#*unintelligible duck noises*

[going-to-superhell]

Remember who is lord

#it is the duck #firebringer #duck is lord #he is lord lord lord lord #duck #chaoscore #chaotic bastard #cryptidcore #cryptid #feralcore #starkid #theatre #musical theater #unintelligible gremlin noises

[gnappart]

Still cooling down a bit from bkdk brainrot drawing (and recovering my energy)… with a very sletchy sketch of Vanitas brainrot :) based on my headcanon that Vanitas is in Sora’s hearts and rage form is him saving Sora whenever Donald doesn’t heal he’s about to kick the bucket. Someone must make sure that the Heart Hotel won’t come tumbling down!

#kingdom hearts #kingdom hearts fanart #vanitas #sora #sovani #vaniso #kind of I guess? #saving the heart #with prime quality darkness #I can’t stop laughing at my own sketch of void gear #sketch #rakugaki #greyscale #color details #what Donald and goofy think when Sora goes in rage form? #Sora’s gone apeshit again #a-hyuck! #*unintelligible duck noises* #meanwhile Vanitas be like #I’m going to protect my home with unlimited violence

[ace-of-rabbits]

Ducks in suits

DUCKS IN SUITS!!!!!

#my artwork #drawing #unintelligible goblin noises #sketchbook #art #ducks #ducks in suits #formal attire

[becauseplot]

It's over. It's done. It's over.

Forever is sobbing when Phil, Cellbit, and Bad walk back into to the room.

It's a desperate tangle of English and Portuguese that's spilling from his lips, nigh unintelligible. As the three of them make their way around the cell, Phil starts to desipher the words: "--faça parar! Faça parar! Please stop, please stop, PLEASE! Faça parar, por favor! Por favor...!"

Forever is curled up in the corner of his cell, face hidden in his hands, crying out for anyone, anyone to help him.

Phil swallows. Breathes.

He takes a step back and lets Cellbit step forward, taking up the view of the window. Cellbit starts to speak in Portuguese to Forever as Forever continues to wail, shrinking away from Cellbit and shaking something fierce. Cellbit asks Bad to remove the glass pane and Bad does so in a heartbeat.

"Olha para mim," Cellbit says with a voice that's firm and raw but not unkind. He takes a deep breath, feline tail swishing about his ankles, and holds a bar of the cell for support as he leans in closer. "Olha para mim, Forever. Abre os olhos. Por favor."

A few seconds pass. Forever's sobs wither out into wheezing breaths, and his trembling hands slide down his face. Bloodshot eyes peer up at Cellbit. Terrified. Confused.

And Cellbit begins to talk. Phil barely understands a word of it, but Cellbit is calm and clear in his speech. He holds up the syringe for Forever to see, pointing to its contents, and he talks Forever down when he starts begging again. Bad, meanwhile, kneels down behind Forever. He doesn't say anything, but he places a feather-light hand on Forever's back through the bars, oh so gentle and wary of his claws.

And Phil? Phil stands off to the side. He gives the two of them plenty of room, refusing to crowd Forever and send him into another fit of panic; but his shield is still strapped to his arm, and his axe still hangs in his hand at his side.

He won't hurt Forever. God, no, he won't hurt Forever, but Phil---Phil needs something to hold onto right now.

At last, Cellbit reaches through the large gap in the bars, holding out the syringe in an open hand. Forever sits and stares at it, throat bobbing in half-aborted sounds of doubt. He doesn't move to take it.

Phil shifts his wings. They'll hold him down and administer the antidote themselves if they have to, but no one here wants to force it on him. He's been through enough.

Thankfully, Forever finally uncurls himself from his corner just long enough to take the syringe. His fingers tremble around it so badly that Phil is afraid he'll drop it and the tube will shatter on the floor, spilling the precious medication, but he doesn't. He takes syringe and jabs it through the pearl-white fabric of his sleeve and into the meat of his arm and sinks the plunger.

Silence.

And then Forever howls. The sound rips out of him, head tipped back and tears spilling over his cheeks and jaw open wide, wide like someone reached down into his esophagus and tore his insides up and out through his mouth.

Cellbit squeezes his eyes shut and ducks away, ears pinned back. Bad knocks his forehead against the cold metal bars and makes a quiet, pained noise. Phil closes his eyes and puts a hand over his mouth and curls his wings around himself and leans on his axe because oh god, he feels like he's going to be sick.

The cry tapers off. Phil hears Cellbit hurry away and start talking to Pac on the other side of the room. Bad mutters something about the inventory scanners. Phil opens his eyes and sees Forever slumped in the corner of his cell, eyes glassy and chest rattling with every inhale. His hand lay at his side, the syringe held limply between his twitching fingers.

Phil approaches the cell and braces a hand on one of the bars. "Forever," he says. Forever doesn't so much as twitch. "Forever, can you hear me?"

Forever's gaze drags itself from the middle distance over to Phil. He blinks. His eyes flutter shut, and he sags back against the bars completely, a heap of limbs.

Phil stands there. Rubs a hand over his mouth. In the distance, there is the sound of soft, gentle Portuguese undercut by anxious mutterings. The click-clack of an inventory scanner being disarmed echoes off the walls. There's an outcry, raw and guttural. Forever's cell is dismantled with a thunk of a universal block breaker. Weeping reaches Phil's ears, muffled by an embrace, soothed by hushed reassurances.

And Forever lies sprawled out on the floor, eyes closed. Unmoving. Phil, for that matter, can't bring himself to move either. He stands, and he stares, and he breathes, and he watches Forever breathing.

"Is he okay?"

