#Stunted growth
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the fledgling 𓅯
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so Merlin was most definitely malnourished before Camelot bc Ealdor definitely didn't have enough food for everyone. And one of the side affects of malnourishment in childhood is stunted growth. Merlin was one of those kids who was malnourished, but he is still taller then Arthur (not by a lot, but still taller). Arthur, who is a prince with more then enough food to help him grow. Even Gwaine's shorter than him (he's a noble, so it isn't malnutrition). It also can't be blamed on genetics, Hunith is quite short and Balinor is (I think) 6'0 something. Hell he's even taller/same height as many of the knights/guards we see!!!
So my question is, how tall would Merlin have been if he had the same resource's as Arthur, Leon or Gwaine??
#how fucking tall would have Merlin been!?#he may have been taller then percival whose 6'4-6'6#or around the same height#give or take a few cm/inches#you can argue his magic healed him#but we dont see that in canon#this could be a cool fanfic idea#merlin#bbc merlin#merlin emrys#the adventures of merlin#malnutrition#stunted growth#ealdor#merlin wyllt
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Having stunted growth is being a young adult, complaining about a loose tooth, then very quickly having to tell the wide eyed people around you that you still have baby teeth
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it's Belphie's first autumn!
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#Stunted growth#writing#poetry#2021#august 2021#august 27 2021#the first Good Poem i ever wrote!#this was when I actually got into writing poetry. Id written some before but they were barely just peoms and all sucked!!#anyways this is about the fear that quarantine fucked me up forever. mainly socially#i was also scared my generally life decisions were gonna fuck me up#like i want to work in animation when im an adult but thats not very promising career so im afraid im destined to be a failure…#anyways i just uploaded a bunch of old stuff in reverse order so uh sorry about that#i try to make the navigation if this blog more bearable through tagging dates with three tags#but honestly the whole thing has a shit set up… sorry haha. Im bad at this#im very picky choosey and spontaneous with what i want to upload and when so it ends up wonky and inconsistent#i cringe at my old stuff (and plenty of my present stuff too)#but i still want to eventually upload most of my stuff even if i hate most of it… but first i have to work up the nerves to do that#and sometimes i dont upload new stuff because i want to have old stuff uploaded with more new stuff uploaded more recently#so when people click on my blog they wont see all my old sucky stuff first#but whatever. If you cant handle me at my 2021 you dont deserve me at my 2024‼️💥💯🔥💪#guess you just have to dig through shit to get gold. Sorry bud haha#okay visibility tags now…#quarantine#covid#covid 19#pandemic#school#<- its KINDA mentioned. A little bit. And it IS a focal point of the main gist of this so….#isolation#social anxiety
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Does it make me cynical or just a student of history that my first thoughts were "malnutrition stricken worker doesn't grow" and "child labor "?
i've just seen this tiktok where this guy's stripping a victorian era tile roof & each of the tiles have a child's hand print on the back of them, some of them are so clear you can make out the lines on their palms 🥹
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some memes for you all today
#this one goes out to all the people who just found out sprout is 7'2''#fun fact canonically future leo is 7 foot#so one who didnt have stunted apocalypse growth as early on?#7 foot 2 inches. minimum.#2 arms left
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Moon 63 - Week 1, Part 2
New Company
You’re small for your age, kid…
#askblog#clangen#clangen challenge#warrior cats#THE TIMESKIP MESSED UP MY PERCEPTION OF TIME#BC LIKE YEAH OK WOW… WE WENT FROM MOON 60 TO NOW WE’RE AT 66#so she’s a year old…. still baby tho#she’s literally been alone since she was 4 months old 😭#girl has been surviving off of trash and bugs#growth is a little stunted </3#Crest#Coyotekit#Spike#(Implied)
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fragrance: lazy sunday morning, replica / college!kageyama tobio x reader
notes: lily of the valley (top), iris (heart), white musks (base)
description: fresh laundry pulled from the wash, lazing around in the embrace of linen sheets.
disclaimer(s): faint sillage, poor longevity
wc: 3224
warning(s): mentions of panic attacks, but other than that nothing!!! gn reader too!!!
