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hailsatanacab · 8 months

Note

For the prompt ask game!

9. Sleep deprivation and/or 37. Secret Relationship and/or 40. Identity reveal/major secret reveal

(I selected a few so you can chose the one that resonates the most.)

For any DPxDC characters. <3

*emerges from a google docs, covered in blood and panting* i did it... it is done.

thank you for the prompt!! because i love a challenge, or because i can't stop myself, i went and did all of them!! for everyone!! everyone is sleep deprived and everyone is revealing secrets ^^'

Danny/Tim, mentioned Jazz/Jason

(๑•́ ₃ •̀๑) enjoy!! prompt ask game

kid napping

“Red Robin, sound off. Status?”

“All good here, Oracle. Everything okay?”

It’s been a slow night, never a good sign. Pent up energy itches under his skin and he stretches when he stands, preparing for whatever Oracle is going to throw his way. It’s going to be something, he can tell.

“Good.” Relief briefly colours her voice answers, before she becomes serious again, keys clacking away in the background. “There’s been a report from Agent A. It appears that one Timothy Drake has been kidnapped and is being ransomed for five million dollars and a helicopter. I’m tracing the call now.”

“A helicopter, too? Kidnappers these days, used to be they just wanted their money and that would be the end of it… a fucking helicopter, wow.” Red Hood scoffs, and Red Robin can’t help but join in the laughter over the comms.

“Doesn’t exactly sound like these are the brightest tools in the shed now, does it, Hood? Wonder what poor schmuck they’ve got instead.” Nightwing says, slightly out of breath.

The smile slips off Red Robin’s face and clammy, cold dread shivers down his spine. A stone settles in his stomach. He wets his lips and clears his throat. “Oracle, can you pull up the CCTV on my apartment near WE? Any closer to tracing the call?”

“Still on the trace, they’re using a jammer. Agent A is cooperating so they should phone back soon, which will help.” she reports, falling into silence as he finds the video feed.

“You know who it is?”

“I hope not.”

It’s tense, he taps his feet on the rooftop, fingers tightening over his grapple as he fights the urge to fly off the roof and check for himself. It better not be him. Please, dear God, don’t let it not be him.

“What are you thinking, Red Robin?” Batman growls through the comms. Red Robin can hear the wind under his words, whipping fast as he no doubt makes his way over to his position.

“I had a, uh, a friend coming over tonight. From behind, he… he could be mistaken for Tim Drake.”

The jokes fall silent, the comms growing serious as they pick up on his tone.

“Well, fuck.”

“Eloquent as always, Hood.”

“Shut up, bat-brat.”

“You were right, Red Robin, it looks like it was your… friend they caught, instead. About two hours before the call came in. I’m following their van now, I should have the destination soon. In the meantime, it looks like they’re heading towards the docks.”

Red Robin throws himself off the building, shooting his grapple as low as he dares to get the fastest swing he can.

They have Danny.

Worry gnaws at his gut even as gravity pulls it into his throat with another swing.

Danny is… And Red Robin means this in the nicest way possible, but Danny is fragile. They haven’t talked about it, but RR knows that Danny has health problems. Something plaguing him since he was young, that’s landed him in the hospital more than once. A weak heart, far too slow to be normal, possibly chronic fatigue—he’s always so tired, falling asleep anywhere he can.

Sometimes, he doesn’t even need to put his head down. Once, when they had gone to the corner store to get some popcorn to enjoy their movie (which Danny had explicitly and repeatedly promised he wouldn’t snore through this time), Danny had rested his head on Tim’s shoulder while they were waiting and he’d just… gone. On his feet, asleep, just like that.

He’d laughed, when Tim woke him up. Apologised. Said Tim made him feel safe enough to fall asleep just about anywhere and—

Red Robin grits his teeth and corrects his course as Oracle updates them with more precise coordinates.

Tim had carried him home that night, piggy-back for four blocks, but by the end of it, he wasn’t tired at all. And that’s another thing, Danny’s just so light. It’s concerning.

They never did watch that movie, but it’s a night that Tim can’t help remembering fondly all the same. They’d ended up rewatching some old sitcom that Danny’s seen countless times but Tim’s never really bothered with, Danny drifting off to sleep again and Tim eventually following him, because… sleep is easy with Danny.

It’s the same for him, he thinks. He can’t explain it, but he feels safe enough to sleep with Danny, too.

He needs to be alright.

“So… Is this friend just a friend? Or a friend friend?”

“A friend, Nightwing. Now hurry up.”

He’s not in the mood to play these games, not now. There’s a reason why none of them know about Danny, and this is one of them. His family, as much as he loves them, are just too damn nosey for their own good.

“You know that doesn’t answer my question at all.”

“Then why don’t you ask something intelligible, rather than continue with your childish antics?” Robin snarks, and for once, Red Robin has to agree with him. Or, rather, he’s grateful for the distraction that it gives him.

Tim has secrets. He’s sure that Danny does, too, and so far—aside from the standard background check he always runs on new friends and friend friends alike—he’s done very well to respect them. He just can’t say that his family would do the same.

They can be overwhelming, to say the least, and Tim has tried his best to protect Danny from that.

Only to fail to protect him in every other way that it counts.

“How long have you guys been ‘friends’?”

“Nightwing, save it, please.”

“What’s his name?”

He ignores him.

Red Robin lands on the building first, thank goodness. He wastes no time in finding a skylight that can be pried open fairly quietly, slipping inside without a second thought.

“Wait for backup, Red Robin, that is an order!” Batman says, when he lets them know he’s in.

