sorry about my hand writing

jason to the batfam gc at 3am: @ duke @ babs this could be us but u playin (by the old mans rules) :/

duke: god i wish that were me

babs: im the girl in red who knew that had to be done

duke: im the girl in brown pretending to be shocked in case she’s caught on camera, so she can just say she was forced to participate and is left off the hook

jason: damn you’re good thomas

bruce: you know we can all read the groupchat right.

anonymous asked:

Hii I was wondering how you draw the poses of your characters? That's something I'm really struggeling with. I never know how certain limbs move relative to eachother and I always get the proportions wrong. Do you have any tips?

Hi anon! Anatomy is something I struggle with a lot! I don’t consider myself good at it at all. That being said, I offer you the best anatomy drawing advice I ever got. It changed my life, though it seems pretty obvious:

Also, don’t be afraid of using references. I use references like 80% of the time. We think we know what human bodies look like but we really don’t! Good luck! ❤️

anonymous asked:

Your book looks fun, but do you worry sometimes that it looks like a YA paranormal romance, which might be outdated? Like maybe I just haven't read enough about it yet, I'm sorry if this comes across as mean, I'm genuinely curious. Thanks for all the fic your write!

Okay so my goal when writing Not So Shore was to take all the tropes I loved from the done-to-death ‘mortals meet’ genre of fanfic (the fun of the reader having information the point of view character doesn’t, dropping subtle references to the canon characters’ powers and experiences, having everyone be in awe of how cool the canon characters are) and write them without any of the horrible negative tropes that always seem to feature in those fics (over the top jealousy, slut shaming, unnecessary violence, no subtlety anywhere to be seen). I had so much fun writing it, and the response from all of you suggests you had fun reading it, too.

And I’m basically trying to do a very similar thing with my novel. I grew up riding the wave of popular Paranormal YA. I was there for the publication of Twilight and the thousands of series inspired by it. I’ve read most of them, because as a child I adored the stories of people like me visiting magical lands (Alice in Wonderland, HP, PJO, Narnia, LotR [in which the people like me are the hobbits lol], etc.) so it seemed a natural extension that as I entered my teen years I would follow this genre to its teenage equivalent.

It was supposed to be like the fantasy I loved reading, but darker and more mature, with slightly more graphic violence and more adult risks and consequences. But in its hormone ridden angst, Paranormal YA/Urban Fantasy lost a lot of the things that made me fall in love with fantasy in the first place.

  • Gone was the focus on proving yourself worthy by doing good deeds and helping others; Instead you had to be snarky and “not like other girls” and worry more about your love interest than the fate of the world.
  • Instead of quests completed by fire-forged friends, the only relationships developed (and I use that word loosely, in some cases) over the course of the books were the romantic ones. Friends were always pushed aside, no one ever understood the protagonist, but the protagonist never tried to get anyone to understand, because they were dark and moody and needed to do things on their own -
  • Except, oh, no, they can’t do it on their own, because they’re a girl, and so they’re just going to sort of dither about before their big, strong male love interest comes along to save the day with physical violence. The protagonists rarely had the power, even when they were ‘the chosen one’ or when they should have had the opportunity to grow over the course of the novel. Or if they did have power, it was often so poorly developed that it just read like a massive deus-ex-machina invented purely for the finale.
  • Their male love interests were rude to the point of abusive, had no sense of appropriate personal boundaries, and treated the protagonists as idiots who had to be talked down to at every opportunity, rather than people who were discovering entirely new worlds and were entitled to ask some questions.
  • Protagonists no longer had strong morals; instead they flipped back and forth between choices (often between two love interests, hurting both in the process) and were reactive to circumstances changing around them, rather than forces for change.
  • Dialogue was no longer inspiring, something to repeat to myself on dark days, to remind myself that there was always some good worth fighting for. Instead, everything was one of two extremes: It had to be sassy and referential, or it had to be so pretentious and faux-philosophical that no teenager alive would ever dare utter it for fear of eternal ridicule.

