#@pencilscratchins

[kraftykelpie]

Clan of Three <3

Inspired by @shirozora-draws series Dangerous Dreams (The Storm, The Suns, The Stars) on ao3

[formosusiniquis]

Warm-up prompt:

Steve and Robin, cornfields, winter

Thank you for playing! It's too much fun writing my favorite dynamic duo

I'm taking warm up prompts for anyone who wants to send them in

WC: 687 | Rating: G | Platonic Stobin and somehow aliens

“I’m telling you, this is where we were destined to be. The shared work experience, it was all for this!”

Her feet crunch in the frost covered fields as Robin spins with her arms out wide, and at this exact moment Steve is really more worried about them getting shot at for trespassing. “The only thing that led us here was springing for cable.”

“You, the beautiful and frequently wrong skeptic -- you’re no Gillian Anderson but like,” she gestures to all of him and if he weren’t freezing his dick off in the middle of an Indiana cornfield in December he might have the energy to be offended about it, “there’s clearly some generic appeal if your dating history is to be believed. I’m obviously the handsome, intelligent, correct voice of reason.”

“You’ve never been reasonable in the entire time I’ve known you.” Case in point, he’s let her drag him out here for crop circles. “And it’s not skeptical to say if there were aliens they wouldn’t come to Indiana.”

“We should have brought a ladder. Steve, why didn’t you bring a ladder?”

“Why do we need a ladder? Where would I have put a ladder?”

She’s jumping now and he knows -- the way he knows he’s going to have to call in tomorrow or the way he knows there’s a hole in his glove somewhere because Robin is a part of his mind, body, and spirit -- that he needs to brace his feet as much as he can in the semi-wet ground because she’s going to start climbing him next.

“So we can get higher, obviously! You can’t appreciate the patterns from the ground, you can’t see them all.”

“People from Indiana don’t even want to be in Indiana most of the time. Why wouldn’t aliens go somewhere cool like Australia or Antarctica.”

Wet shoes make wet jeans as Robin does start climbing up his back and shoulders. “Why do the cool places you can think of both start with A? No one lives in Antarctica and half of Australia is uninhabitable.”

“Wouldn’t that make it perfect for aliens then?”

“Stop being a skeptic and move, dingus, I want to stand in the center and see if I can feel anything.” He’s protected, at least, by his coat from the wet of her heels as she digs them into his side like he’s a poorly behaved birthday party pony.

Steve manages to move them both a couple yards, before his foot finds a stalk or a rock or something that sends his ankle and then the rest of his body in a direction he wasn’t planning on going. He was saved from another concussion, at least, by the soft cushion of Robin’s stomach.

They lay there, Steve in the vee of Robin’s legs, letting the frosted ground melt and soak into their clothes in a way that’s already uncomfortable but will be bordering on unbearable on the ten minute drive back to their apartment. He looks up at the winter sky, blue grey with clouds, he’d almost call it silver. Robin catches her breath, a wheeze that he can feel stabilize with each rise and fall beneath his head. When it’s quiet and even and he can almost pretend that this is what they’d meant to do the whole time they were out there, he says, “I’m pretty sure this is where the haunted corn maze was.”

His Mulder groans, the vibration of it buzzing pleasantly through his head, “I’m never listening to Dustin again, what a waste of our day off.”

They help each other up, Robin helping to support the weight his complaining ankle has no interest in. The good news: rolled, and not sprained or broken, it won’t stop him from driving them home. Heat cranked up high enough it makes the vents whine, he waits until they pull away to say the thing he’s been thinking all afternoon, “David Duchovny kinda looks like my dad, right?”

“That’s a stupid reason not to believe in aliens. He does though, like if Richard Harrington wore a bad suit and suddenly got super cool.”

[angstandhappiness]

LMAO

i was going to make an effort stop making geographically based jokes because they’re 75% of my material but then i found out gothams canonically in new jersey and thats my calling card

[kuiilandtorch]

I deeply love the fact that you have a tag called #pencilscratchins supremacy as someone who got into dinluke because of pencilscratchins :D

pencilscratchins asserted dominance over us with these comics

[bayyyleaf]

Respectfully, y’all need to stop giving this new notes cause it’s making me want to draw more of them

After watching the Phantom Menace with @pencilscratchins and deciding that Britney Spears’ “Hit Me Baby One More Time” was the anthem to the only actual fight scene in that movie, this concept forced itself into my head, like a raccoon into an Olive Garden dumpster, and would not leave until I gave it life.

Either you die a hero or you live long enough to see yourself draw a Britney Spears Luke Skywalker mashup.

I’m sorry.

[spookylostboy]

Gwen: Jack, just tell Ianto how you feel! I guarantee you, he feels the same!