The first Sunday morning you spend together is at 6am in a residential laundromat. The two of you have occupied the lonely space, watching clothes spin as soap bubbled and sloshed against fabric. You kneel in front of the opening of the washing machine, basket in hand as you lazily yank dripping clothes and soaking sheets out. Kageyama leans on the edge of another washing machine, hip pressed against the side of it with his phone in one hand and the other propping him upright as he waits for his own bedsheets to finish .
You go home with a basket of double sized bed sheets, ones that hang much too loose on your twin bed, despite your many attempts to tuck them beneath your mattress. Kageyama goes home with a basket of twin sized sheets, ones that stubbornly snap off the corners of his double bed as he desperately tries to pull them across.
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The second Sunday morning you spend together is at the same laundromat, at 6am again. A week of sleeping without bed sheets has rendered both of you impatient, itching to reunite with your own. Both of you assume that the other would be at the laundromat again the next week, and both of you are correct in thinking so. This time, you arrive with a duffel bag, alongside a basket of unwashed clothes, and Kageyama enters the laundromat with two baskets, one stuffed with bedsheets, the other with his own dirty laundry.
“Sorry, grabbed them by mistake last week, didn’t even fit on my bed properly.”
“All good, I also slept without bedsheets for the week.”
Bedsheets are exchanged, stuffed into baskets and bags, and the two of you continue your laundry in silence, shoving dirty clothes and towels into separate washing machines. You glance at Kageyama, a D1 volleyball jersey peeking from his basket.
“You the new first year on men’s D1 volleyball?”
He hums in confirmation, tugging the jersey from his laundry as he shoves it into the machine.
“I watched you guys play last Friday, it was good.”
“Thanks. I’m pretty sure you’re in my lecture hall tomorrow too.”
Your eyebrows rise, surprised. You swear you have never seen him in your lectures, only ever on the court. You aren’t even too sure of his name yet. Standing up, you slam the washing machine door shut, pressing lazily at the buttons until a droning beep sounds, and soapy water begins to trickle into your laundry.
“Really? Never seen you there before.”
“I sit behind you most the time. y/n, right?”
You scratch at your frizzy bed head, too dazed to register his question. You hear the beep of a second machine, and the sloshing of clothes and water.
“Yeah. Sorry, what was your name again?”
“Tobio. Kageyama Tobio.”
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The twelfth Sunday morning you spend together, unlike the first, or the second, or the third, or any previous ones so far, is on campus instead, at 8am. Somehow, the both of you have managed to do your laundry during the week, perhaps for the reason of making it to the college’s open day on time. You rub your arms against a school emblem hoodie, and a staff lanyard, whilst Kageyama is clad in full volleyball attire, kneepads and jersey proudly representing the school’s men’s volleyball team as the two of you make your way from the residential quarters to the main campus.
“Don’t you look extra cool today, Mr. D1 athlete?”
“Yeah, yeah, okay, TA nerd.”
You grin, slinging an arm around Kageyama’s neck haphazardly and yanking him down. He yelps as his arm shoots up to your own, wrestling you off. Clicking your tongue, you kick the back of his knee and watch him catch himself halfway into his leg buckling beneath him, snickering vengefully. Ducking down swiftly and picking you up by the legs, he slings you onto his shoulder, arm wrapping around your waist as he continues walking. Kicking and flailing, your fists rain down on his rigid back, a vain attempt at forcing him to release you. His steps come to a stop, just to tighten his grip on your body.
“Let go of me! Or I’ll take your bedsheets again, asshole!”
“Yeah, if you can make it down, that is.”
Offended (not really), you stretch your arm as far as it can go, poking at his side. Kageyama squirms and writhes, the shit eating smirk once plastered on his face contorting into a pained laugh. His arm finally loosens around your waist, and you take the chance to wriggle out of his grip, landing on the ground in front of him.
