#ANYWAY LATER TUMBLR

[legobiwan]

So this is part of a longer story I've been writing but I kind of want to post this here as it just poured from my brain this evening. This may be...somewhat out of character? I don't know, I'm playing with some ideas here. I have some very specific headcanons regarding Luigi and Mario's upbringing in a 1980s Italian-American section of Brooklyn (my guess would be Bensonhurst) and some of the concepts below reflect that.

Imagine, if you will, another post-SPM scenario where Luigi ups and leaves the Mushroom Kingdom a few weeks after the whole Chaos Heart debacle. Mario finds the following note on his desk the morning after Luigi runs away, folded underneath a small, mechanical Yoshi.

-----

Mario - 

There’s no easy way of saying this, so I guess I’m just going to come right out with it. I’m leaving the Mushroom Kingdom. Or, at this point, have left already, if you’re reading this instead of chasing me down the nearest warp pipe. And in case you’re thinking it (I know you are) - don’t. No, I didn’t use the one by the Toadetta Café, and no, I didn’t use your secret passageway near the Royal Stables, either. Suffice it to say I carry more secrets than you, which include my own ways of getting in and out of the Peach’s realm. (Do you honestly think I would travel the same path twice back to the Evershade Valley when King Boo was on my trail? But maybe you would have. Yeah, you probably would - just saunter right up the well-traveled road, same pipe, same time, same place, daring any ghost to show their face. But you know I’ve never been as brave as you).

It’s not your fault. I know you don’t believe me, but please try to. Whatever it is, it’s not your fault. I’d like to say it’s not mine, either, but the next few weeks, few months will reveal the truth of that statement. 

Don’t think I haven’t seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention. How your entire face just collapses, how your fingers move back and forth like you’ve still got that old rosary from Saint Michael’s in your hands. I don’t know entirely where this guilt is coming from but...maybe you can say a few Hail Marys tonight? Can't hurt. It might even make you feel better. (Hell, if it gets you to stop wearing your hair shirt all the time, I’ll start saying the damned liturgy myself! And you know how I feel about that).

I won’t be gone forever. Well, I hope I won’t, at least. But what I said last night is still true - I’m not the same person I was before the Chaos Heart, before Mr. L, before…everything that happened. Or what I'm pretty sure happened. I know there’s more to the story, more than what you and Peach and Bowser recounted in your short, clinical descriptions. I know there’s more because I can feel it - not the memories of exact actions, but the imprints of emotions - soft indentations of hatred and malice and a terrible pettiness made all the worse by how familiar it feels.

Do you think it’s really gone, Mario? If he’s really gone? They said the Light Prognosticus was only meant to counteract the Dark, that the Chaos Heart was banished, not destroyed. I’ve spent hours looking in the mirror (no, I’m not that vain), my face pressed into the glass, pulling my eyes open as far as I can, skin and tissue stretching to the point of pain. They’re different now, my eyes, I know you’ve seen that. You always notice the little details, make observations, file away certain specks of information for the future. You’re more cerebral than you’d ever like to let on, bro, but don’t worry - I won’t spoil your secret.

It’s just that…I just can’t shake the idea, the intuition that this isn’t over, that there’s something inside me that’s waiting, that’s gestating in all the little crevices between the atoms in my gut and I can’t risk it. I can’t risk endangering the Mushroom Kingdom, the Mushroom People, Princess Peach, can’t risk Daisy or Peasley, or (God help me for saying this) even E. Gadd and his ethically dubious experiments. 

Most of all, though, I can’t risk endangering you. Not again. Never again. Not like that. 

So, a search for answers. A quest, a mission. (Not an adventure. Not anything even close. It’s only an adventure if you’re with me, you know).

A reckoning, maybe.

I hope I find what I’m looking for. I’m not even sure what I’m looking for, but some movement forward has to be better than sitting around the castle picking at battle scars, right? (It’s not your fault. I know you don’t talk about it, but we fought, that much I’m certain of. Why else would you avoid the topic so thoroughly? What else would I, a brainwashed minion of a man bent on triggering the apocalypse, be sent to do? Anyway, the gigantic robot was kind of a giveaway and Bowser made certain we all heard about that).