“Negative, Batman. I’m getting him back.”

“Red Robin!”

He weaves silently through the desks on the second floor of the warehouse, always moving, always keeping a trained eye on the shadows around him.

When he reaches the stairs, he hears voices.

“Looks like three of them, armed. The-the hostage is tied to a chair in the middle of the room, he…” Red Robin takes a steadying breath. The person has a burlap sack over their head is slumped to the side, from where he is, Red Robin can’t see if his chest is moving. There’s blood on the floor. “He needs medical assistance. Another two on the northside entrance.”

The comms explode in admonitions, everyone pleading with him to stay where he is, to wait for help, but fuck that. With a tap, he switches them off and he can finally, just about make out the words of the kidnappers as he creeps down the first few steps.

“—shouldn’t he have woken up by now?”

“I don’t know, man, you’re the one that hit him! Do you think he’s—”

“No! I didn’t even hit him that hard, I swear!” the man cries, holding his hands up in surrender. “I just couldn’t take any more of his stupid jokes!”

If there was any doubt in Red Robin’s mind that they picked up Danny by mistake, it’s gone now. Yeah. If you get Danny, you get his stupid jokes, too.

He creeps closer.

There’s some storage crates between him and Danny, if he can get behind there without being seen then that leaves him in a good position for when whoever’s next in takes out the guys at the front. He can’t do anything without them gone first, not without risking them taking shots inside and endangering Danny.

The man that hit Danny circles round behind him and grabs at his hands.

“What are you even doing, Pat? Who gives a shit, leave him alone.”

“I’m just checking! I just gotta see!”

“Fuck’s sake, guys, who cares? We just gotta get our money, that’s it—”

“And our helicopter!”

“And our—”

“Shit, I can’t find a pulse! Shit, Frank, I killed him, I—”

Jason told him once that when the Pits overtook him, he used to see green. Instead of blacking out, he’d be swimming in that putrid Lazarus colour and he’d slip into that rage and bad things would happen.

He’s heard of people seeing red, too, but really, he thinks that’s more of a literary device.

Tim doesn’t see anything aside from his targets.

A barrage of birdarangs take the guns from the guys at the front, the three around Danny startling badly enough that the guy that kil—that’s behind Danny—stumbles, losing his footing.

Only one of them shoots.

Amateurs.

There’s a round of curses on the comms as the shots come through. Oracle must have turned them back on.

“Fucking hell—Nightwing and I are at the front, Red Robin, don’t worry about them.”

Red Robin’s barely listening.

He spins, kicking the largest guy in the stomach hard enough so that he doubles over, wheezing. Following through the movement, another kick lands on the side of his head and he’s down.

The second one, Frank, gets his wits about him and raises his gun, spraying wildly. He’s a shit shot, going wide in panic, and Red Robin simply ducks and rushes forward, keeping low. Tackling the guy, he grabs the gun off of him and uses it to smash him across the face, once, twice, three times, before he stops moving.

“Oracle, get police and paramedics on scene, now.” Batman says, the displeasure in his voice evident. “Red Robin, Robin and I are coming in from the top.”

Pat hasn’t even made it up off the floor yet, scrambling backwards, fear plain on his face.

Red Robin stands, breathing heavily, gun still in hand.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I swear I didn’t mean to do it! Please—please, don’t, please!”

Red Robin doesn’t kill.

Well, no, Red Robin doesn’t normally kill.

No, that’s not quite right, either.

Red Robin has killed. Red Robin will more than likely kill again. Red Robin sees no problem with killing.

The gun is up, pointing towards the guy without any real thought about it.

Footsteps rush behind him, the familiar heavy footfalls of Batman and Robin, so he doesn’t bother turning around. The gun follows the guy as he keeps pulling himself backwards, snot and tears mingling down his face.

“Red Robin,” Batman says, softly.

It’s always weird hearing Batman’s voice like that. It’s not the first time, obviously—Batman can’t use his scary intimidating voice on victims or children, after all—but having it used on him is weird.

“Breathe.”

“He’s dead. They killed him.”

If hearing Batman’s voice was weird, Red Robin can’t even recognise his own.

Distantly, he realises he’s dissociating. There’s a tightness in his chest, it’s hard to breathe, a growing buzz drowns out any noise in his ears and he can’t think, he can’t—

A heavy hand squeezes his shoulder, jolting him out of his thoughts. Batman reaches around and gently removes the gun from his grip, and Tim feels the instant loss of it. He should have done it, why hadn’t he done it?

Robin takes care of the last man, his crying cut off by a swift kick to the head. Nightwing and Red Hood join them, zip-tying the men on the floor and starting to drag them back to the entrance of the warehouse one by one.

No one says a word.

Shrugging off Batman’s hand, Tim moves towards the chair.

Shaking, he takes a deep breath and removes the sack. The small part of him that was left hoping it wasn’t him, it couldn’t be him, please dear God let it not be him, shatters.

Even dead, he looks peaceful.

Tim’s seen death. He’s no stranger to it, he’s seen what it can do to a person. There’s some blood coagulating over his eyebrows, but otherwise, he looks peaceful. Is that comforting? That he didn’t suffer?

Danny’s head lolls to the side as the sack comes completely away, his hair flopping over his eyes. Tim’s been on at him to get a haircut lately, he thinks it’ll be nice tidied up a bit, just on the sides. It’ll get rid of that permanent bedhead. Help him with job interviews, he’s got to be thinking about that now that he’s in his last year of college.

