#warm up prompts

[ikiprian]

Tim swears Phantom could’ve been a Titan. Maybe he should be, at this point. They have enough in common to justify it.

“Jeez,” Phantom groans. Abruptly, he drops the levitation and hits the roof without sound. He stretches out on his back like a cat, sore muscles straining in a way Red Robin deeply relates to. “Fighting the living sucks. At least with ghosts I can swing as hard as I need. Already dead means they get back up! But mortals? Way too squishy.”

Red Robin huffs in agreement. “Yeah,” he says. After a moment’s consideration, he lies down, too.“It’s a hundred times harder than people realize. Batman’s always going on about perfect control in training. About how to have it, you gotta be twice as skilled as the other guy. Even without your super-strength, I worry sometimes.”

“How do you do it?” Phantom asks. In a move only achievable to those without bones, or perhaps Dick Grayson, he twists himself over. Gloved hands cup his cheeks. His legs kick back and forth, like they’re gossiping at a slumber party. “I mean. You said you train, so obviously there’s the physical ‘how.’ But how do you keep your emotions nonlethal? How do you keep yourself in check, make sure you’re pulling back?”

“I mean,” says Red Robin. “Murder is illegal, so.”

Phantom sighs. “Yeah. Maybe it’s easier for you.”

… Hm. Maybe Red Robin should redo Phantom’s risk assessment.

Before he can raise too high an eyebrow (though even moving that muscle smarts, ow), Phantom elaborates.

“Ecto-based entities have trouble with their emotions,” he explains. “It’s easy to get lost in an Obsession, or a big feeling like grief. The rest of the world… it bleeds away. Helps to have another emotional anchor to keep it at bay. I use fear.”

“Fear?” Red Robin glanced over.

“Sometimes sheer stubbornness,” Phantom admits. “But a lot of it is fear.”

With a considering frown, he drops his head atop his arms. Exhaustion, regret, reluctance play out on his face. For someone the Bats know next to nothing about, Phantom’s body language is an open book.

“I saw, like, an alternate future version of myself once where I become evil and try to take over the world? So now I gotta be good to keep that from happening. The fear of that future keeps the pressure on me. Makes me focus up. Y’know?”

Tim sits up. “Seriously?”

Phantom nods. “Uh-huh. Kinda bizarre, I know—”

“What the hell,” says Tim. Three consecutive days together and a concussion must loosen his lips, because holy shit, no way. “Dude! Me too!”

“Huh? Seriously?” says Phantom.

“Yeah! I totally saw myself turn evil. Like, Batman but with guns. Guns Batman. I had to fight him and everything. He tried to kill my friends and erase my memory to make sure I couldn’t un-invent him by going back to change the past?”

“Oh my god.”

“What?”

“Oh my god, me too!”

happy wips wednesday!

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

"What do you mean their name isn't Beef?"

(for @moondal514)

[ichxraaa]

chubby reader who is discouraged cause they’ll never experience a belly bulge meets demise when their boyfriend eavesdrops their call with a friend, worried that maybe that’s something they (the boyfriend) would be into

his cock so far up bullying your cunt as you need to open your mouth to try and breathe while your eyes roll back with the pure raw strength that is fucking you against the bed, you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve come, but he doesn’t care, all he cares about is the way your ass feels and looks as he thrusts into you and the perfect rhythm of the squelching lascivious sounds as he pistons inside you.

“you shouldn’t worry about stupid shit like that, i will fuck you so deep and good that you will feel me inside you for days”.

why is this toji, and bakugō and gojo in a way more condescending approach, and also porco, cause you know he’s savage, also eren cause he lacks delicacy and of course yaku cause he has no filter and no intention of letting you say something like that ever again.

[snailsnaps]

turtle tot pile?

[mischievous-thunder]

Both of them won something

[lovelesslittleloser]

I had a realization that everyone else has probably already had but I need to say it

Robin = Danny

Raven = Sam

Cyborg = Tucker

Starfire = Valerie, maybe??

Beast Boy = Cujo?????

