#i was emotionally constipated back then

[celestiachan]

you ever feel like you've reached the same level of depressedness as when you were a seventh grader

[hinamie]

wanted to practice some more intense angry expressions and what better excuse to further my agenda of giving megumi the emotional catharsis he deserves

[bigmoon-is-bigwife]

I was thinking about why people hate C!Scott in the life series so much compared to other characters and I think it's because of how he portrays himself in his POV. He almost never displays weakness to anyone, including his own viewers. When things are going bad you'll see most life series POVs start to panic and they'll tell you that they're scared and worried but Scott rarely does that. He may say after the fact he was concerned about a situation but you never really see him properly scared the way you see others.

He doesn't really vocalize his fear because of the facade he puts up. Admitting you are scared and don't have control over a situation is basically like losing. That's something that could be exploited and Scott is nothing if not calculating. (I think you could also argue there's more going on there like self loathing and holding himself to a higher standard)

However, when you see a character afraid or struggling, it humanizes them to you. It makes you feel bad for them and makes you sympathize with them. It makes you want to root for them. When you have a character like Scott who refuses to ever let that fear show it's easy to forget they have feelings. It's easier to demonize a character who rarely shows you their vulnerable side.

I think you could also make a parallel here with Joel who is very similar in the camp of "If I Admit I Have Emotions I Will Die" but Joel is much more volatile and outspoken that his emotions still bleed through. Joel will deny that he's afraid and try to cover it up with threats of violence and false bravado but you can still see the cracks in the facade. That's what makes him endearing. Meanwhile, Scott has a much more practiced cold and calculating demeanor. It's much more subtle and easy to miss. They're both attempting the same thing in the end: Trying to convince you that they're perfectly fine and in control even when they're very clearly not. Scott is just more successful at it and sometimes he even manages to convince himself of it too.

[professorjirt]

I’ve discovered my favorite genre of Bagginshield art is where Thorin is a lovesick idiot who is Losing It and Bilbo is unbothered or oblivious to Thorin’s suffering LMAO

[revenantghost]

You know, I've read a lot of fics where Vash can say "I love you" to Wolfwood and Wolfwood can't, but what about the other way around?

A Vash that hasn't allowed himself that word in 150 years?

A Vash that doesn't know if he can even feel love?

A Vash that knows he doesn't deserve it, doesn't even want it?

(But oh, he does he does he does, he wants it more than anything.

And that's why he can never give it the power of a spoken word.)

[moe-broey]

Reposting this one on its own bc. It means So Much To Me. It means EVERYTHING TO ME.

[damconcha]

A man dies when he’s forgotten, right?

So when Law dies who will be left to remember the beautiful, prosperous country of Flevance and not the grotesque, deadly country it was made out to be?

[tabiito]

thinking ab love hangover with rin... because contrary to popular opinion i think he'd be a GREAT ex (at least outwardly). breaks up pretty detached, behaves normal-ish (however normal rin is) with you on the street, lets u have all ur hangout spots, ur friends hate him, 10/10 ex behaviour. just when he thinks he's over u you come back to literally HAUNT him. clingy af making bad jokes intercepting him at training forcing him to have lunch with u his totally desperate ex that makes him realise he's not over you at all!!

[arale2126]

cherik dream this morning

college!au

Charles is an omega who suddenly goes into heat at a house party while drunk and alpha Erik helps him relieve it

Charles then gets pregnant and panics a lot because he's a freshman

Erik also panics hard when he hears the news

like any sane people, they go to Edie, Erik's mom

she agrees to take care of the girl when she's born so Charles can finish his degree

so then the girl is born and stays with Grandma while daddy gets on with his degree and Erik gets a job after graduation to support Charles all the way to PhD as well as take care of their little girl

one can safely assume Charles and Erik have fallen in love

the end

[undergoing-mitosis]

me: yeah i have read nothing but lawlight for the past few months and im kinda getting sick of it. let's take a break

me: takes a single fic break

me, approx 5 days later: THE SILLY GUYS OMG I LOVE THEM SO MUCH RAAAAAA hello lawlight brainrot welcome back 👋

anyways if this extract from this fic doesn't sum up their entire dynamic in a nutshell then i don't know what does

[jojo-schmo]

Does Meta Knight know what happend to Dedede in TDX?

TDX is what the cool kids call "Triple Deluxe," right? lol

In the Roleswap, they both know the facts about the events in Dream Land... Meta Knight knows what happened to Dedede during the whole Dreamstalk incident, and Dedede knows what happened to Meta during the Haltmann invasion, for example.

