Hello all! I’ve updated my commission sheet with more recent work and new style! Also, I’ve attached a commission request form for anyone interested below:
Commission Request Form
—————— —————— ——————
Additional notes:
Once you’ve completed the request form, I’ll reach out to you through email to discuss the commission
I send WIPS of the sketch to clarify details until the client is satisfied, once i’ve moved on from this stage, any changes requested beforehand will cost more
I currently won’t be doing any complex backgrounds. Only flat colors, simple textures/patterns, or color ranges
Expected duration can range from a couple days weeks, or a month, depending on the complexity of the piece, which I’ll discuss with you!
While I’d prefer to discuss commission through email, I accept questions through Tumblr DMs!
I expect to be paid half up front and the rest when the commission is complete! I’m currently using Venmo and Stripe for payment :))
We're happy to announce that our shop is now opening back up for leftovers!! It'll remain open for ONE MONTH!! From today, March 22th, 2026 until April 22th, 2026.
Look carefully at what's available because it's changed! We've sorted everything into various types of bundles in order to ensure the smoothest process for final fulfillment. As such, it is not possible to purchase individual items. These orders will be shipped out weekly as they come in. Additionally, the digital orders are also open again to raise more donation funds as well!
Yes, there will, so feel free to start spreading the word! This year's event will run through the month of June, with sign-ups starting sometime in May, as your friendly neighborhood event organizer is planning a cross-country move in July to start a PhD program in the fall.
--Related to that, I am contemplating trying to find a co-organizer who can help me with the event this year (and going forward, particularly if it continues to grow), as I'm likely to be a bit swamped even by June dealing with life logistics. If anyone is interested in hopping onboard, feel free to shoot me a message!
Hey all! Phic Phight 2026 is officially coming, and you can now sign up!
Sign-ups close March 28th at 11:59 EST. You must sign up ahead of time and join the discord to participate.
For those who have never joined before, Phic Phight is basically a Danny Phantom fanfiction writing event, where everybody is sorted into teams and earn points by completing prompts provided by the other team. Winner gets bragging rights. Phic Phight takes place the entire month of April.
This year, we have noteworthy changes such as implementing Revenge Points, where you can get extra points if you fill a prompt for somebody who filled a prompt for you, and Read&Review, where while phic submissions end April 30th, you can still submit commenter points up until May 7th.
If you'd like to read more about these changes or would like to know more about the rules/process on how Phic Phight works, you can read our FAQ/Rules document here.
Otherwise, you can sign up and join the discord by clicking here!
Special huge thank you to @sailor-toni for creating the graphic!
fanfic isn't an act of activism by the way. it's a fun hobby. writers write whatever they want for themselves as their silly little getaway/self-care. if you want "more representation" of something in fanfics, then you write fanfics about that thing you want. nobody is stopping you. but saying other fanfic writers as a whole are "the problem" or are "to blame" for "not including xyz" or "not writing about xyz" just isn't how fanfics and hobbies work.
Part 3. The Diamonds and the Illusion of Epistemic Authority
Part three is a critique on how the Diamonds, particulary White Diamond, are handled and the way their arc in the main series is resolved.
The Diamond Authority represents the most explicit articulation of epistemological pride in Steven Universe. Their power is not merely political or physical, but epistemic: they believe they see reality as it truly is. Difference, dissent, and deviation are not interpreted as alternative perspectives, but as errors to be corrected. Within this framework, to disagree is not to hold another view, but to fail to see clearly. The Diamonds do not merely rule the universe; they define what it means to be right.
White Diamond embodies this posture most completely. Her defining claim is not that she is superior, but that she is objective. She experiences herself as occupying a position beyond perspective—a vantage point from which all others can be evaluated, categorized, and corrected. This is why opposition does not threaten her; it confirms her certainty. To resist White Diamond is, by definition, to be wrong.
On its surface, the narrative positions this worldview as the ultimate error to be dismantled. White Diamond’s authority is not challenged through force, but through contradiction: the revelation that she, too, is a perspective, shaped by fear, projection, and denial. Her breakdown is framed as the collapse of the illusion that one can stand outside the self and see the truth directly. In theory, this moment should mark the story’s clearest rejection of epistemological absolutism.
