#they're. they're sooo

[anonymous-dentist]

Little oneshot of monster au Foolish and Vegetta finding Leo?

Aight, so here's the thing about being a vampire, okay?

You don't fucking eat.

Foolish has been alive for a very, very long time. And he's maybe eaten a pizza, like, uh, twice? Maybe? Or maybe he just ate two Italian guys... honestly, it kinda starts all running together after a couple of centuries.

Like, you eat, obviously, but you can't exactly leave a human body in the dumpster like you would an empty pizza box. It's illegal, apparently, and it's fucking stupid, too. Body disposal is maybe number three on Foolish's official Most Annoying Things In The World list, right behind "Bad Boy" Halo and "Bad Boy" Halo written in a different font.

So it's not like Foolish's garbage cans are full of food waste, is the thing. He's got some trash in there: plastic baggies, mostly, from when he wants to have his blood on the go with a straw; and then there's an insane amount of carboard boxes from his and Vegetta's LEGO collection.

So it's actually a little crazy one morning when Foolish steps outside of his and Vegetta's mansion to throw away their fifteenth box of the month and he sees a little creature digging through his trash.

Foolish first picks up on the scent of blood. Yum!

He then picks up on the scent of human. Double yum!

He then picks up on the scent of tears, and his stomach stops rumbling. (He may be a heartless, soulless creature of the night, but he isn't an asshole.)

So he carefully closes the back door behind him, and he clears his throat, and he has approximately three seconds to say, "Hey, you're probably in the wrong place to be doing that, pal," before the little human is screaming and tumbling backwards out of the dumpster. They hit the ground with an OOF!!, their red baseball cap flying off and landing a couple of inches away.

Vegetta, as talented as he is, must have heard the scream because he's out the back door almost immediately. But him coming out the back door means he's opening the back door right into Foolish's ass, sending Foolish tumbling down the short flight of stairs and onto the dirty-ass concrete.

"Shit!" Foolish screeches. He isn't hurt because he's literally immortal, but he plays it up just to see Vegetta's stricken face. He's gorgeous when he's worried.

"Foolish!" Vegetta cries. He jumps down the steps and crouches by Foolish's side, clutching Foolish's hand to his chest dramatically. "I am sorry!"

Foolish groans and flops his head onto the ground with his eyes closed. "Oh, Vegeta, how could you do this to me? How could you!?"

He feels a morose kiss pressed to his knuckles, and he's so flattered that his heart almost starts beating again.

But then his heart, as shriveled as it is, does literally jump in his chest as he hears a tiny giggle from next to him.

"Oh," Vegetta softly says, "who is this?"

Foolish shrugs. He cracks his eyes back open and swivels his head to the side so he can look at the kid, who is staring at the two of them with wide amber-colored eyes.

"Dunno," Foolish replies. "Human, I think."

The kid nods. They've got their hat on again, backwards.

Oh, Foolish thinks. They're cool.

"Hey, little one, would you like to come inside?" Vegetta asks.

Foolish sits up with a huff, turning to look at his husband. "What the hell, man! You can't just ask a kid to come inside your spooky vampire castle! That's freak behavior!"

"I don't know that!" Vegetta protests. "It worked with you, didn't it!"

"I wasn't a child! I was literally three hundred!"

"Maybe they're three hundred! You don't know that."

"I'm not," the kid interrupts. They blush and shrink into themself. "And I'm a girl. Today."

"Oh, cool," Foolish says, because fuck yeah. Then he turns back to his husband with a put-on scowl. "Stop being a creep, Vegeta! She's a girl!"

Vegetta is halfway through beginning his reply when they both freeze as the back door opens and slams shut.

Foolish looks over. The kid is gone.

"Huh," he says.

"Huh," Vegetta agrees.

What the hell.

[sunnyirry]

Hunting Palismen.png

[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.

[x-letsbreaksomerules-x]

yuri is so fucking real you guys

[soosoosoup]

Chord Striker Au by @thatbennybee

[edonee]

Why do so many trans-identified people call themselves communists? Don't they see how extremely capitalistic the ideology they base their entire life upon is? Come on, really?? 😭😭 You think that your "true self" can be bought through cosmetic surgery and hormone injections and you still call yourself a marxist how are you not embarassed...