It’s about the only thing that’ll hold him back, Tim thinks. Danny’s brilliant. Any employer would be a fool to turn him down because of his shaggy hair, but employers are stupid so it makes sense to put your best foot forward and—

Tim falls to his knees.

Fuck.

He’s dead, he’s really—Danny’s skin is horribly pale, cold to the touch. Gone is his bright, cheerful smile.

“Danny, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry, I—”

He stops himself with a deep, shuddering breath. He can’t break down here, he can’t, he can’t, he can’t.

Instead, he tips forward to rest his head in Danny’s lap, arms curling around himself. They were too late. They got here as fast as they could and they were too late.

“Danny, I’m so sorry…” he whispers. “I… I love you, I love you, I’m sorry.”

Dimly, he can feel the others standing around them. Someone crouches down beside him, resting a comforting arm over his back, but he doesn’t turn his head to see who it is. He squeezes his grip on Danny’s legs tighter.

“Come on, baby bird. Let’s—”

They’re interrupted by a huge, honking snore as Danny jerks himself awake.

Tim’s head snaps up, staring at Danny with wide eyes.

“You were asleep?” Red Robin springs up, several different emotions rapidly flip flopping through him.

“Wha… What?” Danny heaves a yawn, blinking blearily down at him. “Sorry, I’m just… they were shit kidnappers, man, really boring. Honestly, worst abduction yet.”

“You were asleep? I thought you were dead!”

“Not mutually exlusive, you know.” Danny says through another yawn. He rolls his neck around with an almighty crack and glances at everyone. “Didn’t think I’d warrant the whole Bat brigade, though…”

“The kidnappers thought they had Tim Drake.” Batman supplies, while Red Robin tries to work through the emotional whiplash.

“Ah, makes sense… wait.” Danny sits up suddenly, squinting at Red Robin. “Did you say you loved me?”

“No, of course not, why would I—”

“Tim? Is that—are you—are you Red Robin?”

“Everyone, hold the fuck up!” Red Hood shouts from the other side of the warehouse, having finished securing the perps to a streetlight outside. “Double R is dating Danny fucking Nightingale?”

Well, there goes his identity… Oh, who’s he kidding, Danny’s smart. There’s no way he could have salvaged that. This was not how he thought the night was going to go.

“Cranberry, is that you?” Danny twists in his chair, somehow delighted to see Red Hood rescuing him, too. “I thought I smelled you lurking about!”

“Shut it, you little shit. Since when were you dating this dweeb?”

“I’m sorry,” Red Robin pleads, hands in the air to try and slow down the onslaught of information and insults, “you two know each other?”

“Cranberry?” Nightwing echoes, looking as lost as Red Robin feels.

“Yeah, Cranberry—The Cranberries—zombie, zombie, zombie-ie-ie. Obviously. Also he’s wearing a big, fuck off red helmet.”

“Yeah, sure, makes sense.”

It’s about the only thing that does.

“And please don’t call my boyfriend a dweeb, Cranberry. Especially when he just said he loves me for the first time.”

“He only said it because he thought you were dead.”

“I am dead, so it counts.”

“Only half, so I’d say that puts you at a solid ‘like’. Tim’s—and savour this, Tim, because I’m only going to say it once—Tim’s intelligent, so I’m sure he’ll come to his senses soon.”

Danny just throws Red Hood such a shit-eating grin. A level of feral that Tim’s only seen before in Damian.

“That’s what I used to say about Jazz, too.”

Hood scoffs in offence, and to be honest, Tim’s not sure where he should go from here. What the hell is happening, how do they know each other?

“Come on, is anyone going to untie me or am I really meeting your family mafia-style?”

“Do it yourself, Slimer.” Red Hood laughs, crossing his arms.

“Ugh, you suck so much. I’ll fucking slime you, just you wait. Can’t believe Jazz even likes you, I preferred it when she was dating Johnny.”

And then, without Danny doing anything other than muttering obscenities at Red Hood, the ropes fall to the ground. In one swift motion, Danny stands up and stretches himself to his full height of 5’6.

“All of you need to explain, now.” commands Batman, and honestly, Red Robin’s very much on his side of it.

“I can’t believe it… Jason and Timmy are both in secret relationships? That’s… How come no one told me?” Poor Nightwing sounds the most shocked out of all of them. He turns to Damian and clasps onto both of his shoulders. “You’re not secretly dating, are you, D? Please tell me you’re not, please tell me you’re single, please?”

Of course, Robin just clicks his tongue and pushes his hands away. Really, Red Robin doesn’t think that Nightwing’s in any danger of that happening, he’d be surprised if anyone could stand Robin enough to actually date him.

He shakes his head and turns to Danny, who’s staring right back at him, worry clear on his face.

Fuck, he... He's alive. He's really alive.

Tim pulls him into a bone-crushing hug, fingers buried deep in his NASA shirt. Tucking his face into the crook of Danny's shoulder, he laughs wetly with the joy of it. He's alive. He hasn't lost him. He's safe.

“I’m sorry I haven’t told you before now, starshine, but…” Danny breaks the hug and softly pulls away from him to rise on his tiptoes to place a kiss his cheek. The skin burns cold where his lips touch. “I love you, too. Also, you’re gonna wanna sit down. This is going to be a lot.”