“D1 athlete, but can’t keep someone half your height and weight on your shoulder, get good.”
Kageyama rolls his eyes. He is good. Great, even. He does, however, wish he could have revelled in the feeling of his arm around your waist for just a little longer.
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The twenty-fifth Sunday morning spent together is, once again, as always, at the laundromat. However, with the months of friendship the two of you have accumulated, a new step to your laundry routine has been introduced. No more are the days of staring at bubbling clothes and spinning sheets through the veil of chatter and gossip amongst the two of you, instead replaced by morning coffees, walks, even the occasional jog. Today, the two of you have decided on a coffee walk, the steaming cups residing within your numbingly cold fingers, their heat emanating into frosty winter air.
You blow at the opening of the lid, wisps of steam puffing from the liquid as you take a sip of the latte (ordered with only half a shot and extra milk with sugar). Still too bitter, you wince, smacking your tongue to wash the caffeine down. Kageyama huffs out a chuckle, before gulping down his own (also ordered with only half a shot and extra milk with sugar), and grabbing yours from your hand, devouring it too. Then, he tilts his head, looking at your surprised expression with furrowed brows and nibbling his lip in confusion.
“You don’t actually like coffee, do you?”
“Well it’s the only thing they have at this cafe. Plus, you like this place, so I keep coming anyway.”
Kageyama stares, baffled. Him? Liking coffee? Where did you get that from?
“I thought you liked it, considering you started these coffee runs? I’m pretty indifferent to be honest.”
You let out a breathy laugh, pointing at him instead.
“I thought I could try to like it, but I only started because I thought you’d be into coffee? Isn’t that what brooding guys like you enjoy drinking on Sunday mornings, while their laundry is running?”
Kageyama hates coffee. He has to order it with a 1:7 ratio of espresso to milk. Yet the hums of satisfaction (or so he thought) that seem to escape your throat at every first sip of hot coffee on chilly Sunday mornings makes every disgustingly bitter swallow of caffeine just this much more enjoyable. You also hate coffee, albeit not needing as extreme of an espresso to milk ratio (1:6 to be exact), yet Kageyama’s fluttering grin makes it clear what you have to do- suck it up and swallow your scathing, sickeningly tart (half) espresso shot, so you can keep, whatever this is, going.
“Yes, brooding guys like black coffees in the morning. But no, I don’t like coffee at all. Wanna go somewhere else from now on, my treat?”
From that Sunday morning onwards, the two of you skip the usual coffee stop, and head around the block for a cafe that serves chocolate instead. Kageyama’s grin would stretch into a satiated smile from the corner of your eyes, and your small, fleeting hums would turn into droning ones of actual satisfaction, much to the delight of Kageyama’s ears.
He wants to keep this going, through winter, then spring, then summer, and autumn too. You want to take the longer walks to the new cafe with him, for hot chocolate, maybe even iced coffee one day, if either of you suddenly develops the palate for it.
“So, you stuck around the cafe only because you thought I liked it? That’s sweet, Mr. D1.”
“What, like you didn’t suggest it because you thought I liked it in the first place? How nice of you, TA.”
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The thirty-fourth Sunday morning spent together, the two of you are perched on the edge of Kageyama’s couch, eyes trained to his laptop as a grey circle spins, and spins, and spins. On the coffee table ahead sits two cups of hot chocolate, stale and lukewarm.
“What if I’m not in?”
“Don’t be an idiot, look at you. You’re so in.”
The circle goes on for an unsettling period of time, and you swear you can hear the veins popping in Kageyama’s head. They can’t possibly reject him, they won’t. And if they do, you’ll be there to make sure the decision is fixed hastily. You’ve seen him play countless games by now, taking sessions of TA work off for the sake of watching a ball hit the ground over, and over, and over. Even for someone who doesn’t know the slightest thing about playing volleyball, you could tell that he deserved this. He was perfect, through and through.
