#kinda ish. implied.

[sky-kiss]

Raphael/Tav (Reader): Indulgence

A/N: I dunno. Had an urge. Here's a lil nothing.

Shall he be honest, mouse?

Sex is not one of those concepts upon which he lingers. It is an all too human urge, sated by demons, indulged only by the more indolent of devil-kin. Raphael recognizes its power, of course—he is neither ignorant nor blind.

But oh, there are sweeter delights. The sort of things mortals could only dream of, akin to colors outside their limited perspective. What was sex compared to a star’s light going out after dimming over a thousand years? What was sex beside a deal well negotiated? A kingdom falling? The screams of thousands as they begged for deliverance, only for the gods to turn a deaf ear? 

The answer, sweetling: it was nothing at all. 

It does not keep him from taking his pleasure with Haarlep. 

Or with you.

And there is a renewed thrill in having you, pet. Lacking the grace, finesse, and breadth of knowledge of his incubus, but better for the novelty. You scream so prettily when he bites your shoulder, hissing and clawing at him with no pretense. You still yelp when he pushes into your body, biting down on your lip hard enough to draw blood. You thrash and lose your rhythm—so blessedly undone, all by his hand. 

So weak. So mortal. 

You don’t taste like sweet poison when he kisses you. No, sweetling, you are decaying leaves and the passage of time. You are a guttering candle, piteous and small beside his flame. You are such a little, little thing. So low—so beneath him. 

Raphael hitches your legs higher around his hips, head tipped back, groaning into the overheated air. Sweat glistening on your skin, belly, and breasts, a patchwork of kiss-sucked bruises. You are spent beyond the telling of it, must be, but…

You rock your hips against him, inviting him to continue, eyes still lit with the challenge. More, it says. You can survive more. 

It’s the challenge he likes, Raphael supposes. The indomitable beauty of the mortal spirit: rising to meet adversity and its betters. 

He will break you, must break you. He is better, and he must. 

You scream for him, clinging, his name rapturous on your tongue.

But you are not broken. No, not yet. You're still staring up at him that damnable look. Bloodied but not broken. Spent, but not obedient.

It will not do.

It is a simplistic battle, yes. But Raphael will not rest until he might call himself victorious.

[yourlocalbadgerscales]

Nothing, head empty, just Hermione Granger being the only one completely unbothered by the Veelas at the Quidditch Cup in GOF, because after all, she’s in the company of only guys. And she spots Draco Malfoy.

Although he is a guy and should be just as drawn to the Veelas as Harry and Ron are, he is just sitting there, staring unimpressed at the Veelas. Then he’s frowning in confusion. Then he looks horror struck.

Hermione isn’t stupid, and nor is Draco. They both realise pretty quickly what is going on, possibly even at the same time, and their eyes meet and Draco looks horrified. He tries to brush it off by making a face at Hermione, and he turns back to face the Veelas.

Hermione never tells Harry and Ron about this. She doesn’t bring it up in sixth year, when Harry keeps muttering to her about “Stupid Pansy Parkinson… I mean, what does she even see in him?”. She hears the unspoken question. What does he see in her? Nothing, nothing at all, that’s the thing, she wants to say, but she doesn’t.

She doesn’t bring it up when Ron and Harry discuss Draco’s love life one night in the common room, Ron snorting and saying the most horrible things while Harry tries laughing it off and changing the subject, but fails miserably because every single question he asks that night is about Draco, Draco, Draco, and Hermione, I’ve heard he and Pansy had an argument the other day, do you think that’s true? I hope it is! What… what, I mean, er, I hope she’s finally realised what a shitty person he is.

Hermione doesn’t bring it up in Eighth Year when Harry is being a pining mess. She doesn’t bring it up when Harry is confused as hell because “Hermione, Pansy and Ginny are dating! How are they dating? What about Dra- Malfoy?!”

She doesn’t bring it up when Harry can’t focus on his Auror duties for the life of him because a certain Draco Malfoy is in the same building as him.

She tries to bite her tongue, but one day she just can’t anymore, and when Harry refuses to stop talking about Draco Malfoy for the fifth work day in a row and all the sleepless nights catch up to her she just blurts it out: “Harry, Draco is fucking gay!”