(This is not so say, of course, that the fantasy books I had enjoyed as a child did not have their own faults. They were overwhelmingly cast with straight, white men, or straight, white women who weren’t anywhere near as well developed. Any other diversity was hard to find, and women as romantic interests were often treated as props or rewards. Trouble was, these problematic aspects carried over into Paranormal YA/Urban Fantasy without bringing most of the good stuff with them.)

Obviously not every single Paranormal YA/Urban Fantasy was as disastrous as I am describing them here. But enough were for it to become a well known fact among the industry and readers that Paranormal YA was formulaic to the point where if you had read one you’d read fifty. I still loved the concept of the genre, obviously, or I wouldn’t have kept reading it, but the execution was letting me down.

So in my novel I’m taking the things I love about it - the mystery, the magic, the overlap of our world with something so entirely new and different hovering just beyond our perception, characters and things from that new world crossing over to ours, the dark overtones and the threat of real danger and violence - and I’m adding all the things I adored from fantasy back in, and putting the emphasis on female friendship.

YA has taken great leaps forward in terms of representation of marginalised groups, less problematic love interests, and more unique plotting, all of which is so amazing and absolutely fantastic to read. But I still find close, supportive, realistic female friendships lacking, and as most of the books I read are written by women I always find this preference to have their female protagonists always hanging out with guys puzzling. So although there is a romance between my female protagonist and a male character, it’s tertiary, behind the plot and the core group of female friends that drive it forward. I’ve tried to write each of the girls as unique individuals rather than stereotypes, as characters with their own goals and personalities and no tokenism, and I hope that their friendship reads as strongly and sincerely to you as it does to me.

I’m hoping that this distinction, the focus on characters and the relatively less-popular type of mythology I’ve decided to write about will be enough to convince a publisher to give me a chance. (The Raven Cycle series by Maggie Stiefvater is the series that comes closest to what I’m trying to achieve in terms of tone and themes with my novel, which also gives me hope that there’s still a market for it. Although obviously I am nowhere near as skilled a writer as Maggie, and I can only aspire to one day be anywhere near her level.)

So, to finally come to the end of this extremely long winded answer to your relatively straight-forward question: This novel is like my love letter to everything I enjoyed about growing up reading Paranormal YA and Urban Fantasy, but with modern day priorities and diversity included, and all the shit bits thrown out (hopefully).

spaceboundtrout replied to your post “if anyone has any cute heith prompts…… i might just draw them ;))))…”

heith, one of them giving the other an undercut/haircut?

after years of the infamous mullet harassment, hunk helps his bf scheme to blow lance’s mind by cutting keith’s hair into a short undercut >:) 

thanks for the prompt!! :> this was super fun 

(“It doesn’t have to be perfect, Hunk…” “Are you joking?! Of course it does! Lance will never let you live a failed haircut down”) 

rubyphilomela  asked:

Ok here's my best shot lol, I need a truly fluffy fic please. As you know my emotions have been on the non fun kind of roller coaster this week and reallly need a Prompto day of cuddles. Please include him addressing the depression and emotional roller coaster because it really helps.. hope this request makes some sort of sense..

I hope this is alright for you! Although it may be less fluffy than intended, but I hope you still like it! 

Prompto x Reader
My Everything ~
WC: 1234

It hit you again, completely out of nowhere. One minute you felt fine, and the next… it was like a crippling weight had taken hold of you, your throat felt choked up and you were so despondent. What made it worse was that you were currently sat with Prompto, your ever happy seeming boyfriend. It made you feel bad becoming despondent like this, especially as it was never his fault. How could it be? With his lovely warm laugh, his adorable antics and sweet nature, Prompto had been nothing but wonderful to you.

So why in the hell did you feel so shitty?

It wasn’t fair. You were supposed to be enjoying spending time together, sitting in his room doing whatever you liked for the day. It sounded like bliss. It should have been bliss. But no, this awful feeling had to rear its ugly head now.

Prompto’s voice trailed off from what he was saying, seeing you sat on the edge of the bed with your knees tucked into your chest, your arms hugging them close. It wasn’t how you usually were around him, and he had noted how you had stopped responding as much to the conversation. Watching your huddled form, he couldn’t help it – his heart sunk. Doubt began to creep into his mind.