I guess that leads me into my last thought. 

Mario, I need a favor from you. A promise. Just one thing, and it’s so simple but I know you’ll make it complicated when it’s really not.

If this goes…wrong, somehow. If the Chaos Heart overtakes me again, if…he digs his dirty, spindly fingers into my brain...

If for any reason I come back…bad…

You’ve got to end it. For everyone’s sake (including my own).

(Honestly, I’m a little surprised you didn’t before. I was trying to push along the end of the world, big bro. The Saints would have and will probably forgive you for that one). 

Don’t try and save me. I’m not even sure I could be saved, not a second time. It’s just like Sister Catherine said in middle school, remember? “Luigi’s strayed beyond the grasp of our Lord.” Never liked that old crone. I guess throwing the Good Book out a window didn’t do me any favors in her eyes (or anyone watching from above, I suppose). But it’s true, in a way. I think I’ve strayed beyond the light of good, have strayed past the forest line and into the shadows. 

I think I may have been there all along. 

I love you, bro. I always will. 

Your fratellino,

Luigi

[grimfantas]

under the same umbrella…? to hell with that! if i did that, um, it'd mean…w-we'd practically be like a couple!

[nekrosmos]

Price in leather anyone ??? Inspired by this lovely fic by @on-a-lucky-tide again :3c

Guys, I think Nik liked it

[le-fruit-de-la-passion]

The Prophet spoke, and the faithful knelt

Summary : You would never be a hero for Zaun, a revolutionary, a leader. But you would care for your prophet with every single breath your body would allow.

Pairing : Viktor x Reader

Word count : 3.2K

Warning : Explicit

You couldn't remember the last time someone had looked at you with something other than disgust.

The bumps on your skin were large and deformed, like warts on a toad's back. Dark, unnatural purple spots had consumed most of your body, your veins glowing faintly inside your flesh. Staring at them, pulsating like worms making their way through your organs, still gave you unparalleled nausea. You were the kind of monster little children of Piltover feared in the shadowy corners of their bedroom, and you couldn't remember a time when it had been otherwise

The others like you all lived in small, crummy camps, where the warmth of a teared-up blanket was something worth killing your neighbour for. If the value of human life was close to none in Zaun, here, it was worth absolutely nothing.

A wasteland inside a wasteland.

Most lived off scraps left by bars; there were few other ways to get food. The familiar feeling of hunger digging its sharp claws into your stomach had never lessened. For water, there were only the thick metal pipes, going above to supply the golden city, which sometimes leaked drinkable but rusty liquid.

The best days, the only bearable days, were those where you found half-used needles of shimmer in the trash. For a few blissful hours, you were someone else, somewhere else, and nothing in the world could hurt you. Then it was back to being cold, hungry, and alone.

You had tried to live a semblance of a life, once, when the craving for shimmer hadn't been so all-consuming. But addicts were bad for business: customers didn't like seeing them, with their empty eyes and malformed bodies, and they were a very poor investment for an employer. How many months, or days, before they would abandon their job in favour of chasing their never-ending high?

Then there were the whore houses. One could get a few pieces of copper, if their body wasn't too ravaged by the drug. Damaged goods still sell, but for a fraction of the price. And yet there it was no better either: patrons would come in, use you, and leave, without ever looking you in the eye. Like you were less than human.

But not him.

He looked at you without ever flinching, without ever shying away. There was no sign of disgust or pity in those strange eyes of his, but an endless compassion, something that went beyond your comprehension. As if a simple glance at you had allowed him to read every corner of your soul.

You could have sworn time had stopped the second he locked eyes with you. In the warm amber of his pupils swayed a reflection of pale blue, like sunset on the ocean.

You had fallen to your knees without ever willing your body to do so, pressing your forehead against the cold gravel. It feels natural, almost instinctive, to bow in the presence of a god. For what other word could describe him, his presence, his aura?

Did someone like you, ugly, broken, filthy, deserve to see beauty like this?

A gentle hand brought your face back up towards the sky, lithe fingers tucked under your chin. Soft, so soft.