She rarely swears, so Harry immediately goes pale before even registering what she’s just said. “W- what?”

And she storms off, horrified because shit, shit, this wasn’t how the two stupid gits were supposed to get their shit together and… get together. This wasn’t how she’d planned it to happen! She was going to lose the bet to Ginny now, but that was the least of her problems, because fuck, Draco Malfoy was one of her favourite colleagues and they were actually getting along and now she’d spoiled it all by revealing what had to be one of his darkest secrets to Harry just like that! He hadn’t even told her yet, and now she’d told Harry! She had seen the way Draco looked at Harry and she knew that he liked him and, and…

In that exact moment Draco Malfoy rushed past her heading towards the room she’d just left Harry standing in, and he seemed to caught up in whatever he was muttering to himself about to even notice her… suddenly, Hermione didn’t want to go back to that room in a while, scared of what she might witness if she did.

“Ron- Ron, no, nonononono!”, she said and grabbed her boyfriend’s arm and dragged him as far away as she could from the room where Harry’s surprised yelp could now be heard. “Let’s… just… let’s just leave. Like, right now. Trust me. Get moving!”

[yanderemommabean]

I’m trying to get in the mindset to like actually write but nothings coming to mind so have some bullet points that keep popping up

-Yanderes who plan ahead and are patient, making sure they have their homes ready for you once they finally bring you in

-Padded cuffs, gently but securely locking you up, not wanting your skin to be rubbed raw but you definitely aren’t getting out any time soon

-Praise being whispered in your ear while you’re slowly waking up, wondering where you are and who you’re with

-Blindfolded? Blindfolded.

-Obsessive almost worship like words being spoken lowly in your ear as hands wander up your body, tracing your skin, feeling your warmth

That’s all the brain power I have. I’m currently in Nebraska doing some stuff so hopefully my brain will start to reset and get back to where I like it uwu

Love ya beans!

-Mommabean

[loubella77]

• 18+ only! •

How high do I look?

free OF | all links

25 // fetish friendly // switch // experienced

[lowkey-loki245]

I have things I want to say, but SOCIETY won't let me (I am very passionate about how Bradford's and Scrooge's relationship counts as abusive, even if they're just business partners, but most people would probably be weirded out by the idea of Scrooge Mcduck (2017) being an abuse victim).

[meowyoi]

was finally able to hop on a bandwagon somewhat on time 💀💀

anyways tatsumayo in some of my outfits ♡ one of the necklaces tatsumi is wearing is my virgin mary necklace btw

[cuteniaarts]

@katkastrofa, circa 40-ish hours ago: Hey, what if our newest bunch of OCs adopted a baby from one of the other brothel girls who knew she couldn’t afford to raise one? That would make for some fun shenanigans :D

Me, with a notoriously non existent sleep schedule, instinct of self preservation or concern for my poor wrist: Alright, bet. Watch how fast I can make you fall in love with this hypothetical baby >:)

Daneli as a gentle and loving caretaker-turned-adoptive-mother is something that can be So Personal, actually, and originally I was going to leave it at this quick sketch, but then I got carried away thinking about what this child will grow up to be like raised by this little gang of misfits, so…

Here she is!! A little older and so, so beautiful, I need more of her in my life immediately, she’s way too precious

And, because I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t also add a sapphic element to this absolute cinnamon roll, a small crack ship that I’m only half serious about for when she’s a little older still:

All in all, we may be getting impossibly far from canon, but I for one already cannot get enough of sweet darling Kumisai <3

(I fully drew three pieces from scratch in 9 hours I cannot feel my brain or my hands anymore send help)

[live-laugh-ukotoa]

if boat boys wins @lifeseriesalliancebracket I'm just gonna reenter my trials of apollo fixation

[lords-of-fortune]

Mixed feelings on the choices stuff but also annoyed that out of the three choices that are to be made I technically haven't made two of them yet bc I haven't finished inquisition and therefore trespasser ajdkfl

[welcome-to-dragonshead]

冤冤相报何时了

Tw: kidnapping, human trafficking, implied s/a and csa (or intention to by others), physical abuse, animal cruelty, gore-ish stuff? , child neglect, mutilation, murder, body horror

run, run, run. 

You have been running for long. 

Through the trees, by the rivers stream, there's men looking for you. 

