#only mentioned but still

[haunted-xander]

Baby's first kiss(ing attempt)

#girl whos never had a crush before vs girl who doesnt know she can be upfront about her feelings #rynes like 'wow gaias so cool shes so great i kinda wanna kiss her but thats normal right haha' #and gaias like 'rynes great but shes weird so i cant just say i want to kiss her she probably doesnt even like me that way' #i dont think ryne would ever realoze she has a crush on her own i mean she hasnt had friends her age before #u think she knows the difference between loving ur friends platonically and romantically #at most she realizes that oh my feelings for gaia are different than for the twins/wol/lyna but shed probably just be like #well ofc its different we met in a different way and i cant hang out with the twins/wol/lyna this much so its normal #and gaias just a massive tsundere whos actually a coward with her feelings #like of COURSE she cant just tell ryne she likes her thats WEIRD and shes Normal ok shes so Normal #(she isnt but next to ryne she might feel like she is) #anyway i think wol should give them relationship advice bc SOMEONE needs to teach these girls how crushes work #ryne waters #gaia #rynegaia #gaiaryne #urithan #thanuri #only mentioned but still #final fantasy #final fantasy 14 #final fantasy xiv #ff14 #ffxiv #art #my art #xanders art #digital art #fan art

[1343-40]

He finds out Brady is gay. Well— Brady tells him, compelled by something as the both of them escape the chaos of the lounge room their teammates have taken hostage and settle on the back porch, heads thrown over the back of the sofa to watch the starry sky. Gale is silent for a long time, at a loss for words. He wouldn’t have guessed—he doesn’t know any other gay guys in the league, always shied away from the opportunity to find out, to seek them out. Not like there’s a fucking group chat he could join, anyway, just a careful word of mouth at best, one Gale has carefully steered clear from in his attempt to avoid self-sabotage, utterly futile in the end.

He doesn’t end up telling Brady what he would’ve two years ago, when the tone of Brady’s voice when talking about Blakely finally starts making sense. Doesn’t think Brady would appreciate it, anyway. He must’ve seen something in Gale, to take a gamble this risky. So Gale tells him he’s gay too, even though he suspects Brady already knows. He vaguely hints why he didn’t get re-signed with the Jets—figures Brady deserves to know. In response, Brady gets weirdly passionate about it, in his own way. Tells Gale he has his back, says fuck ‘em more times than necessary, but Brady’s drunk and Gale would feel bad making fun of him. He tells Brady he has his back, too, blushes embarrassingly when Brady places an arm around his shoulder and squeezes and doesn’t let go. He’s eternally thankful Brady is still staring at the sky and doesn’t notice—Gale feels too naked, bare under the weight of the confession, too unused to sharing this part of himself with people.

Curious, Gale asks him about Blakely and watches the way Brady’s usually impassive face transforms. Wonders, distantly, if he would look the same if somebody asked him about Bucky.

They spend the rest of that evening shittalking past teammates that never grew out of saying faggot and calling things gay, until one of their defense rookies finds them and tells them there’s a mandatory game of Monopoly starting in ten minutes.

Gale puts a hand on Brady’s shoulder when Quinn leaves and they muster up the strength to get up. He gets enveloped into a tight hug, immediately. He laughs, tells Brady that he’s too drunk and Brady agrees with a scoff, slaps him on the back one last time and promises not to steal any districts from him with a smirk.

- another excerpt from the running out of guts to spill. @swifty-fox sold me on brady/blakely so hard i had to include them lol. are brady’s feelings mutual? guess we’ll never fuckin know (we’ll know. we’ll for sure know. i’ll shoehorn it in idc. what the fuck is this ship. douglass i’m sorry for stealing your boyfie)

#gale cleven #john brady #mota #hockey au #roogts tag #clegan #< obv #everett blakely #only mentioned but still

[gardensinnerdoodleblog]

(He's looking for casey jr )

Digitalizing a bunch of my mikey and casey doodles because i love them, rlly wish they had a duo name

#rottmnt #rottmnt art #rise fanart #fanart #rise of the tmnt #rise michelangelo #michelangelo rottmnt #future michelangelo #casey jones #casey jones jr #only mentioned but still #hmmm maybe something like hope duo #or hamato hope #or maybe sunflower duo #old sun new star? or is that too long #hmmmmm

[tereox]

Warmup #8

Rating: T

Summary: Rain on Coruscant is rare. The Corries savour every occasion of it.