Phil jolts. He looks away from Forever to look up at Cellbit. The man's eyes are red, his mouth drawn tight.

Phil shrugs. It's barely more than a shift of his shoulders; it's all he can manage. "I don't know. I think he passed out."

Cellbit nods. "Okay. Okay." He exhales and drags his hands down his face with a shudder. "Jesus Christ, man..."

Yeah. Yeah, that just about sums it up.

#oh. ough. ouuhgg. god. fuck. ow. my heart. #i am emotionally processing yesterday's stream so i had to write something #here have a semi-accurate retelling of the final bit of the confrontation from phil's point of view #my writing #doubt i'll put this on ao3 but maybe #qsmp philza #qsmp cellbit #qsmp forever #insaneduo #insane duo #sugarduo #sugar duo

[lord-of-the-ducks]

Ok on one hand, I was hoping for dhampir!Guillermo to be immune to crucifixes and other typical vampire weaknesses because he deserves to be cool and badass like that

But on the other hand, the visual of his mother putting the crucifix around his neck as an act of love, and him being essentially strangled by it, is something I’m going to think about for the rest of my life because holy fucking shit

Edit: just wanted to say that I might do a full analysis of this scene at some point but right now I’m having so many thoughts and 90% of them are unintelligible noises

Edit 2: … ok I added that last edit not really expecting much but I just spent over two hours writing an analysis post so… https://www.tumblr.com/lord-of-the-ducks/724701002899619840/ok-so-i-already-made-a-brief-post-about-the-scene

#wwdits #wwdits spoilers #what we do in the shadows

[sunshinesteviee]

Please please please can you write a blurb based on this. It is the most cutest thing I’ve ever fucking seen

babes. thank you so much for sending me this bc omg. my heart melted. so sorry it took a while for me to get to, i hope you like it!! wc: 731; f!reader, dad!steve

-

Spaghetti sauce simmering on the stove and garlic bread in the oven, you tiptoed out of the kitchen, concerned about the relative quiet of your house. When you’d gotten home, it was abundantly clear that your little boy was going to need a bath before dinner, as he was covered in dirt from playing outside, and markers from coloring. Steve had volunteered immediately, scooping Wyatt up into his arms and whisking him away to the bathroom. 

While you’d started on dinner, the house was filled with a myriad of noises — lots of excited shrieks, giggling (from both of your boys), the sound of the bath running, and splashing water. And now, it was suspiciously quiet. Figuring the food would be okay for a few minutes, you made your way down the hall to the bathroom to see what they were up to. 

What you found, though, absolutely melted your heart. Before you could see them; you could hear them. Steve was humming My Girl by The Temptations. It was one of his favorite songs, and he always sang it to you. The song almost always made you tear up, but what came next took you out. 

Steve started singing, a soft sound over the splashing of water in the tub, “I guess you’d say, what can make me feel this way? Mama!”

Your baby’s voice echoed his, “Mama!”

“Mama!” 

“Mama!” 

You peeked around the corner of the bathroom, to find your husband kneeling on the floor in front of the bathtub, hands covered in shampoo and in his mini-me’s hair as he sat in the tub, splashing at the water carefully. Neither of them noticed you, so you watched for a bit longer as Steve kept singing the song, but replacing all of the lyrics with ‘mama.’ Wyatt kept repeating after him, adding in his own little ‘oooh’s every once in a while. 

Tears welled in your eyes as you watched quietly, holding your hand over your mouth. You watched until Steve started rinsing Wyatt off, ready to pull him out of the bath, and then quickly walked back to the kitchen. Your hands wiped over your cheeks, brushing away the tears that had started to fall. There was no doubt that Steve loved you, but seeing him with your son, quite literally singing your praises, made you feel loved more deeply than you had ever felt before. 

You busied yourself with finishing dinner — and trying not to cry — but knew you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from squeezing the life out of Steve when he came back into the kitchen. And it was only a few minutes later when your boys came into the kitchen, Wyatt perched on Steve’s hip with fluffy wet hair, a clean face, and a pair of pajamas. You only noticed when he shouted your name, “Mama!”

Tears welled in your eyes yet again as you turned around, holding your arms out to your little boy, “Hi, my love! Are you all cleaned up?”

Wyatt babbled something unintelligible as Steve passed him to you, his small arms wrapping around your neck in a hug. “Nice and clean, huh!”

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed in concern as he noticed your eyes sparkling with tears, and he tilted his head to the side in a silent question, You okay? 

You nodded and held your free arm out, motioning for him to come closer. Steve didn’t hesitate, wrapping you and your little boy up in a hug. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head and hugged you as tightly as he could. You didn’t care that Steve’s shirt — wet from being splashed at — was now soaking into yours, or that your garlic bread might get a little too toasty in the oven. All you cared about was your boys in your arms. 

You ducked your head, pressing a soft kiss to Wyatt’s forehead, “I love you, bub.” Your head tilted up, lips pressing to Steve’s jaw as you murmured, “And you. Love you so much.”

“Pretty sure we love you more,” Steve scoffed playfully, nose nudging into yours until you tilted your head back for a proper peck on the lips. “We’re the luckiest boys in the world, aren’t we, little man?”

Wyatt gave you a gummy smile, not totally understanding what was going on as he shouted his reply, “Mama!”

#steve harrington x reader #dad!steve harrington #dad!steve #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington #blurbs #my blurbs

[tubbolul]

(It's a busy day at the presidential office.

People flit past Tubbo's office door every so often, escaping the hubbub for coffee breaks or rushing from one desk to another to keep up with their own affairs. Somewhere in the building, Tubbo can hear Quackity and Fundy bickering, probably over something less than worthwhile.