Hunting you.

Not for your skin, not for your meat, 

but for your use, servitude. Fun and pleasure, but you're too young to understand that. 

You barely left the forests, how are you meant to know anything else? 

You hide in a burrow, like you always do when this happens, silver tail following as they tail you.

You cannot find your parents. 

You cannot find your brothers, or your sisters. 

You hear them laughing as they come close, their hand reaching into the hole. 

You attempt to avoid them, but it's too late. 

They grab you by the ears like one that grabs a carrot, pulling from them with an unstoppable force. 

You smell poppy seeds, and fall into a heavy, sweet dream. 

˖๑‧˚꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦˚‧๑˖

You open your eyes. 

Outside of the narrow window, you see blue. 

It's all blue, that's what you can only see. 

The horizon line is infinite, and there's no land for thousands of kilometers. 

You're in a boat. With the men, trapped. 

You spend your days in a cage, in a room with many others like you. Foxes, Ghosts, and otherworldly beings such as yourself. 

It disgusts you. 

You're barely fed scraps. You fight against the others for measly crumbs, and all of you chained are made to become the men's show by night, as you're tortured by day. 

It disgusts you. 

They speak a language you don't understand, and they laugh and spit in your face whenever you try to learn. 

You attempt to rebel, but it always ends in beatings and abuse. Your eyes become purple, your arms scarred, your throat dry from screaming and your ribs shattered. 

Burnt, charred hands, deep slashes across your body.

It hurts. 

Yet, the others have gone through the same thing. 

It disgusts you.

˖๑‧˚꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦˚‧๑˖

You had a dream, once. 

You were in the forest you were raised in. A deer watched you intently, and you only saw it when it was too late. 

In a fit of rage, or hunger, it bore impossibly sharp teeth and it charged at you. 

Once again, you ran. Why is this mad deer trying to attack me? I'm the one meant to eat it!, you thought. 

So you realized–you must hunt it. 

It's survival of the fittest, after all. 

You hid in the foliage and threw it off the trail by spilling another animal's blood in the path. 

A stalking spot was picked out, a trap was prepared, and soon enough, the great deer came out to play. 

It all went down in a flash;

Your hands, the burnt and scarred hands of a child, ripped right through its throat with reckless abandon.

Its heart is taken out, and its body feeds you, fulfilling a hunger that had gone on for so long. 

Its blood is the most delightful ambrosia, its intestines and muscles are of the finest of meals. 

You are awoken by a painful sting in your palms. Your hunger is not satiated and you hear your stomach grumble painfully. 

You look down to your hands. 

There are burn marks on your skin. Sharp fangs and a shooting range, a tattoo representing the innermost urge you have

The urge to draw blood. Theirs, yours, it doesn't matter, but all you want is to make something bleed. 

Incredulous at the intrusive thought, you deny yourself of that. 

I'm not a murderer. 

Hurting yourself or others is the worst you can do in this situation; they will have a reason to hurt you and humiliate you further. 

For a while, you attempt to hide it, but it all becomes progressively worse. 

There is something boiling under my skin that aches to get out, you think. 

Prisoners and traffickers alike avoided you, uneasy by your presence. 

They don't make you do your nightly shows anymore, and somehow, you miss it; at least you had company. 

The abuse becomes worse because of their fear of you. 

The rest of the prisoners do not dare to look you in the eyes. 

And one day, you gave in. 

You bit into your skin.

Blood is drawn out, forming a beautiful shape like a flower, easily controlled, divided into strong filaments, or solidified to make a larger weapon. 

This feels right.

˖๑‧˚꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦˚‧๑˖

You keep the secret for weeks. No one can know of this. 

You have been reopening the scab of the bite marks to use the blood to pick the lock of the cage and get out to eat more. 

The first time you stepped into the kitchen while all the crew was asleep felt like a dream. 

For the sailors, there was hard tack, water, salt, stews thickened with more water; and while eating those seemed like the more rational option, your mind wandered to the meals you saw the captain eat; freshly baked bread, meat from live chickens and pigs, spices, flour, sugar, butter, canned milk and alcohol.

So you stole, and you cooked, and you ate; it was so delicious it kept you coming back for more. 

And more. 

And more. 

