#I never wrote about them like that

[inkskinned]

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

#every time someones like ''AI will replace u" im like. u will have to fucking KILL ME #there is no replacement here bc i am not filling a position. i am just writing #and the writing is what i need to be doing #writeblr #this probably doesn't make sense bc its sooo frustrating i rarely speak it the way i want to #edited for the typo wrote it and then was late to a meeting lol #i love u people who mention my typos genuinely bc i don't always catch them!!!! :) it is doing me a genuine favor!!! #my friend says i should tell you ''thank you beta editors'' but i don't know what that means #i made her promise it isn't a wolf fanfiction thing. so if it IS a wolf thing she is DEAD to me (just kidding i love her) #hey PS PS PS ??? if ur reading this thinking what it's saying is ''i am financially capable of losing this'' ur reading it wrong #i write for free. i always have. i have worked 5-7 jobs at once to make ends meet. #i did not grow up with access or money. i did not grow up with connections or like some kind of excuse #i grew up and worked my fucking ASS OFF. and i STILL!!! wrote!!! on the side!!! because i didn't know how not to!!! #i do not write for money!!!! i write because i fuckken NEED TO #i could be in the fucking desert i could be in the fuckken tundra i could be in total darkness #and i would still be writing pretentious angsty poetry about it #im not in any way saying it's a good thing. i'm not in any way implying that they're NOT tryna kill us #i'm saying. you could take away our jobs and we could go hungry and we could suffer #and from that suffering (if i know us) we'd still fuckin make art. #i would LOVE to be able to make money doing this! i never have been able to. but i don't NEED to. i will find a way to make my life work #even if it means being miserable #but i will not give up this thing. for the whole world.

[ganondoodle]

so, inspired by the warm welcome the captain received with that rough doodle i posted, i made an updated design for Ki'ita as well (basic and with clothes)

i removed the piercings she had bc considering that they spend the majority of their time in arctic waters i think having metal directly in your skin is a bad idea, no matter how thick your blubber is; i also gave her typical white markings a green hue bc ... i liked how it looked and makes them stand out a little more

(i will not repeat what i wrote on the post about the captain but wanted to add a bit of more info about Ki'ita herself)

(i dont have ALL of their backstory done yet but) the captain and Ki'ita worked together in another organization, one in which the father of the captains child also worked at, before being betrayed and barely managing to escape, after which the both of them founded their pirate crew (possible name is the Solar Pirates bc of their solar powered boat stuff); since the captain had her daughter shortly afterwards Ki'ita managed most of the organisational matters at first, including the construction of their base on an abandoned island they had initially fled to

over the years they invented the solar powered ships that allowed them to gain control over a large part of an important trade route, leaving normal ships (mostly) alone but attacking those of hunters and similar, rescuing demons and mutants, even some humans from them, most of which also join the crew and it quickly lead to them becoming their own little community

Ki'ita does not like to spend alot of time among large groups of people, no matter how much she cares about them, and her originally being from norther lands gave her the idea to explore, and if viable, do underground missions in those norther areas to disrupt the infrastructure the hunters had built in recent years and overall keep the crew informed about things that may otherwise stay hidden; with each of their travels her time absent from the base increased but the patience of the captain is wearing thin so its likely a serious talk is underway on Ki'itas third solo mission she nearly died due to entanglement in abandoned nets made by hunters from an unknown material that she could not break, the massive scars on her tail especially come from that, only surviving bc the date they were supposed to return to the crew had passed and the captain grew to worried about her and made the entire crew rush into an emergency search, including the captain herself and her toddler, who were not suited for the cold climate just like the rest of crew, taking a huge risk that Ki'ita still feels ashamed of for causing; they stayed within the base for a whole year afterwards, not just to recover but also as a silent apology, taking time preparing herself to ensure theyd not get into a situation like that again

(before departing on their next mission the captain gifted her a sword with the blade made from the material of the net, a wooden handle, bc of the cold, and a blue wrap around it reminiscent of the captains striking blue teeth; a reminder of what had happened, a means to defend herself when their strength and teeth are not enough, and also a promise to always return again)

the oldest members of the crew know Ki'ita well and treat her like an old friend, among the newer members she has more of a .. cryptic status, the mysteriously absent vice-captain who only appears every few months or so out of thin air, throws a big party, sleeps for a few days and then vanishes again, the only hint to when they will return soon again being the captain getting noticably grumpier

(OC art, Ki'ita, she/they)

#ganondoodles #art #oc #original art #artists on tumblr #original character #character design #monster #man why do i keep writing such long texts #its not even that much i wrote here!! #sorry for the long post #idk if its good to write more about my ocs maybe i shouldnt? might make the post less rebloggable with so much text on it idk #right now im thinking about them actually having a kid together later on but i havent decided yet #their relationship is kinda out of the norm i guess #neither ever said they were in a relationship and neither does the crew know #and they are not overtly like a typical pair in love kinda thing #its hard to explain #they do love each other but its like super private while also not?? #like they never say publicly that they love each other nor kiss #but when youd hear the news that the captains having another child and its from kiita youd be like yup that makes sense #(also her nickname is Kiki but only the captain knows that) #ANYWAY #sorry for this sudden disconnected oc spam #i love these lads #and im so happy i got their design down more coherently #i spent over and hour writing all this argh i wanted to get more sleep for once damn it #just now noticed i fked up kiitas arm there #man #dont draw when you are tired and need to sleep kids

[tunastime]

do androids dream of electric sheep?

I am nothing if not a vessel for self-indulgent docsuma, especially @shepscapades's dbhc self-indulgent docsuma. sometimes you fall asleep in the lab, and sometimes your friend feels compelled to make sure you're okay <3

(3964 words)

Doc sometimes slips into daydream.

It’s not unlike him. He’d been doing it for some time now, some fix halfway between awake and Sleep Mode. Not quite his mind palace, but still wedged into predictive processes, still trying to work to replay memories. In quiet moments, more often than not, he finds that it’s easier to slip away, to tuck himself into his work, drafting, or building, or walking thoughtful circles and let the mechanical parts of his mind slip away into calculation.

In those same dreams, he tries to calculate the probability of events with what he has, blocking out the movements of who he knows best, who he may be able to pinpoint. He works in quiet as his mind runs in the background, wondering how conversations may go, how actions could be perceived. He maps what might happen if someone got hurt, or if someone needed help, or if someone fell asleep in the lab. Someone. Just anyone. He tells himself it could be anyone, but he would be lying if he didn’t know who.

It was hard, right—it felt wrong if he didn’t. Something he was designed to do, put to waste because it felt silly to imagine waking his lab partner, his friend, making sure he was alright, helping him. Was it wrong to want to be helpful? Was it wrong to want anything? It feels—it’s silly. Want was such a human word. He’s not sure he can really want at all. The paper in front of him is getting fuzzy around the edges, though, as he forces himself back into his true waking mode, and focuses on the task in front of him, now a line of text in his eyesight.

Doc leans hard on his hand, cupped around the side of his jaw as he studies the plans in front of him. He’s long since set them to memory, easily recalled with the summon of command, but he works out the fine details of the draft in front of him, still unsatisfied with his new creation. He works quietly, mentally mapping the lists of supplies he might need, the time it may take. If he were to concentrate the slightest bit more on the display in the corner of his vision, he might note how late it had gotten. Without any windows down here, the night sky can’t leak in, which means Doc doesn’t know it’s gotten dark until Xisuma starts to yawn or he manages to peek outside. 

He sets his pad down, eyes skimming the surface. Right, and where was X, anyway? The space, ever growing, up, down, sideways, that he used as his lab had gone still and quiet some time ago. Enough for Doc to take note of. Enough to be a little odd, he would assume, even for him, and the behaviors he knows well from Xisuma. Xisuma didn’t just wander off without a word—he was much too narrative for that. Doc sits up, hand falling to the table. 

“X?” he asks, furrowing his eyebrows. The room stays quiet, aside from the hum of recirculating air and electronics. Doc taps his hand against the table—it was some sort of tic he’d picked up from Ren, a sign of his impatience. He couldn’t shake the habit of mimicking it while he was thinking.

Okay, right. Last time he saw X. He gathers up the recall of the path Xisuma would’ve taken from his side, checking over his work at Doc’s request, and around the lab itself, looping back to a series of benches to work on. Leaning from his spot, he tries to pinpoint the peek of green helmet or shoulder piece. He finds neither in the direct line of sight, though, and slowly, bracing his prosthetic arm on the table, Doc stands. 

It’s a gentle quiet that fills the room, nice and easy and soft to step through as Doc makes his way around the space. Despite having another work bench quite close, Xisuma had a habit of leaving his stuff about, flitting between projects as he saw fit. It was interesting, sometimes, to watch him move around the room—not that Doc had done any of that. He seemed to bounce from point to point, sometimes staying still for hours, unmoving, lost in work. It was in those hours that Doc found himself watching, just for a moment, studying the shallow curve of his nose and the way his hair fell into his face from behind his helmet. 