Jack: No! Listen, if Ianto had feelings for me he’d tell me, okay?

Gwen: *Raises an eyebrow* Are you sure about that?

Jack: Yes! Okay, look. *Stops Ianto who was walking by* Ianto, if you had feelings for me you’d tell me, right?

Ianto: …….No. *Walks away*

Jack: ……

Jack: Okay, admittedly, that throws a wrench in my argument.

Gwen: *Holds her head in her hands*

Inspired by @pencilscratchins Dinluke comic

[bakewrite]

9 People You Would Like to Know Better

Three ships: Spirk (any version), Ineffable husbands (good omens), and Sarek and Amanda (star trek)

First ever ship: Myself with my crush? Does that count? Fiction wise, the first couple I was ever really invested in was River Song and the Doctor.

Last Song: Jackie and Wilson by Hozier.

Last Film: Dungeons and Dragons

Currently reading: Fool Moon by Jim Butcher

Currently watching: No series right now, but I'm about to do my Halloween Movies marathon.

Currently consuming: PB&J

Currently craving: Hot wings. And Indian food. Tagged by @flippyspoon If you want to: @indeedcaptain @sofiadragon @jimtranskirk @it-spirk-to-me @petimetrek @onwhatcaptain @deheerkonijn @pencilscratchins @fishtrouts

[thethief1996]

nobody talks about this but i personally had such a special environment in my head reserved for pencilscratchins x men art. cant listen to everybody wants to rule the world without thinking of coming of age xaviers school wes anderson movie kittys hair phasing out of the tie. like i cant explain to you what it felt like

[kraftykelpie]

Can't believe I forgot the echo thot agenda (as per @rupalpspodrace ) He deserves to be a little slutty, as a treat. Guy's been going through it.

[findroleplay]

23nb, looking for other 20+ writers interested in plotting a zukka chat from avatar the last airbender.

i, for whatever reason, have been shot straight back to my high school years and have been absolutely foaming at the mouth over zuko and sokka’s dynamic. in this i would prefer to play zuko, and i’m open to writing side characters because both of my main plot ideas are kind of gaang/extended character roster focused lol. 

my first pitch is post-canon (maybe late-20s, early-30s) firelord zuko and water tribe ambassador sokka with a very domestic vibe. senseless pinning, proposals, or even having a little izumi. very soft plots, the kind that makes me want to slide down a wall crying. i just hate that we didn’t get to see Anything about sokka’s life after the end of the war, so i like to imagine he just existed in his sappiest form as zuko’s doting/doted husband. 

the other plot i had in mind is a modern college au, most inspired by pencilscratchins’s skates and effect universe. more comedic sitcom energy to this one, more opportunity for outside character interactions. this has a more slow-burn element to it because there’s more leg work put into establishing sokka and zuko’s relationship, but there’s just a charm to figuring stuff out as young adults in the city. 

as for the technical stuff, i’m a literate to novella writer depending on the partner and the situation. nsfw friendly, but i prefer that be a footnote rather than the objective if that makes sense? love love love plotting, so please be prepared to be chatty. i don’t like doing all the leg work when it comes to writing, so i ask that you be engaged with the plot. however, on that note, i’m not an activity stickler. irl stuff should always be your priority, just lmk in advance if you plan on being gone for a long stretch of time so i know you haven’t ghosted me. lastly, i almost exclusively write on discord. so if this has caught your interest, let me know by reacting to this post and i’ll reach out from there. lots of love. 💕 

_

[the-haiku-bot]

can you imagine

the immaculate vibes their

friendship would produce

Beep boop! I look for accidental haiku posts. Sometimes I mess up.

can you imagine the immaculate vibes their friendship would produce 

[theladysherlock]

An amendment to my last post. The only Star Wars fan I trust is tumblr user pencilscratchins because, and this is crucial, they were a Star Trek fan first.

[kuiilandtorch]

I love all the reblogs of @pencilscratchins work!!!!!

They are how I got into DinLuke in the first place, and every piece they produce (regardless of fandom) is exquisite and hilarious and I compulsively share them with my friends :P

[sweetwithheatwriting]

@pencilscratchins @aimmyarrowshigh

friend made my birthday cake

[rosencrantzsguildenstern]

me: oh since i'm in the dnd movie tag i'll check out pencilscratchin's blog bc they like chris pine in aos so maybe they've seen it

the blog, immediately: spock and boimler making out

[asweetprologue]

this is for @pencilscratchins​ who has been plaguing my dash with TFA era dinluke concepts. I did not think my first star wars fic would be about rey and luke but here we are! based on this post and more specifically a scene in rebecca’s google doc lmao

a·wak·en  to rouse (a feeling)

Rey finds him at the edge of the city, where the rough geometry of the buildings crack and fragment apart as they give way to dust. It’s one of the areas she’s avoided most intensely; the dense fog of loss lingers here, clawing for her attention. The more she opens herself up to the Force lately, the more she feels the echoes of the life it touched before. The land remembers, and the bones beneath them speak to her in sharp little bursts of time lost.

