#writing prompt 3

[hopeful-stormy]

Writing Prompt #3

¤ A sentient, benevolent never-ending storm

¤ A solitary desert nymph

¤ A magic user who just wants to go home

[butchfalin]

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again

[mischievous-thunder]

What was considered peak masculinity back in the 2000s is now considered as little meow meow energy in 2024

This clearly shows how far we've progressed and become even more improved versions of ourselves.

As for this godly man, he's still as fiery and yet so sweet even two decades later, if not more, as he was all those years ago.

[saltymarshmall0w]

Danny is "in denial" about the Waynes being vigilantes

Danny is really grateful for the Waynes taking him in and all but it’s just… it’s really obvious they’re vigilantes. Do they WANT him to find out? Why?? To join their battalion?

Hell nah. He’s already got enough going on trying to keep in check the many shades in the city.

Danny simply pretends to be oblivious about the Waynes being vigilantes. That's a future Danny problem.

It turns into Kyle levels of denial, where he ends up pretending he thinks the vigilantes are actors hired by the city to cover up all the ghosts haunting Gotham.

And obviously, the city bases them on the infamously growing Wayne family. It's so sweet of the Waynes to volunteer to dress up as their character for public appearances.

Meanwhile, Bruce has banned outright telling Danny even though it's been nearly a year of him living with them. So what if Danny glows sometimes and has full conversations with invisible people in dark alleyways, everyone has their quirks! so, the Batkids have resolved to just "accidentally" leave their mask on after patrol or make tactical plans loudly about taking down Penguin's latest scheme with Danny a room over.

-

“Is Dick coming to the Gala?” Danny asked as his head swiveled between his phone and the mirror as he attempted to tie his own tie. How did his mom always make it look so easy?

“No, he is going out as Batman tonight, since Father is unable to.” Damian responded. He may as well be blasé about their identities, seeing as Fenton was obviously both completely aware of their identities and completely in denial.

“Oh, man. Does that mean one of the “rouges” are going to attack the gala?” Danny asked, “It’s probably going to be that Two-face guy, huh? He hasn’t made an appearance in a while and his character arc with “Brucie” hasn’t made any progress in a while.”

“Nonsense, there is no predicting the mindset of a criminal like Two-face.” Damian ignored Danny’s disbelieving scoff as he maneuvered his newest brother to face him so he could take over the task for him, else they would be standing there all night. “Besides, Drake is in charge of security for the gala and will do an adequate job securing the venue. If you are afraid remain by my side where I can protect you.”

Damian tightened the tie around Danny's neck and stepped back to let Fenton pull his own collar down.

"That's very sweet of you, Dami." Danny reached up a hand and mussed up Damian's newly-gelled hair, garnering a growl and a shove from the boy. "But you should do normal kid things during the gala, like accidentally saying rude things to old ladies, or complaining about how bored you are, and don't forget to prank all the evil billionaires."

...

The “I told you so.” Danny brazenly mouthed to Damian later in the evening from where Two-face held a gun to his head was as infuriating as it was distressing.

—

(Kyle Weston is the fanon brother of Wes Weston (also a fanon character) who’s whole thing is that he believes in conspiracy theories like Wes, but doesn’t believe in ghosts at all to Wes’s frustration.)

[verekatt]

Inspired by @greenglowinspooks post

I love the Danny Phantom fandom's medical gore, but why not torture our DC blorbos too?

Lots of fics make Jason an underdeveloped halfa. Lots of fics make Danny basically unkillable because he's a halfa.

I'm going Maximum Angst Route on this one.

The Justice League buys the GIW's rhetoric. They hear about these dangerous energy imprints, these volatile mimicries of life that are hurting people. The GIW claim they've controlled it in the rest of America, but this one small town has a strong one that protects the rest and helps them attack. They ask for help stopping this one, assure them that once Phantom is neutralised, it'll be easy to deal with the rest. The JL agrees. The JL captures Phantom and hands him over to the GIW.

It takes months to capture most of the other ghosts, as they slowly trickle through the portal to find each other. The JL gains an appreciation for the GIW, having previously fought off entities like Skulker and Plasmius without hero help. They trust the GIW, and so when they ask to scan the heroes for any lingering radiation, they agree.

