#the quack pot

[ransiquack]

Those gurrls!! Human au again and also my first time drawing a wheelchair forreal! Any criticism or advice is greatly appreciated! 👍

#bean x mora #morabean #yuri #lmao #disenchantment #disenchantment netflix #the quack pot #fanart #bean disenchantment #mora the mermaid #my art #my recovery from part 5 #wheelchair user mora

[i-quack-about-lucifo]

These guys again :)) 👍

#don’t really like that lil comic but whateva #I love shading like this it’s so fun :) #fluff for delusion fuel :) #disenchantment #luci x elfo #lucifo #the quack pot

[picory]

mom sent me a cute cat video and this guy was in the corner reacting to it. who the hell is this whimsical man and why can't i be him

#well he sure is rocking that cooking pot #quacks

[chillykitty]

um so if you have pots (or think you could have pots) and/or you feel pretty woozy/sick/out of it after exercising for a lil bit even if your drinking a lot, you might be overheating. pots makes it harder for your body to regulate temperature and overheating worsens pots symptoms.

anyway the salution is to have an ice pack on hand and to ice the back of your neck or your head whenever you feel off (it can mean stopping every 30 seconds to ice but at least I don't feel like death)

#sasha caws #pots syndrome #idk if i actually have pots but if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck and gets presyncope when it stands up #like. a duck. thats how the saying goes #anyone who feels woozy whenever they exercise. try this

[pahtoosh]

hii hii

can you pretty please do an imagine where daddy lee is having playtime tickles with the little!reader (little age between a baby and two years old; like still in diapers) and lee knows they love ducks so when he baths the little he quacks at them

and when he goes to put the little to bed the little is jumping on the bed so he tickles them some more but he eventually feeds them a bottle and sings them five little ducks?

sorry if that’s confusing

🍼

ducks and baths

masterlist

18+

wc: 780 words

warnings: lee carries reader, mentions of wearing a diaper, lee gives you a bath, written on my phone while very sleepy

a/n: not confusing at all! ive never written for babyspace before, this was fun to try! please leave any feedback you may have. i would love to get better at this

pairing: lee bodecker x gn!little!reader

summary: Lee’s little is in babyspace. he plays with you before giving you a bath and a bottle.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Lee ate his dinner while you played on the floor by his feet. He liked it better when you were in your play area with the cushioned mat and nets to keep you in, but you needed to be close to your daddy.

You would cry whenever he set you down and walked away. Finally, he put a blanket down on the kitchen floor with some toys and let you knock down blocks as he watched. Occasionally, he would reach down and make a really tall block tower for you to knock down. He loved hearing your giggles when the colorful wood squares came tumbling down on the fleece-covered linoleum.

You’d already had a bottle, because Lee insisted on feeding you before himself. Even if he spent all day at the station, he’d make sure his baby was taken care of before he even thought about himself. He finished his chicken pot pie and washed the dishes before coming to sit on the floor and play with you for a bit.

He kept making block towers and acting shocked when you knocked them over. He made so many silly faces and gave you a little kiss whenever you laughed, he just couldn’t help himself.

Before Lee knew it, it was getting late.

“C’mon, button. ‘S time for yer bath.” He held out his hands, expecting you to raise your arms so he could pick you up. “Arms up, sugar.”

You looked at your daddy and held out a block.

“No bath, huh? My baby doesn’t want a bath?”

You giggled.

“Well that jus’ won’t do.” Lee tickled you under your chin, making you laugh and squirm. “Stinky babies get tickled, you still wanna be stinky, huh? Still wanna refuse tha bath?”

While being tickled, you managed to say “Baaa.”

Lee stopped tickling you and held your chin in his hands. “What’s that? Ya wanna take a bath now?” He used his hold on your chin to make you nod. “Alright, let’s getcha clean.”

This time, you let Lee pick you up.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡

The water was perfectly warm and bubbly by the time Lee placed you in the tub. He tossed in your rubber duckies, grinning at your excited squeals.

Both of you loved bath toys. You loved playing with them and seeing the toys bob up and down in the water. It was especially fun bringing a duck to the very bottom of the tub and watching it rush to the top. Lee would also put bubbles on the ducks to make them look like they had beards or tall hair.

Lee loved the toys because it kept you entertained while he washed your skin and hair. Toys were also a fun way to bond with your little self. Lee would make an absolute fool of himself just to make sure you laugh and have fond memories of playing with him.

“What’s a duckie say, baby?”

“Wah!”

“That’s right, they say quack.”

You giggled.

“Ya think that’s funny? Quack quack.” Lee grabbed a few of your duckies and made them quack at each other. He ended the “duck fight” by dunking them in the water so they could calm down. Then, he traded the situation for a more peaceful playtime with the ducks swimming in harmony.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡

The water got cold and bath time was over. Lee patted you dry with a fluffy towel and put lotion and an overnight diaper on you before topping it off with a lightweight onesie. It was still summer in Knockemstiff, so he didn’t want anything that was too warm for you. You usually preferred onesies at night; the compression helped you to sleep and Lee would just change you in the morning when it got hotter.