And you had the sliver of hope of being able to keep outsmarting them. 

But the captain found out about the food shortage. 

You hear him scream at the sailors, asking who stole the food. They all say no, of course they did, the miserable bastards. 

They investigate the kitchen, and find the proof of your crime; a strand of white hair. 

Your soul leaves your body when you see the captain trudge toward you, rage in his visage. 

He forcefully opens your cage, screaming words that entered one of your ears and left through the other; beating you, kicking you to the point you wanted to throw up. 

He held you down, and took a switchblade out of his coat. He plunges it into your face, carving against it as the rest of the men cheer him on. You scream in pain, trying to push him away, but he's bigger, and stronger, and you're just a weak, rebellious little girl. 

The blood gurgles in that flower-like fashion you've grown used to. It was as it had a conscience of its own, solidifying and stabbing the captain right into his stomach. You see regret in his expression, as he gasps for air and screams for help from his underlings. 

They take up arms and charge against you, screaming and calling you a demon from hell. 

The blood of the captain is seemingly absorbed into your own stream, allowing you to double the power that you had. 

It was all a blur; needless, reckless violence that only got you more hurt, but the more hurt you were, the more powerful you became. 

It was exciting, the power you were given; you were laughing and singing as you dodged the crew's blows and sunk your teeth and claws into that delicious flesh of what is barely human. 

˖๑‧˚꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦˚‧๑˖

[someweirdoreblogger]

You have an "admirer," apparently. One that has no sense oncesoever.

Odin, the All-father, iron fist of the Norse.

You use everything in your willpower, hidden deep, to not flip your shit each time he graces your weaker presence.

Odin comeths baring no warning. Does a King need formal reason to wander inside his own castle?

Not a word spoken, without distraction nor misdirection. He is elegant down to how he walks, with purpose and unwavering resilience.

The All-father is supreme and tyrannical in godly definition, of the legendary Bifrost's chosen few. A rapid tide in constant pursuit, edgeless flood overcoming building after building in its merciless path of endless devastation, devouring those who dare oppose the roaring waves.

Suddenly, day after day, night after night-this intimidating figure finds you worthy of not just a simple glance.

Odin is... just there.

Next to little ol' you, a lowly servant, the great All-father. Without a care in the world. The sheer audacity to treat this like it's not extremely unusual for an all-powerful god such as himself to take interest in another out of the blue, let alone someone so painstakingly simple. Someone never pinned on the radar of another god, definitely not one of their strongest ancients.

Either you found him, or likewise, the latter; waiting ever patiently by the bay of your active sector, stuck in the ground like a tree stump. Is he even breathing? Feet rooted, immoveable as stone.

It's hard to not miss him in this lightful realm, a towering candle of stern darkness-permeant arrogance written on his face. Wrinkles forming indifferent strokes, old indeed, but nevertheless immortal. Long scars, they decorate him in tight and unnerving brushes. A bleak void carries the stinging yellow jackets in his eyes, stoic, unrelenting. A force to be reckoned with, even then, any blind fool can tell this highly dangerous god homes a deep attractiveness mortals are blessed to witness. The devil is hideous on one hand, yet beautiful on another.

People become frantic in trying to appease their quite unexpected guest, you can't blame them, if you didn't know what Odin was here for-vaguely at the very least-you would've tripped on yourself to ensure no bloodshed as well, no one wants to wipe up intestines and tethered remains off the walls. Frightened assistants question one another, curious bombarding. A sea of peeking servants and turning heads, eager but not too eager to learn the answer to the question lingering in everyone's mind- -Why Odin ,of all damn people, is in private servant quarters? Endless blunt remarks of his loyal crows fill the air, interesting how they obviously contrast, scolding unlucky others getting far too close for their liking (Getting used to that nonstop bickering and annoying flaps of their feathery wings deserves a round of applause admittedly). Shouting in a voice you swear can be heard all across Heaven that the All-father needs not justify himself to weaker masses. And soon, the crowd disperses till Odin is all that remains, looking upon reality like it matters little to him in that current moment. He continues to stand moving, not an inch, dead to the knowing world. Maybe he was ready to stay there for years, just for you. Ridiculous, but the determination itself is admirable, terrifying as the person it belonged to. Holding, distant, stubborn on holy soil older than your great grandfather until you're unfortunately noticed; The only servant Odin made eye-contact within the past few hours, a small part of you immediately died in that current moment. Caught. Well, it's better to accept fate than to delay the inevitable.

