did he need a compass XD?
#lego monkie kid#lego monkie kid fanart#monkie kid#monkie kid fanart#lmk#lmk fanart#lmk macaque#monkie kid macaque#lmkhalloween#lmk halloween#silly monkie with his silly compass#he literally only uses it once in the show#which I think is very silly#LBD really said to Macaque “your sense of direction is horrible”#I had been on the brink of loosing my mind over these prompts and drawingbasically everyday#but its somehow getting easier again the closer I get to the finish line
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Could you write a sickfic type thing about Luffy where like the marines or someone uses kairouseki against him in a way that just wipes him out for a while Nd the crew looks after him??? much love <3
x
Sea stone bullets are a cause for concern, but not as much of one as a person might think. Nami’s captain has always been unsettlingly perceptive when it suits him, since well before any of them had any idea what observation haki was. He knows when a bullet is coming that he can’t bounce away.
It doesn’t do him any good to know sometimes, though. Not when he disregards the warning of danger on purpose.
And there was really nothing else he could have done in this case, Nami is reluctant to admit even to herself, because if he had dodged, Chopper would have been shot in the back of the head. Luffy had, to his credit, thought to deflect the tiny missile with armament, but it only caused the glass casing to shatter and the substance inside to spill free. A few drops against his skin was all it took.
He dropped like a stone.
Usopp lunged in at the last second and caught him before he hit the deck. But then they all had to watch Luffy’s head loll, limp and unresisting. It was horrifying. It happened so fast. Despite everything Nami had seen up to this point, she had never been more afraid than in that moment.
“What is that?” Zoro bites out, an arm spread to the side to keep his nakama from getting too close to the spill.
It shimmered eerily in the late afternoon light, the sky overcast but still just bright enough for Robin to grow an expendable hand near the mess and pinch a bit of it in the corner of the picnic blanket they had all been lounging on all of ten minutes ago. She ground it between her fingers, protected by the blanket, to feel the texture. Within moments, understanding touched her face.
“Infused with sea stone,” she said.
Chopper squirmed between his nakama’s bigger bodies, shouting, “Take him to the infirmary!”
Usopp was off like a shot, Luffy in his arms, Chopper right on his heels. Sanji joined Robin and Zoro at the starboard side of the ship, staring out at the remaining warships with the same look of murder in their eyes. Franky was already at the helm, and Sunny was turning in the water to face the Marines; the cannon mouth hidden in the figurehead opening to rain destruction. Brook was laughing, high-pitched and chilling, in a way that surely carried across the distance between themselves and the unlucky bastards who thought a cheap ambush would be enough to net the Straw Hats’ collective bounty.
“A squall is coming,” Nami said, feeling the shift of the weather in her bones. “Destroy the ships but leave the soldiers alive. They’re so eager to play with sea stone—let’s give them a taste of how it feels to drown.”
“Fitting,” Jimbei rumbled. He was the most honorable person Nami had ever met, but just like the rest of them, all bets were off and morals thrown aside when it came to anyone who would try to rip Luffy away.
By the time revenge had been swiftly doled out, and Brook’s violin easily covered the sounds of the Marines in the water, Usopp reappeared on the deck to say, “He’s okay.”
Nami’s heart still didn’t settle, not until she had bullied her way into the infirmary, planted herself on the side of the bed, and held her captain’s face in her hands to see for herself.
“He’ll sleep for awhile, probably,” Chopper said. “Until that compound works its way through his system. There isn’t a counter-agent for sea stone—” yet, the glint in his eye suggests “—but it only weakens Fruit users, it doesn’t kill them outright. If it were a bullet lodged in his body, maybe ultimately it would fester and poison him, but this is just a trace. It’s like, um…like a sedative!”
“Maybe we should keep some on hand for when he’s being annoying,” Sanji said dispassionately, as if his hands weren’t trembling around the cigarette he was trying to light.
Someone nudged Nami’s shoulder. She glanced up, and Zoro said, “Storm.”
“Right,” Nami remembered. “We need to get Sunny prepared.”
She was reluctant to leave Luffy, but he trusted her to lead them safely through troubled waters, so that much she had to do. Brushing her thumb over the scar under his eye, she eased her hands away then stood up and started barking orders.
It took some effort, but Sunny danced through the wind and rain like it was all play, and hours later they came out the other side unscathed. There was a small island ahead of them, a crescent moon curve of pink sand and tropical flowers and a dilapidated, long-forgotten pier. The New World being what it was, Nami didn’t trust the peaceful picture for a goddamn second, but it would be a convenient place to moor for the time being.