Lee took a quick shower while you sat on the couch. He rarely let you watch TV, but he turned on the cartoon channel to make sure you didn’t go anywhere. You weren’t catching much of the screen anyway with how sleepy you were getting.

A few too many slow blinks left you leaned on the armrest with the corner of a blanket in your mouth. Lee finished his shower and chuckled to himself when he saw you chewing on the fabric. He gently removed it from your mouth and picked you up, carrying you to the rocking chair.

Lee ensured you were comfortable and reached for the bedtime bottle he prepared after his shower.

“Open up, baby. There ya go,” he whispered.

Lee softly kissed your forehead and rocked the chair as you drank. You fell asleep in your daddy’s arms while he hummed a tune.

#lee bodecker x little!reader #daddy!lee bodecker x little!reader #oneshot #fluff #bath time #babyspace #sfw regression #agere fic #ducks and baths #ducks-and-baths #toosh writes #requests

[yeonshy]

८. ･ ͙．h͟i͟s͟p͟a͟n͟i͟c͟ u͟s͟e͟r͟n͟a͟m͟e͟s͟ ᰍ ｡ ͘ ᳞ ✽

siamiau -> from "siamés" (siamese) and "miau" (meow)

florbitas -> from "flor" and "órbitas" (orbits)

cceleser -> from "celeste" (light blue, although some people consider light cyan to be celeste as well) and "ser" (to be)

amanevar -> from "amanecer" (sunrise) and "nevar" (to snow) / "ama nevar" in a sentence would mean "it loves to snow", it doesn't make that much sense

rosartw -> from "rosa" (pink/rose) and "arte" (art)

espiraal -> from "espiral" (spiral)

mortrellas -> from "morir" (to die) and "estrellas" (stars)

ciello -> from "cielo" (sky) and "ello" (it)

vainilluv -> from "vainilla" (vanilla) and "lluvia" (rain)

yuuyom -> from "yuyo" (tall grass)

arosque -> from "aros" (rings) and "bosque" (forest/woods)

irisaurios -> from "iris" (iris) and "-saurios" (-saurus)

fresata-da -> from "fresa" (strawberry) and "chocolatada" (chocolate milk), also "ta-da!" sounds very cute

adoramita -> from "adorable" (adorable) and "ramita" (little branch)

michispita -> from "michi" (cute and playful way of refering to a cat, similar to kitty but applies to cats of all ages) and "chispita" (little sparkle) / "mi chispita" in a sentence would mean "my sparkle"

findelmndo -> from "fin del mundo" (the end of the world)

cuervns -> from "cuervo" (crow) and "venus"

cielotonno -> from "cielo" (sky) and "otoño" (autumn/fall)

calicorr -> from "calico" and "licor" (liquor)

aneptesiaa -> from "anestesia" (anesthesia) and "neptuno" (neptune)

ppoemitas -> from "poemitas" (little poems)

verdeaagua -> from "verde" (green) and "agua" (water) / "verde agua" is a color very similar to cyan, that leans more towards the green side

arenastr -> from "arena" (sand) and "asteroide" (asteroid"

caramelizzado -> from "caramelizado" (caramelized)

marteclech -> from "marte" (mars) and "té con leche" (milk tea)

conejarritos -> from "conejo" (rabbit/bunny) and "jarritos" (little jars/pots)

teeladow -> from "té helado" (iced tea)

cuaptito -> from "cuak" (quack) and "patito" (little duck)

poesiams -> from "poesía" (poetry) and "siamés" (siamese)

oojotrq -> from "ojo" (eye) and "turquesa" (torquoise)

jardindeestrellas -> from "jardín de estrellas" (star garden)

#☆ user ideas #random users #cute usernames #tumblr users #twitter users #usernames #user ideas #soft users #messy users #short users #aesthetic usernames

[bleue-flora]

Ummmmmm…. What?!?!! Omg!… I was rewatching Bad’s visit to Dream in the prison and what do I find but a conversation about living conditions and torture with Quackity! Wtf?!!

It’s too long of a clip, so here’s the time stamp 33:34-36:06.

And I did my best to transcribe it (but dang it’s hard when they talk over each other):

B: “I’ll talk to Quack—oh Quackity he’s studying to be a lawyer! We can get Quackity’s opinion.”

Q: ”Hi Bad.”

B: “Hi. Umm question for you. So you—you know Deam right?”

Q: ”Yeah…”

B: ”Yeah you know how he’s like in jail right now.”

Q: “Mm—hmm”

B: “Do you think it’d be too much to ask to go around and like try to improve like his living conditions in the prison? Like what do you think?”

Q: “Improve his living conditions?…”

B: “Yeah like I went and visited—have you visited him in the prison yet?”