He rubs at his temples, trying to focus on the mountains of paperwork piling up on his desk. The words swim in front of his tired eyes, and although he's been at this for what feels like decades, for every paper he finishes, an additional three pop up out of nowhere. He's so engrossed in wallowing in his misery that he doesn't notice when the minutes man walks into his office, and he startles when he notices the black and white speckled hands folded nervously in front of her desk.

"Oh!" Tubbo sets down her quill, and smiles at Ranboo. "Sorry, minutes man, I didn't see you there. Can I help you with something?"

Ranboo ducks their head sheepishly. "Um, yeah, actually. If- if it's not too much trouble, and- and you can say no, and everything, I was just wondering if..."

Even though Tubbo is paying rapt attention to the member of his cabinet, as Ranboo voices what they need, their voice withers into unintelligible noise, as if they're speaking to Tubbo from a few rooms away, rather than right smack in front of him.

"Is- is that okay?"

"Uh." Tubbo blinks at them. "Sorry, I didn't quite get that. Could- could you say that again?"

An expression of slight irritation flickers over Ranboo's features, a strange, foreign thing on their young face, but they repeat the question. Again, Tubbo hears nothing but indecipherable sounds.

"Okay?" they ask, scanning Tubbo's face for confirmation.

"I- I can't hear you," Tubbo says helplessly. "Just- once more?"

Ranboo frowns, and their mouth moves, but still, Tubbo can't understand the words. As they speak, curling scars begin rising on their arms, webbing up their face. Their hair, cropped close to their neck, suddenly begins to grow in violent, quick spurts, spilling out in rivulets down their face and back. Their clothes are suddenly soaking, dripping with water, and they seize forward, grabbing Tubbo's wrists. Their mouth moves.

"Ranboo?" Tubbo cries. "Ranboo, what do you need? What is it? I can't help you if I don't know!"

The mounds of paperwork flutter away. The bustling office fades. Ranboo's grip on Tubbo tightens, and only as seawater begins pouring from their sleeves, spurting from their nose, mouth, eyes and ears, can Tubbo hear them sob in a grating voice rubbed raw, "I need you to help me!")

#smoking craters #tw nightmare #tw disturbing imagery #tw disturbing imagery. #comm.unicator

[z-and-the-space-child]

lil midnight burger ficlet! (since the mb ao3 is pretty dead) "The next best thing"

Leif is in pain and feeling guilty about his demons. Gloria helps him out. Set during s2. pretty much revolves around using pain as punishment/reminder, so CW for that. enjoy!

Leif is staring down the metal prep counter. He’s not staring at his reflection because the lights are off in the diner - it’s been an hour since close, and there’s a few more before takeoff. Gloria enters - she was planning to take some inventory before bed and stands in the kitchen doorway, hoping to make him jump once he notices. He doesn’t, and now it won’t even be funny anymore if he did, so she knocks on the wall twice before turning on the lights.

He flinches back slightly but doesn’t jump, looking up at Gloria. “Hey.”

“Hi,” she enters the kitchen, approaching him, “what’s going on?”

He’s stopped staring at the counter, still leaning against it, his hands likely leaving heavy smudges that she’ll have him wipe off tomorrow morning. “I’m trying to decide if I should make myself some ibuprofen.”

He’s avoiding her eye contact, so she mimics him, propping herself against the counter. “Why?” She doesn’t mind the worry seeping through her tone because he deserves to know she’s worried for him, that she cares for him.

He mumbles some unintelligible noises before sighing, finally looking back at her. “My shoulder’s been acting up.”

“Oh. Did something happen in service?”

“No,” he says, low, rubbing the offending shoulder, “it’s just a flare. I injured myself once, back then, and it never fully healed.”

Gloria sets a gentle hand on the other shoulder, guiding him to sit down. “That sounds painful, Leif. You never told us you had pain.”

Leif shrugs. “It’s not chronic. It’s barely even pain.”

Gloria stares at him in dismay. “What is it, then?”

He sighs, taking a moment to collect himself. Gloria waits on the opposite chair intently. “It’s a consequence. I’ve been seeing… feeling these consequences around me so often, all the time. But for the longest while, I’d felt so far removed from them. So, I used this as a reminder.”

Gloria nods slowly, digesting it. Leif is slow to talk about his past, so she lets him take his time, sitting in comfortable silence and the like. “A reminder of the nondescript bad things you did?”

“Yep.” He doesn’t look up, “for all the screwed-up things I did as a space pirate, I need to feel this. I just do.”

His hands are lying flat on the table. Gloria wants to reach out and squeeze them, but she doesn’t for fear that he’ll flinch away. He’s a very boisterous engineer, thinking and building out loud, but the moment he’s put under any kind of examination himself, he squirms like those amoebas you can see under a microscope.

“You can’t fix what happened, now, can you, Leif?”

He shakes his head gently. “No. The damage is done, I’m afraid.”

Gloria ducks her head down so she can look him in the eyes. “Leif, you know how the best thing that we can do to make things right is to fix things?”

“Yes…”

“What do you think the next best thing is?” He deflects, “is this turning into a thought experiment?”

“I have no idea what that is, Leif. Just answer the question.”                  

Leif scoffs. “I think it’s a trick question, then. There is no next best thing.”

Gloria shrugs. “I think there is. If you can’t fix what happened, and you can’t change what happened, then you change yourself. And that includes recovery.”

“Gloria-”

She waves a hand at him, functionally shutting him up. “Listen. You were a part of what happened, and hurting won’t change that. You deserve to feel better.”