#dpxdc #dead tired #anger management #(barely but it's there haha)#dcxdp #hailsatanacrab🦀🦀writes #i'm sorry this has taken a while but also this week has kinda sucked and i'm still pissed off about that #so writing has been a nice little break from that!!!!#i hope you enjoy it!! i'm not fantastic with writing romance/ships so like... hope it's alright haha #also i feel kinda bad about not putting the whole phantom reveal too but like... we get that all that time haha #idk maybe i'll continue it #OH SHIT I FORGOT MY WRITING TAG HOLD ON #must admit - i do like that you can edit the tags now even though the new post maker sucks #anyway!!!!!!! i had this whole bit from danny's pov in the beginning where he just decided to go to sleep but realised that fucking sucked #it was so boring haha #so we got this instead!#hope the emotions came across - i feel like i have a tendency to just go cold and clinical when emotions happen #idk #oh! danny and tim met because danny's a part time barista and when tim ordered his monstrocity of a drink danny just winked and said #'ah the walking dead special coming right up!' and added another three espresso #jason and jazz met before they did though - and none of them knew they were dating the other's family #danny and jason have a bit of a rocky relationship - he's not good enough for jazz!! she deserves way better than some two-bit gangster!!#jason just thinks he's a cute overprotective brother - he really envies their relationship and wishes he could have something like that #he likes to rib danny and tbh danny is really warming up to him too - now that the gross stinky ecto is starting to filter out #(which is thanks to him and jazz - which jason does know about and is extremely grateful for)#(he really does love jazz and is a little bit jealous that tim told danny he loved him first)#(jason goes home that night and dips jazz into a kiss and whispers it into her skin over and over again)#(he loves her he loves her he loves her - and who the fuck is johnny?)#once tim gets over his shock he's doing good! of course he accepts danny there was never any question of that #he meets ellie and then introduces her to kon and the rest of the team and ellie decides she might like to do some superheroing for a bit

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lord-squiggletits · 2 months

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The reason this fandom hates IDW Optimus isn't because he's a cop (plenty of people are fine with Prowl) or because he's a bastard (most characters in IDW are) but because he commits the crime of being an actual person who's messy, flawed, and makes a shitload of high stakes mistakes fitting for the intense situations and pressure he's put under constantly.

But we can't have Optimus actually react to his situations by lashing out or being unpleasant, no, he has to have the personality of a cardboard cutout of G1 whose only defining personality traits are "dad, funny, nice," and if he ever vents negative emotions it can only ever be #relatable depression or him being sad on his own without ever letting it show during the important parts of the story. If Optimus dares do things like be angry or frustrated or bitter it's just a sign that he's a bastard and LITERALLY the worst Optimus ever. If Optimus ever makes mistakes or does wrong things in the heat of anger/frustration/stress it's because he's just an evil bastard with no redeeming traits.

God forbid Optimus go through an unending gauntlet of war, politics, atrocities, near-complete loneliness, and a seemingly endless cycle of violence for his entire life and come out of it kind of bitter, angry, and tired of dealing with people's shit. He's not allowed to be a realistic person, context doesn't matter, sympathy doesnt matter. IDW Optimus doesn't fulfill the fandom's fantasies of Father Figure or Perfect Cultural Icon or Twinky Fucktoy and since that's the only reason most people care about Optimus in general, the fandom collectively trashes on IDW OP.

All because he can't fit into the overly simplified and childlike double standard the fandom has where if any other character is messy and flawed, that's good writing and interesting and compelling, but if OPTIMUS is messy and flawed, he's Literally The Worst and he's an asshole for no other reason than He Sucks, context be damned

#squiggposting #ive been here too long and seen the same shit too many times #i'm tired of going 'maybe it's just a difference in taste' nope #the issue is literally just double standards and people not reading the text or taking things out of context #and the worst part is if this were just something OP haters did i would get it #after all if you just dont like OP then of course you arent gonna find anything interesting or compelling #but i see this shit from literally other MOP fans who supposedly love M and OP #but their OP takes are shit and i can count the no. of people who write IDW OP on one hand #i kind of thought that at least among other OP fans there would be deeper readings but if anything it's worse #fandom OP content is 50% haha funny dad jokes g1 knockoff OP and 50% yaoi uke twink sad baby OP #so unimaginative. so fucking boring. so immature #to style yourselves some sort of mature TF fans and then viciously reject the One OP who #dared to be written a little darker and more flawed than any others #it's literally just people refusing to give a chance to any nuanced take on OP #they just want him to be There and Nice and for his biggest flaw to be Being Annoying About Equality or something #might delete later might not

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trickstersaint · 6 months

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elegy in which you are the creator in the laboratory // october 29 2023

#let's go babeyyyyy. getting my little queerness and horror poems in before halloween #need to commit to writing more of these at all times of the year. anyway #poems about being trans #poems about being nonbinary #another poem about frankenstein #did not mean this to seem so directly about gender affirming surgery. kind of supposed to just be an identity thing in general haha.#but hey. it is in the people's hands now #this is also technically about god and whatnot cause whenever i'm writing about frankenstein and the monster #victor frankenstein is a parallel to god and the monster is humanity. you can just take that as a given from me #so. y'know. us when we're god's creations but reforming ourselves to be the way we want to be :)#and that's transness in general babey not just surgeries #let's go girls! let's remake ourselves against god's wishes! his bitchass can't do shit about it now!#poetry #poem #poems #poems and poetry #poets on tumblr #poetsandwriters #original poetry #trans poet #trans poetry #trans #<3

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jacksprostate · 1 month

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Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

The five days Tyler's stolen my voice from me, I spend watching. The commons, group therapy. I visit my cave with my eyes open. Mills should get used to the cold. I've heard if it drops below 50 while your respiration is this depressed, you go to sleep and never wake up.

Valley of the Dogs.

An orderly with fresh bruises peppering his temple lets me take my walk in the same time Mills is carted around. This is how I must've looked for months. Glazed. Drooling. At this point they probably have to use elephant tranquilizers on me, the tolerance I've built.