The circle disappears, and the webpage goes blank. Then, twelve portraits pop onto the screen. The two of you inch forward, noses almost touching the laptop as you scan for one particular name.
"No.9: Kageyama Tobio, position: setter”
You barely have time to register his name in the national team roster before strong arms engulf your entire body in a tight embrace. Kageyama’s weight knocks you into his couch, his head buried in the crook of your neck as he finally exhales from relief. He’s close, closer than he ever has been before, and you catch a hint of white lilies and cotton on his pulse. Smiling, a pang of pride surges through your head and heart, and you let your arms wrap around Kageyama, pulling him close. You feel a trail of water trickle down the side of your neck, followed by a flurry of badly hidden sniffles and sobs, and one of your hands moves to stroke the back of his head.
“I made it…I actually made it.”
“I knew you would, Tobio.”
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The forty-fifth Sunday you spend together doesn’t start as a Sunday at all. Instead, it starts as a gloomy, rainy Saturday night, red numbers glaring from Kageyama’s bedside clock while he holds himself close, quivering breaths wheezing from his chest. The bed is damp beneath his sweating figure, hair sticking to his face and neck in his unmoving, curled up position.
The door to his dorm unlocks with a click, and you tuck the spare key back beneath the pot of the houseplant outside, nudging it in until it disappears, before stepping inside. The room is pitch black, spare of the buzzing streetlights seeping through his blinds, dissipating in hospital white threads. Your heart drops at Kageyama’s erratic breathing, his body curled into a little ball and sinking into his linen bed sheets.
“Hey, you called?”
He doesn’t respond, so you shut the door behind you, and shuffle towards his bed. Your hand presses into the mattress, the fabric damp beneath your fingers, and you sit beside him, your thigh pushed up against his back. His back remains turned away from you, yet you can feel the tension loosen ever so slightly. Your thigh nudges into his spine, and your hand taps at him to get up.
“Your bedsheets, they’re sweaty. Go take a rinse, I’ll change them for you, okay?”
Kageyama obeys, getting up for the first time in the past three hours and dragging himself into the bathroom. Pulling open every single drawer in his room, you search for his bedsheets, before finally finding the same set that you accidentally took home once. Water splashes and taps from the bathroom as you peel the old, sweaty sheets off the mattress, tucking in the new ones instead, and giving his blanket a fluff. His room is a mess, a volleyball sitting beneath his bed, scattered papers across his desk, knee pads slung carelessly over his chair. The national team jersey, however, hangs proudly at his door, as if to remind him who he is now. He is no longer just Kageyama Tobio, college student, health major, D1 college athlete. He is so much bigger than that now, reaching so high that his feet might just leave the ground forever.
Yet pain fills your chest as you stare at his new jersey from his bed, the school’s D1 shirt now tucked away into some unceremonious drawer. Is this really worth it? Is this worth hours of panic attacks? Or mornings consumed by training entirely, leaving your Sunday habits behind? You can’t remember the last Sunday you saw him at the laundromat, or grabbed that hot chocolate together, each week a cycle of training, class, training, then sleep. Like the unending spinning of wet laundry in a washing machine.
The bathroom door creaks, and Kageyama finally steps out of the bathroom to see a fresh set of bedsheets on his mattress, cool and dry beneath his body as he crawls in. This time, he doesn’t turn his back to you.
“Thank you, y/n. I’m sorry.”
“Just game nerves, I get it. I’m sorry I can’t be there tomorrow, Tobio.”
A knowing pout creeps onto his face, before it dissipates into a sad smile. He knows you’ve never missed a single one of his games, and that the only reason you won’t make it tomorrow is because of a TA promotion initiative. Of all games to miss though, why did it have to be his first nationals match?
“It’s okay, you deserve that promotion. You have to get it.”
You reach over to grab his broad shoulders, shaking them a bit as you stare him down.
