#there's so many words to write

[forgettable-au]

FORGETTABLE-AU (page 97-100)

* Where could she be?

[BEGINNING] [PREVIOUS] [CONTINUE]

[thefabledpheasant]

Seeing other writers on tumblr talk about writing is so validating because all of them are basically:

“I hate writing but I love it more than anything but it’s agony but I have a million stories to put to paper but I barely ever write a word”

And like I’ve always felt this way and I worried it meant I wasn’t supposed to be a writer, which tore me to shreds. But no. That’s just the curse of being one, I guess.

[paladinsbrainrot]

byler as jackieshauna in my yellowjackets au 🐝 🐅 details under the cut!

their history:

mike and will have been childhood best friends since they were five. they've gone through everything together — the good, the bad, and the ugly. they get each other on a level that no one else does, which is a blessing, but also — sometimes — a curse.

mike's always been very insecure of himself, self-conscious of his looks, talents, skills, and confidence. will's everything that mike wishes he was: good-looking, popular, team captain, kind, out. mike truly cares about will, but he's always held a hidden resentment against him. he's jealous of the fact that will's so outwardly himself, proudly feigning the confidence that mike lacks.

while will would never actually admit this to himself, he's always had a sort of mini-crush on mike. it's easy to fall in love when your best friend takes care of you so well. it's 1996, and while the world's not exactly the kindest, he's happy to find himself out as gay to a supportive and incredibly loving family.

mike starts dating el hopper, the brightest and most popular girl in school, in the spring semester of freshman year. in some ways, he hopes that by dating her, he'll gain some newfound confidence. instead, it brings heaps of self-doubt and pessimism as the two find themselves breaking up and getting back together more times than they can count.

frustrated after one of he and el's many break-ups, mike finds himself in will's car one afternoon after soccer practice. will attempts to cheer mike up by boasting about mike's own achievements and kind-hearted personality, saying how the right girl won't be able to pass him up like that. it's then when mike kisses him, straight out of the blue, and will can't help but reciprocate.

pre-crash:

mike treats will and el as their own separate entities, people who he can't mix on any occasion. he spends most of his days kissing el to at least assume some normalcy, and to prove to his parents that he's the respectable boy they've made him out to be. when he's with el, he convinces himself he and will are nothing but childhood best friends, and that there's nothing going on between them. in his downtime, when practice runs late and el's already reported home for curfew, he kisses will like his life depends on it.

mike's worst fear comes true during senior year when will and el tell him their parents are getting married, meaning the two will become step-siblings. it's then when will decides to call it quits. he can't keep doing this with mike if el's going to be his sister in less than a year. no matter how much they enjoy their late-night make-out sessions, it's not fair to her.

mike agrees, albeit reluctantly. there's something about will that el can't give him. it's an apt hunger, running deep through his veins. mike and will spend the rest of the year as friends, with at least two feet of distance between the two of them. but mike would be lying if he said he didn't think of will whenever he kissed el, imagined his lips instead of hers, his hands in his hair. he's now not only jealous of will's confidence, but the fact that he can be proudly gay without an ounce of shame for it.

when the tigers make it to nationals, they all attend the celebration party. mike offers to drive el and will home, who are both clearly wasted. after mike drives el home for her early curfew, he's suddenly overcome with a hunger he's never felt before. mike is instantly compelled to pull over. despite vowing to never do this again, mike can't help the part of him that's starved of will's presence, that wants a final taste of will before he's forbidden. he explains this in due time to will, who, to mike's surprise, can't resist the urge. they share what they think will be their last kiss the day before nationals in the back of mike wheeler's rover.

post-crash:

when flight 2525 crashes in the middle of the canadian wilderness, mike finds himself in a strange position. on one hand, he's stranded in the middle of nowhere with no parents or peers to judge him, with complete, unabashed freedom. on the other, he's stranded with will and el in the same, sequestered space, and he's not sure he's able to handle the two of them at once. it's only a matter of time before el finds out, and mike can't resist the deepest desires of his heart now that he's got will all to himself....

I could not resist the urge to mash two of my favourite shows together so here's what I have come up with! I am planning to draw most of the other characters and write their backstories and plot in this au as well, so keep your eyes peeled for when I eventually get to that. I convinced myself that I would write a fic for this au but ultimately could not as I am not confident enough in my writing abilities as of yet plus it would be an absolutely insane and lengthy project that I'm not sure I'm up for/would finish. I've decided to commit to drawing everyone instead and writing up small drabbles of how I think they would interact in this world so... there's that! I will obviously not be writing the entire au, but I do have LOTS of ideas for what could happen, so please feel free to send an ask if you have any questions ! :)

keep in mind this is just how I would personally go about the characters if they were put in this universe. mike obviously takes inspiration from shauna, and will obviously takes inspiration from jackie, but don't think that their entire story will be exclusively taken from these characters. will is much more similar to shauna than jackie personality wise, and likewise with mike and jackie, but narratively he and jackie both serve the same functions. do take this with a grain of salt as I also had to mesh their canon personalities with the respective character roles they're taking on so... I hope I did it well!

additionally, I just want to put it on the record that jackie and shauna are extremely complex characters, who are not wholly good or bad. in order for mike and will to reflect jackie and shauna's relationship dynamic, I wanted to incorporate the cheating plot. I know cheating is a very taboo topic in the stranger things fandom because in canon mike and will would never do such a thing, however, in this au, mike and will are not going to the 'saint-like' figures we often see them portrayed as in this fandom. they're not wholly bad, but they have flaws, which make them and jackieshauna super interesting characters. I also just really wanted to explore a kind of toxic relationship with byler because It's just interesting to me okay!!!! Idk!!!! don't send the pitchforks after me.

so yes... if we are comparing will's function in the narrative to jackie's he does have to die unfortunately. but I also have lotttsss of new ideas about how will gets to this point and how mike chooses to deal with it after 👀

[marc--chilton]

with the way rsl talks about the relationship between house and wilson, and the way he's talked about hugh laurie himself, i find myself wondering what excuses he would have made up had house and wilson ever made out on screen

[ghost-bxrd]

I think we as a fandom need to have more talks about ✨dramatic✨ Jason running his own AO3 blog where he posts increasingly violent and heart wrenching stories about Robin. (The second Robin. Because he’s absolutely self inserting.)