God, his petty ass, we meet up for one on one and he says he has to give me some bad news.

No, it's not about Mills.

Tyler, whatever.

He is giving me the bad news, of the passing of one Marla Singer. Everyone seems to think this is bad news. Found dead in her apartment because she didn't pick up any Meals on Wheels for her neighbors for three weeks, and they worried about those little old ladies, up there all starving alone since their angel in black stopped showing up.

Her corpse was found, instead. I imagine it all waxy, tits rotted off just like she said, at some point you're so sick even the bacteria in your gut won't bother decomposing you. I imagine Marla's skin pulling back, fleeing, away from her eyes, her teeth, like a mummy. Dried out as all her collagen rots.

Paper clutched in her hand. A will, sort of hasty and half-assed.

Marla's many worldly possessions all fit on a hotel notepad.

Many other worthless things go to a small number of worthless people Marla has mentioned leaving behind in her life, and god says, Marla Singer has left me something.

That's the entire reason I get to know all of this.

If not, I would've never known.

The world could blow up, and you'd never know in here unless it was in someone's will to tell you.

Marla Singer left me her dildo.

Oh, Marla.

Addressed me in the will half the time as Tyler.

I wonder, did the cancer spread from her tits to her brain, like the cancer I didn't have. It's everywhere now. God says they're working out treatment. I wonder if it matters.

Without Tyler between us, I don't really know what connected me and Marla.

What kept her calling.

I liked her. Another psycho boyfriend in her stories. There will never be another, unless she's gone to Heaven, the real one, and they've got some sort of exchange program going on for her to have fun with.

I think Marla might deserve that. She deserved better than this.

I wonder if it was pills. There was no Tyler to save her, this time. No one to listen to her death rattle. I don't have the voice to ask.

I won't be getting her dildo, because you don't get possessions in a psych ward. It'll get dumped in some other landfill to persist for time immemorial with all the other plastic iconography of our stupid, stupid lives.

Released back out to pasture, I watch Mills. His wife was murdered. Murdered, you see, it's an action, and it's solvable. Mills solved it.

You can't solve the slow death. Not really.

I think about how empty Mills is.

Am I empty?

An unidentifiable amount of time ago, Marla called me again, and she told me all about what happens at the new support groups she goes to, since I ruined the old ones for her. They were willing to rally behind her for the whole blowing my brains out show, and she only would've had to wait them out for six months or so, but she decided to just find new ones. A new church, with new temptations like Living With Angels, a group for those caring for severe dementia patients, and Recovery Road: a program for those trying to rebuild their lives after a loved one blew them up. She said, when I got out, we could both go to that one, and I could talk about Tyler, and she could talk about me, and we could have fun getting kicked out together.

Marla was always talking about that. When I got out.

I wasn't ever hearing any of it.

Mills, they've let up on him, finally, you can see his eyeballs aren't floating with all they've juiced him up on. He's watching me, back.

I wonder if he knows about Marla.

Would Tyler care?

Tyler had said, don't call this love.

Does it need to be?

When I get my voice back, I bury my thoughts on the subject and Marla and everything in a relentless campaign to needle Mills until he looks like a voodoo doll in a shitty tourist trap.

#fight club #my writing #se7en (1995)#se7en #something smth destabilizing parallel event #i always think abt how marlas time is limited. another thing i hate abt chucks sequels. they do what the movie does and just ignore her own #shit??#anyway the narrator doesn't know how to handle this because his little rat ass could barely handle how he felt about marla on a good day #if this seems like it came out of the blue. i alluded to it earlier haha #this is like 3k now and i have 2k notes... oopsie

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dreadnotau · 3 months

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Happy three years everybody! As always, there’s a lot to say on the occasion, so pop in at the end of the post for the tl;dr if you don’t have time for my detailed diatribes, haha

Boy, time flies, huh? Feels like the second anniversary was just yesterday, but maybe that’s just the several long hiatuses getting to me. I’ve been scarce on uploading anything anywhere for a while now, even though I promised I’d actually pick up the slack this time around. What gives? Well…

For one, college hell, and for two, a lot of unfounded anxiety about putting my art out there. Allow me some theatrics for a moment and I’ll actually get back to the comic at hand… I’ve never had an exceptionally supportive environment for making art. It wasn’t suppressive, not in the slightest, but it also wasn’t… encouraging. It was always treated as a hobby or a distraction rather than something I was allowed to be fully proud of, especially because a lot of my art focused on more cartoon-y and fantasy ideas, rather than still life studies and painting (which people generally outside of the art sphere tend to value more, arbitrarily). Couple that with a childhood full of being bullied over minute shit you hadn’t even considered could be an issue before, and you get a teenager hellbent on never sharing his interests or ideas with anyone, mostly due to the fear of rejection.

I’ve grown, thankfully, but that paranoia and fear doesn’t go away overnight. As I’m sure you all know, Meowchela was the one who originally encouraged me to post this comic, and the only reason she succeeded was because she was the first person in a long time who listened and engaged with my interests and my art in a meaningful way. It’s kind of obvious her friendship had a profound impact on me, and I’d cite her as one of the reasons I was even hopeful enough to apply to an art college in the first place! This comic, and that bond with another person, proved that maybe these things I’m so passionate about weren’t duds, and weren’t something I had to keep to myself.

So, fast forward a few years. About three years, in fact.

