#i know people think angsty

[inkskinned]

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

[bellandeano]

so like. how many gentle touches do you think they've actually felt in their lives haha

[turtleblogatlast]

Leo getting hit with a truth curse but instead of forcing him to admit to super sad or worrying things it’s things like “it was me who broke the remote” “I saw Mikey prank Donnie and helped hide it because it’s way funnier if he didn’t know who it was” “I rip my clothes to look more like Raph’s because he’s really cool” “my stripes aren’t even red they’re pink!”

[flwrkid14]

Falling for the One You Can’t Have

Jason had never been one to catch feelings easily, especially not in Gotham’s mess of a world where life moved too fast, too unpredictably. But it started small—just another rescue, another guy in the wrong place at the wrong time. A witty joke here, a grateful smile there, and soon, Jason found himself seeking out the boy who seemed to be Gotham’s favorite target for muggings and kidnappings.

Danny, the guy with a laugh that rang through the night and eyes that always sparkled with a mischievous glint, had become a small, unexpected light in Jason’s world. Sure, Jason wasn’t some lovesick idiot—he told himself that constantly. But each time he saved Danny, the witty banter and the easy way they fell into conversation made him feel something more. Slowly but surely, the small crush grew.

He started to look forward to bumping into Danny, even if it was because of yet another mugging or hostage situation. Jason would stick around for a little longer after each rescue, tossing casual remarks, feeling his heart beat a little faster every time Danny laughed at one of his jokes. The thought of asking Danny out had crossed his mind more than once, but it wasn’t like he’d ever had great luck with relationships. Maybe he’d try, though—eventually. He just needed to figure out how to do it without making things awkward.

Then Tim called for a family dinner.

Jason wasn’t exactly thrilled about it. Family dinners weren’t his scene to begin with, and the fact that Tim insisted this one was important only made him more reluctant. But, Tim was family, and it wasn’t like Jason was doing anything else that night. So he dragged himself there, expecting the usual chaos of a Wayne family gathering.

When he arrived, Jason immediately felt something was different. Tim had this weird glint in his eye, like he was excited about something. That was never good. Jason kept his usual distance, sitting near the back, arms crossed, trying not to be annoyed by whatever announcement Tim was about to make.

But then Tim stood up, calling everyone’s attention to the middle of the room. “Hey, thanks for coming, everyone. I have someone I want to introduce to you all. He’s really important to me and has been for a while now.” Jason perked up a little, curiosity getting the better of him. That’s when Tim said it: “This is Danny, my boyfriend.”

Jason felt the floor drop out from under him.

And there, standing beside Tim, was Danny—his Danny, the guy Jason had been saving, the one he’d been building up the courage to ask out. He looked just as charming and witty as ever, smiling brightly at everyone. Jason couldn’t move. He couldn’t think. All he could do was watch as Danny wrapped an arm around Tim and introduced himself to the rest of the family.

It felt like a punch to the gut.

Jason tried to steady his breathing, his hands clenched under the table. He couldn’t break down here, in front of everyone. He had to be cool, calm—just like always. But inside, his heart was shattering. How long had they been together? How had he not known?

When Danny’s gaze met Jason’s, his eyes lit up in recognition. “Oh hey! You’re Red Hood, right? You’ve saved me a bunch of times—thanks for that! I swear, I’m a total danger magnet. Usually Tim’s around to keep me out of trouble, but he’s been busy with Wayne Enterprises stuff lately, so it’s nice to have someone else watching my back.”

Jason nodded numbly, forcing a tight smile. “Yeah, no problem,” he mumbled, his throat tight.

It was worse than Jason could have imagined. Danny had been saving all his love for Tim—Tim, of all people. His younger brother, the one Jason was supposed to protect, the one who had swooped in and taken the one person Jason had allowed himself to care about. Not that Tim knew, of course. No one knew. And Jason couldn’t blame him—he couldn’t blame anyone.

As the dinner progressed, Jason tried to tune out the couple’s affectionate gestures. The way Danny laughed at Tim’s jokes, the soft touches between them, the way they looked at each other like no one else in the world mattered. Each moment felt like a knife twisting deeper into Jason’s chest.

He actively avoided joining in on any conversation with them, keeping his head down and avoiding eye contact. He couldn’t bear to see the love in Danny’s eyes when he looked at Tim, knowing that it would never be directed at him. That dream—the one where Jason had imagined maybe asking Danny out, maybe finding some happiness for himself—it was gone. Shattered.

All Jason could do now was smile through the pain, pretend everything was fine, and show his support for Tim. For both of them. Because that’s what family did, right?

