#when I wrote this paper the

[cowboylikeyouu]

writing fanfiction on paper is so fucking therapeutic

[turtleblogatlast]

Draxum somehow salvaged some of his notes and papers from when he first acquired the turtles, and out of “the goodness of his heart” (aka because Mikey begged him nonstop for a solid three hours) Draxum saw it fit to give them each their corresponding paper.

They were enlightening, to a degree, though it was kinda crazy seeing baby versions of their pre-mutation selves stapled to the corner of the paper.

When Leo got his paper, he grinned at his “super cute baby self” and shifted his eyes to read up a little.

Sure, there was the expected long drawn out essay about his role and place in regard to “world domination” or whatever that Leo skimmed over and proceeded to ignore thanks to the excess of way too big words, but what really caught Leo’s eye was the basic description of himself at the top of the papers.

There was his species, what seemed to be a number (either 2 or 3, Leo wasn’t sure since the bottom was burned a bit), his size (tiny!!), and then, right below those…

‘SEX: F’

…Leo blinked. Then blinked again.

“Draxum.” He said, getting his brothers’ attention.

At the lack of response, he looked up.

“Draxum.” The sheep Yokai walked away faster. “DRAXUM.” He was jogging now. “DRAXUM WHY DOES IT SAY ‘F’?!”

Draxum was booking it away from them as Leo gave chase, shouting about how “IT EXPLAINS A LOT BUT I NEED SOME ANSWERS! DRAXUM! DON’T YOU RUN AWAY I JUST WANNA TALK-“

There was flashes of blue light, then silence.

The others stood there, wondering what just happened before shrugging it off and using their baby photos to go and bribe Splinter with.

[enden-k]

long time no art so...............deleted OC doodles reupload + some more sketches for now (its all jin lol)

[spacedace]

DPxDC snippet/prompt:

-

“John.”

Zantanna’s voice had that cadence to it. Faintly strangled. Forcibly calm. Her rising blood pressure and rapidly approaching limit for his special brand of excitement evident in every single letter of his name.

Felt like old times.

“Z.” He said, smoke curling out of his mouth and billowing towards the dreary grey sky above. The one nice thing about Gotham, it had the same gloomy dark ambience of ol’ London town. “Long time no see. How’s show biz been treating you?”

He saw the faintest of twitches at the corner of her eye. Could almost hear her counting to ten in her head. He smiled at her winningly, leaning back against the damp bricks of the alleyway as he waited. More smoke drifted upward from beside him in time with a bored sigh. Patience was running out on all sides it seemed.

“That’s a child.”

“Sharp as ever.” He said, taking another drag. He nudged the child in question beside him gently with his elbow, glancing down with a sly grin. “See this is why the Justice League pay her the big bucks. Nothing gets past our Zantanna Zatara.”

He got a cloud of smoke blown directly in his face for that, little shit.

“John.”

“Z.”

“Why do you have a child? Why is the child smoking?”

“Long story.” He said with a wave of his hand.

“I learned it from watching him.” The kid said, with the same cadence as that old American commercial. All dramatic and overwrought emotion. The gremlin swooned against John's side in an imitation of collapse, hand holding the lit bifter coming up to their forhead to really sell the melodrama. He nudged his ghostly companion off, grinning at Zantanna’s slipping patience as he did.

“Don’t worry about it. Kid's fine.”

“A child wandering around with you in a dark ally in Gotham smoking cigarettes is fine?”

“I mean, I’m already dead. And short. It’s not like smoking is gonna be able to do any worse to me.”

[beatlesmenrock]

Dylan looked disbelievingly from face to face. “But what about your song?” he asked. “The one about getting high?”

The Beatles were stupefied. “Which song?” John managed to ask.

Dylan said, “You know…” and then he sang, “and when I touch you I get high, I get high…”

John flushed with embarrassment. “Those aren’t the words,” he admitted. “The words are, ‘I can’t hide, I can’t hide, I can’t hide…'”

( From: Bob Dylan turns the Beatles on to cannabis )

[lapdogchase]

i love doing arts and crafts in bed and then having slivers of paper all over my bed #myPaperSlivers

[bthemistake]

- Helios Children -

Psst!

Please consider showing some love to UNICEF (UK, US) and read through their information on what they do <3

[Image Description:

On a bold red background with a crinkled paper effect, are the characters Kristen Applebee's and Buddy Dawn from the D&D show Dimension 20: Fantasy High. They are plain white, with a neat paper effect, with a very faint white glow around them.