Notes: This one has a mentioned character death. Since it's a fix-it, you know? :3

~~~

Rain on Coruscant was rare. There was something about a force of nature breaking through the carefully cultivated climate of the city planet and washing away all the dirt and grime it was covered with.

It made it easier to breathe.

The raindrops drummed against Fox's helmet as he traversed the lower levels. The population of Coruscant did not know rain like the vode did, and thus largely decided to stay within their homes. It was fine with him, Coruscant wasn't built for rain.

"Commander, we're being recalled to the barracks."

Fox looked over at his patrol partner, who was staring at his comm. Even with the armour on, the tilt of his helmet conveyed only befuddlement. "They say the Chancellor slipped on a puddle and broke his neck."

Well, wasn't that another reason to adore rain.

#warmup #my fanfiction #coruscant guard #corries #corrie guard #rain #fix it fic #fix it #cw: character death #cw character death #only mentioned but still #star wars #clone wars #commander fox #tcw fox

[claypigeonpottery]

still packing orders. I did not expect to be this weak after nasal surgery lol maybe that was a silly assumption. I pack like six orders and then I need to nap

I’ve done about half of them though! and there’s more than 40 total

thanks so much everyone, it’s been really amazing having my work disappear this fast

#me #surgery tw #only mentioned but still

[lunarloafofbread]

i love you duality i love you harmonizing dark and light i love you Soul (Chonny Jash) i love you & by Tally Hall i love you opposition i love you foils i love you-

#tally hall #chonny jash #soul cccc #only mentioned but still #first post in ages #soul cj

[randomwriteronline]

This body wasn't bad. He got used to it, by all means. It worked fine. It felt disgusting and utterly parasitic at times, and there had been nights when the noises inside him had kept him up until he'd finally collapsed. But he'd managed to get through it, because that's what stone does best: it perseveres, at the cost of eroding.

He wanted it off of himself.

He wanted it off of himself as violently and horribly and urgently as he could.

Not always - not always; sometimes he forgot about it and didn't even find it weird, when he was only among Glatorian and Agori and other likely mostly organic beings. But the moment he saw a Matoran he knew, and he tried to get closer, and they backed away from him fearfully, he felt the urge to dig into his stomach a deep enough cut to just cleave the meat off of himself with the ease and precision of a bandage against a pair of scissors.

Why did they run from him? Why did they keep him at arm's length? Why did they look at him with such fright? Why did they handle him so carefully? Why did they push him off?

Because this shell was too soft to handle their familiar jagged edges and ripped at the seams the moment he tightened his grip on them?

He wanted to cut it off.

What good was it, to be here, to be with everybody, if he could not hold them?

If he could not make his knuckles boom against Onua's, if he could not have Lewa wrap tight around his chest, if he could not press his head into Gali's shoulder, if he could not hug Tahu by the waist to drag him away? If he could not get a Kohlii ball to the chest without feeling his lungs instantly caving in, if he could not be a minute around the Turaga without immediately noticing the thousands of ways with which they held themselves back around him?

What good was it, to live like this?

He'd never needed this much care because he'd always been sturdy. Now he was malleable and weak and so easy to hurt, and it made his sternum burn without a reason.

He always held them as hard as he could.

Every single time. Without fail.

Maybe at first it had been unconsciously, because he still didn't know his own frailty.

Now he held them to be hurt.

The pain was a comfort. It gave a reason as to why his chest hurt, a tangible meaning behind that overwhelming ache.

They couldn't understand, and pried him off; and each time, without fail, he let go so they could calm down, and then hugged them just a tight again until the metal was piercing the flesh.

He was a Toa.

He was a Toa.

He was a Toa.

He was a Toa.

He was a Toa.

He was a Toa.

He was a Toa.

He was a Toa.

Pohatu listened to yet another healer's scolding as she fixed new bandages on him, words entering and leaving his ears without their meaning making it through.

He was a Toa and he needed this disgusting suit of nerves and fat and muscle and skin off of himself.

A hand swatted away his fingers while he picked at his cuts.

Kopaka never liked when he did that.

He never liked when he got hurt.

Pohatu wrapped him in a hug, because that was all he wanted to do.

Kopaka was still a little colder than most, physically. His skin was lukewarm at best, at any hour, under any circumstance: that much hadn't changed from when he'd been made of mostly metal.

Another thing that had remained the same was that hugging him didn't hurt.

Something that had changed was that sometimes, he hugged back.

Sometimes he wrapped him in his arms and reclined gently on the cot, or against the wall, letting him lay against him.

Sometimes he brushed his hair, combing through it with his fingers, and wasn't annoyed when Pohatu curled a little more in his grasp, head on his chest, and slowly fell asleep in his hold.

#bionicle #pohatu #kopaka #self harm tw #only mentioned but still #random writing #still that au were the lads got organic-ized by the red star #partially vent bc i was really not feelin ok like at all #could count as kohatu i guess. why not. romantic or platonic whichever yall like more #btw it honestly sucks that i put so much work in that first fic especially and nobody looked at it #like on ao3 it doesnt even have a kudo. the follow up does but not the first one. like ok fuck you #i know i write for myself but itd be nice if somebody also liked it like goddamn

