July Art

Stay strong

i love davekat

Special thanks to @shoujocowboy for beta-ing my little comic script. You made it better, as always.

taking a fatal wound through the lower abdomen and wearing a ribbon over the wound post-revival. Hm…

Important

Guys, there’s a tumblr going around called nonbinary-genocide that basically attacks people and tells them to kill themselves. It’s absolutely disgusting and I just wanted to warn you all. I know there’s like 30 of you but please share this.

nb people are members of the fae

Undemonlike Demons (The Misfits)

Undoubtably, the Misfits have only gotten stranger compared to their fellow demons under Iruma’s influence, but all of them, for some reason or another, ended up in the Misfit class before meeting him. Personally, I feel that rather than changing them, Iruma’s presence has amplified traits they already had. It’s an interesting contrast to the main villains of the series, who want demonkind to return to their origins, which, in their minds, seems to refer to rampant violence and anarchy. The question, therefore, becomes one of nature. Are these traits typically unassociated with demons actually natural, or will the villains prove to be correct? I guess the answer is obvious considering we know Iruma will be the demon king, but what’s important is how we get to that conclusion.

We’re consistently told that demons only do what’s interesting to them. Balam is confused when Iruma talks about his improvement in studying. Archery isn’t suitable for demons because of the concentration it requires. Basically, demons are fixated on their own best interest, preferring immediate enjoyment and progress over slow and painful development. However, during the Training Arc the Misfits are put through near endless suffering and failure, pushed past the breaking point where most demons would’ve given up. Yet, these kids got a taste for success and used their frustration to power through in order to meet the expectations of their tutors. Many of them discovered the satisfaction of improvement while studying for their exams, and that, along with their life-or-death escapades, seems to have laid the foundation for their immense growth, which is considered abnormal in demon society.

Asmodeus maintains a perfect demonic image most of the time, so it’s hard to find moments when he can be considered undemonlike, but there are certain aspects of his character that we can look toward within this line of thinking. While Azu rarely lets himself be a regular kid, under Iruma’s influence he’s far more emotionally volatile and does things out of simple enjoyment instead of success and is willing to participate in activities he’s uninterested in for his friends. Ranking up is a huge deal in demon society because the higher your rank, the higher your place is. Yet, due to his fixation of Iruma (which at this point is out of pure devotion instead of personal benefit) Azu completely disregards societal norms. His love for Iruma is also what snaps him out of his wicked phase. I want to talk about his wicked phase on its own though (spoiler warning ahead.) Wicked phases are as close as most demons get to a true “return to origins” and therefore serve as an outburst of desire and emotion. It’s not necessarily a representation of their morals or real personality, it’s more of a release.  As much as I’d love to wax poetic about the beauty of its destruction, the real undemonlike qualities of Azu’s wicked phase are revealed in the Heartbreaker arc when we learn that fire isn’t his bloodline magic. That means that even when he entered his wicked phase, which is specifically describes as a freedom from inhibitions, he maintained the self-control to keep it under wraps. Using his bloodline ability would give him an edge in combat, but Azu repeatedly forgoes the easier route, choosing to limit his power where every other demon would win at all costs.

Again, Goemon is an absolute sweetheart. He’s dedicated to the people around him and to strangers, helping them at his own detriment, a concept we were told in the Walter Parc arc that demons don’t understand. There’s never any mention as to why he wants 100 allies, so it seems like the point is just to have others in his life. It’s no something he can just stop doing either. Instead, getting involved in other people’s business is part of who he is, making this undemonlike trait a core aspect of his character.

Jazz is the ultimate example of not giving up when things are tough. He literally lost and decided to keep going. Sure, part of it was revenge, but it was also to help his fellow classmates despite not being strictly necessary for him. Allocer is able to use Jazz’s influence to his advantage, and makes significant gains, but ultimately sees no point in winning without him. In the same situation, I’m sure many demons wouldn’t make the same choice.

Additional examples of Misfit students not using all their advantages include Kerori, Goemon, and Agares. Kerori can’t bring herself to use the beasts that she worked with during the festival despite the bump in points it would give her. Goemon and Agares did receive additional points for helping their fellow students, but it’s clear from their reaction that they genuinely didn’t expect it, meaning they acted out of the kindness of their hearts.

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I headcanon that there are nights where Dave just can NOT sleep, due to anxiety and feeling so on edge even if nothing's there to hurt him anymore. Karkat can slip back into his old Alternian sleeping patterns pretty easily, so it works, in a way.

He sees Dave walk in from the corner of his eye, slouched over and scruffy-faced, still wearing his wrinkled pajamas. “Morning,” he mumbles, drifting nearer.

“It’s two in the afternoon,” Karkat says, lowering the book he’s reading a fraction of an inch. Dave stretches, using one arm to wave dismissively in his direction. His shirt rides up when he does this, and Karkat lowers the book another inch, raising his eyebrows. It’s irritating, really, how distracting that is. “I had assumed that you’d return to the inexplicably diurnal ways of your species once we’d settled in here, but apparently not?”

