#this was inspired by a fanfiction

[finemealprompt]

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.

[out-of-jams]

REVERSE TROPE WRITING PROMPTS

Too many beds

Accidentally kidnapping a mafia boss

Really nice guy who hates only you

Academic rivals except it’s two teachers who compete to have the best class

Divorce of convenience

Too much communication

True hate’s kiss (only kissing your enemy can break a curse)

Dating your enemy’s sibling

Lovers to enemies

Hate at first sight

Love triangle where the two love interests get together instead

Fake amnesia

Soulmates who are fated to kill each other

Strangers to enemies

Instead of fake dating, everyone is convinced that you aren’t actually dating

Too hot to cuddle

Love interest CEO is a himbo/bimbo who runs their company into the ground

Nursing home au

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

you know a fic is good when it has this

[bebx]

[thewatcher727]

Writing Description Notes:

Updated 9th September 2024 More writing tips, review tips & writing description notes

Facial Expressions

Masking Emotions

Smiles/Smirks/Grins

Eye Contact/Eye Movements

Blushing

Voice/Tone

Body Language/Idle Movement

Thoughts/Thinking/Focusing/Distracted

Silence

Memories

Happy/Content/Comforted

Love/Romance

Sadness/Crying/Hurt

Confidence/Determination/Hopeful

Surprised/Shocked

Guilt/Regret

Disgusted/Jealous

Uncertain/Doubtful/Worried

Anger/Rage

Laughter

Confused

Speechless/Tongue Tied

Fear/Terrified

Mental Pain

Physical Pain

Tired/Drowsy/Exhausted

Eating

Drinking

Warm/Hot

[animalceramics]

[cr1nge-culture]

one of the best fics i've ever read, one that had me addicted to my phone and crying, wasn't even prose. it was a huge, casual, bullet-pointed outline with every detail of an au that the author never got around to writing in full. and it was amazing.

let this be a message to all you who want to write but can't do it "normally": write it! someone out there will eat it up. whether that be poetry, tiny drabbles, or bullet pointed list: your work is always worth it. your art (yes, art!) will alway deserve to have its moment in the spotlight. why? because you made it. even if it wasn't done in a traditional matter, it came from your brain and your creativity and that is amazing.

♡

[limonmaid]

Tealhua Bluehua Yellowhua Northern Deserthua

[crispyliza]

I've got you all figured out fanartists

[khioneee]

könig was a gentleman, no doubt about it. he’d open your jars without hesitation, offer you his jacket the moment you shivered, and god forbid you try to open a door—he’d sooner throw himself in front of a moving car than let you lift a finger. polite, chivalrous, and protective to the point of obsession.

könig was a gentleman.

but in bed, that facade shattered. in bed, könig was all man—fierce, raw, and possessive.

“mine,” he growled low in your ear, the word vibrating through you like a command. his voice dripped with ownership, each syllable leaving no room for argument. he wasn’t just saying it; he was declaring it, as if by the act alone, he had carved his name into your very soul.

and you would have denied it—if it weren’t true. no one else would ever fit where he’d been. no one else would ever reach where he’s been. not after him. you knew it, and he knew it. there was no going back now. you’re ruined for anyone else. so, as far as you were concerned, he better be planning to stay—because no one but könig could ever fill the void he left behind.

his cock twitched in response, like it was already considering going again, jerking slightly as you clenched around him. a warm trickle of his seed slipped from you, and the sight seemed to set him off all over again.

he grabbed your chin, rough and unrelenting, turning your face to meet his gaze. his eyes were dark and heavy with desire, an unquenchable hunger simmering beneath the surface.

“tell me it’s mine, maus,” he snarled, his voice sharp and desperate, like the words themselves could tether you to him forever.

and you knew—knew there was only one answer you could give, one that would satisfy the man hovering over you, his body tense with need and ownership.

“it’s yours,” you whispered breathlessly. “it’s always been yours.”

his lips curled into a satisfied, feral grin as if your words were the final piece to a puzzle he had already solved. there was no gentleness left in him now—only a man who knew he had claimed what was his.

[ghost-bxrd]

Prompt:

Brucie Wayne gets into a mild accident in public (read-got hit by a car). And Batman would just walk it off (“it’s barely a bruise”), but Brucie obviously… can’t.

So he has to suffer the ordeal of having civilians call paramedics, getting fussed over, and having-

Having his dead son get into the back of the ambulance with him.

Oh- oh no. He must have hit his head worse than he thought. He thought he was past this…

[xyywrites]

The Power of Silence in Dialogue

We often think of dialogue as something that’s just about what characters say, but let’s talk about what they don’t say. Silence can be one of the most powerful tools in your writing toolbox. Here’s why:

1. The Unspoken Tension

When characters leave things unsaid, it adds layers to their interactions. Silence can create a tension that’s so thick you could cut it with a knife. It shows things are happening beneath the surface—the real conversation is happening in what’s left unspoken.