He chews on that for a moment, fidgeting in his seat. “Do I? After all the hurt I’ve caused, I think this is the least I could do to myself.”

“This isn’t the next best thing," she repeats, "letting yourself suffer continually in the name of guilt. The fact that you’re letting it happen tells me that you’re already guilty. That you’re worried that if you’re not in pain, you’ll be able to forgive yourself.”

“What if I shouldn’t be doing the next best thing?” He bristles.

“That’s not how we run this diner, Leif,” Gloria responds rigidly, with a quick shake of the head, “we all are doing our best. You are, too, and you know that.”

Leif breaks another creeping pause with a whisper, “you're going to need me out there, tomorrow.”

Gloria nods, “indeed I will.”

“-but I still think I need the pain as a reminder. Just in case.”

“Leif,” she asks, adjusting her tone to be soft yet firm, “can I ask you one more question?”

“You’re going to anyways.”

“Is this pain your moral compass?”

He taps the table a few times, stretches an arm out. “No.”

It’s all Gloria needs to hear. She places her palm flat on the table and looks up at him. “Stay put, alright? I think we have a first aid kit with some painkillers.”

He nods, and he’s still there when she returns.

#midnight burger #fanfic #leif midnight burger #gloria midnight burger

[unknownarmageddon]

(proximity) genuinely, i've been thinking about cross being a major nerd, right? like, he ditched all his interests when the world ended, but before it did, he was like, interested in and exploring whatever he could, and he had like, a bunch of niche and specific knowledge because of it, right?

well, i wanna think that, like the guitar thing, most of those skills and interests were just kinda sacrificed, though every now and then, something would come up and be unusually helpful, but for the most part, the old cross is just kinda. dead.

and killer is over here ressurecting his ass

that being said, and moving on to something that's entirely unrelated tbh, i was thinking about killer like, doing his thing, scavenging, snooping around and shit, and he comes across a fancy ass shop with rich people clothes and shit and he like

being the closet diva that he is, starts picking through the place with the idea of surprising cross with a nice afternoon of Pretending Things Are Okay, featuring Nice Clothes and he ends up spending so long in there that cross comes looking for him, worried that killer is stuck or under attack or something

and he walks in on killer holding some weird [slightly moldy and decayed] dressy outfits over himself in front of one of the changing room mirrors and he's like

"what are you doing."

killer EEPS and drops the funky clothes and spins around to be like "W- CROSS-- Haha, hi, what, uh. What are you doing here-," as if he weren't just holding, idk, a wedding dress or something

and cross is like.

(LOUD STARING)

and killer is progressively getting mildly embarrassed because i mean cmon, he was check-in out some clothes and then his boyfriend?? partner???? companion???????? just shows up outta nowhere, bro's embarrassed

"UH."

he just like, kicks the clothes he was holding away from himself and tries to casually be like "Don't worry about it." and cross just like, comes over and picks up the discarded clothes and examines it with mild interest.

"...Do you. Like this?"

and killer just kinda gets a bit more embarrassed and makes a bunch of noises, like the kind where someone asks you something and you try to say a bunch of shit at once and it just comes out sheepish sounding like "ehehhh yeaaaa im phfsphshshaha yanno" and you shrug, sort of, but you just scrunch up your shoulders and wave a hand around like that'll help you catch a good excuse to say

that's what killer does and it's totally incomprehensible and cross just snorts and tosses the clothes thing back to killer [i keep going back to it being a sun dress, like a really bright colorful thing, though not as colorful as it used to be, but color nonetheless] and he like, leans against the wall and is like

"You wanna try it on?" and killer just kinda makes another bunch of syllables because he doesn't know what else to do and cross is like, mildly amused and he's gotten more relaxed at this point, so he's doing some joshin', and he like, mildly eggs killer into trying the clothes on

anyways, me thinks that they'd totally break into some fancy clothes store and try shit on for fun and it's totally killer's idea, but cross eggs it on (sorta)

i'm getting more and more deviated away from the og perception of them, but listen man, i just like the idea of killer finding something colorful and getting attached to it or something

maybe he has like, a bunch of strips of fabric that he tore from all kinds of colorful clothes and it's all stored in his backpack so when any of his clothes rip or something, he just patches it up with the fabric

i wanna believe that he has some yellow duck patterned fabric patching up a hole on his backpack, and it's one of the first things that clued cross in to killer's very very self-indulgent behaviors

on like, the reread of this, i have realized how mildly unintelligible this is and i hope it makes sense cackles

OOHH OH I LOVE THAT Killer would he would obsessed with that

Killer would so find colorful stuff and get attached to it so true. Like he just has so much random junk (/lh) like that in his pockets

Going back to the Pretending Things Are Okay thing I’m like. Imagining them being in some big abandoned partially destroyed mall (which was where the fancy clothes store Killer found was at) and so after their whole little fashion show thing they start rummaging around mostly for usual resources but along the way they just end up messing around like you would at normal mall. Like they find some definitely barely edible food at what remains of the food court and Killer finds a small bit of a candle and they set up their own little version of some stereotypical date setting. Which they never acknowledge as that or a date because of course they wouldn’t. And they just kinda sit there on raggedy blankets eating off a mostly broken crate they found somewhere, gazing out a massive hole in the wall like it’s a starlit window while everything’s lit by the sickly flame of a barely holding on candle. But they still talk and make conversation and maybe even laugh a little even though it’s really not that different then their every other evening by fires hunkering under bits of destroyed building, but to them it’s different cause it’s like. They can escape for a bit.

and maybe the whole time Killer’s wearing that off color, tattered yellow sundress Cross walked in on him admiring, even though he eventually changes back into his normal clothes for the sake of practicality but damn did he hate to have to leave that dress behind. And maybe he tears off a bit of its fabric to shove in his pocket and take with him, as a little reminder of their time at the broken down mall or something.