“Well, you know what happens when you assume,” Dave yawns, standing over him. His hair is a mess. He probably hasn’t even brushed his teeth. “Something something ass, something something, you and me…” he shakes his head, and then he turns and flops onto the couch. His eyes are still closed. Karkat pokes his leg with one socked foot, and they flutter back open. “Hell,” he says. “I never said we couldn’t just be nocturnal. Fuck it. This is troll land, right?”

Karkat rolls his eyes. “A fantastic idea, really. Everyone else will love it.”

Dave just waves at him again, or rather, his arm makes a spastic fluttering motion that Karkat assumes is supposed to be a dismissive wave. He snorts, raises his book, and gets back to reading. Entire minutes go by without interruption, which is almost as distracting as actually being interrupted, because Dave never just lets him read. He narrows his eyes over the top of the pages. Dave’s eyes are closed, again, and he’s just kind of sitting there, hands loose at his sides, mouth slightly open, chest rising and falling like he’s actually somehow gone right back to sleep.

“You know,” Karkat says, and Dave’s eyes snap open. “You could try a cold shower. Getting dressed. Taking care of basic hygeinic needs instead of being a lazy jackass all afternoon.”

Dave blinks a few times, and then sighs. “Firstly, fuck cold showers.”

“I’m just saying, they wake you up.”

“I don’t think I stink, yet,” Dave says, and then he lifts an arm and sniffs himself like an actual animal. Karkat kicks him.

“Don’t be disgusting,” he says.

Dave catches his foot by the ankle. “Don’t kick me,” he shoots back. “I’m fragile.” He then neatly plucks the sock off his foot and tosses it over the back of the couch, an action which is as irritating as it is mystifying. Karkat tries and fails to pulls his leg back.

“What the fuck,” he protests.

“I forget, are you ticklish here?”

“No.”

“Liar,” Dave says, grinning.

“Don’t you dare –”

Karkat kicks him with his other foot, Dave grabs his other ankle, and everything rapidly goes to hell from there. Dave pulls him down across the cushions toward him, Karkat drops his book with an undignified yelp, and Dave twists and flings himself over his defenseless body, nearly knocking the wind out of him. Not that Dave is heavy, exactly, it’s just – he’s all elbows and knees and other awkward, knobby ends – and before Karkat can really do much meaningful protesting, Dave has him caught up in a smothering embrace. Karkat’s arms are trapped against his sides, Dave’s knees are bent between his legs, and his nose is poking into Karkat’s neck. He squirms uselessly, kicking his heels against the back of Dave’s legs.

“Let me go, you ridiculous goddamn clingbeast! I’ll have you know I was twelve chapters into that book and things were finally getting good –”

“Good,” Dave repeats, snickering into the skin under Karkat’s chin. Karkat swallows, hard. Shakes his head.

“Yes, good, and if you’re going to go back to sleep, the last thing I want to do is be your goddamn slumber platform for the duration of this imbecilic expression of your inability to properly moderate your own fucking biological processes!”

“Sexy, you mean,” Dave says, and Karkat growls beneath him. Dave exhales loudly – he has definitely not brushed his teeth – and squeezes his arms tighter around him. “Whenever you say a book is finally getting good what you mean is that it’s finally getting sexy.”

“Untrue.”

“Totally true.”

“Certifiably false.”

“One hundred percent absolute purestrain truth, my dude, no shame. Your legendary thirst for textual smut is insatiable, so what.” Dave is half mumbling again, and Karkat can feel his face going all shame-blotchy, but he tells himself it’s anger instead and growls louder. Dave sighs. “I love it when you make alien noises at me,” he says.

“I will roll over and dump both of us unceremoniously off this couch,” Karkat warns him.

“Doesn’t it feel kinda nostalgic?” Dave lifts his head, hunching up so Karkat can see his face, all pulled into something that looks genuinely curious. “Snuggling up on a couch together? Shit, all we have to do is drag out the old husktop –”

“Are you feeling homesick?” Karkat cuts him off, incredulous. “For the fucking meteor? Is that what this is?”

Dave drops his head back down and doesn’t reply immediately, and Karkat can’t decide if that’s confirmation enough on its own or not. After a bit, Dave sucks in a breath and shakes his head. “Not really,” he says. “I mean, not exactly.”

“What, then?”

“I don’t know,” he says, and Karkat feels his brows pull down, an actual thread of worry tangling up with his irritation and fondness and the ever present awareness that his legs are being held apart by Dave’s knees, right now, and – God. He nudges the side of Dave’s face with his chin.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m good,” Dave says, maybe a little too fast. “Just, you know. Sleep, sometimes. It’s, uh.” He exhales again, shaking his head. “God, this is so dumb. You’re the can’t sleep guy, not me. Sorry for stealing your thing, damn, what a douche move, self.”