Are… are they getting tired of me? His mind supplied the question before he could stop himself. Perhaps his lover was losing interest… perhaps they didn’t want to spend time together anymore…?

No, I need to ask first. Taking a shaky breath, Prompto pushed all those thoughts out of his head and shuffled up to sit with you on the edge of his bed.

“Hey… what’s up?” Came his gentle voice, his shoulder bumping against yours so briefly.

“I… I don’t know.” You answered, which was kind of true.

“Oh, what do you mean?” Prompto’s voice was laced with concern, his previous fears at once forgotten and instead replaced with worry for you. There was just something in your tone that resonated with him, and he knew at once it was nothing to do with what he had first thought.

“It’s hard to explain…” Your voice was flat, dull. How could you explain it to him, when you barely understood it yourself?

“Oh, okay… Do you want to talk about it?” Prompto leaned forward to look at your face, his blonde hair falling into his piercing blue eyes filled with concern. He was so lovely. Hesitantly, a hand came to rest on your shoulder. The single contact was enough to just tip you over the edge and you fell into him, willing yourself not to let the tears fall.

He was surprised by your movement at first, but wasted no time pulling you close against his chest, his arms looping around you tightly holding you close. His fingers moved to your hair, slowly running through it soothingly as you cradled into his chest. He smelled so good, so familiar and comforting. He didn’t understand how you were feeling and what brought it on, but he sure as hell knew that he would do anything, anything, to help you. The sight of his lover so upset was not something he wished to prolong, his heart aching to make things better for them again. And so he held you like that for a while, not speaking, just cuddling you close. He hoped that the action would convey what his words couldn’t – that he loved you unconditionally, and that he was there for you as long as you needed. Minutes that felt like hours passed, until you felt comfortable enough to speak once more.

“Sometimes I just… just get this awful feeling. And there isn’t anything I can do to stop it.” You started, face still pressed against his chest. Although your voice is quiet, he understood what you were saying. He gently brushed your hair behind your ears, signalling for you to continue.

“I just feel… worthless. Not good enough. It makes me… hollow.” You finished your sentence, voice breaking on the last word. It was like knives to Prompto’s heart.

It was a feeling that he himself knew well, felt for years and still struggled with… until he met you. That wasn’t to say that he never felt it again, but with you… you made him feel like he was unique, loved, important. You needed him just like he needed you, and that thought alone was enough to lessen that empty feeling. But now you were saying you felt that way?

I should’ve showed them more often, just how much they mean to me.

“Do you know what I mean?” You whispered, after Prompto hadn’t said anything for a while. His fingers had tightened their grip on you unknowingly, and you could feel the tautness in his jaw.

More than you could ever imagine. He thought. But he never wanted you to have to feel that way, not you.

“[Name], you are not worthless.” His voice was deeper than usual, harder. It had suddenly lost all the playful edge to it. You couldn’t see his face, still cuddled into his chest and embrace, but he preferred it this way for now. He didn’t want you to see his painful expression, lest he made you feel any worse.

“That’s what people say.”

“I say it because I mean it.” He answered instantly, and you blinked in surprise. You’d not seen this side to Prompto before.

“Maybe I haven’t done a good enough job of showing it, but gods above do you mean so much to me. You are the reason that I get up in a morning, you are my reason for fighting so hard, why I aim to get stronger, you are the reason…”

The reason that I feel worth something myself.

He took a shaky breath and continued.

“You, are worth everything to me. I couldn’t… couldn’t see myself without you anymore. And you deserve to feel loved.” He whispered the last few words, glad that you couldn’t see the tears pooling in his eyes.

He felt like such a fuck up. How had he let this happen? Why had he not addressed this before, so he could do his god damn hardest to make you feel the way you made him feel?

Your heart was beating fast at his words, this was unlike Prompto. You could barely believe what you were hearing, but the passion and sincerity in his voice made it hard to be disputable. He really did see you as his everything. Just as you saw him.

Your arms looped around his waist and you finally cuddled him back, shuffling onto his lap with your face still cuddled to his chest. At that moment, you just wanted nothing more than just to be as close to him as you possibly could get. Your sunshine boy. The one who would see you through anything, and still love you on the other side. Your Prompto.