But I don't think they'd get outwardly vulnerable enough to really open up to each other about how all of that made them feel.

....Not at this early point in the story, anyway. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

To be fair, they don't really share their inner thoughts and feelings with anyone. Prideful King and Stubborn Knight... They've both got their own images to uphold, even to each other! They bottle up their feelings in hopes they go away on their own! That ain't healthy!!

But they do have the ability to let down their walls a little, somewhere deep deep inside them. It would just take something very stressful to get either of them to open up....

[earako]

A/N: idea from @goodtimeswithluigi thanks for the flangst fuel ^^

-/-

The thing that sucked about having memories erased and then coming back is that only some of them decided to be polite and slowly trickle in. Waddles, the kids, those memories poured in like the gentle trickle of water from a watering can. More immediate memories like Soos and Wendy slowly flowed in and filled the small pond in Stan's mind that was probably labelled 'family-' not that he'd ever admit it outloud.

Then there were the older memories. The ones that made it feel like Stan had just rammed his head in a brick wall for hours on end. Older memories usually. Stuff like high school, Glass Shard Beach, Ma's perfume, and Pa's suffocating cologne that even the memory of made Stan's head hurt.

Then...then there were the memories that made Stan want to curl up in bed all day. Those...those were usually memories of his grifter days. Or the science fair incident. The combination of having to live through the worst moments of his life, feeling all the hurt and pain and heartache and having to go through the emotional rollercoaster that was his late teens to early 30s over and over and over again. The late nights, the portal, the journals, slapping on a fake smile as Stanlely desperately tried to keep a con going long enough to pay off the house and loans because he'd be damned if his brother didn't have a house to come back to.

This morning was a memories that made Stan want to rot in bed kind of day.

His oh so wonderful brain decided to wake Stan up with the phantom feeling of gaping wounds where wings were supposed to be.

And here Stan had thought he was just born without them. An anomoly type thing, like his brothers fingers.

The searing phantom pain in his back said otherwise.

Stan tried to ignore it. Bit the pillow and tried to will himself back to sleep.

The pain pulsed again.

Stan huffed an irritated sigh and slowly pushed himself up, rolling onto his side with some difficulty and managing to sit up.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow," Stan hissed to himself as he slowly got to his feet. "Sweet Moses, phantom pains a bitch," he murmered, slowly making his way downstairs to either the kitchen or the living room. He'd decide later whether the phantom pain required a t.v distraction or a food distraction.

"Stanley?"

"Ford?" Huh. Guess tonight was gonna be a brother distraction. Stanley ambled his way over to where Ford was hunched over the kitchen table, a mug gripped tightly in his hands.

Stan's back twinged again. He tried to hide it, grit his teeth, hid the pained gasp with a groan as he sat. Ford raised an eyebrow.

"And you're up because?"

"Hey, back at ya, Si- Poindexter," Stan replied, taking mind to avoid using the name the isoceles bastard had tainted- and how dare he, how DARE he! That was Stan's name first, that was the name Stan gave his brother to keep away the bullies and the bad thoughts that thought having one extra finger made someone an unlovable freak- if Stan had another chance to deck the discount dorito he'd do it in a heartbeat.

"You first," Ford grumbled, sipping what better not be coffee cause the last thing Ford needed on top of the stress of everything was more caffiene. Stanely narrowed his eyes at his twin.

"I asked first."

"Respect your elders."

"By fifteen minutes-ack!" Where Stan had been aiming for playful banter, his back decided now would be a good time to remember having muscle and sinew twisted, ripped, cut, then for the hell of it, tied into various knots. All while past Stan's screams were ringing into current Stan's ears.

A chair scraped, a cup clattered onto the table. Six fingered hands settled themselves on Stan's shoulder and were he caught up any further in the flashback Stan would have pushed the hands away.

Thankfully his phantom pain addled brain was in the present enough to recognize the six fingered hand was his brother and brother meant safe.

Stan violently squashed down the part of him that remembered holding up a hand for a high six only to get the curtains closed on him.

"Stan? Stanley?"

"Phantom pains a bitch," Stan mumbled, breath hitching and stifling down another pained groan. Without needing to be asked, cautious hands slowly made their way to where the base of where Stan's wings used to be and pressed down a bit. Stan shuddered.

"Hurts?"

"God no, do that again," Stan sighed as his twin began to chase away the pain and exhaustion radiating out of his back with nimble fingers. He hissed a few times.

Silence. Fabric rustling as Ford rubbed firm circles on Stan's back.

Ticking of the grandfather clock.

The sink dripping, Soos said he's fix it tomorrow.