They're alarmed to find many heroes are mildly irradiated. The GIW removes the lingering ectoplasm from most of them, and they're drained afterwards, but they recover. Damian, who had much higher levels than most, seems almost sedated from his usual fury and violence. Cass privately notes that she can't read people as well anymore, and Damian's lethargy looks uncomfortable for him. She gets suspicious, but when no one listens to her concerns, she leaves for Hong Kong again. She's scared that if her levels get higher and they drain her again, she'll lose the ability to read people entirely. She doesn't want to lose such a fundamental part of how she interacts with the world.

When scanning, however, Batman gets pulled aside. They explain they've found a parasitic ghost in Red Hood, and removing it will be a much longer process. They show the ectoplasm levels, the scans with a visible core. Bruce connects this to the Pit Rage, and agrees to let them take Hood, hoping he will finally get his son back. Jason is cautious, but eventually agrees. This could be the cure he never thought he'd get.

The GIW is estatic. They've discovered a new halfa, and if they do this right, they'll be able to study halfa development. They have Phantom to tear apart to see what an actualised halfa looks like, but watching Hood grow and form? Trying to influence his development, maybe even weaponise him? This is an opportunity they have to make the most of. All they have to do is claim the parasite killed Hood before they could remove it, and they can keep him forever.

The second Jason is alone with the GIW, they sedate him. He wakes up in a cage too small to stand in, right next to the very Phantom he helped capture. The kid is asleep, curled on the floor, bleeding through loose stitches on an autopsy wound. He immediately realises they fucked up, and his rage/guilt/panic attack wakes Phantom up. He expected the kid to be angry, upset, even gleeful that Jason was caught too. He didn't expect the kid to look at him with sad pity, to calm him down and say he's sorry that Jason was mislead and betrayed like this. That yeah, shit's gonna suck now, but Danny (as he insisted) would be there for him for as long as their cages were kept together. That unlike Danny these past few months, Jason wouldn't be dealing with it alone.

The scientists slowly feed Jason ectoplasm, and cut him open daily to monitor how it affects him. Ironically, his Pit Rage is cured, but that doesn't make it any better. If anything, it's worse, because now he's fully cognizant and has no extra energy to fight with. He still does fight at first, even without the Pit, but he knows no one's coming to his rescue. Eventually, he joins Danny in his nihilistic snark and dead-eyed stare. And yeah, they joked about that pun.

Time becomes meaningless. They do whatever they can to escape the hopelessness. Horrifyingly morbid jokes, empty bets on what form of torture they'll endure next, whispered stories about the people they miss. They reach through electrified bars just to feel a hand that doesn't mean harm. They spill their guts, metaphorically and literally, exchanging their deepest fears and secrets until they know each other entirely. Their necessary codependency becomes actual love, because how can you go through this together and know each other so deeply and not love each other? Platonically or romantically or the secret third option that's just insanely codependent affection.

Not sure who ends up rescuing them, but I'm thinking either a) Tim gets suspicious, b) the Outlaws go hunting, or c) Cass realises they have Jason and immediately freaks out. Whoever, they meet up with Team Phantom. Tucker and Sam been on the run since Danny was caught, and Jazz could be in Arkham? Or dead, or on the run too. Team Phantom was only held back by their lack of muscle (that's usually Danny), and now that they have trained fighters on their side, they're able to break in and get their boys. Cue long healing journey and revenge time.

[celestialwrites]

angsty (romantic + platonic) dialogue prompts

@celestialwrites for more!!

♡ "it took you almost 4 years to fully trust me, and it took you all of one minute to stop."

♡ "do not waste your breath with lies, for once tell me the damned truth."

♡ "i have always wanted the good, the bad, and the ugly from you! i never wanted you to hide."

♡ "do you not get it? we don't ever get a happy ending, we don't ever go home!"

♡ "tell me you didn't, i do not care if it's a lie, just tell me you didn't."

♡ "you are a part of me and i cannot stand it."

♡ "don't waste away a life that was never yours. it was always hers."

♡ "every second i spend in pain without (s/o) is better than any day i spent not knowing them."

♡ "your tears will not bring him back." "fuck you."