But deep down, it hurt like hell.

Jason excused himself as soon as he could, slipping away from the table before the dinner had even finished. He couldn’t stand to see the two of them any longer. Once outside, he let out a shaky breath, leaning against his motorcycle and staring at the sky.

Jason was always the one saving people. But this time, there was no one to save him from the aching void in his chest.

[youngpettyqueen]

Julian would take a bullet for Garak because thats just a fundamental part of who he is as a person and I think you could count on one hand the amount of people he WOULDNT take a bullet for. Garak would take a bullet for Julian and it would be entirely because he's so hopelessly and desperately in love with him and he would be fucking MORTIFIED about it. Garak gets shot for Julian's sake and when he wakes up later he's genuinely mad that he survived because now he has to live with the mortification of having gotten shot for this goddamn doctor for the rest of his life

[veveisveryuncool]

didn't feel like doing another sad taranza scene so here's some angsty designs for mirror counterparts of other characters :D

kirbytober day 19: tears/mirror

[hana-bobo-finch]

Shoutout to this draft I made a couple hours ago when I suddenly had an epiphany for how I could fix a part of my story and I was so excited that the only way I could express it is to write whatever this is but I couldn’t post it because I didn’t have internet

also it got marked as mature for some reason

[mordremrose]

“I’m not him.” The words were choked, strangled even. Caithe set aside the journal she was writing in, and turned to see Bloom. “Who?” She asked, even if she already knew who he was talking about. “Trahearne.” Bloom muttered, his massive form slowly shuffling forward. “I’m not- I tried, but I can’t—“ He paused and a low rumble rattled the lower portion of his strange form, the plates of bark rising in agitation. His tail lashed and his hands dragged over his face. His palms caught on the spines along half his face and he winced. “I know you all see him. In me. You want me to be him.” Bloom seemed to deflate, sinking down to the ground. All of his limbs folded inwards, curling around his torso and Caithe swore she saw him tremble. “But I can’t. I can’t, I’m sorry—“ “Bloom.” Caithe spoke gently, standing up and coming closer. His eyes were squeezed closed, she noted. He didn’t open them to look at her, until she reached out and laid her palm on his massive front limb— paw? She still wasn’t sure. “Bloom. Look at me. Please?” She repeated, gently as she could manage. Caithe was not a woman well versed in being a comforting figure, in being someone who offered their shoulder to one in need. But Bloom needed her. He chose to come to her, about this. She could only imagine the courage it must’ve taken him to trust her with this, after everything. Slowly, Bloom opened his eyes and leaned down, so his massive head was closer to her. He still curled his arms in around himself, clawed fingers making grooves in the thicker bark along his arms. Now Caithe could see the tears welling up in his golden eyes, and her heart ached. She could see her brother in his face, or perhaps she merely imagined she could. But his eyes, glowing amber in a way that made part of her mind want to vanish and hide away from his gaze... that was not Trahearne. And it never would be. “I’m sorry, Bloom.” She murmured, stepping towards his face. “For making you believe you had to be him.” Caithe hesitated before she reached out, gentle as she wiped away the tears at the corners of his bad eye. It was a little easier for her to avoid the massive thorns along his cheek and jaw, she told herself, but Bloom leaned into her touch and she knew it wasn’t that simple. “It is cruel, to expect you to be a man you have never met.” Caithe muttered. “You cannot choose to be someone you are not.” Briefly, unexpectedly, a memory surged in her mind- a memory of Trahearne saying something similar to her once, years ago.

“You are not as cruel as you pretend to be Caithe. I think we both know that.” He said, his voice calm but sad. Caithe pretended to ignore him. “…I miss Wynne too, you know. And Riannoc as well. It is okay to mourn, Caithe.” “I don’t need a lecture, Trahearne.” “I am not here to lecture you.” Trahearne’s hand came to rest on her hand, steadying her grip on the vial of poison she was preparing. “Aife told me about Faolain leaving the Grove. I promise you, Caithe, you are not alone. You do not have to harden your heart. You do not have to be someone you are not.”