Furthermore, Odin never fucking leaves. Unless swayed by the heavy burden of his responsibilities to Valhalla, he is practically glued to you. Hip to hip, never behind.

Where you least expect him, somehow, he has unadmitted reason for popping up into your vision like a mole, driven by curiosity.

Coincidentally, in your most favored places. Including personal ones.

(There next to your bed watching you sleep, there behind you during your break, there standing next to you as you dust the priceless artifacts of the great halls. Wherever you go Odin is almost certain to trail after, turning this into a childish game of follow the leader.

Odin goes where you go, regardless of actually where 'where' is. At this point, you can only expect but never predict. Quick as lightening, an invisible thundering sound in the distance, appearing where most convenient. Your face sinks the moment his face enters your sights, you won't shake him off matterless of whether or not you really tried, both stuck together till night falls from Olympus.

(Yeah right, you shaking off Odin. No fool can ever dream hard enough to achieve such a feat.)

It's an unlucky series of unwanted occurrences that all servants know better then to suggest otherwise.

You swear, this is on purpose. But for what?

Pleasure?

Curiosity?

This torture of constantly hanging on the end of the cliff, not knowing if someone behind you is waiting the perfect moment to push. To see you fall down into the bottomless abyss. Thor and Loki had to get their tendencies somewhere.

You are fairly confident in yourself, even when it comes to dealing with the gods. You have worked for Olympus long enough that little to nothing surprises you anymore. You've witnessed aplenty things, from disasters to miracles, you have never seen-

-this.)

And Odin just...stares at you the entire time, much to your intense confusion and unbridled fear.

Odin grants no hints and admits nothing, an intimidating statue of a great towering godfather who can erase your mortal existence off Heaven in under a millisecond. Completely and utterly unpredictable, reeking of boundless bloodlust and pure fighting prowess. Won't take the unrivaled intellect of Tesla to recognize Odin can't be a bearer of good news.

He irritates the sensitive hairs on your neck, pricked up, suffocating in fright. His aura scorches you, a transparent brand of godly fire. Daring you to move out of line, defiance is forever intolerable in the biased eyes of the Heavens. You can't imagine doing anything to potentially earn his ire.

You have no intention of betraying Valhalla, unfond as you are about the gods, not that you'd foolishly announce that to fucking Odin.

Your conclusions are empty stales of bread, no meat and cheese, sauce, mayonnaise or mustard. No excuse for this argumentatively, obsessive behavior about following you like a shitty puppy. You can't guess why Odin is even here to begin with, why he bothers you with never-ending oversight.

Thankfully, Odin only looks. Just watching.

Seems merely seeing you just living is a newfound hobby for Valhalla's ruling god, whatever that means for you.

As deeply unnerving as his constant observation is, you suppose it could be worse, as you and your beloved nymph friends speculate. All you can do is wait for something to happen. You take it as a sign to perform your duties more perfectly, though it was more out of crawling desperation to live than inspiration.

(You read and carefully organize the ancient books in a quiet, knowing patience.

Counting the lively torches upon the grand Olympian walls, which ones are lit, which aren't.

Writing down assigned addresses, preparing for the awaiting visitation of the next Pantheon for Hermes.)

Non-blinking, holes burning at the back of your head. Analyzing the most basic specks and wrinkles of your face and neckline, fair hair whistling silently against Winter winds. Eyes of an eagle locked onto their target, dreadfully focused. By far the most scared you have ever been in your entire life, and that's saying a lot from a mortal servant of the gods. Luckily, it gets easier and easier to ignore. Silence seems to be Odin's consistent trait.

Odin is a walking blank slate blessed with legs. He does nothing, says nothing, and acknowledges nothing. Nothing but you, in the slightest form of a distant bat of thick eyelashes thrown in your direction.

You can't be certain if that's better or worse.

Apart from constant observation spilling not a single question, Odin hasn't raised a hand or tried to bring upon you any sort of harm. Made not even the tiniest peep across your numerous encounters. Done anything other than made you incredibly creeped out.