His office is here, too. Though it’s no different than any other working space in terms of equipment, the space itself is fully outfitted, lined with tools and a large work table, his computer, a desk with a chair. Through the glass, he can see the shape of Xisuma at his desk, likely too caught up in whatever he had been working on to notice Doc’s concern. Doc pauses as he slides open the door, standing in the doorway, announcing himself to the cluttered room.

“Xisuma,” Doc starts. “I know it’s late, if you want to head home, I’m sure I can finish…”

Xisuma is slumped over on  his desk as Doc enters. There’s a brief moment, no more than a second, where Doc’s mind spins a scenario hard and fast, the crumpled shape of Xisuma over his desk. But he can see the slow rise and fall of his shoulders. He registers the slow, steady heartbeat in Xisuma’s chest, and his shoulders sag with relief. He stands in the doorway for a moment. Xisuma looks small, head pillowed on his arms. He’s still running a series of code on the console next to him, which illuminates the back of his head in pale lines of data. His hair falls half loose across his shoulder, like he’d forgotten to finish tying it away from his face, and the slow, deep breaths make it seem like he’d been sleeping here a lot longer than Doc realized. He’s without his helmet, too, which sits beside him on the desk, discarded.

Long enough to get a sore neck and complain about his upper back hurting. Long enough to worry that he might not be getting enough oxygen. Doc sets his shoulders. There’s something in his chest that feels like it skips—regulator, pump, or otherwise. They work in tandem to produce whatever fluttery feeling invades the space where his ribs should be. He presses the heel of his synthetic hand against the depression of his chest, rolling his wrist. The feeling fades for a moment, shuddering through his wrists like it might rest there. He was never going to get used to it, was he?

He steps into the lab proper, sticking his hands into his pockets. He picks his way around the room, trying to walk quietly around it. Xisuma stays asleep, shoulders rising and falling in that even tempo. Doc crouches beside him—Xisuma is properly slumped, back curved forward as he rests. What little Doc can see of his face is soft with sleep, eyelids fluttering just so. When X doesn’t move, he rests his palm over the curve of his shoulder, gentle and slow. He tries not to focus on the fact that so much of his face is exposed to him, aside from just his eyes and the bridge of his nose. He’s seen him before, briefly, every so often, but it was so different watching him now, calm and comfortable. Doc forces himself to focus.

“Xisuma,” he says, voice dipping low and quiet. He runs his hand over the part of his shoulderblade he can reach. He pats the high of his back. “Xisuma, hey…”

X takes a long breath in, making a squeaky sort of sound high in his chest. Doc feels him hum out from under his hand.

“Doc,” he says, voice rumbling in his chest. It was a tired sort of rumble, just on the edge of being rough with sleep, just enough to bring that feeling back to Doc’s internal components, like thirium was sludging too quick too warm through him. He huffs a little breath, a sound caught in his throat.

“You fell asleep at your desk, X,” Doc says, not able to weasel the amusement out of his voice. He runs his hand over his back again, just to see Xisuma’s eyes open tiredly, and shut again. It was so unlike the version of him that he knew in his mind, seeing him savor the brief contact, even from Doc. Especially from Doc. Xisuma was always the one reaching out for him, repairing or correcting or studying. All with purpose. There was no lingering touch between them. And though this had its purpose too, Doc lingered, feeling Xisuma breathe under his hand. 

“Sorry,” X mumbles, finally moving to lift his head, to open his eyes. Doc’s hand slides away as X sits up, over his back and back to Doc’s side. Xisuma blinks, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the heel of his hands. A frown comes between his eyes as he tries to focus the world around him a little clearer. Like it were mimicking the score across his cheek and nose, there’s a fine indent pressed into his cheek. Doc smiles at him, scrunching his nose in a way he’s seen X do a hundred times. 

Xisuma jolts, half reaching for the helmet beside him. If Doc were to really look, he might see the pink-red flush over his cheeks and ears.

“Sorry—I didn’t…”

There he lingers, halfway to reaching. Doc looks away from him, purposefully averting his eyes.

“I don’t mind,” he says. “You have to be comfortable too.”

Xisuma hums, smiling a little, hanging his head as he leaves his hand on the table.

“Hah,” he says, ears still pink. “Right. Sorry, sorry, Doc. Didn’t mean to worry you.”

“It’s okay,” he says. “I didn’t know where you had gone off to, so I figured I would come make sure you were okay.”

X nods. Doc watches him twist around, hearing the faint give and pop as his spine adjusts to sitting upright. 

“‘M alright,” he says. Then he laughs a bit—the sound is airy and half in his chest, enough to shake his shoulders but more of a wheeze than anything else. Everything fit so well to the timbre of Xisuma’s voice, it seemed, be it the way he moved about, or the way he laughed, or the way his shoulder sloped or face was shaped. Not that Doc had been looking. Regardless, Xisuma sighs, and smiles back at him.

“Just embarrassed is all,” he manages. “Thanks, Doc. I appreciate you.”

X leans back in his chair. Doc watches him resettle and hum to himself as he gets comfortable against the plush backing. Doc makes a clipped sound, reaches out and moves away again, halfway between shaking him awake and letting him sleep.

“X,” he says. “Would it not be more comfortable if you were sleeping in your spare room?”

Xisuma frowns. 

“Would be,” he says, eyes still closed, mumbling. “It just gets awfully cold in there. ‘N if I’m perfectly comfortable in here, why not stay tha’way?”

It’s almost amusing, the trickle of stubbornness that leaks into the tired slur of Xisuma’s voice. It’s almost endearing. He watches X fold his arms over his chest, armor only partly discarded, watches his face wrinkle as he notices and tries to rearrange himself. Doc smiles, something that he simply can’t help—it feels so right, considering how ridiculous this is. He considers his options and weighs the success rates, the action taking a fraction of a second in time, though the scene plays out in his head in full.

“Because you’ll hurt your back,” Doc says plainly. X frowns, clearly mulling it over. There—that’s one that Doc knows, that face, where X slips into thought and worries the inside of his cheek and works his jaw. Doc raises his eyebrows, as if to question him without saying anything, without Xisuma even looking at him.

“Mhh,” Xisuma huffs. He pulls his knees up. Somehow, he manages to fit himself into his desk chair, curling his tall body over his knees and leaning sideways into the back. Doc hums, makes the approximation of the sound he knows.

“Xisuma,” he says. “I’m not going to let you sleep in that chair, you know. You are being stubborn.”

“M‘kay, okay…” Xisuma wheezes, finally uncurling himself.

It takes him a second. Watching Xisuma stretch and blink awake is like watching him come to life. He stretches up and around, face pulling as he likely unsuccessfully shakes the tension from the line of his spine. As he twists, he freezes, face scrunching all at once as he winces, hand shooting up to cup his neck.

“Ow. Jeez.”

He can see it tight in his shoulders and neck, even as X deflates, looking up at him blearily, still slightly slumped in his chair. His eyes shut again. 

“Xisuma…” Doc says, mouth twisting.

X sighs.

“‘M fine, Doc,” he manages to murmur out. “Just’a sore neck. Mm’exhausted.”

“Sounds like you need a real bed, mm?” Doc replies, setting his hands on his hips. Xisuma peeks at him, one eye opening, and shutting again.

He sees the fraction of a smile lift the corners of X’s mouth.

“Sure, sure…”

Doc looks over Xisuma’s face. With his eyes shut, face softening, hair tumbling over one shoulder, he looks comfortable. It’s as if someone took a brush to his features and smoothed out any hard edge—either that, or the static has leaked back into Doc’s vision. He feels a chug in his chest and his joints as he locks up.

X hasn’t moved. Doc reaches out, tapping his knee. Xisuma huffs, clearly startled from the half-sleep he’d drifted back into.

“Too tired t’stand,” he manages. Doc makes a questioning noise.

“I think you can make it,”

There’s a beat of silence. Xisuma cracks an eye open again, shuts it, furrowing his eyebrows. Doc watches him curiously, mind running through the list of possible scenarios. He’s made it part way when Xisuma says:

“‘M using you t’stand, then.”

And he makes a little, amused heh, before he says:

“That’s fine.”

There’s something he means to say alongside that, but as soon as X’s very warm, very human hand makes contact with the fabric of his lab coat and the cool synthetic of his arm, he loses focus. He should be used to this—the amount of times X has performed his routine maintenance, sweeping his hands over the replaced shoulder joint to check for seams, or made sure the regulator functioned, or backed up personal data, fingers skimming the shallow port at the back of his neck. He should be, but that contact alone sends a prickling-warm jolt up his arm. It feels foreign to let the touch linger. But Xisuma lingers regardless, hand flat against the space where Doc’s left ribs should be. He’s gone from holding, to simply sitting there, arm bent at the elbow, held weakly up. 