During one of my classes, right before this hellish two weeks of exams started, one of the class assistants talked me into showing my comic pages to one of my professors. He’s generally a pretty open guy when it comes to new mediums, but I’m always… apprehensive about showing my less “traditional art”-y things to professors, but, he ended up being genuinely proud of it. Specifically, I showed him pages 85-87 (because they’re my favourites) and, he didn’t read the text, just the visuals were enough for him to say “good job, keep it up” (which is HIGH praise from that guy). When I mentioned I’ve been meaning to simplify the visuals because I didn’t have time to work on the comic very often because of college and classes, he dismissed it on principle. I was honestly caught off guard. Heavily paraphrasing, he suggested that worsening the visuals for an arbitrary deadline was counterproductive to making something that’s Good™.

That’s kinda stuck with me. For a good few years now I was more focused on optimisation rather than visual improvement for the comic, and though it HAS contributed to better visuals in some ways (cutting corners sometimes makes for a less pointy and jagged end result), it’s kind of weird I’m treating an art project that way, isn’t it? I set a lot of… arbitrary deadlines and standards for myself, in the form of expectations and what I “should” or “shouldn’t” be doing at certain stages in my life. I’ve thought of Dread Not as a passion project second and a stepping stone first, if I’m being honest. As if it was too… fandom-y and derivative to be treated with more gravity than that, like it’s an immature project because I was still a child when I came up with it. As if it was something I’m making to Build Up to Something Else, something Bigger and Cooler and More Important, and… the more I think about the future of Dread Not, and even my future career options, the more I realised that’s, ironically, a really immature way to think about it.

If there’s one thing going to this art college has taught me, is that there’s no “right” way to make art, and there’s no “right” way to success as an artist. There’s no clear-cut paths, just more commonly treaded roads, but even those are heavily overgrown. Why should I try to box myself into thinking I have to make things from complete scratch to be taken seriously? What’s so bad about Dread Not as a story and as a comic that’s caused me to vaguely keep it under wraps when conversing with people in my day-to-day life? Why wouldn’t I put all these skills I’ve acquired to improve and expand this project that’s Right There, WAITING for me to finally get off my ass and get pages out there again?

I wish I could say I’ve used all this time away in a particularly clever way, but I really haven’t - at least, it feels like I haven’t. My art has undoubtedly improved over time (though admittedly the art for this post was Very rushed, fuckin exams), and while I’ve been working on projects in the background, chipping away at them in a VERY disorganised way, I haven’t been posting that progress anywhere, and I haven’t made any good progress on my biggest project, Dread Not, because of the other ones. And, honestly? Admitting that kinda stings. This comic means a lot to me, and I wish I actually gave it the time and attention it deserves instead of letting it sit out hiatus after hiatus because I keep failing at structuring my time.

So, my new plan is a little more abstract: find a way to work Dread Not into my school schedule, and slowly build a habit of working on it more often. No clue how long that’ll take, but I think it’ll be worth it to consider it as an option, and hopefully finally end these long, drawn out hiatuses with short bursts of uploads in-between. HOPEFULLY. Building habits was never my strong suit, so please bear with me while I figure this out in what will probably be the most hectic upload schedule in this comics history, which is: no schedule at all.

From now on (until the end of Act 1), I’ll upload pages when they’re ready, and depending on how the weeks go and how complex the page is, they could be weeks or days apart from one another. Hell, some might even take a month to finish if school stuff gets REALLY hectic (god knows Hellish Exam Week number 1 and number 2 won’t be giving me much time to work on the comic), but I’m determined to do this. I want to be able to put my all into this project again!!

(And hopefully finish Act 1 by the end of this semester…)

TL;DR: College is giving me life lessons I didn’t expect, and because of them I’ve decided to give myself a non-existent upload schedule for Dread Not: Pages will be posted when they’re ready, and the spacing between pages could wildly vary depending on circumstances and the actual complexity of the page itself.

As always, thank you for being here, thank you for reading, and thank you for being patient!

If all goes well, there will be new content very, very soon.

#dread not #dreadnot #dread not au #dreadnotau #not comic #kris #schedule update #again #apparently i was calling this last hiatus a pseudo hiatus?#oh silly past me. this was a full blown hiatus jesus fucking christ #but yeah no i love being at this college dont get me wrong #its just that i have like 3 exams to prepare for the next two days ALONE #so like!!!! wish me luck!!!!! for christs sake #yknow i was planning on actually Dedicating Time to the art for this post #but uhh. haha. a little thing called the consequences to my actions caught up to me #fuckin psychology exam today that i had to cram for last night #i think it went ok? who the fuck knows at this point #but for tomorrow and the day after that i have digital shit to finish some theory to cram AND an ENTIRE PAINTING #that i didnt even START YET #and its an autoportrait. as if i wasnt suffering enough i have to stare at my ugly mug for hours #AGAIN. BECAUSE I HAD A DIFF AUTOPORTRAIT TO FINISH FOR LAST WEEK #im in spain without the s yall pray for me

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iknowicanbutwhy · 1 year

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"This is Tails. Sorry. You just- you haven't been picking up your communicator, and I meant to leave it be, and I know I said I wanted to take some time- to myself, and I haven't called for a bit, but I wanted to bother you- I DIDN'T want to bother you, I just- i know I said that I-"

*sigh*

"I'm trying to be tougher. Y'know, be okay on my own. But I've been really- thinking. Not talking... does that really have to be part of it? I've thought about it logically- because I guess it was kind of an emotional decision to go away, even if it IS also rational-"

"Tangent. Anyways... "Asking for help is a part of growing up," you said. Remember?"