His eyes were back into yours, the sunset having morphed into a pool of liquid gold. Tears had begun to fall from your eyes, rolling down your scarred cheeks and onto his delicate hands. He shushed you before you attempted to speak, like he already knew whatever words you would tell him.

“It's alright. I will take care of you.”

The digits slid slowly across your face, impossibly smooth, and you couldn't help but nuzzle into the touch, revelling in the feeling of a sensation you had all but forgotten. He softly pushed the dirty hood off your face, hand settling on top of your matted hair. You closed your eyes; whatever this man was willing to give you, be it salvation or judgement, you simply knew you were ready to accept it.

And then, everything became light.

—

You saw him perform miracle after miracle following that day. He brought people back from the depths of hell, which they'd lived in for so long, with the simple touch of a hand. He brought back the smiles, the joy, and the hope all of you had given up on.

To your community, he was everything.

The familiar presence of his voice called for you inside your mind. It was so comforting, having him there, feeling him as a part of you. Knowing he would never leave you, that he would never let you be alone again.

He looked like a statue when you found him, seated in his cave, still and ethereal beyond your mortal comprehension. The gods had crafted his face from porcelain; his body from the world's most precious metals; his eyes from the sun and the sea; and his smile with the very essence of magic.

“Here you are. I was beginning to worry.”

That was not true; both of you knew very well you had heard his voice and were rushing to come to his side. Yet, the idea that a being such as him would worry about someone like you made butterflies flutter in your stomach.

“Herald?”

“Mm?”

He blinked, calmly, peacefully, as his eyes met yours once more. No other feeling compared. His pupils glowed inside the barely lit cave, a gentle and divine light emanating from his face.

The words were hard to get out, and you found yourself fidgeting with your hands, looking away from his perfect gaze.

Get a hold of yourself, you admonished your brain. You had practiced this moment more than once.

You were certain he knew exactly what you were about to ask him; he knew every thought going through your mind, after all. Which meant he knew of the nights you spent dreaming of him, of his body, and of the hundreds of ways you craved the touch of your messiah.

But he simply looked at you, calm and composed, the hint of a smile barely on his lips.

Briefly, you wondered if he was teasing you by letting you stew in your anxiety.

“I have come to realize,” you began unsurely, voice almost breaking, “that you always take care of others, Herald. Always take care of people like me.”

He observed you with that indecipherable gaze, still not moving an inch. You gathered all your courage to stare back at him as you pronounced your next words decidedly:

“But does nobody take care of you, Herald?”

He smiled, properly this time, yet still calm and moderate. It was beyond beautiful, his delicate features marked by soft dimples, the hint of a mole over his lips. You would have given your life in a heartbeat if it meant he would have smiled at you like this once more.

“I don't require such things anymore,” he explained serenely, fingers absentmindedly tracing the complex patterns of his arm. “This body doesn't feel cold, or hunger, or want. It is pure of all the desires the man I once was might have had.”

You swallowed with difficulty; was he rejecting your advances? You could not bear living without knowing you had done everything for him, given him every inch of your being.

“But that man,” you tried once more, moving a timid step forward, “he is still part of you, isn't he? Wouldn't it only be fair to take care of him too?’

There was not a hint of confusion in his expression; he understood exactly what you meant. Yet one of his eyebrows had slightly risen, perhaps of amusement or appreciation for your boldness.

“If you have something in mind,” he simply replied, his thick accent hypnotic, “you should show me.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

You would show him what his gift had meant to you.

Gradually, reverently, you approached the frugal throne where he sat, a simple rock formation at the back of the cave. You kneeled at his feet and gazed up, unsure if you were allowed to touch him. He gave you a light nod, a glim of endearment in his eyes.

With deference, you slid the fabric of his tunic to the side, parting his knees to give you access. You felt your cheeks heat at the realization he had no underwear, trepidation bubbling in your lower stomach. Then you stopped right in your tracks.

Where there should have been… something, there was nothing.

Your mouth opened in surprise, but no words managed to find their way out. You spluttered, confused, gaping at the being above you.

A low, small chuckle.

His luminous eyes were teasing, barely enough so that someone else would not have recognized it; but you did.

“I could not resist to watch your reaction,” he admitted, “My apologies.”