And the Batfam find out about those fic that have a startlingly detailed layout of the batcave and accurate patrol routes that they choose to investigate (by reading the fics, duh) and growing increasingly upset about how the characters are portrayed.

Especially Robin.

[pricetagged]

Idk how to label this. Wifehunter John?

The idea of possessive/obsessive John manipulating a situation and stealing a wife for himself struck me, so just coughing the idea up while I sneak away for a coffee before I actually have to start work in 20 mins 💖 entirely unedited, abrupt ending

Masterlist l Part Two

________

For someone married to his job, he has put quite a bit of thought into what he is looking for in a wife. Namely, that she's already married.

His reasoning is threefold. He can admit to himself, firstly, that it satisfies his need for control. Competency. He's a busy man with a demanding job. Not quite retired yet, no time to build his own from scratch. With this, he gets a wife boxed up and ready-trained. Broken in.

Secondly, the need for control bleeds into his saviour complex. She'll need a shoulder to cry on, someone strong and capable to get her back on her feet. She'll be feeling a little fragile. Needy. Perfect.

And thirdly, it does something wild to his jealous, possessive streak. The idea of taking something precious, of breaking her bond to another man and tying it to him? Delicious. The idea that she used to be someone else's, that he has to imprint himself onto her knowing that in doing so he is erasing the imprint of another man? It has his teeth aching, grinding even as heat rises in his belly. Stirs at him.

The idea swirls lazily in the back of his mind, never quite finding the right time or right partner. He bats at it a few times, lazy cat playing with the notion, seeing how far it can stretch before it snaps. Eyes up pretty things everywhere he goes, glancing down at their left hands just to check, but nothing quite tugs on that string. Until one day it does when he's outfitting the security system at your house.

It's side work. Cash in hand, word of mouth. Something to keep him busy when on mandated leave. Something to keep in mind as his retirement from active duty creeps closer. And your husband is a real piece of work, all blustering braggadocio energy. Young buck, not knowing his place in the herd. Not knowing that he'd be better scratching his antlers off on a tree than going head-to-head with a gristled thing like John.

It's like John's energy, his presence in the house, sends alarm bells ringing in your husband's mind (Be the man. Don't back down. Puff up your chest and strut). And it plays so perfectly into John's hands because your young buck doesn't realise that what he's really doing is fawning. To John. (Look at me, be impressed by me!) He makes his biggest mistake in putting you down in front of him, trying to sidle up to John and create some kind of desperate camaraderie. Ordering you to bring tea to the men at work. Rolling his eyes at your attempts to talk, to ask questions about the work being done. Waving you off so he can stand and watch the proceedings. Like he could supervise. Like he has any clue what he's doing.

Only the promise of the long game keeps John from levelling him with a hard look, from calling him outblike he'd love to.

He hears you both in the in the other room, having swatted the young buck off like a particularly virulent pest. Noisy and bothersome. Not needed - or wanted- in this home. And entirely too stupid to realise that John wasn't being jocular in his dismissal.

You've been scribbling away for the past few days, something occupying your time, keeping you happy and hidden away in the kitchen.

"You're not serious, are you?"

"Well, yes," he hears the slight quaver in your voice before you find your footing. You've got at least a bit of spine. Good. "You said that I should find an occupation. Not just 'laze around the house playing housewife'. This is what I-"

"Oh come on, I didn't mean- You don't think that this is viable, do you?"

"Well... I love gardening. And I'm good at it. And there's no reason that it can't be more accessible for people, especially with the current economic-"

He cuts you off with a scoff. "Dear, just- I don't want you to be disappointed. I think you don't quite understand the time and effort this will take. And you know nothing of marketing, publishing. Why don't you put that away and start on dinner?"

And oh, isn't that delicious. He can taste it now, that idea that has been swirling. It's thick, almost tangible on his tongue. The tension in the house, the bitter lacryma of stifled tears. The slight acidity of words you left unsaid. It has his mouth watering, pupils dilating.

And when he's packing up that evening, tools and materials tucked in to the heavy workman's case, he swings by the kitchen on his way out. Catches the way something is jutting out slightly from the bin, lid slightly askew. When he pulls it out he realises it's some kind of notebook, carefully (lovingly) bound. Pictures pasted, mindmaps and notes and plans scribbled in the margins. Your gardening tips. Kitchen scraps, window boxes, rooftop plots. Urban gardening. It's deeply thoughtful, well researched.

A labour of love, lying in the rubbish.

Sweet, clever little thing. That just won't do.

He leaves your house with a little piece of you tucked away in his toolkit and a nice plan forming. He'll be back, of course, not quite finished with his work. He'd planted a few little links into the system he'd almost installed, projecting not just to the monitor in your home but also in his. Got to keep his eyes on you, keep you safe and cared for in ways that your useless husband can't.

Finding that book was a boon. He'd say it was divinely ordained if he believed in all that. It weighs heavy in his toolbox as he whistles out the door.

Now, how to get you alone and return it to you..

________________

This idea may have been done before? I'm not sure, sorry! I've seen a lot of possessive John floating around. Tagging @stellewriites because I said I would last time, and you've been so encouraging of my nonsense.

Anyway I've got like 4 long-form WIPs that I'm working on, so I may never actually write this one but thought I'd share since that image set I just reblogged made me feral 💖

[tiniest-hands-in-all-the-land]

Been playing FFXIV recently desperately searching for my cunty lil man :)

I love my tiny little friend who insists I come with him for all of his political negotiations where I just sit and nod and occasionally smack a dude senseless

[hazbinhotei]

sense of style.

warnings: none

word count: 1106

summary: Alastor finally snaps after days of catching you staring at him, convinced you're smitten—only to find out you've just been admiring his sense of style.

alastor x gn!reader — can be read as platonic or romantic! thank you to the anon who requested this story! after writing four fics so far, i've come to the sudden realization at how often i use the same words. time to open a thesaurus i guess.