♡ "that may just happen to be your gravest mistake, you thought you could fix her."

♡ "look me in the eye and say it. say it! say they're dead!"

♡ "i will be the greatest loss of your life."

REBLOG TO SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL WRITERS<3

[lyralit]

things to think about for characters

do they have allergies?

what foods will they not touch?

what kinds of music do they like?

how are they around new people?

do they speak in an accent?

have they tried learning a new language?

how many languages do they know?

what is a song that will always make them cry?

how do they cry? heaving? silently? sobbing?

how do they dress? for practicality or fashion?

what is the first thing they notice about a stranger?

what is their humour like?

do they have scars? what caused them?

do they wear jewelry?

are they a frivolous spender or a miser?

do they prefer luxury or practicality?

who would they quote?

what could make them change their mind?

who is the first person they'd call?

how are they around animals? do they have pets?

what is their favourite childhood food?

what is something they've never told anyone?

childhood friends?

what are habits they've picked up from other people?

what are their guilty pleasures?

what is something they're staunchly against?

do they speak a certain way? do they use contractions? popular turns of phrase?

can they fall in love? what does it look like? does it differ between people -- friends vs family?

what would they rather die than do?

what is their biggest mistake? one that they look out to never do again.

[lazylittledragon]

Hello I love your bg3 content and your Dorian is so lovely! Can we get like an alternative reality with Dorian and Ascended Astarion? What would your headcannon be for them? 🙇

something like this, probably

[theladyregret]

I can’t get over the fact you can play a Dragonborn that’s also a Draconic Bloodline Sorcerer of a completely different color lol

I can’t take it seriously because all I can think of when I try is this post

[novelbear]

"so i celebrate you, all about you"- birthday prompts

a prompt list by @novelbear 🎂

"i heard it was someone's birthday!"

waking up to breakfast in bed

trying to make them a birthday cake from scratch

decorating the house while they're still asleep

"what do you mean you don't want to celebrate?"

spending the first birthday together as a couple

^ therefore they're trying to make it as special as possible

taking a bit of the frosting from the cake and putting it on their nose

^ or spelling their name with it on the birthday person's forehead (i had a friend actually do this to me one year ??)

trying to find the silliest card to gift them

"did you seriously do all of this?" "of course i did!"

not letting them do a single thing that might stress them out that day (no work, no chores, no stressful phone calls, nothing)

getting them a little tiara or ribbon to wear throughout the entire day

organizing a little project or video for them with their friends and family

"happy birthday, my dearest."

setting off confetti poppers at random times of the day, finding their little yelps of surprise adorable

a birthday bear hug at the beginning of the day

staying up until midnight to make sure they're the first one to wish them a happy birthday

"what do you want to do today? name anything, i'm down."

having a number of surprises gifted to them throughout the day that coordinates to their age (turning 21? 21 little gifts and surprises <3)

"god, you're old." "shut up!"

[ghostbsuter]

"Date? Me?'

Tim nods, milkshake in hand, sitting outside of McDonald's with his study buddy, Danny.

The other teen looked flabbergasted with a firm blush building up.

Tim found him utterly adorable.

"I can't date anyone? I'm property of.the goverment."

Tim Drake-Wayne, aka Red Robin, has various questions to that statement.

[robo-writing]

Kinktober Day Seven: Origins! Logan - Breeding Kink

| Kinktober Masterlist |

You know your husband can be in touch with his animal side, but never like this. 

You think it has something to do with the guys at his job, how they were pulling his tail when you brought him lunch today—how they were staring at you when you kissed him in greeting.

A whistle, and then: “Sure wish I had a girl like you to keep me fed.”

You ignore it, this particular guy always had something to say about you and Logan, but it seems he managed to hit a nerve today. You feel Logan’s arm around the small of your back get tighter while the other guys tell him to quit it, to which he says: 

“What? I’m just saying if I had a girl as sweet as her, I’d never let her leave the house. Hell, I’d give her a baby by now. What’s the wait?”

“You seem to be awfully interested in our lives,” you bite back, looking back at Logan who is uncharacteristically silent, taking your lunch with a tight-lipped smile in return. Odd, you thought to yourself, but maybe for the best. You’d rather not pay anyone’s hospital bills today.