Stan's exhales as Ford worked the tension out of his muscles.

It would've been nice, plesant even if it weren't for the worry nibbling at the corner of Stan's mind.

Ford was going to ask, wasn't he.

He was going to ask about the wings, moreso Stan's lack of wings, and then Stan was going to have to remember that memory and the spots where his wings seemed to be just would not stop throbbing! Ford's fingers were doing a good job of easing some of the pain the scars still screamed.

"Hey...Stan..." his twin began. Stan internally braced himself. He didn't want to talk about it but if Ford asked...

"Yeah?

"Ah, it's...nothing. I forgot what I was going to say."

Ford was always a shit liar.

And with the silence that followed Stan almost wished his twin had just asked instead of trying to spare his feelings.

-/-

""Ah, it's...nothing. I forgot what I was going to say." Ford clumsily lied, returning his focus to easing some of his twins pain.

He managed to distract himself for 5 seconds before his brain finally latched onto the issue bothering him.

His brother didn't have wings.

Ford's brother didn't.

Have.

Wings.

Now, that wasn't to say that being wingless never happened. Similar to his own polydactyly, some people just weren't born with wings.

Stan wasn't one of those people.

Ford remembered feathers brushing up against his own, large, proud wings curled protectively around him as Stanley told Crampelter and his gang to go suck an egg.

He remembered gentle hands going through his feathers, fixing them up and getting rid of old ones.

Ford remembered flapping his wings happily then instructing his twin to turn around, it was Stan's turn for preening.

Ford remembered how big Stanley's wings would puff up when he was angry or defending Ford from bullies.

And Ford remembered Stan's wings wrapping around himself whenever he accidentally caught their father on a bad day.

Stanley had wings, Ford knew Stanley had wings.

When Stanley was kicked out left he still had his his wings, Ford remembered them shaking, then drooping, and then puffing up again in hurt and anger.

And now Stan's wings were gone. He didn't have them anymore.

At first Ford had thought Stan was hiding them, similar to what Ford did with his own wings. He had thought his twin was just keeping his wings tucked away and safe beneath his clothes.

Then the fearymid happened.

And the clothing switch.

If Stan still had his wings Ford should've still been able to see them in his periphery when he reached behind his back to hand Stan his sweater, coat, and gloves. But he didn't.

And Ford had hoped that it was just because his brother was keeping his wings tucked close to him. He hoped he just couldn't see his brothers wings and tried to ignore the persistent voice asking what if Stan didn't have wings anymore? What if something happened to him?

Stan should have been fine, he was the personality, the free spirit.

Stan was supposed to be fine.

He wasn't.

And when Ford had switched clothes back with his now empty of all memories twin he was met with a cold, painful truth he could no longer deny.

Stan no longer had wings.

Ford's baby brother, his younger twin, had no wings.

Long, angry, jagged scars were all that was left of where large, dark brown, thick feathered wings should have been.

Someone or something had taken his brothers wings. And with how the skin looked Ford could only assume whoever or whatever had taken Stanley's wings yanked them out the same way a person would pull out a weed from a garden.

Ford didn't say anything, didn't want to add the pain and trauma that was obvious from where he was rubbing circles on Stan's back. That, on top of trying to help Stan regain his memories, it would have been too much. Stan would have been overloaded, asking about the wings while Stan was still regaining memories would have done far more harm than good

But Stan knew now, at least Ford assumed he did. Stan said phantom pains. Phantom pains were from injuries or lost limbs.

Stan knew he lost his wings, he must have. And Ford wanted to know, he wanted answers, targets, a hit list. He wanted to kniw the stories that hud beneath the skin where he could feel knotted sinew, muscles, and nerves.

He truly did not like the story the raised ridges and bumped on his brothers skin told.

Ford's hands began to press harder.

"Ford, FordFordFord ease up!" Stan yelped, squirming under Ford's hands.

"Sorry! Sorry," Ford said, taking his hands off Stan's back as if he had burned him (and he tried not to think of the brand just behind Stanley's right shoulder-)

"I didn't say stop, just ease up," Stan grumbled with no real heat or annoyance. Ford flexed his fingers, tried to ignore the, what he couod only describes as dried gore beneath Stan's skin, and returned to easing up his twins phantom pain.

He had to ask.

He needed to ask.

But he didn't know how and the silence that started out comfortable was turning oppressive and it would just be awkward at this point, what with Ford starting to say something and then saying he forgot.

Stan wasn't buying it. Out of the two of them Ford never got the hang of lying, at least not as well as Stan.