“Mrghh…” he complains. Doc taps his elbow, trying to jolt him back awake.

“C’mon, X, you can get up.”

X shakes his head slowly, his hand finding the inner curve of his prosthetic arm, squeezing just once, like he’s remembering it’s there. Then, X leans into him, all at once, slumping into his chest. Doc lets out a wouf in surprise. He holds still, aside from the simulated breath in his chest. After a moment, Xisuma makes a small, tired sound, almost like a laugh.

“Houfh,” he mumbles. “I, mm, don’t…don’t think ‘m gonna make it, Doc.”

“Mhm…” Doc chides. 

Xisuma laughs again, lying still for a moment, voice still heavy with sleep. There’s a moment where he shifts, and there’s a small, painful noise that he makes.

“Ow, mrrgh—ow, okay—” he gripes. Doc’s synthetic hand finds the curve of his shoulder, patting gently.

“Oh, X—just…stay still, mhm?”

“Mm,” Xisuma says tiredly, “Alright.”

As much as he wants to move him, X is still wearing that damn armor.

Doc lets him lean into his chest as he tries to weasel off the bits of armor left over. It’s a struggle, keeping X comfortable and trying not to pull him around awkwardly, while trying to remove his chestplate with one hand. Once the armor pulls away, he resettles him, slowly scoops one hand under his legs. Something about this, about the way Xisuma leaned heavy into him, felt so painfully human he feels it curl up between the wires connecting his regulator to his side fans.

“Ready?” he says, mostly to the top of Xisuma’s head.

“Mmh…” X murmurs.

He hefts him into his arms, settling him against his chest. When Xisuma sighs, it’s profound and heavy and he tucks his face into Doc’s coat. Doc can feel the remnant of heartbeat from where his arm rests behind his back, thudding away behind his ribs. His breathing stays even, though shallow. One of Xisuma’s hands clasps over the back of his neck, keeping him still.

It’s a careful walk to Xisuma’s spare room. Doc is careful not to bump anything, measuring the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he walks. He drifts back to sleep, though, through the lab, through Doc shutting the lights off. He’ll have to come back through to power down their various computers, but for now, the dull white-blue glow illuminates the room. He carries him into the halls and through and to his room. It’s smaller than the room in his base by a sizable margin—just enough for the essentials. X stirs as Doc pauses to flip on the lamp, the light warm and yellow briefly illuminating the room. This can’t be a daydream, now, with the way X sighs and wriggles himself free as Doc pulls back the quilts and lets him down. He sits down with him, and the warm shape that Xisuma makes curls toward him, just a fraction, as he pulls the blankets over him. 

Part of Doc knows that Xisuma won’t remember him carrying him to bed, or making sure he was warm, or keeping the light on so he wasn’t disoriented when he woke. Xisuma sighs, sinking into the pillows, expression relaxed and content. Doc hums.

“That’s better, yeah?” Doc says. He reaches out, instinct, want, desire, something, hammering away in his chest, as he brushes hair from X’s face, tucking it behind his ear. He brushes through the hair close to the base of his neck, across his cheek with his synthetic thumb. His dark hair is fine and soft and it must be a daydream—or it isn’t and he was right, because there have been moments like this in his head. Wondering if Xisuma would let himself succumb to soft comforts. He’s spent his own share of time lying next to him, ignoring the way Xisuma curls up next to him, pretending he himself didn’t move closer when Xisuma lies still. It was this dance that Doc didn’t understand, that he wasn’t sure if he was overthinking. Or overstepping. But Xisuma shifts, pressing his cheek to Doc’s synthetic palm, and Doc suppresses a shudder. It sparks something that could’ve been painful right up his arm and through his chest, bright and warm and staticky. 

Doc hums, smiling to himself. Something like a dull thrum knocks in that space of his pump, pushing itself a little further, a little harder. It was sweet. X trusts him, not only to see him without his armor, but to help him to bed, to help him sleep. But Doc lifts his hand away, feeling that ache, the nervous shudder through his system.

X makes a sound, then, something small, eyes fluttering as Doc pulls away. Doc pauses.

“Mhh,” X manages. Doc swallows—he shouldn’t have to. That’s not something he should have to do, or be able to do, but the action just feels appropriate. It goes right along with sighing and laughing, and as he does it, Xisuma says:

“Thanks,” in a small, soft voice, and, muffled, and slightly slurred with sleep: “Didn’t have’ta stop.”

“You’re supposed to be sleeping, Xisuma,” Doc says. He can feel his temperature tick up several notches, no doubt a blue flush coming to the high of his cheeks, the bridge of his nose. He laughs, just a bit. “Did I wake you up?”

X sighs, stretching as he does.

“No,” he manages. “No, y’didn’t…”

“Oh,” Doc says. “Were you awake this whole time?”

Xisuma nods slowly. Ah. Ah. Doc dismisses a temperature notification.

“A little.”

“Mm,” Doc hums. “Silly Xisuma.”

Xisuma laughs. The sound is high and a little fuzzy and a bit caught in his throat. His bright eyes blink up at him and shut again as a smile settles on his face. 

“Doc?” he asks. 

“Mhm?”

Xisuma yawns, smothering it with the back of his hand, just barely. He tucks that hand close to his chest, curling up further still under his thick comforter. 

“Could you…could’you do tha’again? The…” Xisuma lifts his hand, miming a brushing motion as he does. Another temperature warning, higher than the last, blips into Doc’s field of vision. It’s immediately dismissed, but he pulls in a breath, quiet, trying to turn it into a soft laugh.

“I can do that,” Doc says gently. Gingerly, he brushes his fingers through X’s hair, sliding back against his head. He combs through, lifting his hand to go back to his forehead, back to cradle his skull. X’s eyes fall closed again.

Doc can tell the moment that Xisuma truly slips into sleep. He lingers in his space, tracing out the base of his skull with his thumb, taking in the sensation of warmth and contact and stimulation, fingers flickering white up to his wrist. He wishes biting down on his tongue would do anything. He wishes that the hollow of his chest didn’t hold a weight that no diagnostic could fix. He felt too awkward and stilted and not nearly gentle enough. But as Xisuma stays asleep, he draws his hand away. He mumbles his good nights as he stands slowly, shutting out the light and wandering from the room. 

He makes his way back into the lab. He replays the memory of Xisuma’s small smile, the fine line of his scar as he’d pressed his face into the pillow, the way he’d relaxed against Doc’s touch. He replays the memory, again, and again. It has to be a daydream. Has to be. There’s no other logical explanation to all of that.

Maybe that would explain the ache in his chest, far too human to be his own.

Doc goes back to work. He sits down at the lab table, spreading his arms as he braces against the white tabletop. He furrows his eyebrows. Something doesn’t feel right, too warm or out of place. He feels gross. Not gross bad, maybe, gross different? Broken? Not broken, maybe. Weird. Wrong. Out of place. It doesn’t make any sense. Or it has, and he’s refusing the obvious answer. Xisuma didn’t ask for any reason. Xisuma asked because he was tired, and tired people do silly things, and silly people are a handful, and Xisuma is a handful—a lovely one. Doc shuts his eyes. His chest hurts. It’s an awful hurt, actually, less painful than it is just weird. He thinks for a moment he might be better off if he left, maybe the weight of whatever lingered in his memory would be better off if he were to take a break from standing in the same spaces. 

He sends Xisuma a message. From his office, he hears his com ping.

Docm77 whispered to you… Xisuma I’m stepping out, sleep well :-)

#hermitcraft dbh au #dbhc #docsuma #docm77 #xisumavoid #dbhc doc #dbhc xisuma #hermitcraft fic #hermitshipping #mcyt fic #fics #text #i crumple into a pile of ash and dust on the ground #i am blown away by the wind #i'd like to thank theo hitheeprithee and sam artsy book for express shipping this fic #i sat down and edited in like an hour post dinner and iam so so sleepy #but alas i must post. it is required #shepherd if you're out there and you see this i never forgor about the one time i wrote them #oh this is incredibly self-indulgent #and i care them so badly #please let them kiss. please. pl--

[6vaguebook]

After watching this first two episodes of the Percy Jackson Disney+ show, my main takeaway (outside of Percy taking on THREE Ares kids with no training and not even being wet) is that Luke was done so, so well.

The actor EMBODIES him. Even before I saw him acting, one picture was enough to convince me that this man WAS Luke, despite looking nothing like him. His friendship with Percy feels so much stronger. I'm already feeling the devastation from the inevitable betrayal. Just. He's so well done.

