#sorry this is really angsty

[james-a-b]

just want to talk about being aro ace for a minute. bc im having feelings about it again.

when i was a kid, the thing i wanted most out of life was someone who could be next to me in life forever. i wanted a partner. a soulmate. a person who would always be there, someone who i could be there for too. I spent years dreaming about it, wondering what my person would be like.

I had no indication that i would have any difficulty with that until i was around 14. I was waiting to start having feelings for people, like my classmates were beginning to. I dated one who asked me out, because i thought maybe the feelings would develop from there. But they didn't.

i tried dating a few more times after that. I was a teenage girl, and i was attractive, and there was a fair amount of interest from those around me. But I would look at them and i would feel... nothing.

I cried when i realized i was aro ace, at 17. It felt like the only parts of my future i cared about had been torn away from me. Falling in love had been the only thing I'd looked forward to experiencing in life for a long while. I wanted it so badly. i still do. But i had to face my truth sonner or later: i was (am) incapable of experiencing romantic or sexual attraction. i will never feel a romantic connection to anyone. I won't even be attracted to them physically.

and sometimes that's so hard.

i tried dating anyway, but i always felt like i was just leading the other person on. I couldn't return their feelings. And if dating is hard normally, try doing it when you don't have any sort of attraction to guide you towards someone compatible. Try doing it when you feel so guilty over your lack of attraction, something you can't even control.

I know romantic love isn't everything. I know i can live without it. I know it's messy, and difficult, and heartbreaking. but i want it so badly anyway.

sometimes i fall in love in my dreams, and on those days, waking up is so hard. Have you ever had a dream where you could feel something you never could before? It was like flying, and then having that freedom ripped away from you suddenly.

i don't know anyone who feels like i do. I've never met another aro ace person. and i see my life in front of me, but it's just me, alone. and sometimes, everything within me yearns for things to be different.

but it can't be.

[inkskinned]

you said you were stuck in a time loop, which was fine. i feel like late-stage capitalism has us all in a time loop, ammiright? you came barging in at 5:33. in the morning. i hadn't even processed the idea of coffee.

but you had this look of utter panic in your eyes. terror like the ocean. you grabbed my cheeks. im in a time loop.

i don't know why in movies the first reaction is to deny it. when someone is panicking like that, it's not appropriate to ask them to calm down. it didn't matter if i believed it, what mattered was that you believed it so much that it was consuming you.

so here we are. i pour you some of the dark roast. "you look like utter and entire hell," i say.

you push your fingers into your eyes. "you always say that."

i try to think of something funny to say that i wouldn't have said on previous time loops, but jokes don't land without the proper timing (lol). "remind me to think -"

"-yeah, of a joke that only works in the future. and before you say anything, i know you're pissed i just stole your punchline." you bolt the coffee, which is wild. it's very hot. you don't seem to notice.

i blow on mine to cool it down. i both am very pissed at you and also i can't see you in this amount of panic without wanting to help. but i'm also not really sure what we are, not since i saw you kiss her like that, no offense. it just was like, kind of rude when you knew i liked you.

and besides. i'm just like, barely a person. i write omegaverse fanfiction. i love the concept of a time loop, but what the fuck am i gonna do? send an alpha in there? i open my mouth.

you point at me. "you're about to ask why me. and then say some disparaging shit about yourself. i'm just a nerd who plays dnd or something. that self-own is slightly different each time." you sigh. "i know you think you can't really help me. i don't know who can help me. i only came to you because you fucking believe me." you check your watch, sigh, and throw your head back. you cover your eyes with one hand. "i've come here on 26 separate revolutions," you say. "you have believed me every time. and yeah, i have no idea how you fit into this but i just -" you sigh again. "i just like fucking talking to someone about it."

"do you need more cof-" i start, but you're already holding the empty cup out. i frown at it. "you're not getting any more until you promise not to bolt this one like an animal."

you laugh a little and sit up, pushing your hair out of your face. "okay, that's new dialogue. but to be fair to you, i'm not usually this rude. i'm still pretty new at all of this." you check your watch again. another sigh. i guess you're cruising for a personal best in the Sigh Olympics.

i almost tell you im not an NPC but i've played enough video games to know i'm very much an NPC. i pour you another cup. "so what happens in the loop?"

"really bad explosion." you mutter into the mug. you put your elbows on the table (rude) and bury your face in your arms like an angsty teenager. one hand floats up while you talk, because evidently you literally can't talk without your hands. "i have to save the day and there's this bomb and i have no bomb training and it keeps moving, you know."