Karkat’s growls taper off, subtlely changing tone and timbre to become an equally chest-rumbling sound that means something entirely different. Dave sits up, untangling his arms around him. He runs his fingers through his hair, a nervous habit Karkat is pretty well familiar with, by now, which does absolutely nothing to remedy the fact that it’s still sticking out comically in every direction. Karkat blinks up at him. “Uh. Is there something I could do to help?”

“It’s probably just some bullshit acclimation nonsense,” Dave says. “Like, hey, sorry, new environment, all your weird nervous senses are going to start going haywire for awhile while we adjust to having sunrises and sunsets and middles of the night again, but nah. What it actually is, as far as I can tell, is that I just expect bad things to happen at certain times and I never thought about it because it’s been so long since I’ve even seen the sun set that it didn’t occur to me, but it’s like –”

He stops, abruptly. Karkat raises his eyebrows at him. “It’s like…?”

“I never realized how much I noticed that stuff,” he says, and then he punctuates this statement with a shrug like it’s no big deal. “It’s kind of frustrating, actually? To think you’re totally over something and then to find out that maybe the thing is more persistent than you realized? To think, I guess, that maybe it’ll just keep coming up in ways you don’t expect forever, and maybe you’ll always have to worry about being kind of fucked up or whatever because you don’t know exactly what makes the thing come back, or least, feel pretty shitty again.”

“Hey,” Karkat says. He reaches up and wraps his arms around Dave’s sides, twists his fingers in his shirt, and pulls him roughly back down against him. Dave complies easily with this, collapsing obediently back down. “Has this been going on this whole time?”

“I don’t know,” Dave says. “Kinda, I guess. I mean, I thought it was fine, at first.” He laughs, quietly. “It’s not that big a deal. I know, god, that was a lot of words, sorry. But it’s really not.”

“I knew I should have bothered you more about this,” Karkat mutters. He thinks back, turning the months since their arrival here over in his mind. His own sleepless nights. Teasing Dave about adopting nocturnal habits on those not so rare occassions when he would join him, up at all hours. Sitting together and talking the nights away, or … passing the time in any number of other ways. He coughs. Dave is shaking his head.

“If there’s one thing we can all count on you for,” he says, “it’s to consistently and predictably blame yourself for other people’s shit basically all the time. Fuck, are you Dirk, now? You sound like Dirk.”

“Oh, come on,” Karkat protests.

“Blah blah, all my fault, I should have done this, I could have done that…” Dave thumps him lightly on the shoulder. “I didn’t want to talk about it. And I didn’t want to make it a big deal. Still don’t, actually.”

“All right,” Karkat concedes. “Fine. What do you want, then?”

“Nothin’,” Dave sighs. He presses his face against Karkat’s chest and just lays there, breathing softly. Karkat moves his fingers in nervous patterns on his back. His purring comes and goes in little stutters. Dave lifts his head and – with this absolutely fake air of forced casualty – says, “Maybe just this for awhile, I dunno.”

“Okay,” Karkat says, swallowing hard while a burst of warmth lights up all his pathetically easy to please emotion centers. “But if you want to try keeping normal hours, for a change…”

Dave laughs. “You’d like that, I bet. I can already feel your future smugness smothering me, Karkat, I’m drowning in it.”

“No – look. I’m just saying, if you can’t sleep, wake me up, okay? I don’t care when we’re awake! Morning, evening, some hideous mashup of one and the other, whatever! And we don’t have to talk about it!” Karkat clenches his teeth, making a nebulous gesture with one hand. “I just don’t want you to be up and feeling all shitty or whatever by yourself!”

“Yeah,” Dave says, wiggling up closer, so his face is up against Karkat’s shoulder. “All right.”

“… Okay,” Karkat agrees, hesitantly. His arms fall back into place around him.

“Sounds good.” Dave is mumbling, again, and Karkat sighs. He fishes around over the side of the couch for his book. Dave shifts against him, cracking one eye open to observe this, and snorts. “Can’t believe you’re gonna read a sex book right over my head while I’m trying to cuddle,” he says. “Rude.”

“You’re going to be asleep in five fucking seconds,” Karkat says. His fingertips brush the spine of his book and he snatches it up, wiggling his shoulders against the couch cushions. Settling in for the long haul.

“Am not,” Dave murmurs.

“And it’s not a sex book! It is a romance novel, there is plot. Characterization! Drama! Narrative with satisfying theme and purpose…”

He trails off, because there’s no point. The five seconds have passed, and Dave is, as predicted, soundly asleep. Karkat sighs heavily, but his body betrays him by resuming its steady, contented rumbling. Embarrassing. He shakes his head, slings one arm around Dave, and reads until his own eyelids start to droop. Good.

Maybe eventually they’ll manage something resembling the waking hours of a sane species.

A modern day AU where Clive is a lonely researcher and Jason works part time at a dumpling soup shop and at an office supply store.

Clive only goes out for three things - food, office supplies, and basic necessities. Somehow he runs into Jason doing all three of these. And somehow, the chef/server who will let Clive rant about his research, coworkers, the university (all while looking very interested), remembers his name and says hi to him every time they see each other.