#Percy Jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson disney+ #luke castellan #Also kinda mad about how they wrote Annabeth #She didn't even tell him to guard the area #She just said stand here and left him with no instructions #Spoilers #pjo tv show #pjo series #percy jackson series #percy jackson show #Also Sally Jackson was done really well #And something about the diverse casting really brought the world to life for me #Maybe because with all caucasian actors it feels like another world for me #Because I don't see caucasian people on a daily basis #In fact the first time I ever saw them was this summer at a resort #And then it felt so weird #Because obviously I KNOW people can look like this #But I've never seen it in real life before #It was sorta like a “oh my gosh people can look that soft???” #Cause most Arabs have sharper and harder features than caucasian people

[nkogneatho]

reminder that numbers and notes do not define your writing. i want you to stop limiting yourself. when you write freely, you don't care about how it will do on tumblr or how many notes it will get. you do it for yourself because you always wanted to write it. trust me on this because the best fic i've written is at 227 notes but a random headcanon got 13k. but you know what? in the end, i always find myself thinking about the reblogs and comments under the 227 one. so don't let the numbers get to your head. you are amazing.

#when i was younger on tumblr in 2020 i made a post and it got attention and i liked that feeling because it validated me #so i started overworking and getting frustrated thinking maybe i am not enough if smtg didn't get the numbers i wanted #but it's been 3 years and my perspective has changed. i read a stsg and csm fic that had like notes under 100 #but they were so beautiful and it made me sob it didn't have more notes because they were amazing. my moots wrote them #so i left all my love in the reblog and then they responded w so much luv and gratitude that i understood it is never about the numbers #pasi.txt

[atopvisenyashill]

i was thinking more about characters Performing Gender, but not necessarily Transgressing Gender. I wound up focusing on Ned and Sansa bc I feel like I understand them the most but-

Sansa as a hostage is imo the most obvious (bc it’s so well done) moment of someone clearly Performing Gender but not being transgressive in that performance. Which isn’t to say it’s not a complicated performance; it’s a fine line Sansa walks between weaponizing her gender to protect herself without seeming too fake. She’s trying to placate the Lannisters by playing the perfect, dedicated, air headed betrothed because it’s the only defense she has - if she outwardly rebels, she will be punished in a likely violent and/or sexual way (which isn’t even conjecture - when she says “or maybe he’ll give me yours” Joffrey has her struck with an armored hand). She’s not quite successful in being convincing but that’s because it’s a rather extreme situation; despite no one believing her, she does make herself seem meek and stupid enough that no one suspects she’s plotting to escape with Dontos until she’s well away from KL. The fact that she even has Dontos to confide in is because of Sansa’s relationship with gender! When she saves him, she covers her rebellious slip by playing up Joffrey’s intelligence & his role as King; she reaches for “tools” of her gender AND of ~proper manhood~ to save a life and herself from another beating. Her retreats into the godswood and silence are very much Sansa attempting to recharge from these draining interactions, the same way a knight would need to stop and eat and rest after a fight. She is fighting, constantly, by forcing herself to stay within the narrow confines of a specific type of gender performance as a way of shielding herself from harm.

Ned yelling at Cat is another big one, and I’ve seen the scene referred to as Ned using his patriarchal power to scare Cat, which is a great description. It feels like a Performance because Ned is putting on this terrifying Lord Stark mask in an attempt to get Catelyn to stop asking about Jon (and Lyanna). This is not how he usually acts with those he loves! When Ned is with His People, he is welcoming of questions, curiosity, emotion, even transgressive thought (to a point! the idea that Ned is a feminist because he lets Arya learn to fight is Not accurate but you can’t deny he allows significantly more flexibility wrt gender expression than most of the fathers we meet in this series. the bar is in hell tho). Yet when Cat asks him about Jon’s mother, Ned scares her so well she stops asking & still remembers the moment bitterly over a decade later. And if that snippet we see through Bran’s eyes of Ned praying that Cat will forgive him does come after she asks (like it’s suspected), it’s clear not only that this is a performance he’s putting on & weaponizing against Cat, it’s one he does not like using as a weapon against someone he is close to. After using the power his gender gives him to cause harm, he retreats to the godswood and silence to pray and rest, much like Sansa. A spiritual cleanse, the way a soldier may pray after battle, to reset and reconnect Being A Proper Man to Being A Kind Man.

I think there’s something interesting in that two of the characters most widely defined by how well they adhere to Westerosi gender norms both dislike feeling like they had to weaponize their gender. They are exhausted by the performance, because it’s a performance. This isn’t Sansa getting excited over tourneys, or Ned teaching his sons to fight; it’s toxic masculinity, it’s structural misogyny. It’s something they’re good at, excel at, and connected to something they enjoy but when it’s paired with violence, whether done by Ned or done to Sansa, it crosses over in their minds from an innate part of themselves (The Gender) to a performance necessary due to survival (The Gender Role). And that after these performances, both retreat to nature & god as a way of resting and cleansing from the experience.

#valyrianscrolls #ned stark #sansa stark #getting on my soap box #there’s something here too about romanticism. like shelley and coleridge and whitman. the need to return to nature to undo society’s harm. #especially with the way various romance movements and romantic tropes are played with by their characters. #i can’t even remember who said it which just shows u how shitty an english major i am aksjd but about how. #like society is necessary but just as necessary is the ability to escape into nature. i *think* it was coleridge i’m probably wrong. #the gender war makes corpses of us all #gender politics in asoiaf #obviously you can point to several moments for both of them. sansa calling petyr father. ned’s relationship with theon. wherein they both #are clearly performing something for an audience. #there’s like 12 other branches of this in my head. jaime’s romanticism. being knighted bloody & the sacrilegious nature of the sept sex. #and his inability to escape his gender performance the way ned & sansa do. ned being willing to cry in front of others but robb only ever #crying in the dark with his baby brother after he loses ned. cat’s tower stuff & finding solace in sewing. #i’m gonna try to write up something about loras & renly here too. tomorrow. #also i wrote this at the train station after work so if there’s errors or it makes no sense just pretend u never saw it skskdj

[starbylers]

I think the reason I appreciate Mike and Will so much is because to me they exemplify what love is actually about in real life. That foundation of being best friends before anything else, of understanding each other so intuitively that a few simple words can contain eons of meaning. The beauty of being so comfortable opening up that all they have to do is sit quietly beside you and your most difficult feelings pour out unguarded, because it’s them: your person, your other half. That emotional bond that feels as easy and natural as breathing. I could care less about dramatic but ultimately empty words or big “romantic” gestures. To me it’s who’s gonna be there in the thick of life, to lend an ear or a shoulder to cry on or a simple smile that simultaneously gives you butterflies and the strength to push through. But also someone who will challenge you and in doing so make you want to be better, and who inspires you to live as your authentic self. Like that’s the kind of dynamic that resonates with my concept of love, and I think it’s the ultimate destination for their relationship (they’re still learning and growing etc. but the building blocks are there, and this has always been their dynamic at it’s core which is why I love them so much).

#byler #a little sappy but it was late when I wrote this and I miss them so here you go #I’m aware not everything about their relationship so far is sunshine and rainbows #but like I said I think once they deal with their issues they’ll get there. & we see it already it just gets clouded by all the angst #my tentative return to Byler posting… #in all honesty I never really left just been keeping an eye from a distance #invested for the long haul even if I dip in and out

[lucky-clover-gazette]

i honestly love the fact that i have just been following two people very invested in dnf for like a year, either bc of a misclick or other mutual fandom, because i have so little knowledge about what is and is not real with those two. i have never played or watched a mindcraft in my life, however i can acknowledge insane homoeroticism when i see it, and those two are either ridiculously committed to a bit or ridiculously committed to each other, and to the like fifteen people who still seem to care post-face reveal (which i always thought was awful by the way, like people were dicks about it) it doesn’t really matter

#i’ve never been a rpf girlie and most of the time it’s pretty delusional and weird to me #but from what i’ve seen those two invite it #and the amount of Events that happen that i just see mutuals losing their shit about #is so funny #like oh what’s going on with these two men today oh they kissed with tongue at a pride parade? interesting #the tall one wrote snd publicly performed poetry about the twink? sure #they both seem insufferable to everyone except each other and you know what i respect it #tagging it #dnf #bc what fandom doesn’t want to see a bewildered mini essay about them

[doodleodds]

Me? Uploading a Halloween comic on November 18th, almost four whole-ass weeks late???? Yeah that’s uh. yup. yeah