[kikker-oma]

[projecttreehouse]

tips for setting the scene

it’s easy to get caught up in dialogue or a character’s internal dialogue and forget altogether that they, too, exist in their own physical world. as authors, it’s primarily our job to convey the exact amount of information: the reader is on a need to know basis, but they also need to know enough to draw their own conclusions. i’ll admit, it’s a difficult task, but here are some tips to help set a scene:

- imagine the world from the eyes of your character: how do they see things? do they see the big picture first or are they drawn to smaller details that others don’t often notice? what’s pulling their attention away from the action or their own thoughts?

- breathe life into your scenes: i don’t mean the english teacher’s equivalent of “the curtains were blue means that the character is sad.” i’m talking about the blue filter in Twilight that conveys the “constant cover of clouds and rain” and the shift from the Arizona desert to the cool Pacific Northwest. think about all the small details that convey information about a scene and allow the readers to make inferences. if the character walks along a street and the yards shift from overgrown hedges with frayed yard chairs and a birdbath containing a mini swamp to yards with freshly cut grass with white picket fences and ornate wreathes hanging on the doors, you’re providing all of the details for readers to make an inference. context is needed, too, but that will be provided in the whole of your novel or short story. don’t be afraid to provide details and use figurative language.

- spread out your details: did you feel bombarded in the last tip? i provided a lot of details quickly, all at once, without spreading them between action, dialogue, or internal dialogue. i’m not going to stop you from being the next J.R.R. Tolkien if that’s how you like to write, but try not to overwhelm the reader with details all at once. it will feel more natural if you spread things out and allow the reader to feel as if they, too, are with the character in their environment. this is more of a stylistic tip, so take it with a grain of salt and think about what will work best for your novel. always go back to that and to what your character is seeing. how is this all playing out for them? how can you put feeling into the scene?

- place your characters within the scene: where are they in their environment? how are they interacting with the people or objects in it? what do they think about these things? you don’t need to tell the reader everything your character does, but provide enough information so that we don’t get lost in their movement or stagnation. it helps to have someone else read your work if you’re struggling with this part. if they’re lost as to where the character is or what they’re doing, chances are a good portion of your readers will be confused, too. check out your prepositions. are there too many? too few? use them, but don’t abuse them.

happy writing! if you need help setting a scene or have any questions, our ask box is always open!

[writtenbyjeanofarc]

・┆✦ 𝐍𝐎 𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐄 ✦┆・

Yandere! Blade X Reader | 1.4k

Author’s Note: Something new to practice my writing. Please don’t mind the cringe, I’m just trying to write for the sake of making it clear that I’m still active.

Warnings: mild possessive behavior.

A loud, thundering bang akin to an explosion echoed throughout the entirety of Xianzhou Loufu, its harmful impact colliding with your figure before you could even dodge the attack. All it took was one hit that instantly brought you to your knees, your limbs desensitized from external sources of throbbing pain. Blade was never one to give his opponents a chance to run, and your petite stature wasn’t one of his reasons to spare you mercy. Your eyes darted onto what appeared to be blood oozing from your hands, as if you were close to admitting defeat. Trembling past your fallen state, your eyebrows furrowed in an attempt to protest against Blade’s antics.

“You just don’t understand how it feels, do you?” you called out. “Out of millions of worthy enemies, you dared challenge me?”

Thankfully, you could still speak amidst your frail body struggling past the paralysis you were experiencing. Blade didn’t give you much time to recover, instead, he sneered against your ways of protest.

“I’m left with no other choice. You know the consequences of resisting further. I’ve requested that the Stellaron bring you to me peacefully without a fight breaking out. But since you refuse every time, I’m left with no other choice but to challenge you into a duel. And it turns out that you lost. So give it up.”

Blade’s steps grew more audible as they paced themselves menacingly towards your body, limp and weak on the ground. You couldn’t get up, it’d be against the rules of nature if you were ever able to get up. Bending over to bring himself towards you, you felt his hand wrap around your throat in an intensity he liked.