She had yanked her hand away from him back then, snarled something about not needing him to tell her who she was, and stormed off, not ready to confront her feelings, never mind share them. Caithe took a deep breath, letting her hand simply rest against Bloom’s cheek. “You do not have to be someone you are not, Bloom. Just because you do not know who that is yet, does not mean that you have to pretend.” She said, meeting his eyes. “I am sorry, Bloom, truly, that we… that our expectations—“ She shook her head. “We have made you feel this way. It isn’t fair to you. And for that, I can only offer my apologies, and try to do better.” Caithe hesitated. This was where her knowledge faltered. Was this when she offered a comforting hug? Could she hug Bloom? His size certainly made it questionable, and the pain he has described to Taimi made her wonder if a hug would even feel pleasant in his situation, or if it would just be another reminder of how out of place he was among the rest of Dragon’s Watch. Between Bloom and the Commander... she had a life time of apologies ahead of her, and not the kind that hugs would be enough to bridge the gap. “Caithe.” Bloom muttered, and even though he spoke quietly, she could still feel the depth of his voice in her chest while standing this close. “Yes?” “Thank you.”

[chemzee]

So uh. MelDan ammirite? This (kinda) blew up on Insta and other socmed I use so ig I'mma upload this here too lol

It started as a crackship (and it's still is, I kinda like to jokingly them imagine them pretending to like each other but actually wanting to skin each other alive, a little ooc for both of them, but it's mostly just for fun) but rn I'm exploring the potential ""relationship"" through a more angsty lense.

No text version below

[hephaestuscrew]

I'm still thinking about that scene in Victoriocity S3E7 where Fleet runs back towards the Beast so as to lure it into the path of the train...

Clara's exclamation of 'Teamwork, Fleet!' after Fleet says he's got a plan reflects her conviction that any plan that Fleet has will be a shared plan, something they do together.

This conviction is a kind of trust, and that trust is part of the reason Clara takes a moment to realise Fleet has headed back towards the Beast. She trusts that he's following behind her. She keeps talking to him, her words full of optimism.

When she realises Fleet isn't there, she immediately realises what that must mean he's done, and her voice sounds more small and scared than I think we've ever heard it before.

Fleet's attempt at self-sacrifice is a kind of betrayal of Clara's trust, but when he echoes her celebration of their teamwork in a more somber tone, I think it suggests that he understands the weight of that betrayal.

If Fleet's plan is that Clara won't realise he's gone until it's already too late, then he thinks "Teamwork, Clara" will be the last words he'll ever speak to her. In what he imagines will be their final conversation, Fleet affirms Clara's understanding of them as a team who work well together, even as he is making a choice that rejects the possibility of their teamwork in this scenario. It's a recognition of what their dynamic has meant. It's a goodbye and an apology, even if Clara doesn't understand it as such at first.

I don't think Fleet sounds scared as he initially faces down the train. When he shouts "Yeah, this way, you stupid machine! Come on then!", he sounds defiant and grimly determined.

In fact, I don't think he sounds afraid until Clara appears, until she might be at risk of being in the path of the Beast or the train as well. It's when he shouts "Clara, stay back for God's sake!" and "Please, get back!" that there's real fear and desperation in his voice. He can confront the idea of giving his own life, but not the idea that doing so might put Clara in danger.

Another thing about these lines is that the move from 'stay back' to 'get back' suggests that Clara didn't obey his first instruction but got closer to him (and therefore to the path of the Beast and the train) between those two lines.

Then Fleet gives what might be another attempt at his last words: "I'm sorry! I'm sorry."  A repeated apology before an attempted self-sacrifice is an implicit acknowledgement of how much losing him would hurt Clara. He regrets causing her pain.

Even so, he's accepted that he is about to die and that it'd be worth it to destroy the Beast. But Clara very much hasn't accepted either those things. She's still trying to yell over the noise of the train; she's pulling off her ring to throw at him.

I think it's a good illustration of how Clara's optimism is a kind of strength. She always believes that they can "make a new plan" and that it'll be one in which no one has to die. I think Archibald Fleet needs someone like that, someone who'll tell him to drop to the ground when his death advances from both sides, someone who - even in a dark tunnel with an murderous metal monster and a speeding train - won't stop shouting that there's hope.

[sysig]

for requestober ! my heart's been aching for yanderapy for a while and i would like to get something about them :3 i don't have a specific prompt . i do like to see them more on the angsty-unhealthy-relationship side lol like some of the requests you made last year . overall , just seeing anything about them would be nice . X3

Day 1 - Sodium Chloride Couple

[tracfone]

If Caroline had more of a canonized personality she would be the sans undertale of portal

[the-somwthing]

I’ll just say I never understood why so many fans say that other fans give Grian “too much trauma”. Like. I feel like you could say that about literally any of the life series characters yet I ONLY really see it said about Grian? Why are we not allowed to give Grian Specifically any trauma. I don’t get it.

[hellsingmongrel]

So, bit of ramblings on my Post-Trimax Wolfwood headcanons.