ANYWAY that was an unintentional tangent lmao Everything you said is so true and so real I love it

#I didn’t answer this one privately on accident let’s go /silly #answering asks #chair asks #chair!! #apocalyptic kross au #both you and deni have so many good ideas for this AU I really wish I had more to contribute ftfhth #but so many of mine recently have to be like. Art for me to convey it well enough #though I am rereading my answer here and realizing I managed to pull that from somewhere and convey it decently. Still #Cross x killer #Also fairly unrelated but you said Killer’s backpack I think #Which he doesn’t have he just carries stuff in his pockets fhfhf #which makes me think Killer sneaks his pieces of fabric hoard into CROSS’S bag #so Cross is like looking for supplies and he just comes across these colorful bits of fabric Killer shoved in there

[sedge-and-sanctuary]

Moon Nine - Highdark

Sedgeclan has no deputy!

Snowstreak challenges Harebolt to a sparring match! Coniferstar can't help but laugh at Snowstreak's jokes.

Cats mentioned: Coniferstar - 29 moons - Leader Harebolt- 107 moons - Medicine Cat Snowstreak - 108 moons - Warrior Rookpaw - ?? moons - ???

A thin, scrubby snow lies over Sedgeclan territory, heralding the start of High Dark. Even early in the season, the days are noticeably short. Coniferstar returns from afternoon patrol to find the light already turning gold; the sun a low, dull eye on the horizon. There is a sound of scuffling in camp; Coniferstar frowns, and creeps around a boulder, his claws unsheathed– only to see Harebolt and Snowstreak sparring– laughing, as they swipe pack and forth across the camp. Harebolt aims a paw at Snowstreak’s head, claws sheathed, and Snowstreak drops to her belly to roll away, quick as a rabbit– even on her injured leg. Harebolt laughs, surprised, and drops down onto Snowstreak’s back, pinning her easily– the two go rolling, stirring up a cloud of snow. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Coniferstar says, amused. “It seems like I’ve walked in on quite the battle.”

The two mollies scramble to their paws, at his voice, with matching expressions of embarrassment. Coniferstar laughs. “You’re not in trouble. I wouldn’t mind a bit of sparring practise myself. I suspect I’ve grown a little out of form.” “Oh!” Snowstreak brightens. “Would– you like to join in, then? I don’t mind! If you want to.” Coniferstar feels himself brighten; how pleasant, just to be among clanmates. Among these cats; loyal, and healthy, as few as they still are. If only he can keep them this way. If only– “Coniferstar?” Snowstreak is looking at him, worry fluffing up her pelt. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to.” “No.” Coniferstar shakes himself; purrs, appreciatively. “I would be happy to. If you’re sure I’m not interrupting.” “Of course you aren’t,” Snowstreak’s tail waves, loose and friendly. “–No,” Harebolt  agrees, after a moment. Coniferstar looks at her, ear twitching. Sees himself reflected, briefly, in her pupils; wide in the dimming light. He can’t quite read her expression. “My pleasure, then,” he says, anyway, and drops low, rocking on his haunches in an exaggerated lunge. Snowstreak mrows with pleasure, and leaps away before he can pounce, Harebolt right on her heels; Coniferstar wonders if he hadn’t been imagining her hesitation, after all.

Harebolt leaves them, later, to their sparring, excusing herself to gather herbs. Winter is on them, now, in full; its sharp, white teeth close over Sedgeclan with the bite of frost, and ice, and wind. Harebolt hunches her shoulders, walking with her head ducked low. Every breath stings the inside of her nose; it really is a foul day. In camp, Snowstreak says something, unintelligible, and Coniferstar laughs. Harebolt should be with them, in truth. But disquiet has been gnawing at her, dug beneath her pelt like fleas. She needs… Her paws carry her south, walking sideways, braced against the howling wind. Dry, sandy snow swirls up in drifts, and blows across the tundra without pause, pelting Harebolt in the eyes, and nose. But still, she walks. The moon rises. A wolf cries, far away; a lonely, mournful noise, unanswered. She is almost right against the treeline, before she sees it, eyes squinted nearly shut. The tall pines loom up, dark, out of the blowing snow, and Harebolt backpedals, catching now the faint and fading scent of border-marks. The gravel road winds past, just southeast, twisting from between the trees. Harebolt pauses, and glances back over her shoulder. The tundra is a wide and cold expanse, behind her; empty. Harebolt might be the only cat left in the world. She turns, and pads along the road, hearing Coniferstar’s warning all the time. But no cars come hissing past; no headlamps split the swirling snow. Whatever danger lurks there, to the south, where Coniferstar had come from– it’s hiding away from the wind, the same as Harebolt should be. She pauses, as the road twists up towards the twoleg place, sniffing along the shoulder; in the dry, sterile air, scents are strangely dulled– hard to detect. She lifts her head, to look around– and then, all at once, the wind cuts off; dead still. Harebolt’s ears ring, in the sudden silence. She glances back, uneasy. The world is still, and dark, and quiet. Blown snow drifts back down to earth, gently now, and settles, soft, over the land. The smooth surface is interrupted by a clawhook bend in the road; a strange lump. Harebolt looks at it, for a quiet moment, and then pads forward; her head still bowed, though there’s no wind now, to push against. Yes– she’s found what she came looking for. She brushes snow, gently, from the small cat’s skull. There is still patchy fur, clinging to the bones; scraps of black pelt, stark in the silver, winter day. Harebolt’s breath steams, as she works, carefully unearthing the body; not sure why she’s doing it. Her mind is strangely still, and calm– even her uneasiness is gone. Perhaps the cold has numbed that, too. She sits back, when she’s done, and looks down on the body of a large black cat, mummified by frost. The resemblance isn't exact; but Harebolt feels the rightness of it. Knows him, the way a rabbit knows to run, or a wolf to hunt. She sniffs him over, gentle as she would be with a kit. But warped by moons of death, it’s impossible to tell what happened to him; the body half-decayed, and gnawed on, here and there. Harebolt’s not sure what she had been expecting; what she had hoped- or feared- to find. “Well, Rookpaw." Her voice is very quiet, in the face of that wide and silent night. “I’m listening. What was the message?” The territory is utterly still, around her. The thin, bright claw of the moon turns all the snow to silver. Stars glitter, like cats’ eyes watching in the dark. Harebolt shivers, and- without quite knowing why- touches her front paw, gently, to the dead cat’s shoulder. But still; there is no answer.