Blade let out a smirk, squeezing the sides gently while you looked up at him with a merciful expression.

“Don’t disappoint me.” he sneered. “After all, I never asked you to leave my side.”

You weren’t obliged to reply, only leading you to spit back at him as he chuckled condescendingly. You expected Blade to feel turned off by your antics, only for his vision to narrow as he eyed you from head to toe.

“A little feisty, are we?” Blade mocked. “Hah. This is what you get for running around in circles and resisting the Stellaron’s demands.”

“You’ll never own me,” you snapped. “I don’t care about how many duels I have to lose just to break free from seeing you. But reading the letter made me realize you only want me to ease your suffering. Which I refuse to do.”

“I don’t recall you winning a duel against the Stellaron Hunters.” Blade chuckled. “Like I said, I’ll always be haunting you provided your refusal to give in to my desires.”

“….And what desires do you have in mind for me?” you asked.

“Why don’t you find out for yourself?” Blade replied, grinning at your prideful stare that gave off a false sense of innocence. “After all, I don’t want to wait any longer. You’re coming with me.”

“Wh—“

With that, you winced in discomfort as Blade’s strength supported your weight. His arms gripping your waist and back, he picked you up just like that, without any ounce of effort whatsoever. Next thing you know, you were being lifted up like a baby bridal style, leaving you intimately exposed to his musky scent.

“Put me down, you freak!” you exclaimed.

“From now on, our relationship is going to change.” Blade said as he walked away with your body in his arms, amused at your refusal to admit defeat. “You’ll tell me everything about how your day went, from where you came from, and what you really want. You won’t hold back. You’re going to be in my property, and whoever gets in our way gets an answer from my sword. Do you understand?”

“Where do you think you’re going? Put me the fuck down! What I want is to be free from Stellaron Hunters like you!!!”

“I’m afraid that will pass on my watch. You’ll never leave me. I made up my mind that I shall keep you in my arms for as long as the Aeons allow us to be together. So don’t resist, [Name].”

“Where are we going?!” you asked.

“To a place far away that even the Astral Express won’t bother landing their eyes on you.”

“N-no!!! You can’t just take me away and do as you please!!!”

“And what if I can?”

“The Astral Express will find me no matter what. They’ll hunt you down, they’ll—“

“…Cower in defeat. That’s all they can do.” Blade interjected. “[Name], I’ve told you this a thousand times already. There’s not much you can do in that faction. I’ll always be there, watching you desperately before I can even have the time to play with you.”

“No, I won’t allow it! I’m not yours, and you’ll never beat the Astral Express on your own! This, I’m sure of it. Dan Heng will find you, and he’ll take his sweet time beating you at your own game.” you protested.

“And what if I said you’re mine?” Blade chuckled. “No matter what, I’ll always do everything it takes to win my battles fair and square. You’ll be there with me until death takes us, wouldn’t you, my dear?”

“You’ll never push me.” you said as you gritted your teeth. “Now put me down or I’ll have to do it myself.”

“Go ahead. Show me how weak you can be without my supervision. You’ll never survive the wrath of those enemies about to face you in the next life.”

“Fuck you.” you spat.

“You know, regardless of how ill you speak of me, none of that will change my mind. You’re going to be mine……and I’m going to take my sweet time claiming you as my property. So ease yourself up, can you? We’re on our way back home.”

Despite your attempts to escape, Blade tightened his grip so as to not make you fall by accident. You eventually gave in — not as a sign of admitting defeat, but because his strength was immeasurable to the point of overpowering yours.

“There’s no point in trying to escape, [Name].” Blade announced. “Give in to it. You’ll get so used to my company that you’ll wish you never met the Astral Express.”

“You’ll never win my trust.” you replied.

“Keep believing in that, we’ll see. I don’t mind not having you trust me completely this time, but let me tell you this. You’re not leaving anytime soon. Everything you do will be inspected further by the Stellaron, and you shall accept us as your new family….everything you once had with the Astral Express…..is now torn to pieces.”