His delicate hand covered the area of his groan, and a faint light shone between the cracks of his fingers. The sound of metal forming, pieces sliding with one another, echoed inside the empty cave. When he removed his hand, it was as if the member had always been there.

As you had always pictured in your dreams, the Herald was well endowed, even in a softened state. It was without question like a regular human’s, but devoid of any veins, marks, and bumps. Not a single hair adorned the base. It was all perfectly smooth, the head only distinct from the rest of the length with its thickness.

He was art, in the most primordial sense of the term, and you could do nothing but admire him.

“This body shapes to my will,” the Herald explained at your look of awe, “It had no need for genitalia, so it did not have any. At least… before now.”

Your fingertips slid timidly on the indigo skin, feeling the polished texture. The contact felt pleasantly electric, like his body brimmed with untapped energy. The first small lick was somehow nostalgic, the feel of popping candies bursting pleasantly on your tongue.

When you wrapped your lips around him, you could immediately tell his taste was unlike anything you'd ever had before. The coppery flavour of metal mixed with something so enticingly sweet it could not be anything other than the taste of the arcane itself. An encouraging hand petted your head softly, fingers threading through strands of your hair. You moaned with your mouth still full of him; a single touch from him was enough to have your core burnt with want. You sped up your pace, taking as much of him in your mouth as you possibly could. The energy pulsated against your tongue, his cock hardening to your rhythmic pace. The thickness of his tip kept hitting the back of your throat, cutting oxygen for a few blissful milliseconds at a time and making you see stars.

It was perfect.

And yet, after a few minutes, you realized something was wrong.

You'd been with your fair share of men and women before. The twitching, the moaning, the cramping of the thighs from the building pleasure and the coming release- it was all absent.

You pulled back with a soft ‘pop’, looking up at your prophet once more for guidance. The same all-knowing visage stared back at you, that boundless compassion he had for all mankind. You understood what was happening, now.

“Herald,” you said slowly, voice horse from taking him, “why have you called me today?”

Silence. It looked as though he was thinking over his next words, choosing how best to explain things to you.

“I could sense you needed guidance,” he finally answered, “Support. I merely wanted to help in the way you needed me.”

Helping you. He was helping you once again. Even now, when you begged him to let you help him, he was still only thinking of others.

“You're not satisfied,” the Herald deduced from your crestfallen expression, “Why?”

Tears of frustrated devotion prickled the corner of your eyes, and you felt like a pathetically pouting child:

“My goal was not to satisfy myself. It was to please you.”

Perhaps you had dreamed it, but a glimmer of surprise flashed in his sunset gaze, gone too soon for you to ever be certain.

“Allow me to try once again, please. I will do better,” you requested, resting your head against his inner thigh, his cock still perfectly hard against your cheek. Looking up at him from under your eyelashes, you whispered your next words like a prayer, hoping it would reach him: “It is all I want to do from the deepest part of my heart.”

The smile again, so slight and yet so luminous. Perhaps he hadn't cured your addiction to shimmer, and had simply replaced it with the profound need of him. A drug you never wanted to be freed from.

“Very well,” he acquiesced, voice low, “you may do it again.”

This time, you could tell there was a genuine look of surprise in his neutral expression when you stood. ‘So he can't tell my thoughts immediately as I have them,’ you reflected silently. ‘I can use that.’

It was without asking that you made your way onto his lap, legs bent on both sides of his thighs. The position wasn't very comfortable, rocks digging into your knees; but he was so close to you that you felt the warmth of the arcane emanating from every pore of his body. The pleased look he gave you at your initiative made you feel emboldened, and you guided his cock to your entrance, lining yourself to slowly slide down on his length.

“I do not wish to interrupt,” the Herald made you pause, thick eyebrows furrowed in slight worry, “or to appear to stroke my ego, either. But I believe it would be wise to… prepare yourself, prior to taking me.”

You looked away in embarrassment, confidence fading, not wanting to reply directly. To explain how you had prepared yourself for him in your tent, in the slim hopes this moment might happen, would certainly be the death of you.

His eyebrows rose back up, the ghost of a smirk on his lips. He understood.

“I almost forgot how prepared you always are. Clever girl.”