Little did you know that when Logan returned from work he’d take those words to heart. He didn’t say a word, just dropped his work bag at the foot of the door and made a beeline towards you, ignoring the dinner still cooking on the stove. You even had to beg him for a second, just barely managing to turn the burners off before the whole house burned down—honestly, you’re not even sure he’d stop even if it was. 

You didn’t know the true extent of your husbands animal side, not until he bent you over the kitchen counter and fucked you like one.

It’s his heat against your back, his teeth scraping against the side of your neck, his hands anchored onto your hips as he pistons into your aching cunt. It’s his voice in your ear like the devil, whispering both satisfaction and sin, enough to make you submit—to indulge in the forbidden fruit.

“Lemme fuck a baby in you sweetheart, lemme make you mine.”

It’s all he can say, all he could think about since you left work. You carrying his babies, the swell of your stomach, your protruding tits—

“I know you wanna, come on baby,” he moans, begging like a dog for a bone, tongue damn near licking at your face like one. “Lemme breed you honey, you’d look so good with my babies.”

His hand pulls below you, past where you’re connected and right against your stomach, rubbing it as you cry out in pleasure. “Right here, nice and full. Just think about it baby—“

You feel yourself clench at the thought, some kind of animal instinct begging to keep him as far inside of you as possible, to ensure he keeps good on his promise—to make certain he doesn’t dream about pulling out.

“Ah, pussy’s just throbbing thinkin’ about it,” he gasps, a quick slap to your clit making you see stars. Your legs buckle under the intensity of his thrusts, drool leaking from your lips as Logan fucks any and all sense out of you. You’re off in space, so far away you can’t register a word he says but you cry out yes, yes, yes anyway.

Your permission is all he needs. 

He’s elation, bliss incarnate, even when exhaustion threatens to take him he pushes further, harder, faster, cum dripping down your shaky thighs. So full, so warm.

Even when you beg him for a reprieve he doesn’t stop, his strong back keeping you pinned against the granite as he fucks you stupid. 

“Gonna make you a mother sweetheart,” he grunts, his words punctuated by the warmth of his cum filling up your battered and bruised pussy. “Then everyone’ll know who you belong to.”

[hungharrington]

So I was reading your post about how Steve takes pride in having a scratched up back and it got me thinking about how he’d react to his girl being physically unable to stand/walk the morning after. Like he’d be so smug for at least a week all like >:) hehehe I did that >:). And the entire day he’d be all smirky like ‘does my baby need to be carried’ and then you tell him he’s banned from sex for a week lol.

FJDHSHSHS this ask made me actually cackle it was so golden thank u so much for sending it to me <3 it’s more goof than smut <3

There’s an ache between your thighs and you know exactly where you got it.

Well, you know precisely how you got it— from the culprit currently dozing beside you in early morning light. 

You have to blink heavily as you come to, drawn out of a deep, deep sleep by the morning dawn. It’s light enough outside for the room to have a soft glow. The curtains are still drawn and the sheets are fresh, though after last night, perhaps they’ll need changing again.

Shifting about to get comfortable, you feel that familiar tenderness between your legs — it’s a soreness that you only get from particularly passionate night.

You peek to the side, searching for your love.

Steve’s hair is sticking up at all angles, mussed up, and his mouth is open, snuffly snores getting pressed into his pillow.

You can’t see that with his back to you, but you can see that canvas of tan skin and moles.

And scratches. Lots and lots of scratches, pink against his skin and raised in some places. An undeniable mark of a good time.

At the sight, some flusters and something preens in you. It stems from something possessive, a purr hiding under your skin at the knowledge you’ll both be feeling little reminders this morning.

You shuffle closer and wake him with a kiss on the back of his neck.

Like your lips stir him, Steve gives a sleepy groan in response, making you smile. You kiss him again, this time further up along his shoulder, and then give him an affectionate little bite. Barely a nibble.

“Mm, hey,” Steve says, voice faux-stern and coated in sleep. It’s gravelly enough to make you consider a round two. You watch over his shoulder as his eyelashes scrunch open. “What’re doin’ back there?”

You soothe your tiny bite-mark with another kiss and push yourself up, sheets pooling around your waist. As much as you’d love to doze off in Steve’s arms all morning, there’s things on your to-do list.