Silence filled the air as the both of you ended up in his place. Not being able to say a single word, you carefully plotted your escape by knowing where to go the next time Blade left. You just had to muster every ounce of courage needed to break free, and staying oblivious to his household’s locks and locations was the last thing you wanted.

“From now on, you’re going to stay rightfully where you belong.” Blade commanded, finally putting you down after locking the doors. “If you need any further assistance, just call out my name.”

“Pfffft.” you scoffed.

“And don’t forget…..” Blade added, approaching you bluntly with a sharp frown. “You’re not leaving this place. Everything I say goes. You won’t complain. You won’t push me.”

“You’re fucked up.” you hissed.

“I’m not fucked up, I just know what I want. And I want you…..Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll be taking the Astral Express down as instructed.”

“No, anything but—!!!!”

Blade hissed back, instantly pouncing towards you and wrapping his hand around your throat. Your ability to speak was hindered with his heavy breath.

“You won’t try me now, will you, [Name]? Dan Heng has imposed a serious threat against my every move. If I find out about his existence roaming around this place, he will only know death. And you’ll never interfere. You’ll never protest. Because after all, I don’t recall allowing you to leave.”

Your gulps and struggles were heard in response to Blade’s sudden hostility towards you, his anger and inhibited desire evident in those eyes. Leaning closer towards you, he opened his mouth to speak before your ear.

“You know you want this. I can give you more pleasure than you can bear, something far better than that pathetic excuse of a man. Dan Heng and March 7th will never stand a chance against my undying passion to have you around me. And you’ll never falter under my command, will you? Well, it’s not like you have any other choice. You’re all mine now, after all.”

[entomolog-t]

Can Aedes have a gentle squish as a treat

As a treat~💕

Aedes will begrudgingly comply

------

So tempted to clean this sketch up into an actual lil comic one day, but alas- a lil sketchy squish is all I will do for now!

I'd really love to take the time and do a lil art study on volume. Sometimes I feel like I get it, other times not, but just that ability to make things look solid?? Like making things look like they are making contact and have weight???

[pricklenettle]

Eight ecto nights: giving

[goldengirlgalaxy]

Danny runs to Gotham after a reveal with his parents gone wrong. Bruce Wayne ends up catching on to the fact that he's a homeless kid in need of a good home. Danny, however, does not want to deal with another rich, potentially-insane, definitely-obsessed A-hole, so he does his best to steer clear of him. Doubly so when Batman takes an interest, as he want to put his hero days behind him.

Eventually, Danny, sick of running and wanting a way to make the two stop hunting him, decides that he should let someone else adopt him instead. Cut to him being found by Harley Quinn, who decides that she should totally pull a Bruce and adopt this black-haired, blue-eyed child. Hopefully Ivy won't mind!

[lucalicatteart]

 sculpted a strange shimmery two headed snail, speckled with wild flowers on it's shell~

[verefex]

captivated by the passing of a 60ft tall shirtless man in a blizzard

[billdenbrough]

@naturecalls111 prompted me kevaaron + procrastination and was like ‘post grad’, meaning they’re not undergrads if it’s canonverse, & something abt the phrasing latched into my brain so we ended up with this vaguely professor au w/ the flimsiest excuse for a TA-adjacent situation ever instead. idk. as ever this was just for her texts & i’m coming off a 30hr migraine so pls forgive me LMAO <3

“I can see right through you,” Kevin murmurs.

“Oh, yeah?” Aaron challenges. God, he’s close.

“Mm,” Kevin says. “You just don’t want to mark the test.”

It's an accusation, but there’s no censure in his voice. He's amused, mostly; fond too, despite himself. It’s not exactly behaviour he should be encouraging, but—

Aaron huffs. “I never want to mark a test,” he points out. “Undergrads are fucking stupid. Or these ones are, anyway.”

“You were an undergrad once,” Kevin says. He very determinedly keeps his hands steady on the bench. Maybe he’s gripping the edge so he stays in place; so what? That's between him and whatever God Renee believes in enough for the both of them.