#sedgeclan #clangen #warriors #warrior cats #harebolt pov #coniferstar pov #L snowstreak imagine you're one of 3 people who live in your town & you're still a side character compared to them. #snowstreak #coniferstar #rookpaw #('s corpse) #harebolt #sedgeclan moon #sedgeclan: year one #moon nine

[going-to-superhell]

so i'm looking at homebrew subclasses on d&d beyond and i found this cleric subclass

duck is lord

#the channel divinity is “Quack” btw #i need to play this in a campaign #HE IS LORD #THE DUCK IS LORD #HE IS LORD LORD LORD LORD THE DUCK IS LOOOOORD #duck is lord #firebringer #team starkid #cleric #d&d #d&d beyond #homebrew #dnd homebrew #unintelligible goblin noises #chaoscore #chaotic bastard

[timewizard-oldman]

how to mimic my vocabulary (very shrimple)

use the word shrimple

when referring to a piece of media you like, do NOT use the actual title. instead, follow this shrimple format: "hit [year it was made] [type of media] [title]." example: hit 2009 sitcom community

capitalize Words at random

every creature has a fucked up name. kity. armored dillo. ouppy. shart. squeaky duck. quirrel.

make chang puns. even if that's not your last name. make dean puns. even if you aren't a dean.

make puns. you Have To.

:3 out loud. do NOT make a noise that you feel represents the :3. just say "colon three" out loud when you feel it is necessary

point out all references. even if it wasn't an intentional reference.

quote things until you are unable to form an original sentence.

yippee to express joy and excitement.

if you are confused or flabbergasted, the phrase "ermmmmmm............ what the scalp?????" will do.

alternate between excessively formal and completely unintelligible. or combine the two.

use big words and make sure they're spelled correctly but DO NOT spell short, common words correctly. that is boring. add some flavor.

ok that's it gamers i hope you use this guide for EVIL and make everyone's life a living hell.

#my lore #this is how i type and speak and it is so specific that i felt the need to categorize it and such

[gaffney]

Tricketh or treatus, kind person.

(Any fandom)

ask box trick-or-treat 🎃 ↳ a... long... snippet of a 9line fic that's been in my drafts for 96 years and that i will probably never finish!

The shower is running when Adam wakes up.

He rubs his eyes, pushing himself up. Beside him, Charlie makes an unintelligible noise of protest, face half-tucked into the creases of the pillow. His hair is all mussed up and, to Adam’s amusement, there’s a bit of drool on the side of his mouth. He’s still stupidly beautiful. Adam’s hand strays unconsciously, cupped around his cheek. Charlie’s breathing evens out. 

Adam sits there, unsure of what to do next. Finally, his feet carry him while his heart fumbles. He collects his clothes, shoes, and anything else of his that he can take with him. 

Charlie will forgive him. Heart of the team, heart of gold, ever since they met. Adam remembers it clearly: A hesitant, kind smile, On behalf of the Ducks, I’d like to say welcome. 

(Adam remembers: Dark eyes, relentless—)

“Cake-eater.”

Adam’s head snaps up, breath frozen in his throat. 

Jesse idles in the doorway. Towel draped over his shoulder, sweatpants slung low on his hips. Devastatingly handsome. Adam wants to look away but can’t. He doesn’t know how long he’s been standing outside the hotel room, hesitating.

They stare at each other. Jesse’s gaze is assessing, but then the lines of his expression sharpen with understanding when he takes note of the bag near Adam’s feet. Adam’s throat squeezes tight and, for only a split second, he’s eleven again, back in that locker room when they met as teammates for the first time. 

In the absence of sound, shame sets in quickly. 

“Is Charlie still asleep?” Adam asks after a long beat of silence. It’s the first thing he thinks to latch onto that isn’t the stutter of his heart in his chest. He’d rather go through the draft again, a thousand times over. All the fear and adrenaline and expectation—anything but this.

Jesse jerks his head, Yeah. “Talking up a storm,” he says, a glance inside. Adam’s insides twist. They both know Charlie’s sleep-talking is sparked by stress. “Probably dreaming up some kind of schedule to make this work.”

Adam exhales a surprised laugh. The guilt is unbearable. He reaches out without thinking, thumbs a drop of water from Jesse’s chin.

“Date night on Wednesdays?”

“Sure.” Jesse’s good at playing along. “We’ll alternate.”

His voice has an edge to it. More perceptive than Adam wishes he’d be, even as a kid. Adam’s hand falls away, chastised.

“You’re angry at me.”

“No shit.” Jesse’s words are sharp. Accusatory. “You’re running. Now?”