Kristen has her eyes closed, eyebrows quirked up with a solemn sadness. She holds her crookedly question-mark-shaped staff at her side with the shards of her god, Cassandra, held in the air with magic in the hook of the staff. Her skin is covered in a speckling of freckles and short hair is half pulled back.

At her side, upside down with no sense of gravity to his position, is Buddy. His eyes are also closed and expression sad. His short hair hangs in his face, small tufts visible under his ears. The buttoned collar shirt is open, only one button fastened at the top, to expose the jagged crystal star emerging from his chest. His hands are raised to almost cradle the thing, but the spikes pierce through his palm and thumb, blood slowly dripping from the wounds. It must be agonising, but he still continues to hold his mark of betrayal to his god, Helio, likely too far gone and fearful of what his punishment would be if he sought forgiveness.

There is text around them, glowing white, with one verse by Kristen and the latter by Buddy.

'there's a girl who is gods chosen armed with the pages, a staff, and her fear died in school with the other children went to heaven, said 'there's no god here'

there's a boy who was never more devoted than when the world was plagued by night had his throat slit by his leader sent to a god he thought held him tight'

There is two more verses I wrote that I could not fit into the art, but I'll share them here regardless. They were intended to be separating the two included verses.

'and if the bread tastes like ashes and the wine like copper blood you better hope that gods not looking as you swallow the taste on your tongue'

'when the bread burns to ashes and the wine drips down your chin pray for something, maybe nothing, to find you else you're on your own from here'

Thank you for reading and, again, please consider checking out UNICEF :)

End of Description.]

[dejwrld]

the topic of colorism within the black community will never be understood until people understand that it's deeper than being bullied in high school and dating preferences.

[floccinaucinihilipilificationa]

Hello may 31th anon! Look at that, another year behind us and a new one to come. Have a nice day! ₍՞◌′ᵕ‵ू◌₎♡

[blank-house]

what are elio's thoughts on highschool musical

cinematic masterpiece.

[sarcastic-clapping]

currently thinking about the fact that i wrote my 60-something page bachelor’s thesis for my politics degree about the growing influence of memes and internet culture on mainstream political communication and how political communities online were becoming increasingly polarized and insular and how that could impact polarization in american politics as a whole if the influence of internet culture continued to expand into the mainstream….in 2016. during the primaries.

[hellsquills]

Frankenstan AU where Ford successfully brings back Stan. His brother is alive again and he couldn't be happier. Stan is actually here! Finally! He's ready to work things out, as soon as they deal with Bill.

Speaking of Bill... He hasn't been around in a few days since the revival. Ford knows that Bill hasn't possessed him recently; even though he can't remember what he does when Bill is in control, he can sense when his body has been used against his will. And that feeling hasn't been there in almost a week.

Ford doesn't understand. But most importantly, he doesn't understand Stan. He's alive and mostly healthy. His body has stitches all over, but his organs are functional. Save for some small details, he's himself again. So why is he acting so unlike him? He hides, he murmurs instead of speaking up, he's sneaky and careful and he stares at the walls for too long sometimes. He's jumpy and silent, and avoids looking at him almost constantly.

There's only one explanation. That is not his brother.

"I'll make it right this time. I promise, Stan," he says, and he pulls the trigger.

(Or: Ford's paranoia + Bill's subtle but constant influence on him makes Ford believe that Stan's demeanor has changed so much not because of what he's gone through in the past decade, but because Bill is somehow inside of him. He's determined to get his "real" brother back, and he won't stop until Bill is unable to enter Stan's body. No matter how many tries it takes.)

[doctorsiren]

“Seven Birds / Crystal Kingdom”

A TAZ:Balance song / cover I “wrote” back in (i want to say) 2018

I say “wrote” because the lyrics are the prophecy and then the second half is simply a cover of the Crystal Kingdom verses + a final one I added

[taylor-titmouse]

Coming in late on this one, but if you're saying you're not planning on your work being piblished... but isnt there a graphic novel coming out soon? There was a link to pre-order it at least via bookshop or barnes and noble (can't remember which off the top of my head). Were you able to get your blook distributed to them as a self-piblished creator? Or was the graphic novel trad-pub and you're just saying you can't see your prose writing/books getting published?

what a funny thing to gotcha me on

yes, i do have a traditionally published graphic novel coming out. under a different name. in a different genre. for a different audience. it's not relevant for me to bring it up every time somebody asks me here if my work will ever be physically printed because it's not the work they're asking about.

so yeah. the last thing you said.