[ofyorkshire]

i am once again thinking about 17 year old bj, shaken and upset after seeing clare's body being carried out of the garage, knowing he's been spotted by the policeman who murdered her... thinking about how he likens fleeing from searching police to a war zone, and how when he finds a place to hide and rest a moment in someone's garden shed, he pulls up his shirt and searches his back for evidence of severed wings (real as in he once had wings sewn into his shoulder blades like the murder victims? imagined bc he's in the middle of a mental and emotional breakdown? wholly metaphorical?)

something something... seeing a character hold it together for such a long time, numbing numbing numbing, then finally shatter into pieces bc there is too much for them to stitch themselves around. and something something... the way bj is connected to the murder victims (found with swan wings sewn to their backs) but also the mutilated swans themselves (found without their wings). and. the. idk. the way that the police had all the answers in front of them from the start with the swans, but they kept dismissing pieces as unimportant ("just birds", "just troublemakers", "just prostitutes", "just" the unimportant things we don't want to deal with or acknowledge). and as a result, bj and every other victim were failed at every turn even though the signs and the cries for help were all there.

there's interesting things being said there about bj and i wish i could place my finger on all the somethings.

#nothing makes me sound less sane than trying to make sense of rr's symbolism and metaphors skglsdkgs i am aware of this #knowing there's prob things to dissect but not understanding it enough TO dissect it properly is... annoying. #animal abuse for ts #animal death for ts #only mentioned but still #out of fairy tales [ooc]; #spark puts on her clown nose once more to pick apart media that probably was not actually meant to be picked apart #i'm sorry i keep focusing on the sad things btw but in my defense bj is 98% sad and never not canonically suffering. #even when he's happy (?) there's a shadow of bad things to come hanging over him. like. i could not talk about him at all if i didn't.

[pizza-games-and-more]

What the fuck is going on

#pizza tower #character: cheese monster #character: cheeseslime #cw suicide #only mentioned but still

[funbonded]

❝ Emily? Emily? Sounds familiar ...yet faded and in the distance. Emily. ❞ An eyebrow raised on his metal plating. Would it not have been for curiosity perhaps he would already be churning Henry Emily into bits reminiscent of the dog's dinner. 

❝ Perhaps you were close with my master once? It's f-funny-y he never-r once mentioned-d-d you to me-e-e, and-d I thought-t-t I was his FAVORITE. ❞His last words filled with spiteful venom. A creation favored by it's master would never be left to rust in such a place as this. 

Metal plating glimmers in what little light there is in the den of the beast himself. Funfred, unlike his counterparts from other pizzerias, makes no effort to disguise what he is.  The hunter. A reaper. He isn't much taller than the average man, even still, he walks with a tilt forward, jutting his jaw, as though looming. ❝ Do tell me, what it is you seek here, Mr. Emily-y? ❞ Voicebox crackling and popping in and out.  / @muutos for Henry Emily . starter

#† you can run but you can't hide | ic #tw: body horror #tw: gore #only mentioned but still #muutos

[kaunisbaby]

To that last anon: I used to feel like you, then got into a relationship and it was very disappointing, then I tried going on dates and got disappointed even more (people are shit basically), kisses are not even that fun, it's just wet and you hear someone breathing or they make those yucky smacking sounds, it felt like being kissed by my mom when I was a kid 🙄. Then I also got feelings for people, who didn't like me back and the whole experience was such a total shit that I don't understand what's so special about romantic relationships.

Maybe you wouldn't even like that at all. Being single for a long time teaches you to enjoy your own company and I learned to be protective of my personal space. Someone would have to be really special to be allowed so near me.

I kinda hoped my next relationship would be different, but I honestly don't know how people do this stuff, so there won't be a next one. It's not the end of the world. Friendships are really more satisfying.

romantic relationships are very appealing to me, as it's normal since we're human beings, but it's also normal and valid not to desire them 🤷🏼‍♀️ it depends on many factors. for me personally it does feel like the end of the world...

i had one important relationship where i was in love and i miss that feeling terribly. it ended up in a suicide attempt and after that i developed even more attachment issues so now it's impossible for me to even try. i tried dating after that actually, but it was all meaningless sex and unfulfilling stuff that left me feeling more empty than anything afterwards, so i stopped altogether.

i love kissing and all that stuff so i can't relate to your experience, but still ive been wondering if im on the demisexual side as ive only ever liked sex with the person i was in love with and in general i don't find random men attractive - i have to have some sort of connection to them first.

another reason why i miss romantic love: i love sex, can't have it in a no strings attached way because i don't like it like that 😭