Yet the manner in which this collapse occurs introduces a subtle tension. White Diamond does not arrive at epistemic humility through sustained engagement with alternative perspectives, nor through recognition of irreducible difference. Instead, her certainty is undone by encountering an anomaly she cannot assimilate: Steven. The challenge to her worldview is not plural, but singular. It does not arise from many voices asserting their limits, but from one figure who embodies contradiction in a way her system cannot contain.
This matters because it quietly preserves the structure of epistemic authority even as it appears to dismantle it. White Diamond’s mistake is revealed not through the distributed presence of multiple truths, but through a singular corrective perspective that forces reorientation. The narrative thus risks substituting one form of certainty for another. The question becomes not whether anyone can see clearly, but who is positioned to expose that clarity as false.
At this stage, the story still gestures toward humility. White Diamond is shown to be wrong; her claim to objectivity collapses. However, the authority to reveal this wrongness is not shared. It is concentrated. Steven does not merely confront White Diamond’s certainty—he replaces it as the axis around which reality reorganizes. The danger is not that Steven claims to see the truth, but that the narrative increasingly treats his perspective as the site where truth is resolved.
Here, the critique of epistemological pride begins to bend back on itself. White Diamond is condemned for believing she occupies a position beyond perspective, yet the story resolves her arc by installing another figure whose viewpoint effectively functions as final. The illusion of objectivity is rejected in name, but the narrative remains anchored to a single epistemic center.
At this point, the problem is not yet explicit, but it is palpable. The show warns against the belief “I see clearly,” yet repeatedly resolves conflict by allowing one consciousness to determine when clarity has been achieved. What is dismantled in dialogue risks being preserved in structure.
Normally Tim found dusk to be beautiful. Even in a city like Gotham where shadows seemed to have more power, the change of light at dusk was captivating. It always made his fingers itch for his camera— to capture those deepening violets and that last, golden glow of the sun.
Today those beautiful colors it only brought dread.
Seven pm. Nineteen-hundred.
That was the deadline to save Danny and with every darkening tint of the sky Tim knew it was getting closer.
He hadn’t even been able to tell Danny he loved him.
He was so stupid.
He had let secrets get in the way again and again and again and for what?
To never get to tell Danny that he loved him?
No, there was still time. There had to be.
“Red Robin,” Oracle cut through Tim’s thoughts. “Warehouse on 5th and South.”
-
The glass shattered as it impacted with the heel of Tim’s boots.
The sound almost perfectly timed with the bang of the timer rigged gun firing.
Tim watched Danny crumple where he was tied to the chair.
Tim screamed. He was sure he screamed.
Danny wasn’t breathing.
He was—
He—
He shuddered, like a dog shaking off water, and sat back up.
CW: there is some gore. Cause danny did, in fact, get shot in the head
"What-" Tim prides himself on his ability to think quickly, to come into a situation and have at least three plans of action within seconds of landing, but as he watches the man he loves shake off a gunshot to the head he finds his mind completely blank.
There are tears on his face and his hands are shaking as blood drips from Danny's hair. All the viscera one expects to see after a point-blank gunshot to the temple is still cooling in patterns Tim could trace in his sleep to Danny's right. There is brain matter decorating the floor and dripping from the crates stacked to Danny's right.
Danny should be dead, without a single doubt. No one could survive a gunshot like that, but as Tim watches, Danny looks back up at him.
Steel meets Glacial Ice and suddenly Tim isn't frozen anymore and his thoughts are going so fast he can only process about a quarter of them. "Danny," he chokes out as he stumbles forward one step, then two, then he is running.
It doesn't matter that Danny should be dead. It doesn't matter that the hole in his temple is closing at an alarming rate, that there is still blood in his boyfriend's hair and all over his right side. He is breathing again, he is saying something but Tim can't make the words make sense in his head. He falls to his knees directly in front of his boyfriend and reaches out slowly, almost scared to touch him in case this isn't real.
Someone is yelling in his ear, one of the other bats, but Tim has even less luck comprehending those words then he is having with Danny's.