Beyond, the desert stretches out in its infinite, unforgiving ambivalence. Where the city is a roiling mass of lives long since passed, the ocean of sand before them is a void. No suffering, no pain, no agonized voices crying out. No joy, no love clinging to the rocky surface. There is Force there too, she knows, permeating the stone and air and even the smallest insects scuttling below the surface. No more or less pure than that found in the city, but quieter. She takes a moment to breathe it in, tasting it on the backs of her teeth.

He isn’t meditating. She can feel his disconnect from the Force like a wound, jaring and discordant. But here at the edge of what has become her home, the home he scraped together with the Mand’alor for a dying people, it doesn’t feel so abrasive. Rey hovers for a moment, unsure, before taking a seat beside him. When Luke says nothing, she tries to drop into meditation herself, but as always her mind fights her. She wonders what happened to cause such a great disruption in Luke’s psyche. Such resistance to opening himself to the Force. She thinks about trying to cut herself off from it, now that she has felt its presence in and around herself, and balks. It would be easier to cut off her own hand, she thinks.

She shifts slightly, looking for a more comfortable position, and Luke huffs. It’s an amused sound, and Rey’s eyes blink open to regard him curiously. Luke is looking at her, something bittersweet on his face. “What?” she demands.

“If you’re trying to meditate,” he replies, “you’re not doing a very good job of it. I can feel your mind going a parsec a minute.”

“Well I’ve not exactly had the best instruction,” she grumbles, relaxing from her more formal meditative stance.

Luke’s beard twitches, and though he’s smiling, she can sense his wariness in the air around them. No one hides in the Force. “What makes you think you’re ready?” he asks.

It’s a question that she’s been expecting, that she’s spent hours building arguments around. I’m strong, she had planned to say, or I can already do so much, or I have nothing. I have no one. Make me into something of use. But now looking into Luke Skywalker’s sad eyes, she only has one real answer. There is only one real thing that makes her feel like she must do this, one thing that makes her desperate for guidance. The truth that brought her here.

“There’s no one else,” she says, and for a moment the vast loneliness of the statement washes over her, smothering. It’s probably the most honest thing she’s said since her feet sunk into the sand of New Mandalore. “If it’s not me, there’s no one. So I’m ready. I have to be.”

Luke takes a breath, a glacial motion that seems to carry all the weight that she feels within it. He looks up at the sky above them, shoulders slumping. The moonlight reflects on the desert sand, turning it into a silver sea stretching out infinitely beyond them. The lights of the city are far behind them; the only creatures that keep them company here are the stars, and the ghosts.

“I can’t be a good teacher to you,” Luke says. His voice is clear and crisp; it offers no opportunity for rebuttal. “I failed before. I can’t be a father, or a mentor. I’m not even a Jedi anymore, not really. Maybe I never was.” He laughs, a harsh, cracked sound. “I barely knew my old masters. Most of the teachings of the Order are lost. I tried to rebuild it, and I just forced history to repeat itself.” He drops his chin down, meeting her gaze again. His eyes are very blue, she realizes, maybe for the first time. They’re younger than the rest of his face. The Force suddenly brushes against her consciousness, offering her a fizzling image of a young man with windswept blonde hair, in a desert so similar and yet so different from this one. The man is bright and shining, desperate for adventure, ready to be someone. So deeply, terrifically afraid of the burden the galaxy had placed on his shoulders. The image fades, Luke’s face aging before her, but his eyes are the same. Still bright, still scared.

Rey understands.

“You don’t need to be anything to me,” she says. This does not ring with the truth that she offered moments ago. “I haven’t had anyone, ever. I’ve been alone all my life. I can be what they need without you.” She pauses, takes a deep breath. Steadies herself, forces her rapid heart rate to settle, lets her emotions leak out into the Force until it washes back into her with all the calm of the wide open desert. “I don’t need you, Luke Skywalker. But your help would sure make my life kriffing easier.”

Luke laughs again, and this time it doesn’t seem so bitter. He shakes his head, gray hair flopping across his forehead. “Well, Din will be pleased,” he says lightly, and Rey feels a sense of relief wash through her that’s so powerful for a moment she can’t breathe with it. He’s going to do it. She’s got a teacher. She laughs too, feeling bright and shining and afraid.

They sit together at the edge of the world together, and in the face of the endless desert she finally feels something like hope