i totally agree about being single for a long time allowing you to make the relationship with yourself better. it did help me with that and i respect myself more now - i find that i don't need anyone's approval or external validation, i have my own identity and it's something i didn't have back then. im selective with people getting close and my life has improved drastically because of it.

it's not like i need romantic love to live. im perfectly capable of being by myself, i enjoy my own company and everything, but i do feel like im missing out on something great. i know what love feels like and now that i don't have it anymore i miss it terribly. i grieve every day for it. the fact that ill never feel it again destroys me and it's not an exaggeration. but this is only my experience

#answered #suicide attempt tw #only mentioned but still

[saemi-the-writer]

Mrs. Bustier ▼+♦

▼ - childhood headcanon

Caline is an abuse survivor, it was one of her teacher in elementary school who decided to open an investigation after seeing the bruises on her body and how Caline's attitude showed a huge red flag. One of Caline's solace and comfort was reading fairytales and various stories when the princess/heroine/MC was saved from her horrible situation, it gave her hope that someday it would be her turn. Some characters like Cinderella and Cosette (from Les Misérables) remain her all-time favourite and Caline will fight anyone who tries to bash them!

♦ - quirks/hobbies headcanon

Caline knows a lot about meditation and other self-care activities because she needed them as a teen, especially when she got into her angry/violent phase.

Caline loves to read: classic litterature, romance novel, comics (manga, manwha and french-belgian mostly), gothic... she is open to a lot of things and is always up to look up a story her student had told her about or give advice to them on which books they should try to read. Does writing essays and metas, many feminist stuff, under a penname count as a hobby??

Dancing! She used to be forced by her parents to take ballet classes as a little girl, then as a teen she went into street jazz. Years later, she learnt to re-appreciate ballet.

Making terrariums and herbariums, ikebana (started learning after Pollen came into her life).

Baking and cooking with her lovely wife <3

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous team au #kinda #caline bustier #ms bustier #ml headcanons #cw: abuse #only mentioned but still

[pagesofkenna]

you have no idea how confused ive been for the last however many months to hear people casually talking about stanley cups, like as a fad or something? and how people shouldn't have them or something? and this WHOLE time ive kept thinking 'isnt there just the one? dont you have to give it back to the hockey association next year??'

#im STILL confused tbh but only because the last six months of context just DOESNT EXIST in my brain #because ive assumed every time it was mentioned that people were talking about some weird esoteric hockey tradition LMAO #guys what the deal with the stanley tumblers why have people been talking about them

[machinerot]

#my art #harry du bois #kim kitsuragi #disco elysium #disco elysium fanart #harrykim #kimharry #or whatever they're called #let this man have happiness or so help me #im a firm believer in harry getting a slow post-recovery glow up alright. it's the least i can do for the guy. #man i was listening to so many banger songs while making this #im still getting back in the flow of painting so most of my stuff is kinda messy still #but i suspect ill find a middle ground between this and my last piece style-wise #gearing up to drawing kim in all his glory too now that ive finished two different side profiles of him. only a matter of time now #also fun little fact. i drew over half of this (~4 ? hours) using just my finger on the trackpad of my laptop lol #sometimes it helps me to just put shapes and colors down. when ive got a pen i get too nitpicky about being perfect/using fancy techniques #sometimes all you need is. finger 🫶 #OH!! i forgot to mention someone spotted it in the tags—yes this is based on that one leyendecker piece!!

[inkskinned]

crows use tools and like to slide down snowy hills. today we saw a goose with a hurt foot who was kept safe by his flock - before taking off, they waited for him to catch up. there are colors only butterflies see. reindeer are matriarchical. cows have best friends and 4 stomachs and like jazz music. i watched a video recently of an octopus making himself a door out of a coconut shell.

i am a little soft, okay. but sometimes i can't talk either. the world is like fractal light to me, and passes through my skin in tendrils. i feel certain small things like a catapult; i skirt around the big things and somehow arrive in crisis without ever realizing i'm in pain.

in 5th grade we read The Curious Incident of the Dog In The Night-time, which is about a young autistic boy. it is how they introduced us to empathy about neurotypes, which was well-timed: around 10 years old was when i started having my life fully ruined by symptoms. people started noticing.

i wonder if birds can tell if another bird is odd. like the phrase odd duck. i have to believe that all odd ducks are still very much loved by the other normal ducks. i have to believe that, or i will cry.

i remember my 5th grade teacher holding the curious incident up, dazzled by the language written by someone who is neurotypical. my teacher said: "sometimes i want to cut open their mind to know exactly how autistics are thinking. it's just so different! they must see the world so strangely!" later, at 22, in my education classes, we were taught to say a person with autism or a person on the spectrum or neurodivergent. i actually personally kind of like person-first language - it implies the other person is trying to protect me from myself. i know they had to teach themselves that pattern of speech, is all, and it shows they're at least trying. and i was a person first, even if i wasn't good at it.