He pauses with his hands centimeters from Danny's face; the man's worried eyes flicker all over Tim's face as his mouth moves and Tim is vaguely aware of an ugly sound coming out of his mouth that might have been a laugh once upon a time but is choking on all the emotion he doesn't know what to do with.
Danny just got shot, he should be dead, but he is concerned for Tim.
"I love you," comes out of Tim's mouth without his conscious input as he finally cups Danny's cheeks and rises enough to rest their foreheads together, something ragged and hurting in his chest is soothed by the breath he can feel stirring between them. One of his hands drops to Danny's still bound wrists and feels frantically for a pulse he still isn't convinced he will find.
There- a sob wrenches out of his chest as he finds Danny's pulse. It is fluttering, weak and slow, but it's there. "I love you, oh my God please don't do that to me. How are you alive? I saw-" he makes a keening noise in the back of his throat.
Danny's voice finally coalesces into actual words that Tim's brain will process so long as he has Danny's heartbeat under his palm. "I'm so sorry babe," he sounds terrified. "I'm so sorry you shouldn't have had to see that I'm okay I promise. Im gonna be okay."
"How?" Tim manages.
Danny shifts in his seat and it's like the world comes crashing back into his awareness. Tim has Danny's blood all over himself now, and there is a persistent ticking sound that Tim knows.
"Bomb," Tim says quickly, standing from his boyfriend's side to survey the room.
His hand doesn't leave Danny's wrist.
The warehouse is empty save for some abandon, thigh-high crates scattered about. He can't see the bomb immediately but there is a timer on top of one of the crates and as he sees it it ticks down to 93.
Tim moves faster then he thought possible as he draws a birdarang from his belt and efficently cuts through Danny's bindings one handed (he still hasn't let go of Danny's wrist). His boyfriend is shaking and as Tim pulls him from the chair it becomes clear that he can't quite support his own weight. Tim tunes back into his com as he valiantly ignores the open fucking exit wound on his boyfriend's head in favor of adjusing his grip on Danny wrist so he can get his arm draped over his shoulder and into a modified piggyback. Danny is still lucid, at least, and Tim has no idea how when half of his brain is on the ground but he can't let himself wonder yet. Danny's chest moves rythmically against his back and his voice is steady in his ear as Tim rushes towards the door.
His hand is still clutching Danny's arm, still measuring his heartbeat, weak but steady, slow but no more then usual, Danny is alive, he is still alive don't stop don't look don't think too hard about it he is alive-
"Red Robin, report!" Bruce's voice cuts through the fog and Tim realizes he has made it out of the warehouse and he is panting hard as he keeps running.
"I got him," Tim gasps. He has no idea how far they are from the warehouse, how long is left on the countdown, how big the blast radius is, he can't think- "bomb in the warehouse, Danny is alive-" his voice breaks and he gives up on words as Danny squeezes his shaking hand around Tim's wrist.
Before anyone can respond, an explosion rocks the street below Tim's feet and he thows himself into an alley to shelter from any debris that is coming their way. He carefully lowers to his knees so he can set Danny carefully up against the wall and maneuvers his body so he doesn't have to let go of Danny's wrist.
Danny's head rests gently against the wall, his whole body trembling and tense, but his eyes bright and alert. "How- What-" Thankfully Danny seems to understand what Tim is trying to ask.
"Field bandages on the entry wound," he says gently and Tim starts to scramble at his first aid pouch with one hand. "If you have one big enough to cover the exit wound that is ideal, if not we just need to get something to keep debris out."
Tim whines as he realizes he is going to have to let go of Danny's wrist to treat him. He is vageuly aware that he is hyperventilating, but he can't stop, he can't think, Danny is alive he has to be alive he is okay he- "Breathe, Polaris," Danny lifts a shaking hand to cup Tim's cheek. "I promise I will be fine, okay?"
Tim isn't sure when he started crying.
Scratch that, Tim isn't sure if he stopped crying since the shattering of glass overlayed the firing of a gun.
"How?" Danny doesn't break promises. Danny has never broken a promise. If he doesn't know if he can keep his word, he doesn't give it. And yet, Tim can't bring himself to trust this one. Not with Danny's blood on his suit, in his hair, on the wall and the ground around them.