“You are, quite literally, the best player I’ve seen in my life. You’re gonna be amazing tomorrow. Don’t worry.”
Getting up, you grab your phone from the floor, rolling over to leave the bed, when Kageyama’s arm shoots out to grab your wrist. If he can’t have you tomorrow, he’ll need to have you now.
“Can you stay the night?”
Your face flushes. Never have you ever been offered to stay the night before by a partner, let alone a friend. Yet he looks like a lost puppy, eyes searching desperately for some semblance of calm within the harrowing match that looms dreadfully in the near future. Somewhere in there, is a thick cup of hot chocolate, puffing steam from the opening of the lid on a frosty Sunday morning, a basket of clean bedsheets, freshly dried and warmed from the laundromat as the sun rises above the horizon, and the stupid TA lanyard that he searches amongst crowds and lecture halls for, day in and day out.
“Of course.”
The bedsheets shuffle as you crawl back in, making sure to inch away from Kageyama’s body just enough to give him space. You look at him, face pressed into his pillow and eyes threatening to snap shut at any moment, and smile gently. The mask of lilies diffuses into something even softer, like morning dew sitting on iris petals, and pollen wafting into spring air, so delicate that it threatens to drift away at each breath. His fingers shift around the bed to find your own, hooking his pinky with yours as he drifts off to sleep, finally, after two hours of sweating, and crying, and failing breathing exercises.
Your phone buzzes, text messages from your professor popping up to cancel your meeting for sick leave.
The clock by his bed ticks into 00:00. Sunday morning has come.
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Kageyama wakes up before you do on the forty-fifth Sunday morning, national team jersey stretched across his body and a duffel bag hanging from his shoulder. He watches your nose twitch a little, adapting to the warm, now empty spot on his bed. He decides to watch you a little longer, so he can remember your finger wrapped around his beneath his blankets, and the stripe of light on your face as the morning sun shines through the blinds. He swears it will make him better, as long as he knows every detail of your knee touching his own under the covers, and can hear the small, hitched breaths you take in your sleep in his head, and he steps out the door.
You find yourself sprinting out of a taxi towards Kamei arena at 1pm, finally having read the messages from your professor. Wet hair from your morning shower leaves lines of water in the fabric of your sweater, barely having had the time to take it in the first place. The arena is expansive, every corner turned leading you to the wrong sports hall, until roaring cheers erupt from one of them, and you finally burst in through the right door.
Kageyama stands at the serving line, bouncing the volleyball against the ground. If they take this set off this serve, they might just have a shot at qualifying. Warm fingers, hot chocolate, knees touching, fresh laundry, hitched breaths, lanyard. He has to remember it all. Feel it all. He scans the crowd, and a lone figure stands at the door.
“You got this.” He can roughly make out from your lips, now realising that he doesn’t need to remember, or feel, or envision it at all.
He takes aim, jumps, slams his hand into the ball with as much precision and power as his arms can conjure up. The serve hits right on the line, too close for anyone to think to save it, yet in bounds nevertheless.
The referee calls the match point, and the team hasn’t even had the chance to approach him in celebration, before Kageyama sprints off the court, and towards you. He runs into you, knocking you back a few steps as his entire body engulfs your own in an embrace. He doesn’t spare a second, before grabbing your face, and pulling it towards him, planting a firm kiss onto your lips. You hesitate, confused, before your arms find his neck, looping around to hold him as your eyes flutter shut, and you breathe in the notes of lilies, and musk, and irises, mixed with his sweat and adrenaline. The smell of Sunday mornings. The crowd screams. His teammates also scream. His hands pull your face away from his, so he can properly stare at you, irises darting between your eyes. Fuck a trophy, or a medal, or a national title. He would happily pretend to like coffee, just so you could take him to every single coffee shop in the world if you so desired. He would be satisfied with your knees touching beneath his blankets on lazy Sunday mornings, maybe his arms around your waist too, and your legs tangled up in each other, instead of just his finger wrapped around yours. He would willingly do laundry every single morning for the rest of his life, if it meant getting to pull bedsheets out of washing machines with you.