You felt yourself tighten at the compliment. You committed the words to memory, engraving them in your mind forever. You would never forget when your Herald had praised you.

You patiently lowered yourself onto him, inch by inch, getting accustomed to him. A little shamefully, there was an undeniable selfishness of wanting this moment to last as long as possible.

When you took him whole, it was almost too overwhelming to bear.

His size was an undeniable component, both in length and girth. You had to wonder: had he been so big when he was but a regular man?

‘Yes’, a familiar voice supplied in your head. Had you not known better, you could have sworn his tone was slightly cocky.

But it wasn't just his dick, either. The flow of energy running through you from the point of your connection was dizzyingly intense, coherent thoughts barely stringing together. It felt like the high of shimmer but unbelievably more potent, simultaneously cutting you open and putting your body back together. This was being alive.

“Breathe,” he reminded you, a guiding hand sliding to the small of your back. Even now, he still took such good care of you. Overwhelmed tears had begun to fall down your eyes without you sensing their presence, and you tried to regain some semblance of your senses.

For a while, minutes, maybe hours, only the sound of your panting resonated through the cave. You gripped the Herald's shoulders tightly, scrunching the fabric of his tunic in your fists. His impartial expression never changed, but neither did the way his hand held you in place and comforted you. Once it felt as though your lungs were getting air again, you began moving.

All of it seemed like a dream; the feeling of fullness between your legs, the slow drag of his cock inside you, the warm wetness of your juices slipping out with each trust. If there was no heaven for sinners, then you had found your own right here. You picked up the pace, settling into a fast and wild rhythm. You scanned his features for any sign of disturbance; the slightest hint of red coloured his pale cheeks, the faintest laboured breath coming from his lips.

So he was still a bit human, after all.

You kept moving with renewed vigour, not able to contain wanton moans of pleasure.

“May I try something?” he asked, voice low, deeper than you had ever heard him speak.

You let out a sound of approval that dissolved into nonsense when the tip of his cock hit the spot you had carefully been avoiding. This time, he moved, ramming over and over against your cervix, too deep for comfort, shaping you to him and only him. You were so close, right on the edge, begging him for release with gibberish.

He had undeniably felt your incoming demise, and with one last push inside your core, he leaned his head forward, bringing both of your foreheads together.

In that moment, you were him as much as he was you, a single mind in perfect balance. You saw everything he saw, felt everything he felt. The weight and lightness of the cosmos, the thousands of strings connecting him to his followers, the understanding of the final step for humanity.

The Glorious Evolution.

And with that, you came, body spasming uncontrollably against his. You fell into the crook of his neck in exhaustion, sobbing, wondering if you had just died in your prophet's arms. Far away, as if he was in another room, you heard his comforting voice shushing your whines, his long fingers caressing your cheek. He looked at you as if you were the one to be admired. Too much, it was all too much.

Perhaps an eternity had passed as you came back to your senses. Things felt tangible once more, corporal, the now cold feeling of your wetness drying on your inner thighs. There was a feeling of awkwardness, of embarrassment, and you hesitated between staying still or pulling him out of you. Were there proper steps to follow after something like this, or any steps at all?

“You didn't…” you commented, unsure what proper term to use to not seem crass.

You didn't cum. You didn't fill me.

“I am not certain that would still be biologically possible for me,” he answered with little emotion, seemingly neither bothered nor frustrated by that fact.

Even if he hadn't been linked to your mind, your disappointment would have been palpable. You had wanted him to experience some of the relief he had given you, to release all that could have troubled him inside you. You wanted to care for him.

Selfishly, perhaps, there had also been the want to carry your prophet's seed so no one would ever question who you belonged to.

“However, to the extent this body can still feel pleasure…” he continued, not missing a beat, otherworldly gaze deep in yours, “you took great care of me. Thank you.”

This time, you smiled.

You would never be a hero for Zaun, a revolutionary, a leader. But you would care for your prophet with every single breath your body would allow.

And there was nothing more important to you than that.

[apradonite]

i have plans that i cannot reveal to you yet because the haters will sabotage me

[martyfive]

winner winner chicken dinner

[tizzymcwizzy]

ink drawing of zagreus i did for class!! i'm so happy that my prof let us do fanart :)

you can get this drawing as a print if you'd like!