[spacedace]

another bit from the "Constantine adopts Elle au" idea I posted a snippet of yesterday:

The days immediately after the…loss of Elle’s brothers weren’t the hardest. It would, they’d all learn soon enough, only get worse as their friend’s mental state continued to deteroriate. At the time though, it had certainly felt like it couldn’t have gotten any worse.

Elle had always been, for as long as Lian had known the other girl, been a bright, energetic person. Even when being drug from bed in those ungodly hours that so easily could be labeled as late night and early morning equally to go fight some asshole who couldn’t wait for decent crime-spree hours. Elle had never been so cruel to the rest of them as to be chipper during those awful exhausted - and exhausting - incidents, but she’d always been upbeat. Rousing them into feeling more alive with a carefully currated playlist blasting over the comms and promises of delicious, greasy breakfasts at their favorite twenty-four hour diner that she always delivered on.

She was always vibrant, always excited for whatever came at her next, always dancing ahead of them all in search of a new hobby, a new special interest, a new once-in-a-lifetime experience. Her eternally burning hope that the horizon would have something better, something brighter not a foolish security blanket to hide behind but a weapon she weilded against the world. A spine of steal, a heart of a stellar nursery, a hand equally capable of being stretched out in friendship or clenched into a fist ready to deliver the nastiest left hook that side of Metropolis.

Elle Constantine was a lot of things - a good number of them questionable - but in every single one of them, she was full of life.

So seeing her so completely empty…

The Justice League had gotten roped in on their mission before they even realized the scope of it all. Grand-Bat looming and scowling and digging his grubby fingers into things, the rest of the League not much better as they wormed their way in on the case. For all the good it had done, when they’d been too late actually on the scene to be of any actual use. Only able to show up hours after their initial call for backup when the shit show was finally over and the world saved.

She and the team were all still reeling by the time the got there. Elle still crumpled on the ground, coverd in soot and blood in a writhing heap of pain no one else could even begin to understand. The still air rent by her ragged, broken voice wailing and keening like a banshee from the stories of old.

Screaming until she coughed up blood. Hands dripping red and green ripping at the dirt, at her clothes, at her hair, her skin. Shreiking in mindless, all consuming greif as they tried to calm her down, the only words anyone could make out the broken shapes of her brothers’ name.

Jon had to pin her arms to her side in the end, face pained as he tried hard not to hurt her while keeping her thrashing frame in place. Connor crouched before her cradling her tattered hands in his as he tried desperately to get her to follow his breathing, his own voice thick with barely contained tears. Damian, soft hearted beneath all his bluster and bristling, dropped to his knees beside her in the blood soaked ground and simply wrapped his arms around her in a hug.

There had been nothing Lian wanted more than to be with them in that moment. To join her team in trying to help their friend through the initial horror and agony of having a part of herself so cruelly ripped out and crushed before her very eyes. She wanted to wipe at the endless tears falling down Elle’s face and hold her hands and wrap her in a hug and weep with her over what had happend.

Wanted to get them all out of there, get them back to the Tower, get them all washed up and bundled in a protected, quiet corner where they could all cling to each other in the dark in a mess of blankets and pillows like the children they were. Wanted to shield Elle from the watching eyes of the Justice League members, the clean up crew, the gawking civilians and hungry press. To protect her while she was so horribly vulnerable, her friend ripped open and bleeding out in front of the world like a sideshow and not a girl who had just lost the only people in the world that had known and loved her since the very beggining of her fucked up life.

But Lian was the leader of the Titans. She was the one they trusted to make the hard calls. To look after them. To be their champion against not just their enemies but their allies too when it was called for.

So that’s what she did.

She stood with her feet planted firm on the slick, broken ground. Spine straight, shoulders back, head high and gaze full of hellfire. A sentry between her confused, greiving friends and the good intentioned but ultimately distructive attempts of the Justice League members before her to help.

Lian’s arm was broken in at least two places, hanging limply at her side from a dislocated shoulder. Her weapons buried in the flesh of one monster or other that they had faced that night. Her poison tipped nails split and torn, fingernails missing entirely on three fingers of her left hand. Her mask was cracked and broken somewhere in the debris, leaving her only with a domino that had nearly been clawed off with the rest of her face. Blood going cool and tacky where it had poured down her ragged cheeks, settling in the hollows and lines around her mouth. Pinking her teeth whenever she spoke and the gruesome evidence of the brutal fight found its way to curl insideious in her mouth, down her throat, into the cold pit in her chest.

When she met her grandfather’s grim, obscured face it was with her mother’s strength and her father’s stubbornness and her Pops’ willingness to shoot any motherfucker who dared to try.