[ontosgold]

summer date ☀️

[strayingsocks]

they're DANCINNNG

[ministarfruit]

day 2: please be gentle ♡

(femslashfeb prompt list)

[arcanejude]

girlfailure mae & greaserat qimir you will be missed by me

THE ACOLYTE 1.02 "Revenge/Justice" & 1.04 "Day"

[bishicat]

Alright I’m hesitant here cause like, I feel that asking this is incredibly self indulgent

But, mayhaps, literally anything Anders related?

Or ah, haha, mayhaps, adoribull? Sleepy cuddles?

Or

Ahaha

Haha

Samson? Sad Samson being sad?

…

Ok so the request that is me not being self indulgent and just thinking it’s something you’d have fun with : your Lavellan and Solas sleepy cuddles

How about sleepy Anders cuddling with a reunited Ser Pounce-a-lot?

[vechter]

free churro, bojack horseman // titans (1999) #21 // perihelion: a history of touch, franny choi // titans (2008) #23 // justice league of america (2006) #2 // in defense of loving him, clementine von radics // wonder woman (1987) #165 // dc special: the return of donna troy (2005) #3 // titans/young justice: graduation day (2003) #2 // unknown // batman chronicles (1995) #7 // the summer palace, succession // titans/young justice: graduation day (2003) #3 // achilles come down, gang of youths // titans/young justice: graduation day (2003) #3 // lighthousekeeping, jeanette winterson // dc special: the return of donna troy (2005) #2-3 // titans (2008) #23 // the nation's saddest love poems, sam j. grudgings // titans (2008) #23 // infinite crisis (2005) #1 // justice league: the rise of arsenal (2010) #2-3 // writing prompts for the broken-hearted, eden robinson // titans (2008) #23 // art by christopher troise // outsiders (2003) annual // aristotle and dante discover the secrets of the universe, benjamin alire sáenz

dick grayson + donna troy + roy harper + being absolutely insane about each other (inspired by @dukethvmas's text post)

[industryhbo]

It’ll work better because of our relationship. What we make together is good because of it. And you know that, or else you wouldn’t have asked me to come back here in the first place.

Hacks (2021–)

[inkskinned]

love when men cry about body hair bc "it's hygiene" and yet 15% of cis men leave the bathroom without washing their hands at all and an additional 35% only just wet their hands without using soap. that is nearly half of all men. that means statistically you have probably shaken hands with or been in direct contact with one of these people.

love when men say that women "only want money" when it turns out that even in equal-earning homes, women are actually adding caregiver burdens and housework from previous years, whereas men have been expanding leisure time and hobbies. in equal-earning households, men spend an average of 3.5 hours extra in leisure time per week, which is 182 hours per year - a little over a week of paid vacation time that the other partner does not receive. kinda sounds like he wants her money.

love that men have decided women are frail and weak and annoying when we scream in surprise but it turns out it's actually women who are more reliable in an emergency because men need to be convinced to actually take action and respond to the threat. like, actually, for-real: men experience such a strong sense of pride about their pre-supposed abilities that it gets them and their families killed. they are so used to dismissing women that it literally kills them.

love it. told my father this and he said there's lies, damned lies, and statistics. a year ago i tried to get him to evacuate the house during a flash flood. he ignored me and got injured. he has told me, laughing, that he never washes his hands. he has said in the last week that women are just happier when we're cooking or cleaning.

maybe i'm overly nostalgic. but it didn't used to feel so fucking bleak. it used to feel like at least a little shameful to consider women to be sheep. it just feels like the earth is round and we are still having conversations about it being flat - except these conversations are about the most obvious forms of patriarchy. like, we know about this stuff. we've known since well before the 50's.

recently andrew tate tried to justify cheating on his partner as being the "male prerogative." i don't know what the prerogative for the rest of us would be. just sitting at home, watching the slow erosion of our humanity.

[das-a-kirby-blog]

prince fluff!!!

[tricoufamily]

just some ivy league kids trying to figure out necromancy