"do i die?"

you peek up from your arms. "yeah. bigtime. you keep trying to run or stay or do anything and you always super die."

"oh."

"to be fair, like, everyone dies in it though.... so you're in good company."

i hate that you make me laugh. i hate that being around you always feels tingly and strange, this electric tension between us. something that is evidently (given how you stuck your tongue down a stranger's throat literally 3 days ago) (well. 3 for me) super one-sided. i take a sip of my coffee and close my eyes.

i die today, i guess. a little spark of panic starts at the top of my hands and starts whipping up my wrists.

"shit," you say. you look at your watch and jump to your feet. "i have to go. if i can come back, i will. i am still trying to figure out when is best to do everything, you know? the order of stuff. maybe morning isn't good for us."

i look up at you and think about how you keep kissing me in the back of my car and in alleyways and in the dark. and i can never fucking get a read on you. and i also think about how incredibly panicked you look. how broken. how long have you been doing this? "i don't want to die," i say.

you glance downwards. "well, you're not really dead, you'll come back in the loop."

"but i will have died." my hands are shaking. i am trying really hard to stay calm.

you push your hands through your hair again. "i really have to go. i will have this discussion with the next version of you, though. it is like, something i am thinking about."

"but i don't get a next version," i say. i don't really have the language for this, because i haven't had 26 tries with you. i only have my memories: you, a week ago. drunk and telling me you loved me in my ear. you, kissing her anyway. you, months ago, throwing up on my birthday, whispering to me i ruin everything i touch, always, over and over. please don't ask. i can't ever fucking have that be you.

i run my finger along the rim of the mug. "i don't want to die in this one."

you seem baffled by this. "i get that but - time will reset, you'll be fine, you won't even remember we talked about this."

"but i know now." i stand up too. "i have to live the rest of this day knowing i could die. knowing i probably am going to."

"you could always die, to be fair."

i feel my hands get out of control. "earlier, you said i always say a different insult about myself. what if you're just going through different parallel universes and those are all just different - but real - versions of myself? what if you're not in a time loop, you're in a fucking universe loop?"

"if it helps, i've wondered this too. also, you're hot in all of them. if that helps."

i point at you. "no flirting. i'm trying to figure out if i die today."

"who's flirting?" you catch my wild hands and give me that long, perfect smile. like we're in this together. "i won't let ya die." you check your watch and sigh again. "well. maybe not this time."

i grit my teeth. you are so not making quips at me while i try to explain the existential dread i'm having. "does the time loop reset if i fucking kill you?"

"honestly i don't know how long it continues after i die, because i just wake up. it could be that the loop goes until the explosion for everyone, and we're all in the loop, or it could be that when i die, the loop restarts. when i die i wake up, is all."

i pull away from you and stalk into the kitchen and start doing all 3 of my dishes. "okay, first, you know i was joking. and secondly, this is exactly my point. you don't know if this is just a parallel universe. maybe in the ones where you died, the explosion happened and nobody reset and it's just you travelling." i have to stop and push my heel into my eyeball. "... how often have you died?"

i look at you. you look at me. you give me this very sad, halfway smile and a little what can ya do shrug. something in that action seems so old and weary that i want to burst into tears.

"i have to go," you say. "really. for real. there's this family of five i save from getting into a car crash. and i know it's like oh but we're all gonna die in the explosion anyway, what's the point. and..." you shrug again. "it matters to me, is all. at least i saved them for now. at least i saved anything."

you pad over to me and wrap me in a tight hug. you always seem so tall against me. i feel your cheek rest against the top of my head for a moment. for a second, it's just us, and the space is warm, and my heart is a little broken hare.

you leave me there, and i stand in my stupid badly lit kitchen with my stupid mugs. i think about you. i start texting my mom that she needs to get out of the city, but it feels pointless.

i don't know what to do. tomorrow is the same day for you. but i have to prepare to die in my today.

[kitashousewife]

sometimes i think about myself one year ago and wish i could tell her “all of your friends are going to walk out on you and say that it isn’t your fault and then leave you lonely in the worst way possible” but i can’t and here we are

[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!”

[avephelis]

silly au where hunter can also see the other golden guards but all they do is annoy him

[ladiesngerms]

all day, fire fresh!