“I do feel loved.” You whispered to him. “By you.”

A warm sigh left Prompto’s lips, happy to hear those words from you. It’s all he wanted you to know.

“You are loved. And I’m gonna do my best to prove it to you everyday.”

“I look forward to it.” You answered truthfully, the empty feeling seeming a lot less cavernous now with him by your side.

I love you [Name].”

Art of Living (Plot)

I’m going to probably revisit this one day as a real fic, but right now, I don’t believe in myself at all to get this thing done. I really liked this idea and didn’t want it to die, so here is the plot in its entirety with snippets of writing that just couldn’t come together. Hold onto your pants, this is going to get long.

Basically, it’s a Soulmate!AU where injuries can get shuffled off to your soulmate. A Reaper x Reader. 

Chapter one is here: Link

Keep reading


Titanic AU

In which Adrien, the son of a wealthy, aristocratic family, falls in love with poor, artist Marinette


some bonus rambling!

Thank you to everyone who has tagged me in memes…I am all up to date now I hope. I am not ever going to do any hand-writing ones, sorry about that, but my chicken scratches are a source of great embarrassment to me. (It’s comforting for me to know though that if I ever leave one of my notebooks anywhere no one will EVER be able to decipher their contents! ) And apologies but I really don’t want to do the tag yourself meme, but I hope I will continue to get tagged for things in the future, Sims-related things in particular because they are a lot of fun and get the creative juices flowing as well.

(Also wanted to quickly mention I really hope to be able to hop over to Isla Paradiso this week after paying Jonita a quick visit…I can sense poor Mia’s neediness from here…)

Keep reading


Remove every bit of the blue from your mind

junneiparis  asked:

bae will u pls do a drabble on this. Purty pleaseee.. "What have we done to each other?" Thank you from the bottom of my hypothalamus :)

Hey junneiparis! Sorry this took a while, but its Klaroweek so I knocked this out today cos I think it fits with the theme too =)

Also, sorry about the lack of drabbles lately. I’m currently trying my hand at writing a long, multi chapter fic, and I’m not a fast writer so its either that or drabbles. Oopsies. But I will try to post a drabble whenever I have time =D


The faraway blare of late night Shanghai traffic were the only sounds to break the silence in their city centre hotel suite. Caroline could just about hear Klaus’ gentle breathing from right behind to her, but her ears reached out for the city’s natural music to match the nightscape she could see outside the French balcony windows. Vibrant, coloured lights shone to evade the darkness of the night and lit up their bedroom brighter than the waxing moon.

Inhaling deeply, she allowed her eyes to flutter close for a moment as she focused on feel of the familiar calloused (yet not rough) fingers gently brush up and down her bare back. The motion was soothing, and with the pillow beneath her head fluffier than a cloud and the sheets wrapped around her legs smoother than silk, it would have been enough to put her into a deep, post-sex after glow sleep. If only her mind wasn’t so wide awake.

Lifting her head as little as she needed to, she turned to look at Klaus whilst still resting comfortably on her stomach with her hands tucked under her pillow. His head was propped up on a hand, elbow pressed into the soft mattress with a ghost of a smile gracing his features and as naked as she was. Caroline couldn’t help but think how adorably sexy (and wasn’t that an oxymoron if she had ever thought of one) he looked; hair mussed from the hours of love they had just made, piercing blue eyes clear and soft, and looking more relaxed than she could ever remember seeing him. Considering they had been together for almost a decade, that was truly a long time to never be relaxed.

“Remember the days when we would be out dancing and drinking until the sun came up? Or mindlessly exploring the city - or wherever we were - until we ended up back at the hotel?” she finally said, breaking the silence in hushed words and a nostalgic smile.

“Hmm, the good old days,” Klaus replied in the same tone. His smile deepened until she could see his dimples, giving him a boyish look rather than the thousand year old hybrid that he was.

“They were, weren’t they?” Caroline sighed softly, recalling the days where simply laying in bed was not even an option nor an idea for them. They were never this relaxed or lazy, and though they never physically aged, she could tell she had mentally.