Danny's wet, bitter laugh shocks Tim. "This isn't my first death, Polaris. It would take a lot more then a bullet to the brain to keep me down, I should know, it's happened before."
"Im so sorry, Polaris," his voice gentles from the bitter rasp he used to say he has been here before. He leans forward to rest his forehead on Tim's again. "I should have been able to escape, I should have told you sooner, I should have explained what I am before this happened. I should have let you help me. I love you, Tim. I was going to tell you about me tonight, had a whole speech planned out, medical references and proof of my story, fuck I had a powerpoint and everything."
Tim doesn't pull away but his confusion must show on his face and in his body because Danny sighs.
"I died the first time when I was 14, except I didn't do it right," Danny says quietly. "And by the time I understood what was happening I had been half dead for three years and was practically a god in my own right. I found out because my mom shot me, just like this.
"There was a curse, about six years ago, right after my third death," he continues, and Tim feels like he has stopped breathing again. He and Danny have been dating for five years now, they met seven years ago, Danny had been freshly eighteen and living in a no-questions-asked homeless shelter run by the Red Hood Gang. "Made it possible to hide from the people hunting me but it locked my powers away. The most I had access to was my Ice since it would actually kill me if I couldn't use it, but I could only use it once a year. The only way to get rid of the curse was to die again, but Tim I finally felt safe again. I was Normal. I was just some random homeless teenager that no one spared a second glance to.
"It sucked, but I didn't have to look over my shoulder constantly, wondering if the next corner I turned or door I opened would be the one they were waiting behind to take me back, and I just-" he chokes on his own sob and Tim tightens his grasp on Danny's wrist and brings his other hand up to cradle the hand Danny has pressed to his cheek. "Fucking stupid, I should have told you years ago. I should have told you the moment you told me you are Red Robin. I should have explained, fuck I should have bit the bullet and done this in private so you wouldn't have to see and you wouldn't have to wonder-"
"Stop," Tim finally gets out. "Stop, Danny just. What are you? I will tear down entire fucking realities for you no matter what the answer is, I don't care as long as you don't leave me here alone."
Tim didn't really realize how true that is until it was in the open. He would do that and more if it meant keeping this amazing man who chose him in his life.
Because that is kind of what it comes down to. So many people in his life are only there because he made them accept him, because he made himself indispensable. Danny isn't like that.
They met through Neon Knights, Danny dragged in by one of the street kids staying in the same shelter as him to ask for Tim's help finding a job. The kid knew Tim would have answers for someone just this side of legal who couldn't really answer questions about their past and Danny had helped them out of a tight spot a few weeks ago.
Danny had chosen to take his advice, and then had chosen to seek him out a few weeks later when he got a job, then had chosen to meet him at his favorite cafe every week. He had chosen to keep up, to get to know him, to stick around despite the missed hangouts and flaky behavior, despite the chronic lateness and the exhaustion. Danny chose him and then kept choosing him for two years before asking him out.
And then he had chosen Tim in a hundred new ways.
And here he is now, alive, miraculously alive, and in his arms and talking to him and saying he should have chosen to trust him more and sooner.
Danny's body is a roadmap of trauma, of a history that should have chewed him up and spat him directly into a grave, or at least into a cynical, chronic distrust of everything. His scars are awesome in the biblical sense, and Tim has traced some of the worst of them and wondered how he got so lucky as to have the chance to hold Danny.
Every inch of skin, every detail, every smile, every laugh, every word out of his mouth is a gift that Danny has chosen to give him and Tim is greedy for it.
He loves Danny so much.
"Just don't you fucking dare leave me," he whispers as he turns to press a kiss to Danny's palm, voice unsteady.
Danny nods. "I promise, Polaris," he matches Tim's tone. "I'm not going anywhere."
"#i am NOT OKAY AND I MUST INFLICT THIS UPON EVERYONE ELSE AS RECOMPENSE#its amazing#im just also in pain#cw gun violence#dpxdc#dead tired ship#brain dead ship
me when a character who was completely powerless gains power and proceeds to lose themselves in the intoxication of it before coming to and being horrified by their own capacity for bloodlust