Odin is a constant, looming shadow. A curse, razor-sharp, an unpredictable element of nature. A sinking feeling of never being left alone in peace, sticking on the very edge of every corner of your unrest. That dark gaze is something no one ever forgets.

Certainly not you, a victim of that judgmental pair of golden ores, staring into your soul. Every truth of you naked to his eyes, like glass.

You still have no clue why Odin decided that you must be the center of his undeterred attention.

(Oh, you poor unfortunate soul,

If only you knew the storm coming your way.)

[applestorms]

clawed my way through (some of) the epilogues and hs^2 again for dirkjake crumbs and i think there is a Genuine place for ultimate jake to fit into canon (or at the very least, lord jake english) since meat timeline jake never actually shows up visually in hs^2 and his final appearance in that timeline (minus a phone call or something w/ roxy? or was it kanaya fuck) is giving ult. dirk his spaceship and then proclaiming his undying love while desperately trying to get dirk to let him join him, to which dirk responds that he’ll “never let [jake] break [his] heart again” (ch39). agony.

two interesting things about the end of his arc in meat actually: for one thing, it’s kinda implied that along with giving dirk a spaceship, he also gave dave/karkat/roxy/kanaya/etc a spaceship to chase after him, so he’s at least taken some action to try to stop him. again though, we never see him after that point so like. the idea that he could just hope himself into becoming an ultimate self in the background is actually kind of a possibility?? like while the others try to chase dirk down, jake is figuring out how to brute force himself into ascension as a backup plan. second thing, dirk is very snarky in the narration about the fact that this dramatic goodbye he’s giving jake is the last time he’ll ever get to see him (jake see dirk, i mean) but ult. dirk also seems to lack power against alt. calliope when they fight over the narrative so jake ascending would actually pose a serious threat and might be able to override that, assuming dirk’s power over the narrative extends that far in the first place (thinking about that post talking about how narration is also a reflection of characters’ thoughts…)

candy timeline jake is also pretty interesting since he very notably starts being advised by BGD to be a kind of spy on the inside against jane’s. whole thing in that timeline. i actually completely cannot remember what jane does in the meat timeline, i think also some presidency bullshit, right?? that’s what the davekat thing was about??? but anyway BGD sounds pretty normal in all his dialogue, or normal for BGD at least, and is aware of both the game over timeline and ult. dirk’s bullshit enough to make fun of it so. idk maybe i’m just misunderstanding how ultimate selves work, but the fact that BGD wasn’t really “integrated” into ult. dirk feels significant to me, especially considering the fact that we can see caliborn/LE’s influence on ult. dirk so much (his narration in ch39 gives AR too, frankly, like the epilogues are obvs way more openly horny than hs proper but AR was always kinda like that too, especially about jake). hs^2 also ends super abruptly with some lore shit i skimmed half heartedly between calliope, roxy, and john again talking about his initial decision between candy and meat. that whole conversation pretty deliberately frames the decision between meat and candy as being parallel to terezi’s coin flip about whether or not to kill vriska, and roxycallie even tell john straight up that he needs to get vriska again to fix the story, perhaps assuming that’ll work again since it did when he was retconning the timeline? but imo, though maybe i’m biased cause i didn’t really review what vriska does post-canon again, it seems more fitting to me that jake would be the one to fix the bullshit timelines, considering 1. dirk is the one going bananas out of his fucking mind w/ control of the narrative, 2. thematically, pumpkins are the most logical, healthy alternative to meat and candy, fitting since caliborn explicitly aligns dirk and jake’s color scheme with them in the smut-drawing conversation and since (in the same breath) he establishes that he hates them and prefers meat/candy. but that’s getting into sherlock secret final episode levels of conspiracy, and i’m not sure i’m ready for that one

[anxiously-sidequesting]

good morning i was thinking about how the game stops referring to your wizard by name eventually(?) and thinking about how that could be connected to everyone putting this Child on a pedestal of saving the entire universe when they're probably nowhere near 18 yet and. god there's so much i could yell about but i dont have enough ask space

Aaaah yes that's a good attention to detail that you've noticed and that's an EXCEPTIONAL perspective on why that is!!! As much as I PERSONALLY will go with the idea that the YW has aged and grown physically throughout the game's timeline for various reasons there's something so METAL and heartbreaking about the fact that everyone around the YW just doesn't see them as a child anymore due to their status and their job, despite them still being so very young. That agency about them was removed from them outside of their control so now you have a 12 year old with the mind of Batman because they never had a childhood.