"You're pretty great at holding yourself together. A-and I need to get better at that. But I still think.. that we should talk about things. We should talk about what happened.... and I know you're gonna go "I don't know what you're talking about, buddy!" and change the subject-"

[...If only I could access my data on Father's recorded history of him.]

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic frontiers #memory transfer au #sonic frontiers au #art #fanart #kitscribbles #sage robotnik #because she's there that's her and i guess ill tag her #CONTEXT. IT IS COMING. IT IS INCOMING LIKE A VERY SLOW MISSILE BUT IT'S COMING #over here like 'i cant draw sonic for shit' and then drew him several times #granted i still cant im just saying low quality is probably my best quality #anywhomst #sage becoming friends with sonic's friends over the phone.. can you imagine..#they can't see all the little things that are wrong with him - him posture him expressions the weird way his eyes sometimes flicker black #'cyber energy's' a wacky thing i suppose #and she can go 'haha yeah tell me more about what YOU guys are doing haha i wanna know more about that we've talked about me enough rn'#you ever just hear someone talk about their day and how happy they are with how things are going and just feel happy for them #yeah #i think tails in particular really gets to sage. she has to comfort him sometimes #tails calls back when sage doesn't for a few days and sage picks it up and tails is all #haha im so sorry about that previous call let's just pretend it didnt happen?? yeah i think thats what we're doing i was just. having a #day for some reason dw bout it. How are things with you?? and sage is all hm lets not talk about that actually can we rather talk about #the other thing and tails is like.. woah really #sage trying to gather information while also trying to be nice to tails and it just kinda gets personal

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musical-chan · 21 days

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Father of Time Chapter 38: The Captain, the Sailor and the Musician

Captain Link did not sleep well that night.

He never did before an impending battle. And now there were two other Links in his sleeping space, which didn't help much but he found himself unwilling to find alternate arrangements. He would never forgive himself if anything happened to the other two. They were just boys and Cia had snatched them out of their homes, their own times. They were children! It was not better that Cia had chased after him but this whole situation made his skin crawl.

He had so many questions about them, the Sailor and the Musician. Both fighting Ganondorf before they were even teenagers and sporting scars from hard battle. Had the Hero of Time actually defeated Ganondorf at so young an age? Everything Zelda could remember seemed to indicate he had been older, that Ganondorf had been sealed away in the Twilight Realm only to reappear centuries later for the Hero of Twilight to deal with. Those parts of history they knew, though the details had long disintegrated into time. Could they have gotten his age so wrong?

At least the Sailor was open and cheerful about his adventures. Link was sure that, given enough time, he would tell everything with a story-teller's flourish. The Hero of Time had so many secrets they practically spilled out of his eyes when he looked at them. And then there was the magic he held at his command. Zelda had not seen what Link had out at the portals, but she swore there was a great and dangerous power inside the boy. After that desperate surge of energy with the songs earlier, he wouldn't dare to doubt it. Whatever the Musician had been trying to do, it was strong enough for everyone in the room to feel it.

And it had failed.

(Read the rest on AO3)

#Legend of Zelda AU #post-OOT AU #post-MM AU #Legend of Zelda fanfic #Fierce Deity #Fierce Dadity #loz fanfic #Fierce Deity is a good dad #loz au fic #post MM Link #Legend of Zelda #Father of Time fic #links meet au #War of Eras #Link is occasionally a little shit but that's fine #He's been having a bad day #Was this really all one day? haha it SURE WAS #Don't worry things do move faster eventually

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ajs-art · 1 year

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its that time again.

Magenta belongs to @blinkpen

pose is from the magzoe breakup comic

#blinkpen #magenta flags #my lines have been kind of shit recently so like. sorry #but i sure did force myself to finish this which is more than can be said of basically fucking anything else ive tried to draw for months #so. w i guess.#anyway this panel of the comic has been living rent free in my brain since it was posted and like preemptively before then. it was haunting #me before it was even drawn.#me: oh haha what if the letters glowed a little #my brain: that's so interesting time to relearn how to animate in csp . fucking again

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kinos-fortress-2 · 5 months

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idk comfort characters moment ig

#i should REALLY stop doodling around and start doing more serious art #anyways this is not shipp art btw i dont shipp them for me they are like brothers best friends even #demoman #miss pauling #tf2 #team fortress 2 #kino art #idk i just feel like drawing sad demo i think he got too much going on in that little head full of beer and depression...#and well he just needs a hug and venting for real and not making it much of a joke #IDK I WAS JUST LISTENING TO MITSKI AND LAMP AND BOOM sad doodle i guess #i think for demo is a bit hard to find a good time to vent and well his team kinda sucks for that #same goes w miss p this two are full of shit in their heads so why not listening w each other and crying idk #its been a time since i have draw demo...#those fucking hands... i hate often times drawing hands #idk why i made tf2 sad art i think is funny but who cares cringe is free look at me doing lovey dovey and sad art haha laugh at this guy

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elliwoods · 6 days

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In such a weird spot right now, very much debating a reblog sideblog

I know tumblr is all about "reblogging is good for the ecosystem!" which, yes! Reblogging is such a help for art! But at the same time I am one of those people who doesnt follow people who reblog too much because I get stressed out easily when there is too much stuff on my dash to catch up with. Which leads to me missing out on some cool peoples art. And I KNOW I am not alone in this mindset

I am currently trying to keep a balance between 'reblogging enough to get attention on smaller art posts' and 'not posting enough to cause people to unfollow me' but ah, thats hard....