[leverage-ot3]

I’ve talked about this before but imagine what it’s like for someone in a country/place where eliot is Top Most Wanted and then your tech guy finds a breakout star baseball player on their visual scanner that looks EXACTLY like spencer. but…there’s no way that’s him, right???

and then the next year it happens again but this time it’s some one hit wonder country singer kenneth crane that has like 78 tween-run fangirl blogs dedicated to him. you see a grainy video of him being chased by a horde of screaming teenage girls and ??? no way Eliot Last Thing You’ll Ever See Spencer is a country singer star just. signing pictures of his face right…?

a few months later your intern shows you footage of an eliot lookalike who is in san lorenzo talking about how there is dog fighting in the presidential palace and you just. sigh. because of course. a scant few days later the political geography of the country changes drastically and damien moreau is imprisoned. …interesting

and then a year of silence goes by. he still shows up as blips on the radar but he must have a good hacker working for him because his tracks on the internet are expertly erased.

every time you ask through interagency channels some random interpol guy talks in (condescending?) riddles at you and it also somehow feels like he’s threatening you

and then your friend who recently got into foreign hockey teams sends you a dropyourgloves video of someone called jacques the bear. you immediately get a headache (and watch some more videos because even you can admit this guy is a good hockey player)

and you know he’s a Bad Guy but it’s been admittedly a bit entertaining seeing what claim to fame he will come upon next. and his most recent actions over the few years make you wonder.

a few months later your phone pings because multiple heads of state evacuated from DC. the reason? eliot spencer was in town. you hear two days later a bioterrorist was taken down by… the report was redacted. your hacker tells you spencer and two teammates were behind the successful operation. which, huh.

not even a full year later it is released that spencer is dead and… you don’t know how to feel.

[gods-perfect-idiots]

was overcome with the urge to draw "wade tenderly caressing logan's face while he's Feeling Big Angsty Stuff" and then the parallel urge to do a follow-up of "logan kissing wade's hand/holding onto him for dear life"

(anyway hope you like it - I have been looking at this for too long and so of course I hate it now 🫠 art is hard guys lol)

some details below the cut because I am happy with some small aspects - still really enjoying the painting part of doing Wade's scars for example (thanks again @woof-verine for that inspo it is just baked into my psyche now, and also for being a forever enjoyer of pointy ears Logan - sorry couldn't quite get the fangs in this time but they are there trust me!!)

ps. was listening to She Calls Me Back by Noah Kahan for this one. idk it just hits for me in my poolverine-addled state lol

[cable-salamdr]

Mad that they removed seemingly every trace of Misako do you know how badly I want to see her interact with Arin so they can bond over being spinjitsu-doers without elemental powers. Off to make five billion hcs now goodbye

[hater-era]

Veeeeeeeeeery slight nsfw warning

what if I had been writing a vampire au foils to friends to lovers slow burn angst eR fic that throws the idealistic character (Enjolras) into the terrors of nihilism in the face of eternity while Grantaire resident nihilist struggles with the meaning of revolution because immortality makes all their sacrifices worthless? also it’s canon era to modern era

[thearvariblues]

Joe 1.0 vs. Joe 2.0

You know, I keep seeing posts that are like "oh, My Stand-In is doing it all wrong, we should see the face/body of Joe 2.0 more often, not just in random reflections, we should see Joe 2.0 when other characters comment on his appearance, it's confusing, we should–"

Guys. You are looking at it all wrong. You don't understand. You just don't fucking get it.

It. Is. All. On. Purpose!

Because Joe's story is told from Joe's POV. It's the story of the first Joe, the stand-in Joe, who, yes, is currently residing in the body of Joe 2.0, but his mind is the same. From Joe's POV, he's still the original Joe, you see? Maybe his hands look different to him or whatever, but unless he sees himself in the mirror, he isn't the model Joe, he's just Joe.

Like... You know that feeling when you dye your hair, you're well aware you've dyed your hair, you can sometimes glance the different color from the corner of your eye or whatever, but then it's two days later and you randomly look in the mirror and once again go "woah, hold on, that's right, my hair's bright red now".

That's exactly what's happening to Joe. He knows he is in the body of Joe 2.0, but his brain isn't really comprehending it unless he is literally seeing himself. That's when it hits him. That's when he realizes, again and again and again, that his old body is gone. But when he's just talking to other characters? He's still him.

(Unless they really need to drive it home that he's not, like when he meets Ming in that elevator for the first time.)

See, they are not failing to tell the story by not using Joe 2.0's face enough. They are actually telling it exactly the way they want it.

And it's fucking beautiful.

[murd3rouscrow]

Sherlock Holmes loves John Watson.

That is my main takeaway from the last episode. Whether this love is romantic, platonic or an entirely separate thing altogether. The fact still remains.

Looking at the whole ordeal from Sherlock's perspective reveals something interesting. To Sherlock, John is one of his extremely few friends, his best friend even. Sherlock hasn't had many friends. Sure Mariana is his friend, and once, so was Victor. But none of them have been a friend to him in the way that John has.