Something finally cracks. “I can’t do this,” Adam says, trying to make him understand. It’s shy of desperate. “Jesse. You know I can’t. It’s the NHL. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. I…” 

I just want to play hockey. Throughout everything, it’s the only thing Adam has ever known to be true. Everything else has always come second.

Jesse’s lips pull into a wry half-smile. He nods, and then he turns around and disappears back into the room. Adam doesn’t know what’s worse: knowing that Charlie would’ve asked him to stay, or the fact that Jesse doesn’t ask anything. That he understands it wouldn’t make a difference. That Adam would never pick between Charlie and Jesse, but that he’s made a choice. 

When the door closes behind Jesse with a loud snick, crushingly final, Adam hopes to god he’s made the right one.

#the mighty ducks #9line #thanks anon!!! #i guess some backstory??? #adam gets drafted by the nhl and charlie & jesse are there and they're like 'that's so amazing btw we both like you' #and adam's like 'cool i like you both too and no i'm not picking between you' #tada! poly! #again not edited pls don't mind typos

[somelondramatic]

Prompt: Are you sure this is a good idea?

Waking up with a high fever and no voice was not how Cu wanted to start their day. In fact, they were supposed to be getting showered and ready to pick up Winter for an afternoon out. Coruscant had scheduled a week of rain to combat excess humidity, leaving Cu with the idea of finally introducing Winter to playing in the puddles, and he needed new boots to do that. It simply wasn't feasible to go shopping and roughhousing in their current state, though.

They whined unhappily into their pillow, ending it in a miserable cough as they glared at the wall. About to com their parents to explain the unfortunate circumstances, they perked up at the message that began blinking at them from Tefir, just for their mood to plummet further. Not only was Winter going to miss out on their playdate, but they now had to cancel lunch with Tef, who was home for less than a week. Their favorite people, out of reach while they were holed up in their apartment.

Another loud whine at the ceiling did nothing to make them feel better.

After alerting everyone to how sick they were, they smacked the com down back on the bed and settled into their pillows again. The growl of their stomach ten minutes later made them sigh tiredly, and then they were wrapped up in a blanket, traversing slowly through their kitchen to make themself a small breakfast. Fumbling around in silence, the click of the burner made their montrals ache, and when they missed the pan trying to crack an egg, they stared into the distance with an angry pout. Their second attempt was only marginally better, the omelet they had wanted turning into a sad scramble.

On their way to plant themself on the couch and never leave, a knock at the door had them shuffling to their entryway instead, plate of food still in hand and blanket draped over their head. On the other side stood Tefir, Winter perched on his hip, and both wearing what could only be described as shit-eating grins.

"Hi Cucu!!" Winter giggled happily.

"Oh. You're adorable. This is pathetic but adorable." Tefir smothered a laugh, lips quivering at Cucu's bewildered expression.

"Okay bud, you know what to do now, yes?" He turned to Winter, who nodded and pulled a mask that had been tucked under his chin up over his nose and mouth. Tefir followed suit with his own, gently ushering Cucu back inside and towards their couch.

"As...unappetizing," Cu squinted at him for this, "As that looks- I'm glad you were able to cook for yourself! However. I think takeout might be better for lunch. Just a thought. I'll even cover it." He raised both eyebrows at them expectantly.

They opened and closed their mouth, trying to formulate a response that wasn't just an unintelligible noise of gratitude.

"A-are you sure this is a good idea?" They whispered over their protesting dry throat. "What if you get sick-"

Tefir held up a hand, Winter mimicking him with a serious expression that threw Cucu into a brief fit of painful giggles.

"No. We won't get sick by being here for five seconds, I promise. Your folks commed me in case you'd fallen back asleep, and well. I'm rather bored, and someone here needs a new raincoat." His eyes shone happily at them, "And when we get back, if it's all okay with you, I'll bring him home and get dinner for us two. How's that?"

Cucu stared at him and blinked rapidly, sniffling and scrubbing at their damp eyes, "That uh, that sounds great, I-I don't know what to say-Thank you..."

They looked up at Winter, his legs kicking impatiently under Tefir's hold, and smiled indulgently, "Excited to hang with Teffie baby?"

Winter nodded ferociously, a squeaking noise of agreement punctuating it. He paused, though, to lean forward and pat the top of their montrals.

"Love you!" He purred, "Gon' be okay?"

Cucu ducked their head to cough into their elbow, nodding and chuckling quietly, "Yeah, sweetpea, I'm fine."

He nodded again and looked back to Tefir imploringly. With a gentle ruffle to Winter's head, he let the boy down and held his hand with a few fingers.

"Alright, let me know if you need anything. I'll send updates." Tefir winked teasingly and Cucu rolled their eyes as the two exited, a content sigh worming its way out of their chest despite the ache in their throat.

Hours later, they're sent photos of Winter in a brand new matching set of boots and rain jacket, jumping happily in a puddle outside of the mall plaza, followed by a blurred picture of him and Tefir with their hoods on laughing.

It makes up for being sick by a longshot.

#notsomeloncholy #melonography #melon writes #melons ocs #tefir #cucumi #winter #ough #i love them so much #my idiots totally not in love

[incorrectsmashbrosquotes]

Petey Piranha's Odd Voyage

(Note: Petey’s unintelligible noises have been translated for your convenience.)

(Out in the ocean, a ship is sailing. Petey Piranha, the captain of the ship, is writing something in his journal.)

Captain Petey: (Captain’s log, Day 32. I question the ability of this ship to flawlessly steer herself without the need of a wheel. But nevertheless, we grow ever closer to reaching the Promised Land. As I write this, however, I realise that my handwriting is completely incomprehensible.)