Man, one of my favorite tropes in media is a character who's spirit lingers on after they've died, but it's usually something you only see in fanfic, so I cannot get over how FUCKING FERAL I was when I realized that it was legit a thing in Trimax, and that Wolfwood was the one we actually got to see, legitimately talking to the people he'd left behind and confirming that ghosts in the canon weren't just hallucinations or something! Like yeah, we saw Tessla leading the boys to her body, but since her ghost was never mentioned again, it could have easily have been written off as a fluke, right?

NOPE. They are real and they linger after to watch over the people they care about or to send messages to the people who are still alive! And the fact that the character who had just wormed his way into being just as beloved to me as my favorite character (Which NEVER happens, I usually only have enough brain cells for one at a time!) and that we had just had our hearts ripped to shreds watching him die was also the one we got to know had definitely stayed behind to watch over the people he loved just makes me SO HAPPY! I rp that asshole from time to time, and I just love exploring the implications of it!

I play him like he's been there a LONG TIME. When he died, Rem was there, watching over Vash, but when Knives spent the last of his energy, she chose to move on with him, now that she knew Wolfwood would be there to keep watch over Vash, and he took it SERIOUSLY. He's been waiting so long, he's lost his sense of time, he thinks it's only been a couple decades when it's been CENTURIES. And the time has softened his own trauma, he's gone from being surly and angry and defensive to being at peace and finding comfort in the fact that its allowed him to see more of Vash's life than he ever would have been able to live long enough to see when he was alive. And it's given him time to notice just how unwell Vash is, how broken he is, watching over him when he thinks he's alone and lets himself break down.

But it's also made Wolfwood a bit unwell in his own way; as time went on and the people he knew in life began to pass away, too, his interest in paying attention to what the people around them were doing wained, and his dedication to watching over Vash until it was his time to pass on became a strange sort of dependence. He loses his sense of self, in a way, until the most important thing in his existence is being there for Vash, waiting for him, having long-since accepted that when the time comes, it'll be over and he's alright with that.

He's happy, but to the perspective of a living person, it would seem TWISTED in a way. He still thinks he's a damned soul, stealing more time than he's allowed and only damning himself further by doing so, and he just knows that when he gets to walk Vash into whatever comes after for them, they'll be separated again, for the last time, and there won't be any coming back from it that time, because Vash is too good, too kind, too HOLY to ever be damned. But it's fine. Wolfwood knew he was damned long before his death, and time has just given him the chance to make peace with it and simply be happy with the fact that at least he'll be able to be with Vash when he can move on to wherever good people go at the end. And yet when it happens, Vash feels the same way about himself, so certain that he's the one who's damned, and their reunion is wonderful and painful and terrifying for both of them in different ways.

He's even worse with interacting with people, once he's forced to interact with the living. I play Wolfwood in a game where he stumbles into revealing himself after spending centuries never letting himself be seen, and he worries that going "silent" again will upset people. He's spent centuries being a silent shadow, certain that letting Vash know he was there would only cause more suffering for an already unwell mind, so he's forgotten how to interact with tact, blurting out whatever pops into his head because he's only had himself to talk to for all that time. He hurts people without meaning to, begins to suffer from the crisis of worrying that no matter what he does, he's a burden to the people who mourn him, he doesn't belong, his existence is nothing but a constant reminder of what's coming and will only cause the people around him pain. He's both able to be the kind, caring, loving person he might have been if the Eye of Michael had never taken him from the orphanage, and also a HUGE, ANXIOUS WRECK.

And the thing that makes it all worse for him is the fact that when he was dumped into the game I have him in, he was separated from the Vash of his timeline, and now lives in constant fear that he'll never see him again, that he won't be there when he passes on and there won't be anyone to greet him on the other side, alone and never knowing that he was waiting for him. He made a promise to Rem that he'd watch over him for her, that he'd lead him to his final destination where he could be with his family again, and now that he's lost that, what purpose does he have? He's terrified to let go himself, worried he'll pass onto the other side when Vash was right around the corner, but the thought of lingering without finding him again, missing his chance to be there for him when it's his turn, leaves him in an almost constant state of almost-panic.

I also just think it's kind of sweetly poetic, if in the end, he chose to continue the role he'd been forced into; take Vash where he's supposed to be. Only this time, it's his choice, and it won't be to his death. He wants to guide him to where he knows people are waiting for him, where he'll finally be happy and be at peace. He doesn't mind the fact that he's going to Hell, so long as he was able to be the one that leads Vash to the place where he won't have to be in pain ever again.

[13eyond13]

actually stunned by how gay The Beatles has been all this time and I just never knew