Thanks for reading! :) <3

#persona 5 #p5 #akira kurusu #OUGH OH MY GOD ITS FINALLY. DONE. I AM LOSING MY MIND #if you've been following me for long enough: yes! this IS in fact the comic i mentioned that i was making last year. #Fun fact! This is also! The Third Draft of said comic!!! i have redrawn this thing THREE FUCKING TIMES #as a result you may notice that i uh. a) gave up on coloring this thing. no way in HELL am i coloring 30 pages. im not...strong enough #you will settle for simply having monochrome colored panels and you will LIKE IT!!!!! >:OOOOO #and b) gave up on backgrounds! yeah fuck that lmao. i am never drawing people in the monabus again and mementos can kiss my ass!!!!! #i just want to draw my silly little characters & not their environments #and you may also say: sophia. by halloween they are already in Sae's palace. why isn't goro with them and where's haru? #and to that i say shhhh suspend your disbelief. akechi is in mementos carving pumpkins to avoid trick or treaters. #and also haru isn't there because i cannot draw 6+ people in a cramped space yet!!! my art skills are Just Not There Quite Yet :( #so she's staying home and handing out fullsized candy bars to kids. that's where she is while this is all going down #'does akira know it's akechi down there?' :) that's up to you! but i WILL say that I was thinking about Akeshu when i wrote this so. :)))) #ANYWAY if you read this far in the tags im so sorry lmao. thanks for sticking around! Hope you had a happy halloween :) #hopefully i won't disappear for long this time. idk im just gonna start uploading other bullshit art in the interim between comics i guess #probably some fire emblem shit. we'll see. we'll see. anyway bye!! till next time!

[drawnfamiliarfaces]

i've never even seen the show First is from and yet i love your First x Chase Young ship so i have to ask. If anything did HAPPEN between the two of them what sort of emotions would they be dealing with afterwards?

Wow, this is such an unexpectedly nice compliment for me? Cause it means, you are a Chase/XS fan, who saw my crack ship and went 'I don't know what's going on, but I enjoy your silly little ship, funny crossover shipper.' and you know what? It's very nice and made me happy. ;) Thank you!

And well who said nothing ever happened between them lol IF anything happened between those two (be it emotional or physical ;3), their default way of dealing it would be DENIAL DENIAL DENIAL, in similar but also in slightly different ways.

Chase Young is a man who seemingly doesn't do softer emotions. Any possible feelings and reactions who could be attributed to him actually caring about First Ninja, are re-labeled in his head into him doing all of this because he is trying to manipulate First on his side (and he totally still is, but he also now wants to feed that man, talk with him during long evenings and perhaps take a nap with him, you know, disgusting cute domestic stuff amidst oh i dunno- taking over the world and being evil together. >;))

First Ninja on the other hand, is very much aware that for things to go this far means that he is absolutely having emotions about Chase. But he is also in denial, because how can he betray all of his moral standing and beliefs, if he starting to care about someone like Chase Young? So he shoves it so far deep, he is in denial about denial, and turns completely blind to anything even resembling them being something more than opponents who tentavely respect one another.

#que? #ninja showdown #my immortal soul #is it strange that out of those two i absolutely view Chase is the one who would voice out his wishes& feelings first #if only because Chase Young isn't one to deny himself things he really wants #(of course he has to realize that he wants them in that way first and that might take awhile) #and First Ninja is the one who WOULD deny himself anything just because it doesnt line up with his responsibilities and morals #even if he most likely will be the one to realize his emotions first. he also would have hard time believing sincerity of Chase's feelings #a very strange juxtaposition between the one who puts himself first and the one who never puts himself first #also not gonna lie. I wrote out. like several paragraphs about my headcanons about physical intimacy between those two &how they view it #but than I realized that its probably TMI for an anon ask that didnt ask for that xD so i decided not to subject you to my rants &deletedit #but still sorry

[kyouka-supremacy]

Okay about Beast sskk; because I realized I've got a very definite picture of what the Beast post-canon is like that is only in my mind and I never actually put down, so here we go. Very needed content warning of sickeningly fluff and Beast sskk being disgustingly in love with each other, I suppose.

After Dazai killed himself, Atsushi is reasonably tormented, and can't sleep at night. Roaming across Yokohama late at night, he always ends up at Akutagawa's– instinctively, unconsciously, to an extent even unwillingly. He doesn't choose to, it's more about countless nights unable to sleep spent wandering with no destination and still always finding himself in front of Akutagawa's place for some reason. Akutagawa somehow always knowing when it's going to happen so that he can face him before Atsushi has time to hesitate and run away. How they don't really need words or explanations most of the time, how for Atsushi knowing that there's another person who understands is enough, and everything he needs. How before Atsushi realizes it (and thus keeping him from trying and prevent it), Akutagawa's house has become the only place where he can fall asleep.

That's how they start living together before even being together. They might not even have an actual “getting together” moment, you know? The development of their relationship is so natural and spontaneous, it was meant to end that way from the beginning. Besides, Beast sskk don't really need words between them, so... I suppose an actual confession, albeit nice, would be almost superfluous.

Soon enough they move together to a small apartment near the ada (I'm assuming Atsushi has still enough money saved from his old job). Against popular belief, with time it kind of crystallized in me the idea that Atsushi wouldn't join the ada? His life to that point has constantly been doused by violence and pain and death, he deserves a long break to cope with all the trauma; throwing him right back to another environment where he's constantly pushed to fight and use his ability would not do any good to his mental health; especially when he's got such a conflictual and hating relationship with Byakko, even worse than it is in canon. I wasn't kidding about the house husband thing. Beast Atsushi stays home and chills down and is safe and away from all major sources of stress and triggering environments. Slowly, with time, he goes out more often, gradually relearns what normality is supposed to be like, and bit by bit all his traumatic experiences get more distant, and the nightmares more rare. Akutagawa follows up with his ada job– obviously! There's a whole deal in the end about how important it is for him to keep doing his job and trying to be good. I do believe the ada is the right place for Akutagawa. He returns home to Atsushi who always welcomes him with warmth and joy, and they cuddle a lot.

But I also believe that there would be times when Atsushi is required to go back to action and fight– he's not a member of the ada and he doesn't work for them, but it's obvious that when the ada is in danger and Yokohama is facing serious threats, the guild and the rats and ultimately the doa, the times will call for his intervention. He usually comes to help or rescue Akutagawa, a trump card of sorts. And it's endearing, how Akutagawa is always the one, even among the ada, most contrary on getting Atsushi involved, how he wants to protect him and keep him away, how more than anything he wants him to be safe. As for Atsushi, I really like the concept of this man who retired from action, that spends most of his time at home or chatting with the seniors in the neighborhood, who joins the fight only when the situation is most desperate and reveals himself to be the most powerful and destructive beast to have ever walked on earth. He reluctantly fights, and together with Akutagawa they end up saving the day for everyone, because as Dazai himself said nothing can stop the both of them together.

On the other hand, when the world isn't ending Atsushi solves that very specific role of crime drama protagonist's husband who's very supportive of their partner and listens to them ramble at home about their cases. He often offers useful insights on how criminal organizations work.

Atsushi didn't replace his collar after it broke. They're barely visible under his turtleneck, but he has now wrapped bandages in its place: to hide his scars, to keep the memory of Dazai with him everywhere he goes, to remember what he's lost but also what he's gained.

Ah, and when it comes to the fight against Fukuchi, Atsushi is the one to die for Akutagawa, of course.

Headcanons that directly contradict something stated above but that I still like:

Sskk get together after six months– it's got an ironic taste to it, the timestamp their canon counterparts set to kill each other now being the time they declared their love to each other. It's so soon, but also is it really? They immediately clicked the moment they met each other, and they were always destined to be. At that point, there's no one in the world they need more than they need each other.

In case of Atsushi still wearing the collar for some time after the canon events: sskk had their first kiss when Atsushi took the collar off for the first time. Ever since Dazai died, Atsushi is haunted and unstable; he's throughout scared of taking off the collar, terrified by the idea of hurting someone unintentionally, now that Dazai can't be there to controll him (both through his ability and by the general power he used to have over Atsushi's psyche). Akutagawa sees how much Atsushi is physically hurting, and insists on him taking the collar off; they fight over it for months (verbally, for the most part, except for a couple of times when the fights become physical– but without abilities), before Akutagawa finally manages to convince Atsushi to take it off for a few hours. When they're alone, because after months of being persuaded, Atsushi can trust Akutagawa to be able to defend himself; and also something about “you would never hurt me”. Thing is, when Atsushi finally takes it off, he quickly spirals into a HUGE panic attack, not able to trust himself not to harm the people he cares about; and the only person around is Akutagawa, and he cares about him deeply. The tiger is taking over, and Akutagawa is panicking, and he's desperately looking for a way to quickly ground Atsushi so he just. Kisses him. Which effectively works in the way it immediately distracts Atsushi, as well as causes him to zone out for several minutes. Akutagawa immediately apologizes, and then panics again when Atsushi doesn't answer for a while. It's kinda cute. After that, Atsushi gradually learns to take his collar off more and more often; this time, he can really trust that, if Akutagawa is with him, everything is going to be okay.