Q: “Yeah yeah. no I—I haven’t—I have no reason to visit him right now… Oh, let me get this straight: improve his living conditions as in maybe like add a wall around him uhh probably bully him for awhile you know—”

B: “Na—noo!”

Q: “You know kind of like how he did with L’manberg?”

B: “Nooo!—that’s the opposite.”

Q: “Because that’s exactly what he did with L’manberg. You know what? You know what? You’re right—”

B: ”Oh my gosh…”

Q: “I could improve his living conditions—”

B: “Quackity—no!”

Q: “By boxing him in a goddamn box!”

B: “Language! Woah woah—woah.”

Q: “Yea I—I probably could do that.”

B: “Language. language. language.”

Q: “Sorry…”

B: “That’s all right.”

Q: “Maybe I could improve his living conditions like that. Maybe I could do that—”

B: “No no no-No no no.”

Q: “Maybe you’re right.”

B: “Listen, you gotta go visit him. Okay? You know what? I’m not even gonna say it I’m just saying you gotta go and visit him on one of your streams. Okay? Because—”

Q: “Oh I am. No no no believe me—believe me I’m going to.”

B: “At some point go visit him cuz—”

Q: “Oh I’m going to.”

B: “And you’ll see exactly what I’m saying then we can like discuss it. Okay?”

Q: “What—what is this? Did he—did he manipulate you? What—what did he tell you?—”

B: “No!”

Q: “Why are you acting all of the sudden so nice to him?”

B: “Look obviously Dream deserves to stay there cuz he did a lot of bad things, right?”

Q: “Mm—hmm.”

B: “But—doesn’t mean we should like—keep him in there and just have him like tortured all the time like even—”

Q: “No no, not right—not right—”

B: “No, that is right!”

Q: “No, I think that’s exactly what he deserves.”

B: ”Oh come on—”

Q: ”No no I think that’s exactly what he deserves.”

B: “Even Dream has rights as a prisoner. Right? You’re a lawyer.”

Q: “I’m sorry I’m sorry but I don’t recall Dream having any mercy on us when—”

B: “Well, yeah he didn’t but—”

Q: “He put that wall around us—”

B: “Okay..”

Q: “And he pulled all those things to Tubbo and—”

B: “Okay…”

Q: “W—why do you want to release him?”

B: “No one’s talking about releasing him!”

Q: “Okay.”

B: “I’m talking about giving him like a potted plant! Just don’t torture him while he’s locked up—he’s been locked up enough…You feel me?”

Q: “No, Bad—”

B: “Like he’s been—he’s suffering.”

#omg omg omg #Quackity be thinking about torture for ages before he finally gets to… jeeeeeeeez #aghhanjdjemsbjdns! this is giving me brain damage I swear…. #bad calls him to get help to fight for better conditions for dream… the irony!!!!!! #bad is so wholesome… #pandora's vault #c!dream #c!quackity #c!badboyhalo #dsmp #dreblr #dream smp #pandora’s vault has a singular purpose #thought you outta know #dishing up lore #this is fine

[inkykeiji]

Cant stop thinking about 26. Sickness + flawless!Tomura

prompt: sickness warnings: daddy kink without the kinkiness, mention of drugs, tomu is a brat as always words: 832

A stifled sigh sits heavy and stagnant in Kurogiri’s chest, tender hands rearranging the damp washcloth folded over Tomura’s forehead, fingers brushing back stray strands of silver. A beep sounds from within his pocket, and he reaches for the thermometer shoved in Tomura’s mouth, glass clicking against his teeth as Kurogiri removes it, that suppressed sigh finally escaping his nostrils. 

A fever of 101 degrees.

“I’m fine,” Tomura snaps, but it comes out as more of a whine, stringy and petulant. “Just gimme another bump and I’ll be good as new, promise.” 

“This isn’t a cocaine withdrawal, Tomura,” Kurogiri says sharply, narrowed eyes glancing at his charge for a moment before refocusing on the glass thermometer between his fingers. “Though you’re going to get one of those, too, if this sickness progresses.” 

“What?” 

“You’re ill,” Kurogiri responds flatly. “A virus of some sort is my guess, though I’ll have Doctor Garaki stop by immediately to confirm.”  

“No,” Tomura groans out the word long and drawn, head banging against the pillow, fluffy silver tufts bouncing with the motion. “Not that quack again.” 

“He’ll be here in an hour or less.” 

Despite Tomura’s protests, Doctor Garaki does arrive in under an hour, murmuring to a grumbling Tomura that he’ll only be a moment, and verifies Kurogiri’s suspicions within fifteen minutes. 

“It is, indeed, a virus,” he tells you as he closes the door to Tomura’s bedroom. “Nothing to be too concerned about; it should sort itself out in a few days or so. Lots of rest, lots of fluids. If his fever climbs any higher, call an ambulance.” 

On the other side of the door, Tomura lays restless in his bed, legs twitching and tangled in the heavy comforter, face scrunched in irritated discomfort as he shifts, flopping from his back onto his side with more aggression than necessary.