“I suppose,” he muttered, shrugging lopsidedly when she furrowed her brows questioningly at him. Licking his lips, she found herself unintentionally staring at his luscious mouth, resisting the urge to lean in and kiss him once again, averting her eyes back to his knowing ones only when he carried on talking. “I mean, it was before you finally gave me a chance and I was allowed to touch you if it wasn’t a life-or-death situation, so I can’t say I miss it.”

Laughing at his observations, she found herself melting when he rubbed a gentle circle on her lower back with the palm of his hand before returning to stroking the length of her spine repeatedly. “Ah, the time of chivalry and permanent frustration. Now you just can’t stop touching me,” she pointed out, unfurling an arm from under her to reach out and trace over his dimples when he looked down sheepishly, grin still in place. Cupping his cheek, she nudged him with a knee against his thigh and added, “Or smiling.”

“Yes, well, I don’t see you complaining,” he remarked, voice low and rough as he ran his fingers lower, over the small of her back and over the globes of her backside to give her a slight squeeze before going back up to her shoulder blades. “You’ve rubbed off on me.”

Caroline let out a small moan at his ministrations, letting her hand slip from his face and lay onto the bed between them. He was a man of many talents; a lot of which only she got to experience (thankfully). In addition to that, he was also a man of many emotions and sides; the majority of which only she got to see. 

Such as the man who she shared her bed with (almost) every night for nearly ten years now, who held her in his arms (or her in his on the particularly bad nights) as they slept and who made love with her as if it was the first time each and every time. The man who was currently caressing her bare back tenderly and watching her like she was the only thing that existed or he could ever need. Her man.

“You’re right,” she agreed lightly, eyes widening as she smacked her lips softly and gasped dramatically. “In fact, I’m craving a good glass of whiskey and fresh blood right now,” she remarked in astonishment, giggling when he paused in his actions and shook his head affectionately. “What have we done to each other?”

“Nothing that can be proved,” Klaus answered immediately, his hand warm and heavy on her back. Silence stretched between them as she waited for him speak what she could see he was thinking, listening to the Chinese traffic once again. “We can go back to that, you know. The dancing and the drinking, and the mindless exploring,” he offered softly.

Nodding into her pillow, she replied, “I’d like that.” 

Because as amazing as spending a whole evening and night in bed with the love of her life was, Shanghai was just outside their window with so much to see and do, whereas their current activities could be undertaken even at home.

But I refuse to keep my hands to myself,” he added immediately with a pointed look.

“I would be disappointed if you did. I like your hands,” she agreed cheekily, wriggling under his touch to get his hand moving again. He caught on easily, stroking her back and down over her ass to dip under the covers to her thigh with featherlight touches.

“Yeah? Any place in particular?” Klaus asked huskily, lust deep in his tone and darkening his eyes to the point where Caroline visibly swallowed at the thought of what would most likely happen next as his hand worked its way back up to her nape again.

“A bit lower,” she instructed him, groaning in a mix of arousal and frustration as he took his sweet time in following through.

“Here?” he asked again, feeling his warm breathe right in her ear when he leant in, nipping on her earlobe teasingly just as he reached her lower back once again.

“Lower,” she breathed airily, eyes falling close when his fingers ghosted over the inside of her right thigh just under the juncture of her legs. “Left,” she murmured, urging him on when he purposely remained lingering on the sensitive skin. She moaned in pleasure when he skimmed his hand over her slick folds and swollen lips, legs falling open as much as they could to accommodate him as he finally paid her the attention her body was craving. “Oh yeah, right there.

“I can tell,” he whispered against her ear, nimble fingers working her up easily yet teasingly. 

As she felt him dip a digit into her, followed quickly by a second, all thoughts of whatever was outside their hotel suite vanished from her mind. Shanghai, and the rest of the world for that matter, could wait for a night. They might have been reckless explorers before she fell for him, but they were passionate lovers now, and she wouldn’t trade that for anything.

I’m sorry
I’m not writing about you anymore;
I’m sorry my hands no longer
Bleed for you;
I’m sorry I have had enough
Of crying
For the things
We’ve lost,
For the things we
Could’ve been,
For the things
We should have been.
I’m sorry,
I’m sorry I got tired of waiting.
—  Kai Masa