Clark’s gaze was on the hunched crowd behind her, tight lines on his face as he stared at his son making it all to clear that he wanted to move past her and insert himself into the situation. To use his everything will be okay voice to command them like confused civilians or lost ducklings in need of a minder. He wanted to play the part he always played in times of disaster: shining beacon, untarnished champion. The last thing her team wanted, the last thing that Elle needed on top of everything else.

Lian’s good hand flexed by the pistol strapped to her thigh in a small warning. The Man of Steel knew well enough that there was glowing green waiting for him in the clip. Her gramps’ obsessive paranoia, her Pops’ good advice about big blue boyscouts who couldn’t keep their noses out of of other people’s business.

They stood in tense silence for long moments, the stillness only broken by Elle’s broken voice rising up in a keening wail for those she lost.

A stand-off that Lian knew that she’d win, one way or another.

Her gramps’ shoulders lowered, so minutely as to be inperceptible to anyone not in their family.

“Wonder Woman will be here shortly.” He said in his low rumbling voice. Beside him Clark finally drifted to the ground, a concession from both of them. “Justice League Dark went radio silent seven hours ago. Last transmission from Zantanna indicated they were dealing with an interdimensional issue and would be unreachable for at least three days.”

Elle’s dad - her family - were unreachable. John Constantine didn’t know that he’d lost his three sons in the span of a handful of minutes, that his daughter was being crushed beneath the weight of greif and trauma to the point of madness. Wouldn’t know for days what tragedy had struck his family, had destroyed the strange but happy life he and his adopted children had carved out for themselves.

John Constantine. Zantanna Zatara. Detective Bobo. Boston Brand. Asa the Nightmare Nurse. Elle’s family, out of reach while she writhed and wailed in agony. The only people who might come close to understand just how deep, how awful, the pain of her brothers’ loss truly was.

Diana was something, was someone, but the Amazon’s time being split between JL Light and Dark meant that she wasn’t a touchstone to Elle in the way the rest of the core members of the magical team were. Elle commented once that Diana was more like a fun aunt she barely saw growing up. Someone she was always excited to see and hang out with, someone she wanted to make proud, but not someone she felt especially close to in comparison to the rest of her family.

Lian did not give in to the pained urge to close her eyes and swear.

She was keenly aware that all it would take was a single crack, as narrow and insignificant as a strand of hair. The smallest hint that the crushing weight of everything that had happened - that was still happening - was effecting her and they’d be back at the attempts to push past her and take over. A desire to help, the restless urge to jump in and save the day, to ease the pain of those so clearly suffering, blinding them to how much worse they would make things in the process.

The intentions were good, but the ultimate results blistering and painful and too often overlooked as the next disaster pulled thier attentions away. Stubborn insistence that their experience overruled her and her team’s instincts. The hands of the older heroes always reaching, unaware that they were too sharp as they dug into the soft flesh of the Titans’ fresh wounds. Picking apart their flaws and failures in the name of bettering them, never stopping to consider the wounds they pressed hard against as part of their lecturing might still be open and raw. That while the men before her had hands in raising most of them, that did not mean they had perfect comprehension to who the Titans were or always knew what the members of her team really needed.

“Have Wonder Woman go to the Tower.” Lian said, knowing that her grandfather heard Selina’s cadence in her voice. A habit, a gamble. Catwoman had been her mentor for a time, had helped her sharpen her claws and her instincts and that budding part of her that would make her a leader one day. Sometimes it pushed Bruce into listening to her, sometimes it just led to him pushing back.

He’d find that latter option unwise at the moment, though.

Her beloved Grand-Bat or no, she knew where his armor was weakest. Knew how to make the single shot she’d manage to get off on him count. Knew just how far she’d go to make sure that Elle and the rest of her friends were sheilded from any and all harm when they were so vulnerable.

She was their champion, their sentry, their knight.

Batman, of all people, knew the lengths a knight was willing to go in the name of the oaths they took.

She watched him shift back. A silent, unseen signal between him and Clark having Superman step back too. Lian wasn’t sure if her grandfather had found the wall she presented him too strong to conted with, or if Elle’s heart wrenching screams of greif and agony made him decide against testing the wall at all. Whatever it was, Lian would take the small victory where she could. It was the only real one she might be able to claim that day.

[i-may-be-an-emu]

I just found a little piece of paper that I wrote some qualities I wanted to have a few years ago and I’m like. So happy now. I’m doing so much better. It gets better.