plants learn information. they must encode data somehow, but where would they store it? when you cut open a sapling, you cannot find the how they think - if they "think" at all. they learn, but do not think. i want to paint that process - i think it would be mostly purple and blue.

the book was not about me, it was about a young boy. his life was patterned into a different set of categories. he did not cry about the tag on his shirt. i remember reading it and saying to myself: i am wrong, and broken, but it isn't in this way. something else is wrong with me instead. later, in that same person-first education class, my teacher would bring up the curious incident and mention that it is now widely panned as being inaccurate and stereotypical. she frowned and said we might not know how a person with autism thinks, but it is unlikely to be expressed in that way. this book was written with the best intentions by a special-ed teacher, but there's some debate as to if somebody who was on the spectrum would be even able to write something like this.

we might not understand it, but crows and ravens have developed their own language. this is also true of whales, dolphins, and many other species. i do not know how a crow thinks, but we do know they can problem solve. (is "thinking" equal to "problem solving"? or is "thinking" data processing? data management?) i do not know how my dog thinks, either, but we "talk" all the same - i know what he is asking for, even if he only asks once.

i am not a dolphin or reindeer or a dog in the nighttime, but i am an odd duck. in the ugly duckling, she grows up and comes home and is beautiful and finds her soulmate. all that ugliness she experienced lives in downy feathers inside of her, staining everything a muted grey. she is beautiful eventually, though, so she is loved. they do not want to cut her open to see how she thinks.

a while ago i got into an argument with a classmate about that weird sia music video about autism. my classmate said she thought it was good to raise awareness. i told her they should have just hired someone else to do it. she said it's not fair to an autistic person to expect them to be able to handle that kind of a thing.

today i saw a goose, and he was limping. i want to be loved like a flock loves a wounded creature: the phrase taken under a wing. which is to say i have always known i am not normal. desperate, mewling - i want to be loved beyond words.

loved beyond thinking.

#spilled ink #writeblr #personal #please don't ask me to talk on my experience on the spectrum lol. i hate how ppl talk to me about it #i really try not to write so specifically about it #bc inevitably someone talks to me like im a child #i think this is the first time i've ever openly identified with it but i've been hinting for years #i might delete this. feels big. #the thing is that being on the spectrum actually IS a spectrum #and if u say ur autistic #inevitably someone makes an assumption about ur needs/symptoms #please do not treat me differently than u usually would. like.... we can tell when you do #and like i mention. i do appreciate the effort. i do truly appreciate the effort. #but it still feels like... #when i was blind. sometimes people kind of did the same-ish thing. #they'd find out i was blind and start talking really loudly? #and while i KNOW they're just trying to help. it would be like. i'd be trying to find #the right way into a building (sometimes only 1 door is unlocked and i couldn't see the signs posted about where to go) #and ppl would be like ''OH UR BLIND? YES SO THIS IS A DOOR. IT OPENS INTO THE BUILDING. IT IS LOCKED NOW." #''A DOOR CAN BE FOUND IN MANY LOCATIONS.'' #and it feels like. when i admit to being autistic #someone comes screeching into my life being like THIS IS A DOOR.

[nerdpoe]

Young Justice is always a little...concerned. With Phantom's living situation. Now they're outright afraid for him, and Bart has decided it's time to Ask An Adult.

It was the little quips. The tiny little things. Stuff that didn't seem to matter to Phantom at all, or appeared to be normal for him, that he didn't realize weren't normal at all.

"Oh, better not hope my mom catches me." "Doing what, staying out past bedtime?" "Nah, using my powers; she'd vivisect me!"

"Another stab wound. Great." "Don't worry Phantom, I've got the med kit-" "Oh, I'm not a baby or anything, I can handle it just fine. Just gimme a sec to take it out."

"My dad has better aim than that." "...Like, when he's hunting, right?" "...At what other times would he be shooting at me?"

"Huh. Not as bad as my parents place. Look; they have a decontamination shower!" "Phantom, this lab has been vandalized to the point of needing a hazmat suit." "Did I stutter?"

Finding out each others identities did nothing to soothe the worry. Tim quietly told the others that every time he tried to run facial recognition, he kept hitting a government firewall he couldn't breach. Phantom never told them his last name, just his first, and 'Danny' is super common.

The thing that really did it though, the thing that made Bart snap and run off to ask Max, was when Danny had a nightmare.

He was talking in his sleep.

"No. Don't-stop. Stoooop. I need...my skin. Mom, no. You can't...peel off...my skin..."

Bart didn't even wait for them to wake Danny up before he was standing in front of Max, talking a mile a minute as he tried to figure out what to do, with Wally staring in horror over a plate of waffles as he computed everything that Bart was saying.