Besides, Luffy would whine if they started an adventure without him.
He missed dinner and slept through the night. Sanji is prickly and short-tempered at breakfast the next morning, crafting fluffy omelets and frying potatoes and chainsmoking angrily out the window. But his entire attitude shifts when familiar voices outside bicker their way toward the dining hall, and the galley door bursts open to reveal a wobbly-looking Luffy, an irritated Chopper, and Brook, who continues serenading their journey with a tiny ukulele.
“SANJI!” Luffy calls across the room. “Feed me or I’ll die right now!”
“No you’ll die ‘cause I killed you for leaving before I said you could!” Chopper snaps.
“He’s already here,” Sanji says, across the room in seconds and frogmarching his captain to a seat at the table. “Might as well eat.”
“Lu, how are you feeling?” Usopp demands, leaning across the table eagerly and nearly sticking his elbow in the butter dish. “You look like shit.”
“Mean!” Luffy says.
“Accurate,” Nami butts in. She takes him by the chin, turning his face towards her. His brown skin has an unhealthy pallor, lethargy clinging to him despite his animated good cheer. He looks like any other flu-ridden teenager. As she studies him, he wrinkles his nose and sticks his tongue out. “Brat,” she scolds without heat, releasing him.
It’s such a relief just to have him at the breakfast table. Franky starts in on a wild story about the storm Luffy missed, and Robin discreetly pushes the platter of brown sugar glazed ham closer to his plate. The morning sun, pouring through the window, suddenly seems warmer and brighter than it did moments ago.
Still, Chopper is right. Luffy, force of nature that he is, starts to flag almost immediately following the meal. The burst of energy deserts him quietly. Nami only notices by chance, on her way toward the garden with Usopp. She casts her gaze out over the deck as she crosses it, and pauses mid-step.
Zoro is sitting back against the side of the ship the way he always does when he’s trying to catch a few extra minutes of rest, the brim of a worn straw hat tipped over his face to shade it from the sun. Nothing about that stands out.
But his strong arms are curled comfortably around Luffy, who naps sprawled against his first mate like a clumsily-thrown blanket, slack face pillowed on Zoro’s shoulder.
“Luffy’s sleeping?” Usopp says, a bit too loud in his shock. “He just woke up.”
“Chopper did say it would be a few days before that shit was out of his system,” Franky pipes up. “Poor bro must really be feeling it.”
“I told him to stay in bed,” Chopper gripes irritably. By now most of the crew has gathered, a combination of mirth, curiosity and lingering concern preoccupying their thoughts, and Nami watches Chopper cross the grassy deck and tug lightly on Zoro’s sleeve. “Hey, hey. Will you take him to the infirmary, please?”
Zoro opens his eye, a sharper gray than any blade, but never cutting when he looks at his family. After a second, he closes it again.
“Nah.”
Zoro may be a shithead at times to Sanji and Nami and Franky and—okay, most people—but all of his younger crewmates tend to get an automatic pass. Nami honestly can’t think of a time he looked at Chopper and said “nah” about anything that didn’t involve his own health. From the baffled look on Chopper’s face, neither can he.
“Huh?? Why not?”
“We’re sleeping.”
“And he can sleep in the medbay!” Chopper insists.
Zoro scoffs and moves his captain closer.
“Go get your own.”
Chopper gapes wordlessly. All the rest of Nami’s nakama have a similar expression on their faces, something between stupefied and offended—save Robin, who presses a secret smile behind her hand, and Jimbei, whose rumbling chuckle is just barely audible over the sound of the sea.
Nami—who knows very well what Zoro looks like when he’s trying to get a rise out of someone, who knows very well that she has a claim on Luffy that only a handful of other people in the world share, one that can never be broken or stolen or changed—feels herself bristle, too.
“HE IS OUR OWN!” the majority of one of the most infamous pirate crews in the New World shriek like schoolchildren.
Luffy’s eyes drift open in the chaos that follows, squinting through the haze until he can bring the faces of his nakama into focus. They’re all so lively, shouting and arguing about something, their ship the brightest, busiest thing under the whole sky. The sun touches his skin, warm and laughing, like it’s trying to tell him a joke.
It’s so comfy. Soon he’ll get up and shout with them, and eat some more, and fish and play and plot a new adventure. But first he’ll dream a little while longer. He knows his friends won’t mind.