Of all the things Alastor expected in the wretched Pride Ring of Hell, being stared at so persistently was not one of them.

For days now—days!—you had been watching him. He'd feel it like an itch at the back of his head, a tingle up his spine that made his fur bristle and his grin quiver at the edges. Whenever he turned, there you were, eyes fixed on him, expression unreadable, so intense it made his stomach twist into knots.

At first, he thought—Well! Isn’t this fascinating! Perhaps you had fallen for his undeniable charm! Who wouldn’t after all? Alastor wasn’t foreign to the concept of others falling for his appeal, even if most of his admirers met him when he was more human-like. But Alastor was never one to judge, especially when the good graces favored him.

However, the more your glances continued, the more wrong it felt. You never swooned, never batted your lashes or fumbled over your words. No dreamy sighs, no pink in your cheeks. Just that look; the kind that made him feel exposed. He could never tell what you were thinking, his mind going into overdrive every time he saw your eyes land onto him with that indiscernible expression.

And now—oh, now, he was at his limit!

Bursting through the doors of the hotel lounge with a flair of dramatics, Alastor snapped his staff against the floor, a red flush creeping high on his cheekbones. His grin strained, stretched thin like a radio signal struggling to reach its audience.

“Alright! Spill it. What, pray tell, is so absolutely captivating about yours truly that you feel the need to stare at me like some lovesick fledgling?” His voice, usually laced with mocking amusement, had a sharp edge to it, and his ruby eyes burned as they pinned you in place.

He watched your head turn from your spot on the couch, those damn eyes of yours moving from your smartphone to his with confusion. But instead of looking caught or embarrassed, you just… laughed.

A bright, bubbling laugh that took him entirely off guard. His ears flicked back, his brows twitching as his mind reeled like someone scrambling to understand the punchline of a joke. What was so funny?!

“Oh my God—” you wheezed, trying to collect yourself, but the look on his face only made it worse. You waved a hand in front of your face, gulping down air before managing to explain, “I—I wasn’t staring at you because I like you like that! I was looking at your outfit!”

That seemed to take Alastor completely off guard. He blinked owlishly, his entire form twitching as if you had just rewritten reality. “…My outfit?” he repeated, stunned.

“Mhm. I was just admiring your style,” you hummed with a casual shrug, sitting up. “It’s… well, it’s classic! Old-fashioned, sure, but stylish. I like that you dress more on the modest side, too. Made me wonder where you found such clothes when most boutiques in Hell seem to prefer, uh… less clothing.” You finished with a little laugh, gesturing to his attire.

Alastor felt something short-circuit in his brain, continuing to blink repeatedly at you with wide eyes. He suddenly became hyperaware of himself; his high-collared waistcoat, the neatly buttoned shirt beneath, the long, tailored coat that hung off his shoulders. He had always prided himself on dressing with dignity, despising the scandalous displays so many demons indulged in these days. But the idea that you—a fresh soul, meaning you hailed from the generation he found far too provocative—also preferred a more refined sense of dress?

That, for Alastor, was certainly unexpected. And, dare he say it… utterly delightful!

“Well now,” Alastor’s grin stretched wide again, his previous frustration vanishing like smoke in the wind. “I must say, I wasn’t expecting such an appreciation for good taste! How refreshing.” He tilted his head, his flustered frustration melting into something far more amused. “And here I thought you were simply admiring me!”

You snorted. “I was, just not in the way you thought.”

“Hah! How intriguing,” Alastor leaned forward on his staff, eyes gleaming as he inspected you in a new light. “And what? Are you looking to refine your wardrobe as well? Perhaps replace those ghastly modern rags with something a bit more respectable?”

“That’s actually what I was hoping for,” you admitted, placing your phone down in your lap as you tilted your head at him. “I was gonna ask if you knew any good places to shop in Pentagram City, since you’re the only one I know around here who dresses like this.”

If Alastor could wag his tail, it would be practically wagging out of its socket.

“Do I?! My dear, you are in luck!” He hummed with theatrical flair, the excitement in his voice practically crackling through the air. “There are plenty of hidden gems scattered throughout the city. Places where true craftsmanship is still appreciated, where one doesn’t have to settle for the flimsy, tasteless garments of the masses.”

Your eyes brightened at his boisterous tone. “Oh, that sounds perfect! I’d love some recommendations.”

“Recommendations?” Alastor tapped his fingers against his chin, then snapped them together with a click. “Why settle for mere suggestions when I can show you firsthand!”

You blinked, realizing you had just accidentally signed yourself up for a one-on-one shopping trip with the Radio Demon of all people. “Wait, you mean—?”

“That’s right!” He beamed. “An outing! You and I, gallivanting about the city in search of proper finery. What fun!” He threw an arm around your shoulder as he sat down next to you, his grin positively glowing with excitement as the couch shook from his movement. “We’ll make a day of it. And you, my dear, shall be my most esteemed guest!”

It was hard not to be infected by his enthusiasm, and before you knew it, you were grinning right along with him. There was something surprisingly charming about him when he got like this—when the showmanship melted into genuine excitement, his sharp edges softened by an undercurrent of something almost… tender.

“Alright,” you said, nudging him playfully, ignoring the way the radio static around you buzzed in response to your gesture. “I’m down. But don’t think you can just dress me however you want. I won’t try on anything too ridiculous.”

Alastor’s grin widened, but there was something else in his gaze now—almost like he was starting to see you as more than just a wayward Sinner seeking a half-assed attempt at redemption. He simply shook his head, chuckling under his breath. “We’ll just see about that, cher!”