“I thought you couldn’t make it?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Tobio.”
author's note:
this was ok! i wanted to experiment with vignettes but it's hard to find a balance... but! im 4/7 done with finals, and i finally have the weekend to rest, so i decided to get it over with and finish off this piece!! im so stupid i like accidentally posted it way too early while checking my blog at like 6am so i was very confused when this draft went missing ummmm
anyways! hope you enjoy!! don't let the word count get to you!! please!! i poured a lot of effort into this because 3k words is more than i have written in like weeks!!
tag time!!
@starlysama @chuuya-brainrot @bailey-reeds @fiannee @afyrian @iiwaijime
ok love u guys see u soon bye bye
#kageyama x reader#kageyama tobio#haikyuu kageyama#hq kageyama#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu scenarios#haikyuu au#kageyama headcanons#kageyama imagine#kageyama scenarios#haikyuu!!#haikyuu headcanons#hq x reader#guys i am so tired but lowkey i loved writing the vignettes like they were so cute and fun ngl#kageyama definitely does not like coffee and thinks it tastes gross and stunts your growth#i lie though i do love me my black coffee so for reader to hate it here hmmmmm#anyways i love you guys bye bye xx
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my take on an older tails design!
random things:
- the right side of his body is pretty fucked up due to being caught in an explosion while fighting eggman
- got benched for a bit due to sonic going protective big brother mode but he went behind his back several times to help out with things. he is no longer benched
- in his preteen years, he acted more like sonic but once his teen years hit, he crashed (saving the world and being in constant danger since you were a toddler does crazy things to your mental health)
- still helps out with the restoration from time to time, but prefers to do his own thing
- a little more on the morally gray side of things. he still follows a lot of sonic’s principles but will go against them if necessary (does not always follow that “everyone deserves a chance to change” mentality….)
- still gets treated like the baby of the group. hates it
- inherited sonic’s stubbornness when it comes to injuries and will push past his body’s limits (rip his leg)
- facial expressions and explaining how he feels are both hard for him (im projecting)
- also inherited sonic’s need to bottle everything up
#first i have baby tails now teenager tails#bro chose the worst traits to inherit fr#sonic’s confidence? nah#his positivity? nope#his inability to express how he feels and hiding injuries? fuck yea#also get your growth stunted idiot#sonic is very pleased about still being taller than his baby brother#teenager tails#miles tails prower#art
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I feel like the fandom often forgets that these
And these
Are just as sapient as these
Like they’re not pets or beasts or whatever, these are guys. They’re dudes. They work a 9-5 and have a wife and kids. Non-octoling Octarians are sapient. Every Salmonid is also sapient that’s why they wear pants.
#splatoon#octoling#octarian#salmonid#salmon run#i see y’all making lil buddy a pet#but lil buddy is just a feral guy with stunted growth and huge hungee
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#hotd spoilers#house of the dragon#house of the dragon spoilers#alicent hightower#aegon ii targaryen#aegon targaryen#shes doing her best she was just raised by otto and that stunted her growth about 30 years#aka otto “i dont wanna hear it” hightower
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i was just talking to maisie about this but have we thought about the potential of mr reca removing unpleasant memories from your mind? not things from your past, because those things have made you who you are and who he fell in love with, but events that occur after you are his. i feel like that’s a fairly obvious notion given his abilities but aaaaaaah i just !!!!! think he would have such a hard time keeping his hands to himself and not tampering with your mind when you come to him exceptionally upset about something that happened.
he doesn’t expect it to affect him nearly as much or as hard as it does, but seeing his precious baby so unbelievably distraught over something (and what that something actually is—the severity of it—doesn’t fucking matter. what matters is that his little girl is upset and he must fix it) has a sudden, intense need clawing at his chest; an urgent desire that has sprouted talons and sharp, gnashing teeth and before he can even comprehend what he’s fucking doing, he’s soothing you by devouring that memory, burning it to ash, making sure it can never hurt you again.