#This might as well be the sappiest thing I've ever put down but like. idk did I make it go through that Beast sskk are meant to be #atsushi nakajima #ryūnosuke akutagawa #sskk #shin soukoku #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd beast #mine #15/08/23 #This is ridiculous I never realized how soft I made them until I actually wrote it down. #It's so silly when I'm also the first one ready to make canon sskk suffer #What can I say. They've suffered enough. #“The bandages are barely visible under his turtleneck” I mean that's for when he wears his turtleneck– #and not Akutagawa's striped shirt as he does at home. Which is an awful amount of times but nobody needs to know that. #I'd say this is self-indulgent but it's not like I'm doing it on purpose this is seriously what Beast sskk is like in my mind. #Nothing much I can do about it. That's the realistic Beast outcome for me. #If the author wants to prove me wrong by dropping Beast 2 they're more than welcome but untill then *this* is my canon #kbcu (Kyotag Beast Cinematic Universe)

[agentravensong]

thinking about lex foster.

she has the Gift. she can pull a gun from the void. as a child, she was friends with an eldritch entity. in one timeline, she defeats an avatar/incarnation of another eldritch entity to save her sister.

but, there, that's the thing: lex has a younger sister, who is even more gifted. that sister is the lynchpin of the multiverse. and lex is her protector.

that sister, hannah, is only alive because lex, as a 5 year old, used her Gift to save her from dying before she was born. she didn't even want a sister before that moment. she doesn't remember doing it.

lex wants to be a normal teen who can hang out with her boyfriend and do stupid teen stuff. compared to hannah, she's grounded, practical. she forgets her own power, her own potential, as she grows up and has to learn to fight and scavenge to survive. but at heart, she's still a dreamer. she doesn't want anyone's pity, but still believes (wants to believe) in angels. if she had the money, she'd take the three of them to california. she'd be an actress.

her sister sometimes makes her life hell. lex will still risk, give up, anything and everything for that sister. she's been the closest thing to a mother hannah has known. but she's far from perfect. in multiple timelines, she's the cause of hannah's hurt, the one who puts her in the path of danger, however unintentionally. there is a gap in understanding between her and hannah that they may never fully close — but she keeps reaching out, keeps trying to work around it.

when lex is about to die in black friday, she wonders if she, all along, needed her sister more than her sister needed her — or maybe that's just her trying to reassure herself in her final moments, hoping beyond hope that hannah will be okay without her.

lex has the Gift. but she's not webby's favorite. she's not the Hero. her little sister is.

was lex meant to be the hero, originally? did she somehow fail in webby or the greater universe's eyes to live up to that position, requiring that her sister take it up instead? dooming hannah, before she was even born, to bearing the burden of being the one targeted by the most sinister forces in the multiverse, again and again, and the responsibility of stopping it?

or was the purpose of lex's existence always for her to be her sister's caretaker? to ensure that hannah could fulfill her destiny? to be the one to save her, from others or herself? through taking action, realizing her potential as the second-strongest foster girl (yellow jacket) or less directly, through just being someone hannah knows, can count on and believe in (witch in the web)? to play the kind of supportive role women are often pigeonholed into?

was hannah always meant to be the special one, the star, with lex as her prologue (and occasional understudy)? or was lex the original choice for the role, only for her to turn out to be... not enough? leaving hannah with the job of weaving together the pieces of a shattered universe?

either way, lex foster's existence is defined by her sister. has been since before she can remember.

and yet, though she probably wouldn't be able to say why, i don't think lex would change that. not unless she truly believed it would be to hannah's benefit. (and we all know it wouldn't be.)

#starkid #hatchetfield #lex foster #hannah foster #had these thoughts yesterday while explaining hannah delivery lore to someone on here and couldn't get over them #black friday is one of the best songs from any starkid project. you won't change my mind on that. #i'm so so excited for orbweaver #saying this now: if dess and noelle's dynamic ends up being anything like this i will never stop talking about it #(yes i'm an older sibling. why do you ask.) #lex 🤝 zinnia in the pokemon fic i wrote as a young teen: a lot of this stuff #narrative nonsense

[laundrybiscuits]

Note: this is not a Stancy story.

“Say it,” he bites out. He’s pushing too hard, being too mean, and he doesn’t fucking care. “Say you love me.”

Nancy’s eyes slide off to the side and she—she laughs, like he’s making a joke, but he can see in the way she’s got her arms wrapped around herself that they both know it’s not a joke.

“Steve, come on,” she says.

There’s a hot, buzzing feeling in him like a hurricane.

The words peel out of him: “But…we’re soulmates.”

He’s gripping his forearm, holding it out in front of him even though he’s wearing long sleeves. It doesn’t matter. They both know whose name is written there in careful, neat cursive, like a puzzle piece slotting next to the blockier name scrawled on Nancy’s wrist. 

Nancy reaches out to push his arm down and out of the way, out of her eyeline, but she laces her fingers with his like she’s trying to calm him down. Like an apology.

“Steve,” she says. “Let’s just—can we focus on the important stuff, here?”

This is important, why don’t you think that nothing could be more important than this. Steve doesn’t say it because he’s trying to be better. He can be better for her, for Nancy, his soulmate. So he swallows it down and nods, gripping her slender fingers tight in his. 

———

It takes him a while, but he figures it out. It’s fate. It’s gotta be. It’s all a big part of their story, the one they’re gonna tell at their wedding, about the time they broke up and made bad decisions and were really unhappy. When you find your soulmate early, sometimes you have some growing up to do, he’ll say. Or maybe Robin will say it. He can’t imagine a wedding where Robin’s not his best man. Best lady?

It’s so stupid, but there was a moment, back in ‘85, when he thought maybe Robin could be his true soulmate. Like maybe there was some giant cosmic error, and the smart, funny, beautiful girl he’d been overlooking all summer was really the one he was meant to end up with after all. 

When she tells him about Tammy Thompson, it’s almost a relief. The universe isn’t wrong after all. He actually feels really sorry for Robin, because without a name on her arm, how’s she supposed to know who to pick? And with the gay thing—it’s gotta be tough even just knowing who’s an option. He doesn’t think he could handle that kind of uncertainty. 

It’s a good thing he doesn’t have to. All he’s got to do is hang on until his story and Nancy’s story bend together again, and become their story. He thinks it’s kind of romantic, even: like he’s been given this time to learn to be a better boyfriend. 

So he’s in good spirits, especially when Eddie Munson gives him a heavy look that shoots through his veins like lightning and says as unambiguous a sign of true love as these cynical eyes have ever seen. If even Eddie can see it after spending about five minutes around them, probably not even knowing about the soulmate thing, it must be true. 

———

Afterwards, he finds himself unexpectedly alone with Nancy in the hospital, waiting their turn to see Max and Eddie. It’s not exactly the stuff of fairytales; even though they’ve had a chance to go home and shower and get some sleep, they both have Upside Down gunk caked into their fingernails and purpling shadows under their eyes. The fluorescent lights overhead are way too bright. The flimsy plastic chairs are digging uncomfortably into his thighs. 

But he’s not gonna get a better opening than this quiet moment, with Nancy slumped against his arm, tired and lovely.

“Hey, are you—” He clears his throat and tries again. “Hey, Nancy. Did you…think about, uh, what I said? About…you know. The future?”

She goes tense.

“Yes, Steve. I did.”

Maybe something in her tone should be warning him off, but he’s on this road now, careening down the fast lane with no exits in sight. 

“And? What did you think?”

Nancy takes a deep breath, then lets it out after a second in a heavy sigh. “Steve, I…I’m with Jonathan now. You know that.”

“Yeah, but that’s—I mean, you know it’s not the same.”

“No.” She slips a thumb under the cuff of her sweatshirt and rubs it over her wrist. It looks like something she doesn’t even know she’s doing. “It’s not the same, no. It’s…Steve, it’s better. This way is better.”

He ducks down, tries to meet her eye. “Nance, I know I was kind of a shitty boyfriend, but—things are different now, right?”

Finally, she turns to him. Her back straightens, shoulders square, like she’s bracing herself. 

“Yes, things are different,” she says slowly. She reaches out to take his hand in both of hers, soothing. “This hasn’t changed for me, though. It’s not about—I just can’t be with you, Steve. Not like that. I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t say but we’re soulmates again like a child, but it lives in his throat, in the thump of his heart. Maybe she just needs more time.

Maybe not, though.

(ETA: continuation here!)