Example:

“So, you’re leaving, huh?” He didn’t look up from the table, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass, slow and deliberate. “Yeah.” “Guess I should’ve expected this.” (Silence.) “You’re not mad?” “I’m not mad,” she said, but the way her voice broke was louder than anything she'd said all night.

2. Building Anticipation or Drama

Sometimes silence can heighten the drama, creating a pause where the reader feels like something big is about to happen. You don’t always need words to convey that sense of dread or anticipation.

Example:

They stood there, side by side, staring at the door that had just closed behind him. “You should’ve stopped him.” She didn’t answer. “You should’ve said something.” The room felt colder. “I couldn’t.” (Silence.)

3. Creating Emotional Impact

Sometimes, saying nothing can have the biggest emotional punch. Silence gives the reader a chance to interpret the scene, to sit with the feelings that aren’t being voiced.

Example:

He opened the letter and read it. And then, without saying a word, he folded it back up and placed it in the drawer. His fingers lingered on the wood for a long time before he closed it slowly, too slowly. “Are you okay?” He didn’t answer.

TL;DR

Silence isn’t just a pause between dialogue—it’s a powerful tool for deepening emotional tension, building anticipation, and revealing character. Next time you write a scene, ask yourself: what isn’t being said? And how can that silence say more than the words ever could?

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

please please please please reblog if you’re a writer and have at some point felt like your writing is getting worse. I need to know if I’m the only one who’s struggling with these thoughts

[bebx]

reblog if you’ve read fanfictions that are more professional, better written than some actual novels. I’m trying to see something

[thewatcher727]

Writing Description Notes: Physical Pain

Updated 6th June 2024 More description notes

It was as if his bones were made of glass, shattering into a million pieces with every movement and sending waves of sharp, shooting pain coursing through his limbs.

His muscles screamed in protest with every step, each movement sending jolts of electric pain shooting through his body.

The ache settled deep into his bones, a dull, persistent throb that seemed to resonate with every heartbeat.

Every inch of his body felt tenderized, as if he had been used as a punching bag in a brutal workout session.

The sensation of blood trickling down his skin was a grim reminder of the violence he had endured.

His ribs screamed in protest with every breath, each inhalation a sharp reminder of the blows he had taken.

The world seemed to spin around him in a dizzying blur, his vision clouded by the stars of pain that danced across his field of vision with every movement.

A sharp, stabbing sensation shot through his lower back, making him wince.

Her temples throbbed with a relentless, pounding headache.

He clutched his side, pain radiating from the bruise with every breath.

Her muscles screamed in protest, the soreness a reminder of yesterday’s workout.

A burning ache spread through his chest, each heartbeat intensifying the agony.

She bit her lip, trying to stifle the groan as pain flared in her twisted ankle.

His knuckles were raw and throbbing, evidence of the fight.

She pressed a hand to her forehead, a dull ache settling behind her eyes.

A searing pain lanced through his knee, nearly buckling his leg.

She gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white as pain shot through her arm.

Her trembling hands betrayed the unyielding agony in her joints, a relentless companion.

Doubled over, he fought against the relentless cramps that seized his stomach.

A sudden, searing pain in her wrist forced her to relinquish her grip, the cup clattering to the ground.

Every step reverberated through her aching feet, a reflection to the miles she had traversed.

Rubbing his shoulder provided little respite from the persistent agony that gnawed at the joint.

A sharp sting on her finger brought fresh irritation, the paper cut a small but sharp reminder of vulnerability.

His tooth throbbed incessantly, a deep, pulsating ache that clouded his thoughts.

Each movement of her stiff and sore neck elicited a fresh wave of discomfort, a constant reminder of strain.

A stabbing pain in his chest made each breath a struggle, a reminder of mortality's grasp.

The throbbing in his hand, where the door had slammed shut, served as a relentless reminder of his own clumsiness.

A dull ache settled deep within her lower back, rendering even sitting a feat of endurance.

His leaden legs protested with every step, each movement a symphony of agony.

His head spun, the pain behind his eyes making it hard to focus.

Sharp pangs in her side served as a reminder of the physical toll of her exertion, a stitch from pushing too hard.

His throbbing ankle, swollen and tender, made each step a test of willpower.

Gritting her teeth against the shooting pain, she cursed the strain from overuse that tormented her wrist.

Pressing a hand to his chest, he felt the pain radiate outward in relentless waves, a reminder of vulnerability.

Her burning shoulder protested each movement, the pain a constant reminder of her injury.

He winced as sharp pains flared in his elbow, each movement a reminder of his body's fragility.

A deep ache throbbed in her hip, a persistent discomfort that refused to be ignored.

His fingers tingled with pain, a result of gripping the tool too tightly for too long.

[turtletoria]

i wanted to try drawing older Mabel and Dipper !