“These ones,” Aaron repeats, scoffing. “Anyway, I'd never have taken a history paper. Get real.”

Kevin can’t help the frown there. “History is fascinating,” he argues. Aaron scoffs at him again, but the way he watches Kevin runs counter to that. Like he’s listening to whatever Kevin says, regardless. “It is,” Kevin insists again, clearing his throat.

Aaron's gaze tracks the movement, eyes following the motion of his throat, and Kevin kind of wants to clench the counter edge hard enough to crack the formica. Jesus Christ.

“You like research,” Kevin says. He keeps his eyes on Aaron, watches as he steps in closer again. “History is an endless study of every mistake we’ve ever made—”

“—So we don’t repeat our forefathers’ mistakes?” Aaron asks wryly. “Hate to break it to you, but that’s a non-starter.”

“No,” Kevin says, shaking his head. “We’re bad at learning. Mostly, we don’t even see the patterns for decades, if not centuries.”

Aaron cocks his head. “Doesn’t that frustrate you?” he asks. “I've seen you watch sports. You get mad if people make the same fuck-up within, like, three minutes.”

An image floats in Kevin’s head, unbidden: the two of them at the sports bar, late one night after they finally convinced Jeremy to go the fuck home because the college wasn’t paying him enough to sleep at his desk to reply to nineteen year olds’ panicked emails at 11:17pm before a midnight deadline. Kevin had been unbelievably put-out by the Astros’ scoreline; Aaron hadn’t cared so much, but had seemed to find great entertainment in prodding at Kevin to express his opinion to a bar full of patrons who strongly disagreed with him.

Do you even care about baseball? Kevin had asked in the end, exasperated. He’d unknotted his tie and slipped off his jacket, heated by his opinions and the game and the alcohol and the way Aaron had sat there, head tilted, that clever mouth of his quirked up to the side like a smirk, like a secret.

Not really, Aaron had said, shrugging. He swished his beer a little. I played hockey at school myself. Before Kevin could get too excited about that—a sport! An actual goddamn sport! that wasn’t only worth watching European leagues for, cough cough Jeremy and Jean and fucking football—Aaron added, I like seeing how much you care about it, though, and knocked Kevin right on his ass, metaphorically-speaking.

That night had ended in a blur: Kevin’s flushed cheeks as he lectured the bar at large about heliocentrism after finishing his grumbling about the baseball, Aaron’s quiet snort and eyes that laughed more than his mouth did, alcohol-sticky wood beneath his feet as he made his way to the bathroom, the taste of Aaron’s beer on his lips, Aaron’s cool fingers a balm against his cheek, his mouth a searing heat burning all the way through Kevin.

Then when Kevin’s TA dropped out because of ‘unmanageable stress’ (which was not Kevin’s fault, no matter what Dan says, she and Matt can fuck off) and he had to scramble to figure out what to do, Abby had offered one of her tutors—but only for marking, Kevin, he has no base in history. He’s just smart enough to use a rubric and willing to help. Between this and Jean’s long-suffering offer to lead the tutorial that didn’t clash with his meetings with his advisor, and even Neil’s unlikely assistance in the form of helping restructure the syllabus, it all seemed pretty manageable. (The history department had quietly come to the conclusion that this was not, strictly speaking, acceptable by university standards, but elected to ignore this information until the conclusion of the semester. As far as Kevin’s been able to tell in his years in academia, this is how things tend to work.)

When Abby showed up at his office with Aaron, though, Kevin's cheeks had gone hot enough that she’d asked him if he was sure he wasn’t coming down with a stress fever. Aaron's face had stayed blank, but his eyes were – amused.

It was one thing when Aaron had been the regular third person in the staff room late at night alongside Jeremy and Kevin, rubbing his eyes as he scowled at whatever it was he was looking at. (Anatomy exams, Kevin found out later.) He’d been mostly quiet, but sharply funny when he’d ended up interacting with them, mostly starting with indelicate snorts at whatever madcap thing Jeremy was saying, then incredulous stares at Kevin’s rebuttal, and finally muttered jabs as he worked the coffee machine and Jeremy laughed delightedly and Kevin stared at him with disbelief and a slow-building warmth in the base of his stomach.