#I wrote the first chunk of this a while ago and abandoned it in my scratchpad; had a chat about soulmates today and decided to write more #ofc this whole thing is also a metaphor for heteronormativity (WHEN IS IT NOT) so I may write the steddie follow-up at some point #I’ve never been the biggest fan of soulmate narratives but I find them fascinating from a meta perspective #I want to be clear that I don't think soulmate AUs are ~problematique; they obviously serve a function #the romance genre (and a lot of fic) hinges on the concept of endgame ships #there's a particular kind of comfort in that and I can see how it translates to in-universe predestination #I am personally just more interested in stories about choosing to love without guarantees #and I actually quite like the complexity of Steve and Nancy learning to navigate being friends as well as exes #not!soulmates AU

[uncanny-tranny]

I decided to go through my old warm-up notebooks from my honours english class and in one of the warm-up prompts, I said I wanted my superpower to be "controlling the effects of [my] puberty," and I'm glad to say that I've gotten that superpower. It took a very long time, but that's a superpower I can check off my list

#trans #transgender #lgbt #lgbtq #ftm #mtf #nonbinary #ngl though i felt my very soul wince while reading some of them (including that) #in my old self's defense: i was incredibly dysphoric and had Many Unresolved Issues #i also wasn't really masking in that class and didn't know i should probably not be honest with my notebook #my teacher said that she'd only grade warm-ups we wanted graded and she'd only *potentially* read others 'for fun' #also i always didn't like the 'what superpower would YOU want?' question because. it just annoyed me to know it's impossible to have #(besides the puberty superpower lmao) #as much as i believe in being kind to your past self/selves that doesn't mean i'm not cringing about it 😭 #just so long as you don't turn the cringe into self-hatred i suppose #you cannot hate yourself into being better♡♡ #WAIT I JUST REMEMBERED THAT IN ONE OF THE WARM-UPS I WROTE ABOUT A LESBIAN ROBOT #NEVER MIND I'M DONE CRINGING #man i should make that into a proper short story like. what a concept

[silverwhittlingknife]

How do you feel about Jack Drake?? What are your thoughts on him and Tim’s relationship?

Anon, I hope you were interested in a novel, because look, I am fascinated by Jack Drake.  He’s key to a whole lot of what I find compelling about Tim as a character, and if I were in charge of DC, I’d bring him back to life.  This would make Tim unhappy but would IMO make for good plotlines.

Jack and Tim’s relationship is Complicated (TM)...

Jack and Tim hug in Nightwing 20 / Jack impulsively yanks a TV out of the wall in Robin 45 / Tim grieves in Identity Crisis

“I could tell the truth.  But I don’t.” - Robin 66

...and it involves a whole lot of Tim lying, and feeling guilty about lying, and thinking about telling the truth, and choosing again and again to keep lying.

And I think that’s great.

Below the cut:

Shorter version - key points about Jack

Really long version - my gentler take (vigilantism is choir and Jack loves sports) vs. my harsher take (Jack has some major flaws)

Final thoughts

Shorter version - key points about Jack:

He’s a bad parent.  He’s self-centered, he consistently prioritizes his own comfort and interests over his son’s, and when upset, he does things like order Tim off to boarding school.

But he’s never a bad parent in an actionable way.  He’s not like David Cain or Arthur Brown, who are abusive monsters.  Jack’s not a monster!  He just...kinda sucks.

He genuinely loves Tim. If Jack’s aware that Tim’s disappeared or is in trouble, he’s always worried and upset.  He periodically resolves to be a better dad, and IMO he’s always sincere.

And Tim loves him, a lot.  Tim’s protective of him and worries about him when he’s kidnapped or in danger, and when they’re reunited, Tim’s really relieved and usually hugs him (and Jack hugs back!). 

...But they have very little in common, and that’s a problem. Jack doesn’t value the things that Tim values, or respect the people that Tim admires, or care about the things that Tim’s interested in.  Tim lies to him a lot, but that’s partly because he correctly guesses Jack wouldn’t respond well if he knew the truth of what Tim’s up to.

The Batfamily is a surrogate family that Tim’s drawn to because of the ways his real family doesn’t meet his emotional needs…but also he feels guilty about that and disloyal. (And to the extent that his dad recognizes what’s going on, he's jealous and resentful!)

Very long version:

(LISTEN I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS ABOUT THIS)

Okay!  So first: Jack’s a character who IMO is pretty up for interpretation.  You can interpret him very charitably, and make excuses for the bad behavior, and fill in the blanks sympathetically when situations are ambiguous; or you can interpret him uncharitably, and emphasize the bad behavior. I don’t think either approach is invalid - it depends on what kind of story you’re interested in!  I have enjoyed Bad Dad stories and also stories that redeem Jack.

My personal take on canon is that Jack and Tim’s relationship is in a gray area.  Jack's definitely neglectful, and he does prioritize other things over Tim, but he’s never so bad that Tim can easily reject him, and he's never so bad that Bruce could justify taking Tim away.  He's just...not great.  Tim loves him, and feels loyal to him, but it’s a very mixed-up complicated love.

I have a gentler take and a harsher one which I switch between as the spirit moves me. xD

My Gentler Take (tl;dr: vigilantism is choir and Jack loves sports)

Here’s the core conflict: Jack and Tim are very different people with different values.  Tim idolizes Bruce and Dick and vigilantism, and secretly gets involved, knowing his dad will hate it. He gets increasingly wrapped up in his secret world and lies to his dad...because if his dad finds out, he’ll make Tim quit.

This is a great setup for an ongoing comic.  It’s practical, because it provides endless potential for plotlines, and it’s nicely thematic, because it maps closely onto relatable real-life situations with extracurricular activities:

Tim the drama nerd whose dad thinks he’s playing football and not in the school play; 

Tim the closeted-queer kid secretly getting involved in his school’s politically-active Gay-Straight Alliance; 

Tim the choir kid whose dad only values making money and wants him to go into the family business (and Tim keeps promising himself he'll give up choir soon, definitely soon, but maybe he'll stay in just a liiiittle longer, because they need him, you see, the last tenor left town, so...); 

Tim the computer geek with the sports-obsessed dad (this one’s just canon);

etc. etc.  

The extracurricular metaphor works pretty well for Tim’s relationship to vigilantism.  Tim's involved in his "extracurricular" because he genuinely thinks it's important and fulfilling, and he values it and wants to be good at it. He idolizes Bruce and Dick because they're good at it. He's been collecting information about it since he was a little kid, and hiding it from his parents because he knows they wouldn't approve. And mayyyybe there's also an element of low-key rebellion against his dad, and maybe that's secretly part of the appeal. And yet also as Tim gets more and more invested, he starts to daydream: maybe I could tell my dad and he'd be proud of me and supportive. But he doesn't, because actually he knows his dad would be upset and angry and make him quit.

And - again, just like with lonely kids and extracurricular hobbies - one of the things that happens is that Tim starts getting his unfilled emotional needs met ... by people he knows through this secret hobby. And people like Bruce and Dick start turning into a surrogate family. Which Tim feels guilty about. And also as Tim gets more and more wrapped up in their world, he has to lie to his dad even more, which means the distance between Tim and his dad gets bigger and bigger and more and more unfixable.

I love this dilemma. It's simple, it's recognizable, it provides endless sources for conflict, and there's no obvious solution! Tim can't tell Jack: he'll make Tim quit! And Tim doesn't want to quit, because he loves choir / art / theater / whatever.  Yeah, it’s difficult, and there are challenges, and sometimes he has doubts...but at the end of the day, he cares about it a lot.  And everything he values is there, and all the people he admires and cares about are there, and all he wants in the world is to feel like he's one of them and belongs there. So he has to lie, even though he doesn't want to lie, and he feels guilty about it...

...but also he ends up lying more and more.

(Sidenote: I think it's important that Tim chooses to keep lying - Tim's narration often glosses this as "I have to lie to my dad," and that's certainly how it feels to Tim, but this... isn't quite true. He has to lie to his dad, because if he doesn't, his dad will get mad at him and try to stop him, not because he literally has no choice about it.)

Other Reasons Why I Like The "Secret Extracurricular" Interpretation

(tl;dr it complicates not just Tim's relationship with his dad, but also all his other relationships)

Tim's problems have some obvious parallels to Steph and Cass, who both become vigilantes while rejecting their evil supervillain dads. But Jack isn't evil. And that means the Tim-and-Jack relationship is ambiguous and complicated in ways that I like. Steph and Cass can just leave their Bad Dads in prison, and say good riddance, and feel very righteous and triumphant about it! Tim’s more complicated. Tim gets into vigilantism ostensibly out of duty and altruism, but secretly, he's also involved for straight-up selfish self-fulfillment reasons. He's lonely, and bored, and his life feels pointless, but he thinks that Bruce and Dick are cool and amazing and he wants to be a part of the things that they do.  When his dad gets jealous of Tim’s relationship to Bruce, and feels like Tim’s looking for a surrogate family, he’s... not wrong.