“Nothing of consequence,” you say, looking down at Steve with a loving smile. You trace across between the moles of his back with an idle finger, until he rolls over toward you, forcing you to stop.

“Mhm,” He hums. His hazel eyes are warm like the morning, like the bed, like the softness between you.

“I think that means nothing important— to which I have to protest,” He captures your wandering hand and kisses it gently, eyes fixed on you. “Massively.” Another kiss. “Majorly. Everything you do is important.”

The next kiss is so feathersoft, on the delicate skin on the inside of your wrist, that your laugh is tickled out of you. Worming your hand out of his hold, you grin, even as you roll your eyes.

“Suck up.”

Steve laughs, his voice still rougher than usual. He wiggles his eyebrows at you. “Nuh uh.”

The warmth of his gaze glazes over you as you turn and shuffle to your edge of the bed, pushing on your hands to get to your feet.

It takes about half a second before the ache in your core sends out a hot throb of pain and pleasure, a very imaginable reminder of just how Steve had drilled the ache into you a mere few hours ago.

You push through it and stand, but your legs shake noticeably.

“Oho, baby,” Steve coos, noticing immediately. You turn to glare at him over your shoulder and find he’s perked up, his head held up in his hand. He looks divine — and far, far too happy about the quake in your legs.

“Rough night?”

“Shut up,” You say with no bite. “Like it isn’t your damn fault.”

Steve laughs, “That’s exactly why I’m smirking, honey.”

You take a step and your legs feel no less like jelly, a little bend in your knees you have to correct quickly.

The warm ache pulses and you can only think of—Steve pushing your thigh up against your chest, grinding his hips into you, each deep thrust pulling these desperate sounds from you as he lost himself in you—

You take another step and something buckles, making you stumble for a moment. Your face flames with heat.

“Woah, you alright?” There’s a tint of concern to Steve’s voice as he properly sits up in the bed and scoots over to sit closer to your side. Reaching out, he tenderly rubs your lower back, his brows pinched together as he checks you over.

“I’m okay,” You say over your shoulder to appease his genuine worry. Then you lean back into his hand with a dramatic huff, rolling your eyes again. “No thanks to you.”

“Mm, I fucked you good,” Steve hums casually, leaning forward to press a kiss to the hip he can reach. There’s a smugness to his tone that you actually can’t dispute because he’s absolutely correct.

“Does baby need to be carried?” He says, enjoying himself far too much.

You glare down at him, letting him simmer in his smugness for just a moment. Your hand reaches down, tangling in his hair, and you smile like you’re about to fall into his arms and say oh yes baby, please.

“I think,” You begin, casting your gaze to the ceiling as you think. “Mm, no sex for a week for that comment.”

Steve’s mouth pops open, an aghast expression on his face. “Baby!”

You wander backward, away from his wandering hand, focusing on making sure your legs keep you upright. There’s a goading grin on your face.

“You heard me.”

“That’s- you— I’m being punished for being good at my job!”

Your head tilts back in laughter as you reach the doorway. You eye him with a knowing smirk, shaking your head softly. “That’s not why you’re being punished and you know why…”

As you turn, heading for the kitchen, you don’t doubt the pout on Steve’s lips.

[mischievous-thunder]

That's the way gays find their multiversal true love

[scealaiscoite]

setting prompts ˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🕊️ ꒱

¹⁾ a rural gas station in the middle of the night

²⁾ the last room at a drive-in motel in the small hours of the morning

³⁾ a cold, draughty church on a thursday night

⁴⁾ a stranger’s bedroom at noon

⁵⁾ a window seat on a red-eye flight during a storm

⁶⁾ a hospital waiting room with only one other person in it

⁷⁾ a sleeper train eight hours from its destination

⁸⁾ the first night in a new house, alone

⁹⁾ the steps of a wedding chapel in the rain

¹⁰⁾ a dingy truck stop after ten hours on the road

¹¹⁾ a divorce attorney’s office on valentine’s day

¹²⁾ the beach at ten on a monday morning

¹³⁾ a police station in a foreign country

¹⁴⁾ a coffee shop at two in the morning

¹⁵⁾ a concert venue, hours after the band’s set has finished

¹⁶⁾ a boat miles from land in any direction

¹⁷⁾ the third highest floor in a skyscraper

¹⁸⁾ the end of the line at a b-list movie star’s meet-and-greet

¹⁹⁾ a bar an hour after last call

²⁰⁾ an overgrown garden in a heatwave

²¹⁾ a car park lit only by streetlamps

²²⁾ a film set two days from the end of production

²³⁾ a graveyard in spring

²⁴⁾ the lap of someone who’s been gone for too long

²⁵⁾ a kitchen counter whilst dinner’s being made

[jesuistrestriste]