[casscainmainly]

Duke and Bruce: A Question of Definition

When re-reading Cursed Wheel, I was struck by this exchange. Suspicions around Bruce's motive for taking in Duke is a running thread in their relationship, but what fascinates me about this moment is that Duke is using this suspicion against Bruce. He knows Bruce will be hurt by this accusation. More than hurt - Bruce's "maybe" suggests uncertainty, a lack of faith in himself. In this exchange, Duke and Bruce are both uncertain of what they mean to each other, and both troubled by that uncertainty.

This uncertainty runs throughout their time together. I'm going to try to track Bruce & Duke's dynamic through the years; basically, this post collects my disparate Bruce-Duke thoughts from my full Duke read. So warning that this is a LONG post.

I will probably contradict takes I've had in the past but you live and you learn 😭. Also the Bruce-Duke dynamic shifts a lot so this is not definitive or 100% correct - lots of these moments can be interpreted differently! But with all that said, let's jump into Zero Year!

The Beginning

Duke and Bruce first meet during the disaster called Zero Year, where Riddler blacks out and floods Gotham:

Batman (2011) #21

At its core, Zero Year and Endgame are about Bruce's relationship to Gotham. Duke says "He thinks you're dead[...] ever since he killed the city." Batman's death becomes intertwined with the city's death; in the reverse way, Duke in Bruce's mind will become intertwined with Gotham. This exchange sets up their relationship as reciprocal: Bruce gives Duke his fish, and Duke gives Bruce information. From the beginning, they have equal need for each other.

Batman (2011) #30

After Duke's parents rescue Bruce, Bruce tries to persuade Duke to leave Gotham. Duke replies: "No. We're here." Duke's decision to stay in Gotham directly influences Bruce to stay as well - here, we begin to see Bruce linking Duke to the city. This issue establishes that their relationship in some ways revolves around the city itself.

Batman (2011) #38

Then, Joker arranges for Duke and his parents to star in a re-enactment of the Wayne murders. Bruce manages to rescue Duke only, and then Bruce asks Duke to help him find a first aid kit for Jim. This scene parallels their first meeting in #21 (see the fish panel above!), with one handing something to the other. Their positions are flipped: this time it's Duke handing something to Bruce. The flipping nods to the 'reciprocity' aspect, and also to the way they parallel and will continue to parallel each other (particularly in Snyder's writing).

But this is also the first moment of genuine connection between the two of them! Bruce asks Duke to be a "friend," and they fist bump. Nowhere near familial, but a bit more intimate - this intimacy is more on Bruce's side than Duke's though. Duke still sees Bruce as primarily Batman, but Batman begins to think about Duke as an individual. This one-sided growing intimacy is a core tenet of their dynamic.

Symbols and People

Let's address this 'one-sided intimacy'. To Duke, Bruce is Batman first and foremost, and he criticises Bruce whenever he's not:

Batman (2011) #47

To Duke, Bruce is just anybody, but Batman? That symbol "inspire[s]" people, and "no one could be [Batman] but you!" His faith in Bruce is entirely tied to the Bat symbol. Concurrently with his growing understanding of the Robin symbol in We Are Robin, a large part of Duke's early story is about symbols as markers of community and hope. He prioritises Batman's relationship to the city over any relationship he personally could have with Bruce.

Bruce's view of their relationship has shades of this too. He tends to describe Duke in terms of his effect on the city:

From Batman & The Signal #3 and Batman: The Secret Files: The Signal respectively, both of these are about Duke's potential to benefit Gotham. The latter in particular shows Bruce idealising Duke as the 'perfect' Gothamite, a "represent[ation]" of the city's best.

This kind of idolisation skates close to early Bruce-Cass, particularly the idea of Duke being the 'best' (analogous to Bruce calling Cass 'perfect'). But Bruce does not go as far as he did with Cass. Other Duke fans have said this, but in a lot of ways Bruce is actively trying not to fall into previous parenting/mentoring failures. So he tamps down this symbolisation with lines about Duke as a specific person:

Batman & The Signal #1

"Something independent of the past, and... of me." The wording here is so careful, so constructed to highlight Duke's agency and to separate Duke from Bruce's previous relationships. Bruce also separates Duke from himself, avoiding the projection that was characteristic of, yet again, early Bruce-Cass. I'm Cass-brained so I'm mostly using Cass but these pitfalls occur for his other kids as well. Bruce does see Duke as a symbol of Gotham/hope, but he also knows the importance of seeing Duke as an individual with agency.

Bruce's struggles drive him to differentiate Duke from the other Robins, to cover him in bats but allow him to work during the day, to constantly show how important Duke is to him personally but only verbally acknowledge Duke's importance to Gotham. He ends up simultaneously pulling Duke into the family (offering him the manor, giving him a Batsuit, working alongside him in All-Star) and accepting Duke's distance (allowing him to work in the daytime, giving him his own cave, putting him on the Outsiders).

And Duke, being the detective he is, notices.

Insecurity

A ton of Duke stories feature people telling Duke he doesn't fit/shouldn't be here:

Dark Nights: Death Metal Robin King // Cursed Wheel Part 2 // Cursed Wheel Part 6 // Detective Comics (2016) 983

Duke brushes some of these instances, but he does internalise some of it. See Batman and the Signal #1 and Cursed Wheel Part 6:

Duke's insecurities are not about Bruce alone. They're about being unable to find community, represented by the Batfam in both cases. But Bruce is a huge factor in the insecurity, and the Cursed Wheel panel in particular is so evocative for me. The way Duke frames it - "They found a way inside with you" - suggests that Duke is expecting Bruce to help him. He doesn't want Bruce's approval, but he does need Bruce to help him through this, in the reciprocal way they've always helped each other.

But I think Bruce's struggle to define what Duke means to him, as I outlined above, is part of why Duke feels Bruce isn't helping him. Duke begins to question Bruce's motives in taking him in:

Batman and the Signal #2 // Dark Days: The Casting

Bruce shuts it down every time (including in Cursed Wheel Part 6), but it doesn't really make Duke feel better. "I chose you because of who you are / I only wanted to be there when you decided what you were going to become." Bruce consistently highlights Duke's agency/individuality as the reason he took him in, but it just doesn't jibe with what actually happens - not Bruce giving him two suits, putting the bat on him, etc. And Duke sees that inconsistency, so anytime Bruce pulls out an 'it's just because you're cool Duke,' it doesn't ring true. They both know that's not Bruce's entire motive.