~~~~~~

Danny had a dream about his mom and Skulker arguing about how to skin him. He wouldn't really call it a nightmare, because it was just Skulker, but the scariest thing was Skulker insisting to his mom that it was possible to skin him with a potato peeler. Dream mom was arguing that it was not, and that from a scientific standpoint that was a really piss poor way to preserve a specimen.

He hadn't been begging them to stop hurting him, he'd been whining at them to knock it off.

But when he wakes up, it's to a room full of worried friends and an old man who calls himself Max.

"Kid, I think we need to talk."

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #phanfic #story prompt #first convo was with cassie #second was with bart #third was with kon #fourth was with tim #max is fully prepared to take in another kid #bart is fully prepared to share #wally went to dick to ask him to put his detective training to work and find phantom's parents #wally was just visiting max #catching up #shooting the shit #when suddenly bart comes in and just trauma dumps about one of the other young justice heroes #who is apparently in a super abusive situation #and probably needs help #body horror tw #skinning tw #but only mentioned in the context of a super weird dream #danny's living situation COULD use some improvements #but it's not as bad as everyone thinks #anti ecto acts are still a thing #but as long as danny is with young justice the GIW leave him alone so #eh #not like they're good at their jobs anyways #max is about to blow his mind with the following information #“you are not okay. it's okay to not be okay. but kid. you need help and we're offering.”