“Baby,” he whimpers when he notices you’ve entered, arms outstretched and yearning, a deep pout etched into his face. “Come cuddle with Daddy.” 

You do as your told, ever his good girl, supposing that even Daddies need comfort from their little babies from time to time, too. 

He latches onto you the moment you’re close enough, pulling you down and hugging you to his chest, his own personal teddy. He doesn’t look well, eyes sunken and encased in a sickly purple, normally chapped lips cracked open and embellished with dried blood, skin sallow and clammy, having lost most of it’s natural colour. Clumps of silver, damp with cold sweat, cling to his forehead, teeth chattering together delicately, jaw flexing as he tries to stifle the movement. 

Frowning, your fingers find the hinges of his jaw, rubbing gentle circles into them. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Like shit,” he huffs, nose scrunching up. “I hate this. My whole body fucking hurts; I feel like someone took a sledgehammer to my bones and smashed them to bits.” 

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” you say, sighing a little as you feel his muscles loosen beneath your touch. “How can I help?” 

“Just...Stay here with me,” he murmurs, voice having already lost its caustic edge, exhaustion seeping through his words and turning them wispy. “Jus’want you close.”

And so, you do. 

Kurogiri is awe-inspiring in his ability to anticipate Tomura’s every want and need, a skill honed and sharpened to perfection over years of nurturing and raising the man, brewing a pot of homemade chicken noodle soup in addition to a whole pitcher of lemonade—a desperate attempt to keep Tomura adequately hydrated, since he refuses to drink plain water, vehemently claiming that it tastes like poison, face screwing up dramatically every time you or Kurogiri succeed in getting him to take a sip.

Even as Tomura’s brattiness intensifies with the worsening of his illness, Kurogiri stays mostly unperturbed, a special type of fondness saturating his features, laced with the slightest hint of typical exasperation. His tired eyes are kind, his soothing voice stern yet soft around the edges, his slim fingers gentle as they fluff pillows and pat sweat and tip glasses to withering lips.

You want to help, too, but Tomura won’t let you, demanding that you stay in bed with him and tend to his more pressing needs—massaging his throbbing temples and running delicate fingers through his now stringy hair and tracing nonsensical patterns across his sticky skin, tender ministrations smoothing out ragged breathing and hushing down sulky complaints.

Kurogiri promises you that it’s fine—he’s alright, he doesn’t need any assistance, really—and claims that you’re doing more good than he ever could with just your placating presence alone, lulling a grousing Tomura into a state of liminality, half-conscious and wavering between states of aching insomnia and fitful sleep.

“This is the calmest I’ve ever seen him while sick,” Kurogiri admits to you, voice barely above a whisper, as Tomura sleeps with his head in your lap. “Honestly, it makes caring for him abundantly easier. You’re the best medicine the Doctor could have prescribed.”

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki fluff #shigaraki tomura fluff #thank you for sending in a prompt anon!!! i really appreciate it!! #pls enjoy this hehe he's so cute #have a wonderful tuesday n stay safe! #flawless universe #inky.bb #clari gets mail #inky.prompts

[just-another-siimp]

Epilogue

Warnings: Brief mention of war, injuries and anxiety, alcohol use, poor fire safety, lots of smooches (16+), lots of fluff, a ton of fluff.

Authors Note: This is is, the Enemy at the Gate series is finally done! All this is is self indulgent fluffy. Pairing below the cut!

Word Count: 2k

Enemy at the Gate || Alone || Prison Break || Epilogue

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x Reader

The months following Las Almas blurred into one, with Hassan dead and Makarov crawling out of the rafters like the cockroach that he was, there was so much work to be done. Laswell had other plans for the 141st, forcing a mandatory leave period of 6 weeks. Allowing everyone to heal both mentally and physically. For some of you returning home was a secret blessing, it allowed opportunities for hidden relationships to bloom behind drawn curtains. Not that your relationship was hidden from the 141st, they were the people you trusted with your life so it was only natural that they knew. It was either that or have them find out, and they always find out. 

For you home is a cottage on the outskirts of Metz, allowing the beauty of the French countryside to swallow you whole. At first you’d thought the choice to move to France of all places would be something you’d regret, yet there had been nothing but happy memories made in the cottage you and your beloved called home. While you’d been away the seasons had changed, summer had been in full swing, the Apricot trees in the back garden had been full of the sweet fruit. Now it was covered in snow, the flowers had died long ago, leaves fallen to the ground below long before you’d even thought of home. Yet under a blanket of white, it was still your favourite place to be. 

-

Soft quacks could be heard just outside your kitchen window, peaking out from the frosted glass you caught sight of your two favourite trouble makers. Henry and Gale, a pair of ducks that belonged to your neighbour but always had a habit of venturing over to your cottage. They supplied a pleasant background noise as you kneaded dough, even in the cold weather it was easy to build up a sweat. Your arm still ached, bullet wound leaving a nasty scar despite the neat stitching. After a few more weeks it would be back to normal but for now you dealt with the ache, covering the bowl with a damp towel before leaving the dough to proof. 