That brings me to the panel I opened this post with. Duke questions whether Bruce took him in for self-serving reasons, and Bruce pauses before saying "maybe." Duke hits on the reason for Bruce's inconsistent behaviour - Bruce himself is uncertain about his motives for taking Duke in, and afraid they are selfish. This uncertainty in turn sows insecurity in Duke, because he values and desires transparency. As long as Bruce is unsure about why he took Duke in, Duke cannot be fully comfortable in his position in the Batfam.

Parenthood

But what's the root of Bruce's uncertainty? Right before the Cursed Wheel argument, Bruce suggests moving Elaine and Doug away. What Duke says - 'maybe you took me in out of guilt' - is a paraphrase of what a Jokerised Elaine told him earlier. This argument, and Bruce's uncertainty, revolves around Duke's parents.

Bruce is kind of the reason anything happens to Duke's parents anyway (since Joker mimics the Wayne murders), but Bruce also promises Duke everything will be alright:

Batman (2011) #38

Duke doesn't blame Bruce for what happened to his parents or his inaction on finding them - he calls Bruce's amnesia 'selfish', but it's more a general critique than a personal one. But I think Bruce does blame himself for failing to keep his promise. I'm extrapolating a lot because we don't really see any of Bruce's feelings, but thinking of his reaction to Duke's mom's absence in Batman: Urban Legends #18:

Jefferson says Duke is going to make a mistake that he'll "never forgive himself" for, but they "owe [Duke] more than that". This is pure extrapolation but I like to read this as touching on Bruce's guilt for never having found Duke's parents earlier, something he'll never forgive himself for. He owes Duke, which is why he becomes hell bent on finding Elaine when she goes missing again. But if he's guilty at this point, then the guilt could have run through their entire relationship.

Which makes things so complicated!! Bruce feels guilty about not saving Duke's parents; Bruce loves how much Duke loves his parents; Bruce thinks it's not good for Duke to spend so much time thinking about his parents; Bruce also, maybe, a little bit, wants to be Duke's parent. Thinking of this tidbit from Detective Comics #984:

Bruce warns Jefferson about how he should treat Duke, and the very first thing he says is that Duke "won't want another father figure". This shows that a) Duke and fatherhood is a touchy subject and b) it's a subject at the forefront of Bruce's mind. This wording also leaves it ambiguous whether Bruce considers himself a 'father figure'. The next line is nonsense about Duke respecting Bruce too much to 'challenge' him, which is plain wrong, but it does show that Bruce is not very clear what his relationship to Duke is. He's not exactly a 'father figure,' but neither is he a stranger like Jefferson. This in-betweenness is repeated by Duke in Batman & The Outsiders (2019) #1, when he says "You're not my father. And you're not Batman." Batman occupies this nebulous role in Duke's life, orbiting fatherhood but never quite touching it.

Though I think this discomfort around fatherhood is more on Bruce's side, nebulous fatherhood is also a motif for Duke. In Batman & The Signal, Gnomon's presence disrupts a lot of Duke's beliefs about 'family'. We don't have too much on Duke's feelings about Gnomon (recurring thing... sigh) but we do have morsels:

Batman: Urban Legends #18 // Batman: The Secret Files: The Signal

Gnomon makes Duke question Doug's 'father' status; simultaneously, Duke struggles with this idea of 'trading' his WAR family for the Batfamily; then, in Urban Legends, Duke imagines his mom accusing him of loving his dad more than her. All of this shows Duke is deeply troubled by familial replacement - he's terrified of losing his family, particularly Doug and Elaine, because he's found other people he considers family. Bruce figures as both a symbol of the Batfamily and as a possible-father, undergirding a lot of Duke's fears here. So while Bruce more overtly grapples with the way their relationship is defined, Duke also struggles with it.

It's why Duke imagines Bruce under 'family' in Batman & The Signal #3, and then immediately amends it to 'mentor' and 'friend'. In a way, Duke's namelessness in All-Star Batman is a symbolic encapsulation of how neither of them name what they mean to each other.

Our Best Selves

BUT while their relationship is complex and filled with uncertainty, it can also be a really beautiful, really healing thing for both of them.

All-Star Batman #3

Bruce has a long history of shutting people out and being dishonest, which has landed him in hot water with his allies many times. But Duke, who represents honesty and truth, allows him in turn to be honest. Duke knows Bruce needs someone to hear him talk about Harvey, and Bruce knows that Duke needs the truth. And they offer each other what they need, as they have from the very beginning.

Bruce does this for Duke, too, in Batman: Urban Legends #18:

Duke has been working himself to the bone trying to find his mom, to the Outsiders' worry. But it's Bruce's appearance that allows Duke to finally talk about what he's been working on. This panel just really gets me because Duke is talking to all of them but looking straight at Bruce - at a man so entangled with Gotham, with what happened to Doug and Elaine. He wants Bruce to understand. Bruce does.

They are both people who have such a deep love for Gotham, for their parents, who believe in rehabilitation and the goodness of people. And they'll always save each other.

All-Star Batman #5

All-Star Batman #5 // Batman (2011) #50

So actually this section is about the random Duke appearance in Detective Comics #982. Deacon Blackfire tells Bruce that Gotham is cursed, and the issue takes Bruce through ruminations about underserved Gotham neighbourhoods, the role of community, and ends with him watching the sun come up with a little boy. IT'S SO DUKE, like everything Duke stands for, but it's also what Bruce stands for too!! And what's interesting is that when Bruce is told he's alone, he imagines Dick, Babs, Damian, and Duke. Duke says, "we're out best selves because of you."