[strawbubbysugar]

The base Y/N design for my soulmate AU!!

[sunnymainecoon]

I know damn well I misunderstood the assignment but we roll, I'll understand it some day

It's killer and dust btw. If you couldn't tell. Which you probably couldn't.. forgor to say but shhh 🤫 Killers having a convo with himself..

..I kinda wanna change my url but idk to what

[linterteatime]

All (or most) of Zim's costumes/outfits/alternative universe versions/whatever (1/3)

(Group 2 here, Group 3 here)

[carnivalcentipede]

shits been kicking my ass lately so i drew these since i havent drawn in a hot minute, i think they look pretty neat lmao

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

Abandonment Issues, Prologue (part 1)

Abandonment Issues comic, prologue: pages 1-5

I was going to finish th prologue and then post it all at once but it’s taking way longer than expected so uh. Shrug

(part 2: here!)

[starsandnoodles]

Getting over my fear of posting this was CRAZY but here we go

MARX RPG

I’ve been working on this for days, made an accidental (The nova itself) and purposeful reference (the background) to Birth of a Wish by itsquakey (you should go check em out their art is SICK /pos)

- More ramblings below -

I wanted to make an RPG type thing with Marx for a while. Originally I was going to make an actually playable one but then realized I don’t have the time or knowledge to actually do that so I turned around and made it a video. Marx actually wasn’t the first idea I have for who the video would be about.

The first character I’d considered was actually Taranza but then… I’d have to draw Taranza and I was not in the mood. So I went with Marx.

The reference to Birth of a Wish (via the Nova specifically) wasn’t intended but someone I’d shown the video to pointed it out and I couldn’t leave it out in mention. The actually intended reference (the background) was specifically placed there because original all the video was going to be was some sample text and audio and then I got carried away and by that point I was over 200 images in on CapCut and unwilling to turn around.)

Where the plot was gonna go from here included the Nova having something to do with the rain in dreamland and being a small part of one of popstar’s larger moon’s or something of the sort meaning Kirby and Marx would have to find all the pieces to this “planet”. At least that’s what I imagined LMAO 😅

Note: Itsquakey if you ask me to take this down because of the references to your work I will without questions!

Last thing! I wanted to mention two posts I’ve seen that have done something similar that I think you should also check out!

Marx’s Fun Shop: while working on this I found that video and thought “wow! We even used the same music! That’s super freaking awesome!” The art here is amazing, the way Marx is written is also cool! You should go check this out!!!

Magolor’s Item Shop: A series of images in an RPG style that feature Magolor specifically! These are really cool and also what kinda struck the idea! They’re definitely worth checking out!

[antariies]

[laddertek]

@countthelions (tumblr ate this when I tried to save my answer as a draft, so we improvise 🙃)

This one? :D

This whole stream was delightful. What a way to return 🤗

Tango was so happy energetic.

And from Tango calling Etho's storage system cute and Etho in gamechat going "CUTE?!" (00:41:07). To the razzing (and laughing) over shops (00:49:00 and 01:03:49). Etho taking Tango's head twice, and it all being so playful (00:58:11). Etho using Tango's catchphrases 🥹🥹🥹 It gets me every time! "porkchop power" "flee with extra flee!" And the way he said it was the cutest, and Tango's giggle about it too (01:00:59). Etho offering to give the tour Tango wanted. More mail talk and laughing guilt and planning and razzing and teaching Etho to do the stamps. Tango complimenting the path (and that Etho showed it to him when he first came back when Etho came to say hi) (01:15:41). They still plan on doing their sand-collection-off (01:35:06).

And of course the whole TNTificating with Etho's new "boom boom tech" (01:39:43--02:15:17) was just…the most fun. They are having the most fun together...it's an absolute joy. (And it's also them collaborating on how to figure out a redstone thing together which is just so satisfying.) Just...TOO MANY (!!!) (so many) fun moments in that whole TNT section that I can't even start on highlighting them all 😭 I'd need another mammoth paragraph...

Honestly??? Still smiling. Great great great stream 🥹

Timestamps are for YouTube not Twitch because Tango was so fast on getting the VOD up lmao