hey sage.. so i’ve been thinking about nerdy scientist!art.. i need someone to hear my plea

venus ! ! ! art is canonically really smart so yea. i see this. he was definitely pretty nerdy in high school and it followed him into his college years..

cw (18+) : nerdy!art, mutual touching, coming in pants,

nerdy!art who approaches you after your guys’ organic chemistry class to offer you tutoring services, claiming that he’s heard you talk to others about how you’re struggling with the topics. he smiles all sweet, backpack slung over one shoulder, blonde ringlets hanging in front of his forehead. it’s hard to resist his kindness. you agree.

you meet him in his dorm room a few days later on the weekend and are met with the smell of him wafting through the space. the light scent of sandalwood shampoo and fresh clothes and open books. he ushers you in and beckons you over to his bed, getting out his laptop and beginning to walk you through his notes. he’s incredibly attentive, too—always checking in to make sure you understand what he’s explaining, and always calling out the confused expression that spreads over your face silently when you’re lost. he laughs and shakes his head, “ask me anything, i’m like a human textbook. it’s actually kinda sad.”

after a few hours though, it gets dark. the two of you are left—still studying—in his room, with a singular desk lamp on in the corner. his thigh brushes your own; an accident. but it’s not a mistake when you turn to meet his eyes for the millionth time and you suddenly feel the need to repay him for his time and effort. you kiss him, and he instantly goes boneless against you. he parts his lips instinctually to give you full access to his mouth, his tongue soft and slick and waiting for yours. the moan that spills from his chest when you kiss him harder is lewd, almost egregiously so, but it doesn’t slow him down or embarrass him. he’s too caught up in the feeling of hot ache bursting in his lower stomach, his erection definitely tenting his sweatpants. fingers creep over your thigh, pulling you closer. then he breaks the kiss to mumble into the corner of your mouth, “oh my god, can i touch you? you’re so warm, fuck—“

he feels like he could finish right then and there. when you respond by crashing your mouth into his neck, he slides his hand down the front of your bottoms to seek out your arousal. moans when he finds it with his fingertips and begins gently caressing you with slow, stuttered circles of his digits. your hand finds his bulge and then it’s nearly over—

“fuck!” he whimpers, curling forward, “fuck, fuck, i’m sorry, im gonna come if you touch me like that..”

but you don’t care. you don’t want to stop. what does it matter if he finishes fast? it’s flattering. you wonder if he’s a virgin.

your touch wraps around his clothed length and gives it four slow tugs before he’s choking on a wet whine and grasping at your shirt with his free hand, his fingertips halting on your sex. you feel his cock throb with the thrums of his orgasm, and you smirk as you kiss his jaw. he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth to stifle the resulting groan.

“sorry.. so sorry..” the words come out breathless and flustered into your frame, his entire body still twitching as he comes down, “i don’t usually—.. hngh.. —that fast.. god..”

you shrug. you tell him it’s no big deal, and how you’re chill with it. you make sure to emphasize how hot it is that he’s sensitive. he lets out a shaky sigh.

“i selfishly hope that you don’t do super well on the quiz,” he whispers, “so you can come back here next week and.. and we can do this all over again..”

you lathe your tongue over his pulse. he shudders like he’s being shocked; tense and erratic.

—

you get a few questions wrong—on purpose—on the knowledge check so that you can present the low grade to him afterwards. he smiles nervously and leans in, “come with me back to mine? i just made a new set of flashcards..”

it only takes five minutes of being back in his dorm before you’re all over each other; your hand in his hair, his hips pressed to yours, his moans filling your head.

best tutor ever.