The kitchen was an organised mess, Stew bubbling away in it’s pot atop the stove while vegetables soaked in water waiting to be formed into something that resembled a salad. The cupboard was fully stocked with snacks, both sweet and savoury. Outside in the garage there was a fridge filled with beer, amongst other drinks. Next to it a pile of firewood had been stacked sky high, your neighbour (the owner of Henry and Gale) had kept it well stocked in exchange for Apricots from your tree. Staring at the fridge you looked at the list you’d written, there wasn’t a lot left to do before the boys arrived but still you paced the kitchen anxiously. 

Gale’s quacking was interrupted by a car engine as it pulled into the driveway, a flurry of snow and wings indicated that the pair had flown away spooked by the slam of a car door. Suddenly you remembered you were supposed to be resting, you’d promised not to do anything on your own and allow your arm a chance to heal without extra strain. There wasn’t time to hide the evidence, front door creaking open reminding you that it needed to be oiled before Price arrived. He’d go full handyman and try finding other things to fix if you didn’t. 

“Babe, I’m home! You’d never believe what I found at the store today-” Your heart skipped a beat hearing his voice, excitement already welling up in your chest. The kitchen door swung open and you attempted to look as though you’d just been standing in the kitchen for no reason. “Hey- you’re supposed to be resting!”

“Oh hey.. Gaz- you’re back home early!” The way he was staring at you was a clear indication that your goose was indeed cooked, as he placed the bags down. Reaching out to you he pulled you closer, hand reaching up to cup your cheek before brushing flour off of your nose. Ah, so you’d really been caught red handed.

“Is this how you feel when you catch one of us working when we’re supposed to be resting?” He asked softly, lips pressed to your forehead as he pulled you into him. It was hard not to melt into his embrace, breathe in his cologne as his hands trailed down to your waist leaving warmth in his wake. 

“Oh it’s incredibly frustrating to see.” You murmured softly into the crook of his neck, leaning all of your weight into him with a content sigh. It was nice to have him home, even if he was only gone for a couple of hours. “Especially when the Captain falls asleep at his desk in the process.”

You’re both laughing at that, Gaz leaning down a little further lips pressing to yours in a sweet kiss. Fingers pressing flush into the back of your thighs tapping once as if to say ‘up’, the movement was effortless as he lifted you onto the counter. Fingers curled into his hair, still slightly damp from the snow he must’ve been caught in while he was out. His lips tasted faintly of chocolate, your brow furrowed and you pulled away. 

“Did you have hot chocolate without me?” Guilt was written all over his face, his fingers traced gentle circles into your sides trying to soften you up. “I can’t believe you.” 

“They were handing out cups for free! How could I say no?” 

“Easily.” He kissed your nose, you pouted at him trying to hide the smile that threatened to break out on your face. Gaz knew you weren’t really angry at him, how could you be? When you didn’t say anything he trailed kisses across your cheek and down your jaw, coaxing a whine from your lips. “Kyle.. I’m trying to be angry at you.” 

“Guess I’ll just have to take the coco powder they were selling back to the store.” You tried turning to the paper bag that sat forgotten on the kitchen counter next to you, his right hand rested on the side of your neck. Thumb grazing your chin before grasping it gently, keeping your focus on him. “The marshmallows too.” 

“Giant Marshmallows?” 

“Of course, biggest I could find.” 

“Why didn’t you say so sooner?” Before he could respond you’d pulled him closer, eyes fluttering shut as you both lost yourselves in the kiss. It was often like this after deployment, there was no looming threat or unwanted eyes on either of you. In this little bubble of the world you could both cherish the little moments and the silly moments just like this one. 

The rest of the morning was spent in the kitchen, with you sat at a bar stool while Gaz worked on perfecting his stew refusing to let you do anything to help. This time you listened to his ‘orders’ laughing when he mocked you, scolding you just as you did to him and the others when they didn’t rest. Elbows rested on the cool countertop, your chin resting on the palm of your hand was you watched him cook. Hot chocolate with a comically large marshmallow floating within it partially forgotten. 

-

Snow crunched beneath your feet, cool air nipping at exposed skin as you shuffled out to the wood pile. There were some things that Gaz couldn’t stop you from helping with, like a puppy you’d followed him out into the snow not taking no for an answer. He still wouldn’t let you carry the wood, instead allowing you to light the fire and only because you’d hidden the matches from him. 

“You could’ve at least put gloves on.” He said walking towards you, firewood piled in his arms. “Can you grab the axe for me, love?” 

“Why wear gloves when you can hold my hand?” There was a pep in your step as you grabbed the axe off of the wall, true intentions hidden behind a giddy smile as you followed him to the designated wood cutting stump. “One axe, ready and willing to serve. Sir!” 

“Are you having a sugar high?” 

“Hmm maybe.” 