No one else had taken the time to dig deep into who he was. No one else had put themselves in genuine danger for him. No one else has followed him into murders, and kidnappings, and all the other horrors he deals with, and stays by side throughout it all. He can count on John to always be there. He can trust John with his fears. He can be vulnerable around him, and believes that John can do the same.

He has, in his own way, fallen in love with him. He has grown attached. He cares about John in a way he hasn't cared for anyone before... He nearly killed for John Watson... He'd very willingly die for him as well...

That's what takes me to The Final Problem. Where, at the threat of John getting hurt, Sherlock would back down. He'd call John, tell him everything, how much he cares. He'd ask, plead, beg, John to forgive for what he's about to do... Then he'd jump. Spending the next few years, still protecting John. And when he has to come back, he'll be afraid. Not of the press, or that he won't be accepted. That John, his John Watson will not forgive him...

After all, there is no universe, where Sherlock doesn't love his Watson.

[baeshijima]

mmm thoughts of private executioner!blade, who is high priestess!kafka's bodyguard. well, more like her guard dog, as many fearfully seem to think.

he is aloof and gruff and rough around the edges, his name capturing it perfectly. when in the eyes of the public he either keeps to himself or stands ready by kafka's side, but when out he lurks in the shadows ready and waiting to carry out her death orders.

you, yourself, haven't had very many pleasant encounters with him... if you can even call them that. that being said, you haven't had many pleasant encounters with anyone. notorious for your... less than pleasant disposition, for a lack of better words, you have more people who'd rather see you run through than those you can call a friend.

in a dog-eat-dog world, you had no choice but to protect yourself. that, however, ultimately became your demise.

"oh? so you're the one sent to kill me. can't say i'm all that surprised."

standing before you is the feared executioner. his sword is tucked inside the sheath attached to his hip, that ever-present dark swirl of an aura stifling the air. he doesn't say anything, instead opting to silently stare down at your slumped and worn-out form. you find that his gaze doesn't bother you; rather, it's oddly comforting knowing someone will see you in your last moments.

"i've never asked you for a favour before, so this will be my first and last request for you." in all honesty, you're not sure where this chattiness stems from. considering you're currently in a holding cell under the crime of attempted murder towards kafka (a poisoned wine you were most definitely framed for, though you can't say you were surprised) and are awaiting for your turn to be under the guillotine for your public execution, you probably should be a little desperate towards the private executioner in front of you.

and yet, your mind is nothing if not peaceful.

with a huff, you relay your request, "can you make sure it's quick? painless, preferably, but i'd rather you just get it over and done with."

silence blankets the cold chambers. moisture accumulated along the cobble ceiling drip in a steady rhythm, like a clock ticking away the seconds. it's unnerving, almost, how there is not a single sound other than your impending countdown.

"why?" comes his low mutter, effectively causing a ripple within the stagnant air. you almost think you misheard him, but his following words cease the thought, "why won't you ask me for help?"

had it not been for the abrupt shuffle and clanging against the metal bars, you would have never looked up to see him in your last moments.

his scarred hands gripping the metal until his knuckles turn a ghastly white and blood dripping from his palms is what greets your sight. as your gaze slowly trails up, you almost let loose a laugh of disbelief; who would have thought blade, the infamous guard dog of the high priestess, could make such a desperate expression? one looking as though his whole world crumbled before him, in which he can do nothing but sit and watch.

(you will never know of the anger and desperation which coursed through his veins the moment he heard of your predicament. had it been anyone else, he wouldn't have cared. but you're not anyone else; you're you — unapologetically, wholeheartedly. it didn't take him long to hunt down those behind it, cutting them down without thought and putting an end to their miserable lives. he rushed as soon as he could when kafka gave him the order, no thoughts other than you, you, you, occupying his mind.

you will never know of the anguish which overcame him when he found you in such a state, your once healthy complexion and defiant gaze reduced to nothing but a tiredness which had always sat quietly behind your disposition. he's almost positive the muscle which unwillingly keeps him alive tore at the seams from your request, the acceptance in which you displayed causing his mind to go astray. even as he damn-near begs you to rely on him for help — to run away with him to some place no one knows of you and start anew there — you merely smile, resigned and peaceful.

you will never know of how much blade is willing to put on the line for you, for you never made it to see the complete and utter carnage he wrecked in your name.)

[mouselikesclowns]

I like Jeff too even if he's not a clown 😔

[doctorsiren]

I really needed a good scribble, so I made this

[miusato]

Ken, it's too early to give yourself a mid life crisis and worry too much 🙃