The questions sat in his throat, but Stan was so vulnerable with Ford at the moment, showing more trust in him now then he in the past weeks since Ford came back. Even while temporarily amnesic Stan was still fairly closed off and guarded, the fact that he hadn't told Ford to leave, that he was even letting Ford try and help with his pain?

Stan was like a wild animal when it came to his pain. He hated showing weakness, even to his own family and it only got worse as they grew older. Ford didn't want to break the delicate trust being placed in him at the moment by asking a boneheaded question or saying something that Stan would take the wrong way and causing him to march back upstairs, phantom pain be damned.

"Ford, I know you want to ask already so just say it." Ford jolted, hands momentarily stopping their movement. Stan leaned back, silently begging Ford to continue.

How much pain was Ford's twin in for him to be actively seeking out help? Stan hated asking for help.

He continued rubbing his twin's back when he felt Stan press up against his hand a second time.

"...How long?"

"You wanna be more specific?"

"I- when you- 30 years ago I thought you were just. Hiding them. Like I was." Stan's shoulders quaked with a low, humourless sounding chuckle.

"Nah, old things were gone long before that, si- poindexter." It was Ford's turn to wince.

That was always Stan's name for him. That name, only Stan was supposed to call him that yet Bill had to go and taint it and he didn't even come up with that nickname to begin with how dare he-

"You stopped again." Stan commented. Ford apologized but Stan just shrugged it off.

"S'fine now." Stan leaned away from Ford's hand's, rolled his shoulder's, then started back towards the stairs,

"Wait," Ford called, quickly grabbing Stan's wrist to stop him. His twin turned around and raised a brow in question.

"Are-whoever- you'd tell me if they were still alive, right?" Ford asked, the hand not holding Stan's wrist hovering over where wings used to be, where strong roots for strong wings were now just planes of ugly, angry, broken and mutilated skin.

Ford had never felt so angry in his life when he saw those scars. Not even when his perpetual motion machine broke.

"Even if they were, they're good at hiding."

"I'm good at seeking."

"Ford, drop it." The command lilted upwards at the end, sounding more like a question instead.

"Stanley. Your wings."

"Ack, they've been gone for more then 40 years now, what can ya do."

"Help with phantom pains apparently, and you will let me help you with them in the future." When Stan opened his mouth to protest Ford added, "Either you let me help you with your phantom pains or I dig into your past, find everyone who had ever hurt you, and interrogate them until one of them confesses to taking your wings."

Stan stared at Ford for a solid three seconds before answering. "Jesus, okay, okay, I'll let you know when the phantom pain acts up again."

"I will know if you're hiding it."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Ford." Stan turned around again and went to head up the stairs but paused at the base of the steps for a moment.

"Hey uh..thanks, by the way. Not just for the back rub but for the uh. Memories and stuff, ya'know."

"You're stuck with me, knucklehead," Ford said, stepping closer to his twin and lightly tapping a fist against his shoulder. "If you get to spend 30 years bringing my stubborn ass back from various different dimensions I get to spend the next 30 years fussing over you."

"You can barely look after yourself."

"I'll learn." He opened his fist and squeezed Stan's shoulder, hoping it would convey what he didn't know how to say in words. Silent I love you's, thank you for not giving up on me, thank you for trusting me, and thank you for not giving up on me, he hoped that Stan got the message because if Ford even tried to say any of that at the moment he'd end up fumbling or choking in his words.

Stan reached up and squeezed Ford's hand back, understanding shining in his eyes.

His brother didn't have wings, and Ford could try to blame himself all he wanted to.

Guilt wouldn't bring Stan's wings back, feeling sorry for Stan wouldn't bring his wings back.

But Stan didn't seem to blame Ford so Ford wouldn't blame himself.

Stan trusted Ford with his pain. Ford would do his best to make sure his twins trust isn't misplaced.

They'd be okay.

[muchmossymess]

Crying on the floor bc there aren't any greed/ling hanahaki disease fics

[fisheito]

"makotolookinass"

the intersection of nu: carnival and free! fans that are all here because of our favorite green haired hunks (himbos?) is so funny

but it kinda makes sense given that both nu: carnival and free! are both at their core about caring about the people closest to you and prevailing internal struggles

dang , anonn, you really cut thru all the glamours of distraction

in brief contrast, i feel like a simple creature. one who was dragged into the intersection simply because i saw some dudes with Unlikely Physiques

[mortysmith]

Fuck you season five episode nine genuinely some of the worst shit they clobbered together

[fisherrprince]

oh so alisaie’s exaggerated bully behavior is 80% fanon. saying this she casually picks up a large rock