The Duke-Bruce relationship is a reciprocal one, so Bruce may bring out the best in Duke but Duke also brings out the best in Bruce. And they both believe in the best of people, the best of the city. They are both in love with Gotham, with their families, and they both deeply believe in rehabilitation and promises. They are their best selves because of each other.

Conclusion

In Cursed Wheel Part 4, Duke decides to keep his parents on the premises. He tells Bruce that no matter what his parents say, the truth is that they love him, and he can take it. And Bruce smiles.

Because even though Bruce was the one who suggested moving his parents away - even though he may want Duke to be in his family - he loves Duke because he would never let his parents be moved. Through all of the symbols they make out of each other, all of the slippery definitions of fatherhood, friendship, and mentorship, they are two people who fundamentally get each other. Duke gets where Bruce is coming from with Harvey, and Bruce gets what Duke needs (with the daytime, with the Outsiders, with finding his mom).

The best Bruce-Duke moments are layered with an intimacy that isn't necessarily familial, but is also not strictly teacher-student. They've grown close, but they are also still independent of each other - and though I don't think either of them will ever fully say what they are, that's not so important. They may never be fully free of the uncertainty that underlies their relationship, but they love each other, and the indefinability of their love doesn't make it any less strong.

[andhumanslovedstories]

I've been running this writing experiment lately to cut out phrases like "I felt" in my fiction writing. Like I was looking at a sentence in a draft that said, "he felt as if character's eyes were pinning him in place." And then I was like, "well, does he think that or is it true? As a result of this person watching him, he's froze. It's not like a thing, it is that thing."

Oh and "almost"! I'm always going, "He felt almost relieved that it hadn't happened." Well, did he feel better that it didn't happen or didn't he? Or "somewhat", I'm always going, "she felt somewhat perturbed."

And like none of that is wrong, to be clear. I don't know if it'd improve your writing, I don't even know if it'll improve my writing, but I use this sentence structure all the time so every viewpoint is from a voice that thinks about what it thinks, hedges its statements, and offers the same ability for wry little jokes formatted in the exact same way. And I have a lot of writing like that and I think (!) that they're good, but read as a whole, I'm like, "god, they all sound the same." Like there's one melody that I write songs to, so even with different lyrics, it's almost (!) the same song. Something I've been struggling with in regards to my writing and why I've felt so blocked is how boring I found writing my usual way. I'd read something and enjoy the individual parts of it, but then I'd step back and I didn't like the whole. And I got good at this enough at seeing that I didn't like it to do it in real time as I was writing, which as you can imagine didn't improve the process of writing because now I was bored AND dejected about being bored.

There's this sentence-level structure fact that I use unconsciously. A pattern I find easy is short sentence, short sentence, short sentence, long sentence. So I write that. "He [verbed]. He [verbed]. Then he [verbed]. As he [verbed] to his [consequence], he [verbed] that [noun] was [statement of condition]." Which could work, it often does make for a nice rhythm, but it's something I reach for often because it's easier for me.

Just last sentence, I originally typed, "I find it easier for me." But if what I mean is "using this pattern is less effort than another pattern," then it's easier for me. One voice is hedging its bets and the other asserting. Either is fine! But they're different! And, again, GOD you would not believe how many words I've cut out of this paragraph as I write it. I'm so chatty. I love using twelve words when six will do. And that gives my writing a specific tone to my ear.

So if I am bored of that tone, why not try using just the six words? Why be understated? Why be afraid of stronger opinions? So right now with my fiction, I'm experimenting with cutting out as many self-reflective words as I can. Sometime you do need to draw attention to the face that this is the character's interpretation, but like you definitely don't need to do it as much as I naturally want to do it. You don't need to always go out of your way to allow the possibility that the narrative voice is wrong. During editing, I trim the weaker ones (I originally typed, "what I consider the weaker ones" Is that more accurate?). But I think them being there in the first place shifts my language which shifts my character's which shifts my plot. It's sentence structure all the way down!!

(this barely applies to my writing on here, btw. i try to do good but yknow this is a tumblr blog. i'm not trying to get a lit mag to accept it.)

Anyway blah blah (chatty!) the point is I've been trying to write in a way opposite of my interests. Something that doesn't take itself too seriously, that emphasizes EMOTION and ACTION instead of minimizing it, and that clips through scenes at a good pace. Doing this been amazingly fun. I've been having such a good time doing it. I am writing so much because I really enjoy doing it. The process of writing is so fun again.

This post is about two things. One is my new mood stabilizer and therapy day camp. The other is about the benefit of pretending to be MXTX.

[clingonlikeclingwrap]

Can I please hear more about the nan feng and fu yao au I love them so much

YES

- Fu Yao became a deputy official first; Feng Xin saw him trailing cheerfully behind Mu Qing one day and lowkey got competitive. He met and picked up Nan Feng soon after.

- Nan Feng's name is false, given to him by Feng Xin when he became a deputy official. He left his real name behind along with his mysterious, troubled history (meaning I haven't thought of it yet) in the mortal realm.

- Fu Yao was one of like eight children of a prestigious family, born to a particularly ambitious concubine. She was a really overbearing mother who involved FY in a bunch of succession struggle crap against his siblings, which made him run away from home to get away from it all instead.

- FXMQ thought they would compete against each other too, except FY despises competition due to his childhood, and NF is too concerned about work to go making even more problems for himself.

- On the contrary, NF and FY become friends from exposure bc their generals keep picking fights and destroying shit and they always end up having to clean up the mess together.

- NF kinda has a puppy crush on FY, who knows about it because he’s uncommonly emotionally intelligent, except he doesn’t do anything about it because NF is the opposite and doesn’t seem to actually realise his own feelings.

- They sometimes get into heated debates over which of their generals is better, which is about the worst their conflicts ever get. The argument generally stops because they have to go mediate an actual fight between FXMQ.

- While FXMQ were doing their tsundere-fuelled side quests with Xie Lian, NF and FY were holding down the fort in heaven.