And the ways in which Jack is not Actionably Bad complicate things from Bruce's POV.  If Jack was a straight-up villain, it’d be an easy call to keep in touch when Jack finds out and makes Tim quit...but he’s not a villain, not really.  So what do you do?  Do you try to surreptitiously stay in touch with Tim even though you’re ignoring his dad’s express wishes and thus forcing Tim to sneak around?  Do you respect his dad’s wishes and stay away from Tim even though you have a years-long relationship at this point?  

Again: a bit similar to the extracurricular analogy.  Say you’re the choir director and you’ve built this whole relationship with a kid in the choir, and you’re an important mentor to him and you care about him etc. etc. etc.... and then right before a big performance, his dad finds out he’s been secretly involved, and yanks him out.  How would you react?  Well, maybe kind of in some of the ways Bruce reacts.  You replace him. You’re annoyed with him. You miss him. You want him to come back. You’re also worried about him.  You’re upset with his dad.  But also... what should you do, exactly?

Bruce and Alfred and Dick care about Tim as if he were part of their family, but he’s not part of their family, and there’s a lot of interesting tension there.

My Harsher Take

Jack never hits his son.  But his temper is a big deal.

In his worst moments, he takes out his anger on Tim’s stuff - wrecking his room, or ripping his TV out of the wall and confiscating it.  When he’s worried about Tim, he usually expresses that fear by yelling at him / punishing him / sending him away - threatening to send him to boarding school in Metropolis in Robin III, or threatening to send him to military school abroad in Robin 92, or actually forcing him to go to an all-boys' boarding school post-NML.  

This is bad behavior!  It is Not Good!  

And you can easily connect the dots to a bunch of Tim’s terrible coping mechanisms, like the constant lying and or the fact that Tim’s go-to methods for dealing with interpersonal conflict are 1) repress it and pretend it never happened (most of his fights with Bruce), 2) withdraw from the relationship until he can pretend the conflict doesn’t exist (when his friends get mad at him in YJ, he quits the team for a while), or 3) literally run away from home.

Also, Jack is a Manly Man with firm opinions about how men behave vs. how women behave, and he thinks boys shouldn’t be scared and thinks Tim should date hot girls and pushes Tim to work out and wants him to play football and expresses period-typical sexism, etc. etc. etc. ... and though obviously this wasn’t what the writers had in mind at the time, all of that is certainly interesting to read backwards in the light of Tim as a queer character.

More Disorganized Thoughts on Jack Drake

Tim’s our hero, so we’re naturally more sympathetic to him, but it’s also true that relationships are a two-way street, and Tim doesn’t value any of the things his dad values, either.  Jack at various points is shown to care about grades, business, money, boarding schools, archeology, football, a kind of macho bragging-about-dating-hot-women ethos, and a very public and performative kind of caring. Tim tends to respond with discomfort or disinterest or even disgust.  When Jack gets on TV to try to rally the government to save his son from No Man’s Land, Tim isn’t touched—he’s mortified.  When Jack makes some bad investments and loses money, Jack’s deeply upset and his self-image is majorly impacted, and far from being sympathetic, Tim’s annoyed and kind of contemptuous of the idea that this is a problem.  Jack thinks fishing in the early morning and going to tennis matches is a fun father-son activity; Tim finds it exhausting and tedious.  And so on.

This means that Tim often longs to be closer to his dad in theory, but this longing is more tied to fantasy than to reality. He rarely seems to enjoy spending time with His-Dad-The-Actual-Person.  So for example, when Tim’s deadly ill with the Clench, he has an extremely poignant fever dream about telling his dad the truth and getting hugged…even as he insists in real-life to Alfred and Dick that he does not want them to tell his dad what’s going on.

The same is true of Jack, who IMO genuinely wants to be closer to his son and is continually declaring that he’s going to turn over a new leaf and get closer to his son…and just as continually backs out of activities or loses his temper when faced with spending time with his actual son.

Tim and his dad sadly get along best—by far—in Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder situations.  When Jack gets kidnapped or is in danger, Tim worries for him (and Tim grieves him deeply when he dies).  When Tim disappears or runs away, Jack’s genuinely worried about him.  So e.g. they have a really moving emotional reunion and hug when the earthquake hits Gotham, and Tim panics about his dad’s safety and comes running home (and meanwhile Jack’s been panicked about Tim’s safety!).  It’s the day-to-day, regular life stuff where they don’t connect.

Jack's written quite differently by different writers. Mostly, Tim's parents are at their least likable in his early appearances and early miniseries (this is where you get, for example, Jack and Janet being nasty at each other while a pained employee looks on, and Tim disappointed to once again get news of where his parents are via postcard - "I guess that sums them up! Never know where they’re going to be–or when–or even how long!” - and Tim alone on school break, and Bruce and Alfred thinking there's something weird going on with Tim's parents, etc. etc.). Jack's more sympathetic but still often unlikable in most of Tim's Robin solo, and he's almost invisible (but positively treated if he does show up) in Tim's team books.

For obvious reasons, Jack's remembered way more sympathetically after his death. Tim's completely devastated by Jack's murder, which he arrives moments too late to prevent, and he basically never gets over it. We see him grieving Jack again and again in Robin, and also in Teen Titans, and also in Resurrection, and again in the Halloween Special, and again in Batman: Blackest Night, and all the way up to the end of Red Robin. Tim also grieves for an extended time over Janet - he hallucinates a happy reunion with her when he's feverish in Contagion, and hallucinates her in the final issue of Robin, and the reveal-your-buried-emotions song in Robin 102 brings up his grief for her too (meanwhile, other characters dance or laugh or otherwise get giddy).  Tim’s grief over his parents’ deaths is intense and long-lasting.

I'm not going to clip comic panels because this is long enough, but if you're curious, here's a nice and fairly lengthy compilation of comic panels with Tim and Jack.

If you're interested in a Jack-centric story with a softer-but-still-recognizably-canon take on Jack, I really like the way Jack’s narration is written in the one-shots Heart Humble (set shortly before Jack dies) and Never a Hero (Ra's resurrects him during Brucequest, and Jack's archeology skills turn out to be unexpectedly useful).

#tim drake #jack drake #ask tag #i wrote this ages ago and now i can't remember what i was going to add to it so oh well draft amnesty? sorry for the long wait anon!! <333 #anyway i kept this carefully on topic and virtuously did not derail into talking about the other blorbo but tags are for disorganization SO #for me this kinda half-in half-out place where tim is with the batfamily is SUCH an interesting part of his relationship with dick #and i never stop turning it over in my head #he's kiiiinda replaced dick in that he's robin - but in a very real way he *hasn't* - he's NOT bruce's new son the way jason was #and early!tim makes a BIG POINT of how bruce is not his dad #and i think this relative distance from bruce is a huge factor in why dick is able to build a close relationship with tim at all #(because dick's still pretty estranged from bruce!) #and there's such interesting tension there when dick starts jokingly calling tim ''little brother'' or when villains call them brothers #because they're NOT. increasingly they would both LIKE to be brothers! but dick has zero official standing in tim's life #if tim got hit by a car in his civilian identity bruce and dick wouldn't even be able to visit him without his dad's permission #which jack would be pretty unlikely to give! jack doesn't like or trust bruce! #or like. this is morbid. but if tim died. dick wouldn't even be invited to the funeral you know? #and there's such interesting tension there for me in the contrast between this vigilante relationship that's very very close #but in their civilian lives no one would assume they're anything in particular to each other #anyway the 1st half of tim's robin solo has this thread of tension between tim's family life vs. his vigilante life (plus his mom's death) #and then the second half + red robin has the thread of struggling with grief in a world that's not fair + feeling lost/alone #and these two threads are a big part of my interest in tim as a character! jack's the backdrop that makes a lot of stories possible

[papasmistakeria]

Made another chart, this time my observation on the Johns

#hamish linklater #pushing daisies #john joseph jacobs #tell me your secrets #john tyler #midnight mass #john pruitt #paul hill #papas mistakeria special #*what I meant by damage to the head is the damage we see them take on screen #like- JJJ got a horse teapot thrown to his head. John Tyler got shot in the head. John Pruitt also shot in the head #Also yeah JJJ and JT have animal motifs. I was gonna include JP but the writers never really specified (ignoring Hamish's kitty comment) #Something I think is very cool about both JJJ and JT have to be the writers utilizing their size difference with the other characters #JJJ and JT's mommy issues are just JT and JP's sister issues but different fonts #Actually I was supposed to write 'loves their absent sisters' for JT and JP but brain wasn't braining so I just wrote sister issues lmao #I'm so mentally unwell about these guys im going insane-