When even the WORLD AROUND YOU is contributing to the idea that you are no longer a child, that's gonna stick. Even though you're a teenager nobody treats you like one, you don't get to act like one, any and all notions that you are a CHILD savior is erased so now you are just a SAVIOR. At that point people aren't even treating you as an ADULT either, they're treating you as an IDEA, a CONCEPT. You are someTHING to believe in, rather than someONE. This is a very sad thing to think about! 😄

[aptericia]

23? :3

23. Talk about a WIP?

Yesss!!! I have sooooo many WIPs at all times, but since you are a Tellius Mutual™️ I will talk about an upcoming Soren illustration I’m very excited for! My plan is to have him standing between statues of his parents & their respective countries’ flags, but he himself is either holding or standing in front of a flag with the Greil Mercenaries’ crest, showing how he rejects his messy noble heritage and is dedicated to the life he’s worked so hard for already ☺️

My only problem is I’m having trouble finding a high-resolution image of said Greil Mercenaries crest… 😭 There’s a small image in the Radiant Dawn artbook but it’s not large enough to make out the details…

[emile-hides]

Upon rewatch of the Mario Movie, I really gotta wonder how long the Mario Bros were in the Mushroom Kingdom for. 

They get sucked through the pipe past sundown Brooklyn time, which depending on the season is like 8-9 o’clock, Mario arrives in the Mushroom Kingdom in the day time, maybe late afternoon, and spends the rest of the day through the night into the morning on Peach’s Mario Maker level, travels all the next day, sleeps in a Fire Flower field for the night, arrives at the Kong Kingdom mid the next day, leaves the Kong Kingdom on Karts around sunset, which turns to night as they are ambushed, leading to Mario and DK spending the entire night inside an eel only breaking out early the next morning, just to make it barely in time to Peach and Bowser’s wedding sometime around noon, and go back through the pipe to have it be early morning in Brooklyn with the rest of the Mario family carrying on with breakfast as usual.

So they spend 3 Days in the Mushroom Kingdom, but only like 12 hours of Brooklyn time seems to have passed.

[yami-yomiel]

I got my grubby hands all over an fnf fangame

'Alright, but you better bring him back by 5:30" Cyan grimaced. Her face softened when she saw her player two, CD-boy, clutching his head in pain. 

Now on a time limit, Dude grabs the robot and runs off to the arcade leaving Lady and Cyan behind. The metal doors of the arcade swung open as he dragged the broken bot to the counter, operating it was his best friend, Buddy!

'BUDDY BUDDY BUDDY, YOU GOTTA HELP ME!' Dude yelled, his eyes were the size of dinner plates. 'Lemme guess, CD-boy?' Buddy figured- a slight British twang in his voice. He was the one watching it all go down with Cyan, so of course he should know! 

Dude was amazed, he had no idea his bestie was there, he'd think the Brit was some sort of psychic or something.

'I'll take that look in your eyes as a yes, then?' The youth asked, waving his hand in front of him.

'Y-Yeah of course!'

'Right this way then.' Buddy walked from the counter into the corner where a secret door was hidden. To Dude, it just looked like a regular employees room, but inside it was filled with crtvs and wires, the heat made his face flush a bit as they both set CD-boy on the table in the middle; despite his human appearance he was quite heavy - but that's what you should expect from a sentient robot after all.

'So this is where the magic happens?' Dude asked while wiping his forehead with his pink shirt. 'Yup! All my free time is spent here, practicing to be a mechanic!" Buddy pats the computer conveniently next to the table 'I plan on taking over the world one day after all.' There was a smug look on his face like he's been waiting to announce that for ages now. His friend could only imagine Buddy with a giant throne and crown, holding the globe between two fingers. 'Well.. could I get a cool job if that happens?' The teen said mid-daydream.

The mechanic stuttered for a bit, then finally settled on 'royal toilet scrubber". Dude could only pout at this idea...