(He stares down at his “handwriting”, literally nothing more than squiggly lines drawn haphazardly across both pages.)

Captain Petey: (This is bullsh*t!)

(He tosses the book as hard as he can. It explodes just offscreen.)

(One of his crewmates trots up to him.)

First Mate Game and Watch: Captain, we have reached the island.

Captain Petey: (Why do you insist on fabricating these fibs? I do not see a single inch of land within our vicinity.)

First Mate Game and Watch: I saw it with my own two lack of eyeballs! Take a gander through the spyglass.

(The Captain takes a look.)

Captain Petey: (That is a cardboard box! You are an absolute dipstick in every sense of the word, and I cannot fathom how you made such a mistake.)

First Mate Game and Watch: …I was looking through the wrong end of the telescope.

(Captain Petey punts the incompetent First Mate into the sun.)

Captain Petey: (…I could use a really big swig.)

(As he takes out a bottle to chug from, *CRASH!* Thunder and lightning! A grey fog descends upon the ship as Captain Petey goes to investigate. Another ship looms out of the fog for dramatic effect.)

Captain Petey: (It can’t be!)

(But it could! As the rest of the crew gather around their captain, the fog clears to reveal several familiar crocodilian figures aboard the other ship.)

Kaptain K. Rool: Hit it, boys!

(The Kremling on his left activates the boombox on his shoulder, playing an extremely bass-boosted version of Gangplank Galleon. Krusha, on his right, pulls out a realistic minigun and fires upon the other ship. Captain Petey and his crew duck for cover.)

Captain Petey, to Shipwright Shulk: (Activate the emergency thrusters!)

(Shulk pulls out a remote and presses the large button. The ship then grows rocket thrusters and blasts off from the water. Captain Petey and his crew scream as they hang on for dear life. Eventually, the ship reaches low orbit, then plummets down to Earth. Somehow, without burning up, she crashes back down to sea, completely unharmed.)

(Captain Petey hesitates, then takes a really big swig from his bottle. As he empties the bottle, Crewmate Toon Link walks up to him.)

Crewmate Toon Link: How do we do it, Captain? How do we defeat the Kremling menace? And more importantly, why did you choose to install cannons on this ship without actually bringing any cannonballs?

(Before Captain Petey can consider smashing his bottle against this impudent child’s head…)

Crewmate Meggy: Captain! I’ve spotted the island close by!

(There it is! Without a second thought, the ship speeds off like a motorbike to her destination. Before Captain Petey can celebrate his victory, however…)

*CLANG!*

(The ship comes to an abrupt stop.)

Captain Petey: (Who dares?!)

(The crew peeks over the edge. The obstruction that stopped the ship in her tracks is nothing more than a small raft, manned by a tiny Mii dressed as a sailor.)

Captain Petey: (…AAAHAHAHAH!)

(The sight is so hilarious, the crew can’t help but laugh! But before Shipwright Shulk can wipe his tears, a cannonball bigger than a man crashes down on top of his head, leaving a massive hole in the deck. The rest of the crew stop laughing and stare in shock.)

(The Mii Sailor puts away her shoulder-mounted cannon and speeds off towards the island.)

Captain Petey: (I shan’t let this journey be all for naught! Activate the thrusters!)

Shipwright Shulk, from within the hole: But Captain-!

Captain Petey: (DO IT!)

(Shulk does as he’s told. The ship rockets off at full speed once again. Meanwhile, the Mii Sailor gets off her raft and continues the journey on foot, Captain Petey in pursuit. However, the sight in front of them causes them to stop dead in their tracks.)

Boombox:

“…Interior crocodile alligator

I drive a Chevrolet movie theatre…”

(The Kremlings have reached the treasure first! Kaptain K. Rool cuts his own celebration short, and Forward Smashes Krusha away to face the intruders. The music stops.)

Captain Petey: (I highly question the feasibility of this situation.)

Kaptain K. Rool: This is my gold! I found it fair and square! So make like a tree, and BACK OFF!

Captain Petey: (That joke is only funny when I do it!)

(The captain and kaptain square off. Kaptain K. Rool brandishes his minigun. Before he can do anything, however, the Mii Sailor slaps the weapon out of his hands, knocking it into the ocean. A valiant effort, if futile. K. Rool Forward Smashes her into orbit. He then readies his boxing gloves.)

Kaptain Krusha K. Rool: Compared to me, even without firearms, you are just a CROC of shit!

*sitcom laugh*

Captain Petey: (That’s what YOU think. Watch this!)

(He charges up a Forward Smash of his own… and smacks K. Rool with his leaf. It barely scratches the croc’s thick hide.)

Kaptain Krusha K. Rool: …

(He responds with a punch of his own, knocking Petey onto his back.)

Kaptain Krusha K. Rool: Time to return you to the dirt, plant boy!

(He charges up his Forward Smash to the max. Before he can make good on his word, however…)

*SPLAT!*

(He is squished into a FLAT FUCK!)

(The Mii Sailor is standing above him, holding her raft atop her head. Captain Petey joins her at the side.)

Captain Petey: (…We win!)

(Both he and the Mii Sailor jump up in joy as a victory fanfare plays.)

(Source: BagelBoy)

#incorrect quotes #smash bros #submission #petey piranha #King K Rool #Super Mario #Donkey Kong #super smash bros

[cina-full-moon-xanadium]

I loved Blazars first ep but yeah I gotta admit that he constant grunts got on my nerves

i don't mind that he constantly does it it's just how it was voiced didn't work for me. i guess i was looking for something more weird or unintelligible but what i got was like... duck noises or something idk