- Every time XL visited heaven during his third ascension, NF and FY were ordered to go to the mortal realm, which they spent frolicking around together hunting ghosts and taking a break from paperwork. They basically missed the whole plot bc FXMQ forgot to call them back.

- Post-canon, NF and FY champion the FengQing agenda because FY wants his general to be happy and NF wants them to stop causing property damage with homoerotic tension-charged fist fights.

- Although generally carefree, FY is fiercely protective of MQ and will not tolerate slander in any form. Similarly, despite his huffing and complaining, NF is extremely loyal to FX.

That's all for this time. Thanks for the ask!

This AU is only gonna get longer so I’m making a masterpost

[cheralith]

cw: gn!reader, no pronouns used, but use of word "wife"

you make a marriage pact with childhood best friend karasu at age nine where you pinky promise to each other that you won't let each other die alone, that by the time you're thirty-three and if both of you are single, you'll marry each other.

you ignorantly think that it's enough time for you and him to find someone to settle down with, but adulthood topsy-turvies you in ways you don't expect and after an abundance of up-and-down failed relationships, you find yourself single just a two weeks shy of your thirty-third birthday when your boyfriend tells you that "this isn't working out."

karasu has been by your side through it all; he's had his fill of partners too, but after his latest relationship, he figured to take a break for himself from dating.

it's not until you and him get drunk one night at a bar where the alcohol suddenly fizzes up a long-lost memory that you and him completely forgot about until you slur it out to him.

"you still wanna marry me?"

karasu blinks. then cocks his head. "come again?"

"the big ol' three-three is coming up," you mutter blearily. "remember what we said?"

it's only then that karasu gets shot back in time, to when you and him were hiding in a playground slide one summer afternoon, giggling and whispering secrets to one another, where you and him made that pinky promise he always kept in the back of his head.

he won't tell you, but he's thought about more often than he should. that little ghost of what-if always whispering to him.

"oh, yeah," he swallows thickly, gulping some beer down to try and smooth his senses. it backfires—creates some sort of film in his throat that makes it pass through a little harder than usual. "... um. depends. you still up for it?"

"we're not getting any younger," you sigh with a loose smile. "i'm down for it if you are."

karasu can't help but mirror your grin. stupidly so, just like whatever events are about to play out.

what unravels next is made up of a drunken proposal with an onion ring on your finger with karasu in his inebriated stupor loudly announcing he's engaged to the bar that whoops and shouts in celebration.

and karasu suddenly finds himself standing at an altar only several months later, in front of a small batch of shared friends and families all the familiar with a pressed suit at the ready. otoya fidgets with his tie at his side as best man, with yukimiya as the officient on his other arm.

out of all the things he didn't expect to come out of this year, being married to his longterm friend was certainly not one of them—and yet here he is. watching you as you delicately float down a tiny aisle with a cheap wedding dress you carelessly picked out for the sake of time and budgeting.

somehow, you make it look regal. the polyester spins to silk when it drapes on your skin and karasu finds himself itching to leap from the alter, lift that veil, and kiss you senseless.

he pauses. odd.

he finds that tightening feeling in his chest as he stares at you walking down in the aisle rather odd. he shakes it off, thinking it's just those pre-wedding jitters he's felt for the past couple of months.

yukimiya lets you unfold your vows to each other and say "i do", and it's only then that you share a kiss to seal the deal. it's brief, but it's warm and soft—a tender thing. it leaves a effervescent feeling on his lips that he's never felt before.

clumsily, you both pull back and share the same stupid smile that you gave each other at the bar, as if to say, "we really did it, huh?"

the night lasts longer than usual, as if time slowed down to help you savor this moment that you thought would just run over like a work meeting. but you find yourself having fun, talking and laughing with loved ones with karasu holding your hand throughout the entire night.

each time you look at him, you find him looking at you softly with a twinkle in his eyes, something that makes your stomach flip about. it doesn't help that he's always smiling so delicately—dare you say, with adoration, even.

and it's not the platonic kind that you've grown accustomed to.

you shake it off when the thought arises.

you can't be fooling yourself like that—this marriage was more of a business deal than anything. you know what he likes, who he likes. and you're far from the usual mold he finds himself going back to.

but it's hard to keep that affirmation grounded when it's time for the couple's dance, where karasu still has that sweet look in his eyes as he stares at you, hands settled on your hips to sway you to a sweet tune that you and him have loved since you were snotty-nosed brats.

you thin your lips to keep yourself from smiling. "do i have something on my face...?"

he hums, blinking slowly, affectionately. "yeah. ya got a little smear of beautiful right here, i think."

his thumb wipes away nothing on the high of your cheekbone, a smirk blending in with his grin. you snort with a slight simper.

"didn't know my husband could be so cheesy," you press on the foreign word as you roll your eyes.

"i like the sound of that," he murmurs. "'husband.'"

you falter and pause in your tracks a little. karasu is quick to pick you back up, pulling you a little closer to him.

"yer my wife now," karasu takes the word out for a test drive, the word melting like sugar on his tongue. sweet, palatable. it's fitting. "that okay with you?"

"you're asking me that on our wedding day?" you raise a playful brow.

karasu barks out a laugh, the rugged one you've heard and can play by ear at this point. a melody you suppose you're not tired of.

he caresses his thumb over your cheek, hand cupping your face. you realize he hasn't removed it yet from your face.

"no harm in askin'," he shrugs. "just wanna know what my wife thinks, that's all."

"you like that word, don't you?"

karasu drums his fingers on your hips. "feels good to say."

the lights sparkle around you, a gentle warmth flittering on your skin and creates almost this dazzling halo-effect around him. he brings your face closer to him and your breath hitches. he stops just a few inches shy of your face, his hand blocking everyone else from view to properly let you and him have some alone time for a few spare seconds.

you can feel the warmth of his breath on your lips, sharing the air.