CD boy was hooked up to the computer, turns out he didn't have a trace of antivirus in him whatsoever, which of course is like letting a toddler run wild outside, you're bound to get germs - er viruses- all over you. Not to mention he wasn't connected to the internet, so Buddy did Cyan the favor of fixing all of the little bugs. 

'Isn't Lady supposed to be with you right now?' Buddy asked as he adjusted his headphones.

"Nah, apparently her mom visited and she's super upset cuz she hasn't seen her in forever." Dude sat on one of the TVs laying around, due to how short he was - just sitting down he could reach the top of his friend's midriff. "Did you ever tell her about the thing?"

Dude shook his head frantically 'Heck no! Her parents would kill me if they found out she was dating a bum, I can't tell her that!' He started to tug on his cap a bit, loosening it and then fastening it once more '-I mean, I don't wanna burden her with my problems. She already has enough going on." 

Buddy interrupted him 'You already sleep on the streets, that'd worry anybody. I mean, I let you sleep in my van when it's cold; even then I have to convince you to stay!"

"You have your own problems going on, you shouldn't have to do that!" 

"JOEY!"

Dude froze upon hearing his real name. The way Buddy shouted it made tears well up in his eyes, he felt like he was drowning in his misery. Joey took a shaky breath, shaking his head.

'Can we...can we talk about something else?' He squeaked.

Buddy sighed, wrapping his casted arm around Dude 'Alright, but you can't keep putting this off, Imagine how she feels knowing that you lied to her.'

...

'You're right.'

THUD

while Buddy and Dude were having a heartfelt conversation CD-boy fell off the table with a huge thud - unplugging him from the computer.

'Hey!' Buddy yelped 'The anti-virus isn't done yet, help me get CD-boy back up!' Both of them got to work, Buddy taking most of the weight that was on the robot's torso. But just before Dude could pull his legs up the robot's leg suddenly winded him! It was like he was flung halfway across the room, Sure he was small but he had some weight to him.

Was CD-boy...growing?!

But that's impossible, at least that's what Dude Thought. Catching his breath he watched as Buddy got squished under the giant. Now CD boy was about as tall as the door.

The little guy quickly ran up to Buddy, grasping his hands tightly.

'I'm alright-' the Brit said 'You should get outta here while you still can!' Before Dude could argue ...

'CRITICAL ERROR DETECTED - ENLARGING PROGRAM CANCELED." CD-boy shouted. 

Just as stated he stopped growing.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Buddy managed to wiggle his way out from under the giant with help from Dude.

'You good?' The shortie asked, patting his friend's shoulder, the [slightly] taller one nodded 'Yeah!'.

The excitement died down as the both of them looked at the mini giant in front of them, trying to assess the situation. What was Cyan thinking when she added this feature, DID she add this in the first place?

CD-boy looked at the other two, since he couldn't fit on the table he just sat in the middle of the floor. His mechanical breathing filled the room as he looked around, he couldn't comprehend how much space he took up now. He pressed his palm against the ceiling, CDB could easily break through and do whatever he wanted.

But the number 1 rule of robotics is to not harm other humans, besides, it wouldn't be in character for him. 

'//So I'm just stuck like this?' The giant asked.

Buddy shrugged 'Not sure mate, you'd have to ask Cyan.'

CDB looked at his hand and flexed it, seeing his hand be bigger than someone's head was certainly a surprise for sure.

'//my internal clock Is offline. What time is it?' 

Buddy checked his wrist '5:35'

5:35...

Dude's eyes went wide just like earlier -arms flailing as usual. 'AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA CYAN IS GOING TO KILL ME!! OK CD-BOY TIME TO GO!'

In one fluid motion, Dude was scooped up into CD-Boy's hand. 

'//This will be faster, trust me'

' scr_setTime( ‘to go’): '

Dude was amazed, he'd never been held by a giant before. unless you count his girlfriend, but she is just tall at the end of the day. He could've sworn he heard a ticking sound coming from CDB's chest, maybe that was the clock he was talking about.

Or maybe that was his heart..?

Regardless, this way of transportation is much faster, though it probably could be safer, given how the big guy broke the door off the wall before stomping off - hopefully, Buddy doesn't mind.

However, all he cared about was selling a t-shirt about the whole event

'I survived getting hacked, grew up to 10 ft, and all I got was this stupid t-shirt'.