#shrug #thoughts ig #but at the same time im like. hmm #2 blogs is enough.... actually....#haha 2 blogs left *gets smacked*#another part of me wants to make a reblog sideblog for the sake of archiving purposes #I tried making that years ago actually but then deleted it after 3 reblogs #because I relogged some fanart to main by accident and got embarrassed LMAO #hell yeah #embarrass myself in front of the what the 100 followers I had back then?#good lord turtles exploded this blog #@intotheelliwoods was just supposed to be silly occasional fanart.........#what happened to you #turtle hell #this is also why whenever I do reblog some art on @intotheelliwoods #its typically some like. small artist little note post #that def needs some more attraction #I would LOVE to reblog friends shit but then!!!!!#ugh!!!!!!!#I would be reblogging so much and I fear I would scare off people aha

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mossyflowers · 5 months

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I'm regretting the trig post. People stop getting on my ass about not liking trig challenge (IMPOSSIBLE)

#moss talks #please for the love of god. i understand what it's like when you see something disliking something you like #i know it's funny to say you actually like the thing that the funny haha joke person dislikes on the post #but please for the love of god i am a highschooler with a lot of shit goin on and my math teacher is NOT that great of a teacher #you can tell me about the equations and practical uses of it but i have to have this shit and how to solve it MEMORIZED #and he's barely taught us how to do it #LEAVE ME ALONE AAAUAUAUAUUAUAUUAUAUUAUAU I'M A LITTLE GUY #anyways probably going to delete this later i'm just. a little annoyed.#deadass i have such a hard time with maths because I always forget the equations and little nuances unless it's drilled into my brain #and that has NOT been happening with trig and it's one billion little pieces that we spend like three days on before moving on

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joyful-soul-collector · 2 years

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I wonder if, upon learning that Marc was the Host, "the original" in Steven's words, if Steven ever worried afterwards that he was being invasive.

All those things Konshu called him. Worm, parasite, idiot--were they all true now? Was he truly a parasite? A demon of some sort, occasionally possessing a victim of abuse? Leeching off of someone else's life?

Maybe for a while he stopped fronting. He'd stolen so much of Marc's life already, the least he could do was let Marc make it up as best he could. When he was in their inner world he would stay within his own area, never venturing out for fear of disturbing the place Marc's mind had made for him to feel safe.

And even after doing more research on DID and learning that he wasn't a demon, that he as an alter was just as valid a person as the host was, part of him just couldn't shake the feeling that he was a nuisance. A pest. An invasive species in the habitat that was Marc's mind and body.

It probably took a while for Marc to pick up on. Maybe even months. He can normally read people's emotions well, that's what happens when you're raised in an abusive home after all, but that’s all based on body language and expression, which is a bit harder to read when it's someone in your own body. But eventually he does sense it, he can feel the anxiety Steven feels when he needs to front, feels the relief when Marc comes back. And then he sees Steven out and about in their inner world and suddenly realizes he hasn't seen Steven outside his specific space in a long time. Not to mention the apologetic look he had on his face when Marc saw him, as if he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't have.

The final straw was when Steven ended up fronting for three days straight, and when Marc came back, the flat looked completely different than he left it. All Steven's books had been put away, tucked into shelves or stacked under the bed. Steven's clothes had been taken out of the closet and dresser as well, replaced by cardboard boxes at the top of the closet labeled with Steven's messy scrawl. His pyramid paperweight, the postcards from Gus's tank, and his rubiks cube were tossed haphazardly in to a wire wastebasket, right next to their unusually clean desk. All of Steven's favorite snacks had been cleared out of the fridge and cupboards, and Marc wondered if he'd eaten them or if he felt too guilty to allow himself even that.

The only trace of Steven left in the flat was the pair of fish in the now postcard-less fishtank. He wondered if Steven was worried he'd let them die, seeing as how they were just another reminder of his presence.

And that's when Marc knew exactly what was going on. After all, it hadn't been too long since he was the one hiding his possessions around the flat, trying to make his presence as invisible as possible.

He took Steven's things out of the trash. He unpacked Steven's clothes and carefully put them back where they belonged. He took Steven's books out from under the bed and stacked his favorites on the nightstand for him to read. And Marc went out and bought all of Steven's favorite snacks again, even the ones he hated himself. He put on the soft pajamas Steven always liked to wear, even though they made him feel too hot.

There was a rather emotional talk that night.

It probably took a while for Steven to feel comfortable in his own body again. To stop feeling like he was taking up someone else's life, to feel like he was just as much of a person as Marc was. Sometimes he still felt so guilty that he would hide his possessions again, or he'd write notes to Marc saying that it was okay if he never wanted to let Steven front again, and that Steven wouldn't bother him anymore and he could just disappear.

But eventually with time, and therapy, Steven realized that he wasn't taking up Marc's life, not any more than Marc took up Steven's. They were living life together, and that was wonderful. And when Marc returned after letting Steven front for a week to find that he'd bought five more books and was eating the wasabi nuts Marc hated so much, he knew Steven would be alright.

#moon knight #moon knight meta #steven grant #marc spector #mk system #marvel #mcu #mr. knight #if Jake saw all this go down I think he'd feel comfortable enough to make himself known too #he'd want to be part of the little family they're making (even if at times he doesn't feel like he deserves to)#anyways hope you enjoyed my ted talk lol #if anyone wants to message and ramble about MK shit I'd love to #if I don't answer right away I'm probably just busy or sleeping so don't worry about that but yeah haha #moon knight fanfic #tbh I'm not sure if this is meta or fanfic or if it's possible for it to be both?#I tagged it as meta originally but then in reblogs other people have tagged it as fanfic so #either way it's me rambling about MK for a long time lol'

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