#one piece#opfic#cat burglar nami#monkey d luffy#roronoa zoro#nakamaship#my writing#prompt#anonymous#op#this was so cute and fun to write#i love sickfic and i have a deep compassion and sympathy for chopper#whose job is to doctor the most insane and stubborn people in the entire world#if u see any mistakes no u didnt#im on a time crunch :')#& i normally dont like to write pov shifts like this but i couldnt help it this time
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AFTER A 2 YEAR HIATUS, I FINALLY FINISHED ITTTTTTT
Ngl pausimg this work for 2 years is kinda a blessing in disguise since by then I had learned many art techniques including one for the bubbles (which admittedly was pretty experimental but I loved how it turned out)
Also I hate drawing bgs ahsjdhejebbd
Anyways this is for my FTO prompt and its THE GOAT PEARLLL
Anyways uh I decided to draw her at a beach at sunset displaying some bubbles :3
Pearl is owned by gaaraspotato on Discord :D
https://toyhou.se/16215368.-edeia-pearl
Oh yeah this is kidna related to why I'm not so active, since now I'm focusing on trying to complete an FTO prompt for an EXTREMELY cool closed species known as Edeia, owned by @ausp-ice who is an AMAZING ARTIST
Edeia yap session below if ya interested vvvvvv
Imma just take this time to glaze Edeia for a moment because its genuinely an amazing closed species because IT HAS NO DESIGN LIMITATIONS since this is a more lore focused closed species
Aside from spending money to buy Edeia, if you are a feebie person like me, you can take a First Time Owner (FTO) prompt which you just need to write and/or make art and bam, MYO/Notion (which is essentially Auspice designing your Edeia for you) for free
Even after FTO, you can collect currency to get a MYO, Notion or even special traits by completing funny prompts with writing/drawing
Comparing these to other closed species freebie options where you just need to like spam a command every day or heck, even rely on luck to even barely get a chance to claw your way to an MYO (Staring at you, Terraliens, I like y'all but for what is essentially a furry with a glass face I do NOT want to spend possible YEARS betting on chance just to be able to get 1 simple MYO along with 90% of traits locked behind items)
So yeah completing prompts for Currency is not only more fun, but it can help develop your own Edeia and drawing/writing for currency is definitely more fun than grinding for it
Anyways I should also specify YES YOU CAN GET A EDEIA WITHOUT HAVING THE ABILITY TO DRAW, YA JUST NEED TO WRITE GOOD
Also aside from yapping about the "technicalities" of the species and what I love about it, the concept itself is so cool
So essentially Edeia are beings that embodies various ideas, from more abstract ideas like Anomie, Potential, Vogue, or more straight forward ones like Music, Technology, The Tides, or even very silly ones like Simping, Skrunkly and C h a i r (Yes those are real Edeia you can check the masterlist of over 500+ Edeia)
By the way I should also mention that most if not all Edeia are born as they are, usually, they start their lives as humans, animals, objects or even creatures outside of the Ideation universe (aka the universe of Edeia) that become very intune with a certain idea/concept, leaving their past forms behind to pursue it and thus embody said idea/concept.
Also yeah they kinda do become similar to gods because they are immortal, only being able to die by disassociation, can have very powerful abilities depending on their idea, and technically can travel beyond their own universe if they wish
Also again I will mention Edeia can appear as ANYTHING, therefore there is absolutely ZERO design restrictions and you can literally draw whatever tf you want as long as its associated with their idea
If you wanna learn more about Edeia, you can check out the official website here :D
#ranting#glazing#Edeia#closed species#my art#digital art#FTO prompt#Compassion#beach#sunset#bubbles#tags for the tag god#somebody else's oc#oc#pink#I love Edeia so much sjdbsjsbbd
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Prompt of The Week
It's Fic Title Friday Saturday💖
Come up with a summary or scene for this not-yet-written fic titled, 'A Moral Compass for The Wayward Ninja'
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challenges & more 100 days of productivity april challenge towards easter camp out (teco) getting better challange weight loss. lock in.
asks & others dew asks
dumps dewy dumps monthly dumps my fav youtubers and few others you should know things I care about 🎀 daily dump
dew goals dew's uni girl guide content creation: youtube notion template creation further education then 𝒃𝒖𝒊𝒍𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒚 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒅
(inspired by nenelonomh)
#pinterest girl#dream girl#vanilla girl#that girl#self awareness#self compassion#self help#self improvement#self love#self reflection#selfdevelopment#self care#aesthetic#pinterest#prompts#clean girl#memoriesndew#poetry#girlblogging#reading#notion#blog navigation#dewsnotion#dewy dumps#dewasks#glow up challenge#wonyoungism#girl blogger#it girl#study blog
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