It was yet another thing when Aaron had been the guy he bundled up Jeremy with, the guy he got drunk with for hours in a sports bar, the guy who laughed at him and offered him buffalo wings so spicy that they made Aaron’s cheeks red and Kevin’s lips feel like they were on fire, until Aaron kissed him, tipsy outside the bar, the warmth spreading through Kevin overtaking both the chilly night air and the spice-stained echoes on Kevin’s mouth.

But it was another thing entirely for Aaron to be Aaron, meaning Abby's favourite postgrad and the guy who diligently read Kevin’s syllabus on top of his own work just to better understand the marking rubric and hater of psych majors everywhere. Aaron, with his tired eyes and quiet laugh and complete inability to answer a phone call from his brother in a normal way. (At one point, Kevin had been half-concerned he was ordering a hit—less about the morality or legality of the situation, more in a if you get arrested, I’m screwed again type way—until Neil had shown up half an hour later with lunch for Aaron and Aaron had gone, ugh and Neil had rolled his eyes, spotted Kevin, and turned to Aaron to say, you’re one to talk. Aaron had flushed a little, then scowled and flipped Neil off, and said fuck off, to which Neil said, gladly, then see you at dinner? And Aaron had waved his hand. If you eat your fucking vegetables, to which Neil had laughed, and flipped him off, and walked out. Kevin had stared at Aaron, nonplussed, but Aaron had ignored him, focusing instead on the test he was marking while he ate the sandwich Neil had brought.) Aaron, with his unbelievably rude opinions about Kevin’s lack of video game knowledge, and the genuinely unreasonable amount of sour gummies he can put away in an hour, and the unbearably soft look he gets on his face when he’s sleepy and huffy and Kevin has gently dragged away whichever test he’s marking or article he’s reading that’s made him so grumpy late at night.

Aaron, who Kevin actually knows now. And likes even more for it, which is inconvenient and inopportune and probably inevitable.

Kevin clears his throat. “People are meant to try and win in sports,” he says. “History is about things that have already happened. It’s a different ballpark.” There’s a moment, and then, “They’ve already lost the battle. I'm not rooting for anything else there.”

Something flares up in Aaron's eyes at that, and he snakes his hand forward, tugging on Kevin's tie. Kevin, hands still holding onto the bench, allows it.

“But sports are about victory?” Aaron asks. 

He’s not even subtle about procrastinating, Kevin thinks. He wants to laugh. He swallows a sigh instead, and says, a little warningly, “Aaron…”

But he doesn’t move. Doesn’t stop Aaron, doesn’t do anything to stop him. Maybe leans in a little, even.

“Yeah,” Kevin says after a long moment. “History, you live or you die. Sports, you’re the best or you’re not.”

“That's a reductive way of looking at the world,” Aaron says, but it’s that tone he gets sometimes, the one where Kevin doesn’t know if he believes it or if he just wants to poke at Kevin a little. Kevin hates that he likes it as much as he does; that he lets it stoke him up, bites at the bit every time.

“You are not subtle,” Kevin murmurs. The tests are sitting on the table behind Aaron, staring up at the ceiling. Aaron's coffee is abandoned, probably cold.

You are not subtle, Kevin says, and means it, but Aaron’s cocked his eyebrow at him, and there’s something a little taunting in his eyes, and he’s still holding onto Kevin’s tie, and something in Kevin loosens. He sighs, and lets go of the bench, tucking his fingers into Aaron's belt loops instead and pulling him forward.

“Is this a sport?” Aaron asks, because he’s a dick and facetious and he knows just how to make Kevin want to shut him up.

“You’re not as funny as you think you are,” Kevin scolds, and then leans forward to kiss the rebuttal out of Aaron's mouth.

[foolsocracy]

hi foolsocracy if you’re taking requests can we get a small doodle of comic peter (noir) wearing silly glasses that don’t help him at all

hit em with the parker 🤨