“That hot chocolate is pretty good, I bet even Ghost will like it.” You watched as he removed his jacket, wrapping it over your shoulders before taking the axe from your waiting hands. That reminded you, looking at the time it wouldn’t be long before the others arrived. The dough was only half way through it’s second proof, there were still blankets that needed to be pulled from cupboards for whoever crashed on the couch and neither you or Kyle had made the salad. The first crack of axe meeting wood pulled you from your thoughts, this was the real reason you’d come outside just to watch Gaz at work. 

-

Ghost was the first to arrive, he wore the usual skull balaclava which really made the bright pink box of chocolates in his arms stand out more. You would’ve laughed but he didn’t give you the chance, shoving the box into your arms and walking into the cottage not without ruffling your hair on the way. You could hear Gaz greeting him in the kitchen, their voices muffled by the kitchen door as it closed again. The sun had set roughly an hour ago, leaving the surrounding area covered in darkness. There was no reason for you to be standing at the door still, yet you couldn’t stop looking into the black searching for something that wasn’t there. 

“Chip.” You almost screamed, whirling around to face Ghost with a half hearted glare. He shot you an apologetic look, reaching past you to turn on the front garden lights. Illuminating the darkness, revealing Gale and Henry snuggled together under the bench. “It’s just the ducks, nothings gonna come crawling out of the shadows here.” 

“I know.” You whispered softly, stepping away from the door and closing it. Ignoring how the cold seemed to settle in your bones despite the fireplace being well lit. Ghost had forced you to show him to the livingroom despite him knowing exactly where it was, distracting you from what lurked in the shadows. 

-

Price and Soap had arrived together, the Captain having picked up John in london before driving the rest of the way. They both planned to stay a few days, using it as an excuse to stay at their home away from home. Not that you or Gaz were complaining, it was nice to have the extra company especially because it meant getting to listen to Soap butcher french with his thick Scottish accent. Ghost would most likely be gone by morning, he wasn’t the type to stick around for long but you always made him promise to take some leftovers home. 

The five of you surrounded the fire pit, Soap standing a bit too close to comfort as he tipped his head back downing another Guava Cruiser. Your home was one of the only places where he’d drink something other than beer or a strong spirit, in private where none of you judged further than shitty banter. These types of gatherings didn’t happen often, it was a chance for everyone to relax. As always Gaz’s cooking was the main star of the show, matched with the fresh bread you’d made that afternoon it was a real treat. Even Ghost had taken Gaz up on the offer of a hot coco (mind you it had a shot of peppermint liquour and no marshmallow, sorta disappointing really) from where he stood next to Soap he seemed to be enjoying it. Even if he had to stop the Scot from falling into the fire. 

None of you worried about what battles were next to come.

Tag List: @komorebiiiiiiii @mauveserpent @mydogeatscoffeecups @reiya-djarin @underatreedrinkingtea @blueoorchid @poohkie90 @kult6 @watermaylon-writes @boxofgasoline @cumbersome-robes @frazie99 @bowserowser @urfavsunkissedleo @kyuupidwrites @omgitstatertot @justpeachiixx @trashy-panda777 @msecho19 @spinkeydinkey @whoreforhorror

#simon ghost riley #john mactavish #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kate laswell #alejandro vargas #rudy parra #phillip graves #modern warefare ii #call of duty mw2 #modern warfare x reader #call of duty x reader #there are ducks #they're based off of ducks that used to live at my old school #i miss them lol #BUT YEAH ITS GAZ BITCHES #YALL THOUGHT WRONG #Thank you to everyone who reads this #pls like and reblog #simp writes

[ransiquack]

Smthn about satan’s son, loss of autonomy and freedom and yadda yadda, you get it (click for better quality)

#why would they do that to him #my life is ruined #disenchantment #disenchantment netflix #the quack pot #fanart #luci disenchantment #disenchantment part 5 #pretty lazy piece but also I’m crying

[i-quack-about-lucifo]

Those gay beasts

#lucifo #luci x elfo #the quack pot #disenchantment

[richardmoonstreet]

They are BACK! 🦆

The long awaited return of my @hausofhonk mugs have landed today in many many many boxes and my arms hurt a lot 😵‍💫 thankyou SO MUCH for your patience, I've had these available on pre-order since January and I know there's some long awaited honkery on the way to many of you.

If you're new around here too, allow me to reintroduce what this army of ducks is all about! Haus of Honk is my ceramic spin-off where I design items but don't craft them myself. Unlike Richard Moonstreet (where everything is hand made by me 100% from start to finish) the Haus collection is factory-made to my design. Not only does this mean all the productions are dishwasher, food and microwave-safe, but crucially it allows me to get duck silliness out there to folk who may not always have the means to pay the higher prices that comes with more labour-intensive handmade buddies. Plus they are more useful too! You can't drink your tea out of a Silly Goose or a Quackson Pollock (well you can but he'd be cross)

I've put a website discount on all Haus of Honk goodies to celebrate the launch (because I also do plant pots!).Happy honking ♥️ and please feel free to tag a pal who may want a quack in the kitchen 💌

#duck #mug #goose #silly #gift

[uncaaj]

Fanfic: Donald’s International Houseboat of Pancakes (DuckTales)

READ NOW ON AO3!