#mr reca x reader#mr reca x you#the idea is just that he can’t bear to see his baby in pain#it pains HIM to see you in pain#and obviously there are moral repercussions#lots to consider there particularly in the fact that it would stunt your personal strength and growth yadda yadda#hopefully that makes sense i am dead tired right now HAHAHA#i just wanted to get this out!!!#inky.reca#late night barely coherent thoughts wooooo
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in which head boy pete kowalski has a massive growth spurt and jimmy hopkins falls head over heels for him 💕
heavily based on the 12 stages of crushing on pete kowalski by my girl fear
#my art#canis canem edit#jimmy hopkins#pete kowalski#bully scholarship edition#bully canis canem edit#bully game#bully cce#bully fanart#please GOD read that fic they are my forever boys#Pete deserves to grow tall after Gary stops stunting his growth#and also deserves a chunky lil boyfriend who is madly in love with him
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I have all of these extended thoughts on my head about the amazing way themes and character relationships are handled in Iruma-kun and the inclusion of queerness and the handling of the coming of age narrative in this shonen manga/anime
And every time all that comes out when I'm reccing it is "You should watch/read it"
Do it. Go watch/read Mairimashita! Iruma-kun/Welcome to Demon School Iruma-kun
Please.
#mairimashita! iruma kun#m!ik#welcome to demon school iruma kun#i just be ramblin#anime recommendation#manga recommendation#Like okay baseline on its surface it's an isekai anime about a teenage boy who is sold to a demon by his terrible parents and has to go to#school in the demon realm and live there without being found out (otherwise he thinks he'll be eaten)#But it's also a story about growing up and a story about a kid from a terrible situation learning what it means to (and being allowed to)#have goals and ambitions and wants#It's about a kid who gets all his needs met for the first time in his life (and a little spoiled) and figures out he wants everyone to have#that#It's about friendship and bonds and the importance of working together with others#It debunks that usual take about how humanity's base traits are evil and greed and the urge to murder and steal and whatnot through#the comparison to demons‚ who are said to be all of those things at their core and yet in actuality aren't beholden to it#It's about outcasts coming together not letting other people determine their worth and proving just how high they can reach and what they#can accomplish. they force the world to recognize them instead of assimilating#It's about what happens to outcasts who are taken in by bad actors vs outcasts who get genuine support#It's about kindness#It's about how adults should both help the next generation improve while also being their defenders from things they shouldn't have to#handle yet#It's even about the dangers of being fully selfless or fully selfish. How personal desire/the serving of oneself and kindess/the serving of#others should be balanced#About how desire is not inherently terrible and about how being constantly self serving stunts one's growth#And it's also about a human who got sold to a demon and is gonna be the demon king one day#Thinking about this manga makes me want to chew through concrete I love it so much#*how constantly serving others stunts one's growth
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What
"it never once occurred to him what my real strategy was: letting him win. Because winning made him feel special. And good God, did he want to feel special"
Calls Ford a tool but sings praise of tools WOW
#billford#bill cipher#standford pines#thisisnotawebsitedotcom#even his lies are lies#gravity falls#gf#im not okay#HELLO???#what if i kms#triangle man has weird ways of showing he cares#if you can call it that#i like how Bill mentions half of Ford's mind being 18#is that like some stunted growth thing because of his childhood???#maybe it's cause if i remember correctly he couldn't really depend on his parents for praise and emotional support#and at the time he depended on Bill for something Ford's parents didn't provide#and because he had like no friends#the book of bill#i can also see Ford thinking that all he's worth is his genius and nothing else about him was in any way special#cus if he might've thought that if he wasn't smart he would just be some random average guy with freaky hands#my heart kinda hurts now
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