"... can i kiss my wife again?" he whispers.

it's the way he says it that makes you wonder about your initial thoughts with all of this—this supposedly "platonic" bond between you and him that you've agreed to seal off.

you've always loved karasu; he's always held a part of your heart since your first bicker on the playground at age seven when you and him fought over your turn on the swings.

but you think something new has bloomed for him now, amidst your wedding day out of all things. an odd predicament to blossom such a newfound love, but regardless of how you got lost and tangled along your way, all the roads still led back to him.

you nod shyly.

karasu quirks his lips up in a spark of excitement, one that makes you bite your lip to keep from laughing. he sighs breathlessly, just before he kisses you again—this time, just for you.

[moonsglare]

“happy father’s day.”

your voice is a rough, thready wheeze, undoubtedly from all the moaning and screaming you had been doing earlier. from her position above you, kneeling between your legs, arlecchino quirks a brow, the corner of her lips lifting ever so slightly.

“ah. so that’s what all this was about,” she muses with the slightest shake of her head. just a few hours earlier, she had arrived home from yet another diplomatic trip, a little weary but nevertheless not too worse for wear. you’d greeted her with a kiss on the cheek, before taking her hand and leading her to the bedroom—estelle was, perhaps fortunately, already asleep—where just the sight of you managed on the bed was enough to banish all of her exhaustion far to the back of her mind. your voice was a soft, inviting purr; the call of a siren, and she’d been powerless to resist.

i missed you, you whispered, fingers tracing the muscle of her bicep beneath her coat, it’s not the same on my own. and just those few words had given rise to a lust so absurdly all-consuming she absolutely had to have you immediately or she would have likely gone quite insane. in the end she isn’t that surprised you had something like this planned—it is quite like you after all, and she certainly isn’t complaining.

“are you my gift, then?” she hums, dark hands brushing sweat-damp strands of hair from your face. you preen beneath her touch, a slow sigh of contentment leaving your lips.

“mhm,” you nod eventually, eyes sliding open to look at her again. her heart lurches ever so slightly beneath her breastbone at the sight of you, so thoroughly pleased and looking at her with warmth the sun would envy. “you get one more request, as a treat. we’ll do anything you suggest.”

“how generous,” she drawls, but her voice is light. her hands slip down to your hips, squeezing the meat there ever so gently. “anything at all?”

“anything at all,” you confirm. there’s a familiar hunger in your gaze, but for some reason, her mind drifts elsewhere. fatherhood has been… kind to her. not easy, to be sure, but there is a part of her that feels— soothed, in a way, when she holds estelle in her arms. as if the little girl was proof, in a sense, that she is capable of giving something to this world that is not violence or death or grief. that her hands that can burn— can also warm.

her thumbs brush over your lower belly, and she shifts and bends low to kiss the area right between your hips. she hears your breath hitch ever so minutely, and she speaks her request against your skin softly.

“i want another.”

you go still. “another?” you ask, but your voice is more curious than accusatory. she looks up, and leans forward again to rest her forehead against yours. everything in her suddenly aches for proximity, and her semi-hard length slides against your wetness, drawing a soft gasp from you. “another what?”

“another child,” she clarifies, and you blink at her a little owlishly. then, you chuckle, hands rising to cup her face.

“that’s quite a big request,” you reply, gently caressing the arch of her cheekbones. “are you certain?”

she almost snorts. she’d always be certain when it comes to you. “entirely,” she answers, clasping one of her hands over your own, and turning her head to press a kiss to your palm. “without question.”

“who’d have thought the fourth harbinger herself would have baby fever,” you giggle, your eyes like little stars in the bedroom’s low light, “not that i’m complaining. it’d be nice for estelle to have siblings closer in age.”

arlecchino hums in agreement, and takes the opportunity to trail her lips down your jaw and to your neck. “so we are in agreement?”

“entirely,” you repeat back to her, arms winding around her broad back. “without question.”

arlecchino exhales a little roughly, suddenly feeling far too big for her own skin. she needs to be inside you again, needs to feel you around her, grounding her. she noses a little harder against the crook of your neck, and one hand grasps the base of her cock to align it with your entrance, already wet and slick with a mixture of your cum. you mewl softly when she slides in, and she groans at the way you yield to her so beautifully. her movements are slow, measured, gentle— she makes love to you now that she’s had her fill of fucking you, and she makes it known.

“i adore you so,” she breathes against your neck, holding you close as if you might disappear if not, “my wife, i love you.”

you answer her just as sweetly, and she fills you for the nth but not the last time that night. she knows, realistically, that you’re still on birth control and that nothing will come of tonight, but still. she coaxes your legs apart over and over, slides home within you and rolls her hips until you weep and clutch at her and lock your legs around her hips and hold her deep inside you like you’re hungry for it all the same.

(later, in the not-so-distant future, she makes good on her declarations. and not very long after that, she holds a squalling little boy in her arms with a shock of dark hair on his little head the same shade as yours. he’s covered in viscera, and loud, and wriggling like a belligerent worm in her arms, but—

the only thought she can muster is that he is perfect.)

[jasnah-kholin-simp]

the “fuck moash” -> “actually moash is, though a villain, also a deep and compelling character” -> “moash isn’t a villain, just a victim who’s made huge mistakes” -> “i just spent 6 hours reading moash x kaladin fanfics” pipeline is real, and I just reached the end.

[knoepfchen]

writing bucky pov is so funny because bucky's really active and obviously intuits a lot from gale, but what really gets me is that bucky will do something and then as a writer you have to kind of show don't tell what that's doing to gale

so you're thinking, right, bucky's just done something that reminds gale of his dad in a way he's not sure is good or bad, it's ridiculous but gale can't help himself and still admire bucky - he's not sure if he wants to be him or just be with him, it's also reckless and gale wants to protect him, while wondering whether that might not jeopardise some tender part of gale's cooked brain and he shouldn't rather protect himself, because gale is of course always physically this 🤏 close to tearing off bucky's clothes but won't let himself

and then you think, alright, so how would he show all that, and what you end up writing is:

[yerrrrrrrl]

can we talk abt touya's medical trauma more please