Donald returned to reality from the gentle caress of dreamland and came face to face with a head of blonde curls attached to an elongated bill, staring intently as if he were waiting for him to wake up for hours. Donald quacked in shock and shot backwards right into the headboard. He grabbed his head and moaned in pain. It was way too early for a migraine, especially when the first goose he laid eyes on today, Gladstone Gander, was so adept at inducing them in him.

“Yeesh,” Gladstone winced. “Bad dreams, D-Money?”

“No, but I must be having one right now,” Donald grumbled as low as he could so Gladstone wouldn’t hear. He met his cousin’s gaze, the corners of his bill curled down. “What are you doing in my boat and why are you sitting on my belly?”

Gladstone shrugged. “Hey, can’t a guy have the freedom to drop in on his cousin whenever he wants?” He moved his hands behind his back innocently.

“Not when he barges into my bedroom at- what time is it?” Donald fumbled for his alarm clock, arm not quite reaching it.

“Breakfast time, Donny,” grinned Gladstone.

Donald stopped grasping at the air above his nightstand, looked at his annoyingly lucky cousin, and flopped onto the bed, sighing long and exasperated. “I shoulda known…”

“Shoulda known what?” Gladstone asked, obviously feigning ignorance.

“Shoulda known that Mr. Free Ride would only invade my personal sanctuary to grab a breakfast he didn’t have to cook himself.”

“Not true! Although since you’re offering…” Gladstone tapped his index fingers together.

Donald exhaled through his teeth. A moment of silence took hold, and then, “Whaddaya want, cuz?”

“Ooh! Pancakes! You make the best griddle cakes this side of Audubon Bay!” Gladstone licked his beak with hungry excitement.

Donald shook his head at Gladstone, contemplating briefly whether to grant his cousin’s request or to just kick the layabout loafer to the curb. It wouldn’t be the first time. Sadly, his greater conscience won out. “Okay, I’ll make you pancakes.”

He shoved Gladstone to the side, off his belly and onto the floor. Yawning a great yawn and stretching to the sky, he woke up as much as he could before scooting out of bed and away from his cousin.

Standing up and adjusting his green polyester suit, Gladstone shook his head. “Someone’s obviously not a morning chicken…” he mumbled, following his cousin out into the houseboat’s kitchen.

Taking a seat at the bar, he reacquainted with Donald at the far counter, who was grinding beans for the morning cuppa joe. The duck seemed to move with purpose despite his sleepy stupor as he popped into the pantry while the grinder made its racket. The noise died as Donald reemerged with a red plastic container marked “pancake mix.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Gladstone began to protest, “I didn’t come all this way just to be fed some Betty Quacker hotcake-in-a-box.”

“It’s homemade mix. I make it ahead.” Donald set the container down and shot Gladstone a glare. “And who’s the cook here?”

Gladstone paused. “That a trick question?”

“No, it’s me. So hush.” Donald turned away and proceeded to pour the coffee grinds into a filter. He placed the filter inside his coffeemaker and topped it off with water. Replacing the pot, he switched on the coffeemaker. It wasn’t long before the air around them was filled with the soothing aroma of affordable national brand brown bean water.

Gladstone shifted in his seat as his sleep-deprived cousin dumped a cup of the mix into a plastic bowl. It left a cloud of dust hovering over the dry amalgam of powders. Donald then dipped into the fridge and grabbed a bottle of buttermilk and an egg.

“Pray tell, cuz,” said Donald, cracking the egg into a well he dug in the mix with his finger, “why make me cook for you when there are a thousand restaurants across town that’ll wine and dine you as their ‘millionth customer’ or whatever?”

“C’mon, Donny! That’s too easy! I could do that any other day. My cousin’s pancakes are one of a kind.”

Donald’s brow furrowed slightly as he turned away to pour out the coffee for them both. He handed Gladstone the steaming mug and said, “Next thing you’re gonna tell me ‘love’ is what sets my cooking apart, huh?”

Gladstone sipped. “Can’t be a cliche if it’s not wrong.”

“Flattery won’t getcha everywhere, cuz.”

“It’s gotten me here.”

“...touché.” Donald took a sip himself, then set the coffee down so he could pop the top off the buttermilk and pour a good glug into the mixture. 

He knew precisely why Gladstone had called on him this morning. It was his vengeful spirit against his lucky cousin that wanted the goose to say it out loud. So before breakfast preparation went too far, before Donald could be the good cousin he knew he was, Gladstone would have to pay the proverbial toll.

He took the whisk to the mixture with vim and vigor. As soon as it was just mixed, he set it down to his right and set his elbows on the counter, propping his head on his hands. “Bad day, cuz?”

The code phrase was out.

Gladstone’s beak opened slightly, and his eyes darted in opposite directions. No matter how cool and suave he was, his poker face was nonexistent among his family, and Donald knew it.

“What? N-nah! Everything’s hunky-dory! Why, heh, why wouldja...think that?” Gladstone was twiddling his thumbs. 

Donald sent him a knowing look. “Gladstone...I can read you like an issue of Lookie mag.”

Gladstone clutched at invisible pearls. “Ugh! Why must you hurt me so, dear cuz?”

“Dunno. It’s just my nature.” Donald narrowed his eyes and grinned like a Cheshire Cat.

For how uncomfortable his cousin made him in trying to keep this front up, Gladstone still felt safe and free to tell the truth to him. And that was the hardest part. He wasn’t worried about Donald. He could take it. He dealt with demons of his own. He would understand the most. But Gladstone couldn’t take it. 

His luck had brought him the highest of highs in life, but all too often, it was not enough to mask his inner sadness, an emptiness that couldn’t seem to be filled. And how pathetic was that? The struggle of reckoning with having everything and still being unhappy left him wallowing the day away in bed too many times. It had taken everything in him to get dressed and call on Donald today. And he still felt like he had to play his charming, upper-crust character to him. He felt he had to look like he had everything together to everyone, especially with his family. But Donald could see the cracks, and Gladstone knew it. Suddenly, he didn’t have the will to deny it anymore.

He slumped against the counter and sighed. “Yeah,” he mumbled, “Not doin’ too good today, cuz.”

Donald looked him straight in the eye. “Thanks for telling me.” 

His comforting gaze brought some warmth back to Gladstone, and he found the energy to grin back. “Thanks for giving me the time o’ day.”

“That’s what family’s for.”

That was so very true, and Gladstone felt that fact truly made him the luckiest goose in the world.

Returning to the task at hand, Donald put a pan on the stove to heat. He removed the whisk from the batter and tossed it in the sink, a ladle taking its place. A knob of butter replaced the aroma of coffee with its sweet, nutty comfort as it sizzled in the pan. Swirling it briefly, Donald grabbed the bowl and ladled a heaping spoon of batter from it onto the pan. It cascaded in a thick stream to pool into a delicious, puffy circle, the butter crackling all around it.

Gladstone peered over the counter to see better. “Sooooo what’s the secret here, Don-o-Rama?”

“Love.”

Gladstone stuck his tongue out. “Sure, sure, we all love that ol’ cliche. What’s really going on here?”

Donald chuckled. “Well, you really gotta control your heat. Some people would demand you use a thermometer, but I’ve gotten pretty good at telling just by my hand. And it’s gotta be hot enough to cook the inside just perfectly while also giving you that diner golden brown color.”

The pancake surface was comparable to the lunar surface, with its bubbles, craters, and bubbles becoming craters. Donald removed a spatula from the drawer beside the stove and smirked toward Gladstone. The spatula slid easily between the pan and its cake, and when flipped, the cooked side was a gorgeous golden brown, even all over. It was a sight to behold. Gladstone could almost cry, but he held it in, as he knew Donald would never let him live it down. But then, Gladstone had so many ways he could tease Donald that maybe he almost decided to let him have this one.

For all the times they made their rivalry public, Donald vastly preferred these simpler moments. Sure, it was fun to get a leg up on lucky Gladstone whenever he could, but those were quickly forgotten, lost in the ocean of his general anger. The moments that always stuck around to become memories were these quiet, homey moments, where they could just be family, equals by blood. No matter what, that fact would remain.

The pancakes plated and syrup generously drizzled onto the warm beauties, Gladstone and Donald tucked into breakfast.

#ducktales #ducktales 2017 #dt17 #donald duck #disney ducks #duckverse #fanfiction #gladstone gander #fluff #hurt/comfort #pancakes

[halogalopaghost]

venting abt medical stuff, tired so it prolly wont make sense anyway

I sat up to type somethingon my laptop and literally watched the veins in my hands become distended from blood pooling. it makes me mad because a quack "eastern medicine" doctor last year dx'd me with ""chi stagnation"" which is not a fucking thing, first of all, but he literally said my blood was stagnating and a bunch of other shit about my chi and all, and I wrote him off SEVERELY because. Blood stagnation is called LIVIDITY and it happens WHEN YOU DIE. I knew what POTS was at the time, but I hadn't even considered applying it to myself yet. Now a year later I'm waiting to be tested for POTS and self-treating POTS symptoms and like. well fuck. shit. damnb I guess mabye he was onto something.

and like...im just tired, man. everything's getting worse instead of better and I know it's probably becaue I had COVID a second time + autistic burnout is a thing I'm probably experiencing i guess. but I can't control flare ups, I can't control when I sleep or wake, I can't control when I feel nauseous or hungry or when I hurt or feel fine. I can't plan ahead for anything because it's a total crap shoot on whether I'll be capable or not. Not if I feel up to it, but if I'm CAPABLE. my feet have been hurting all day as if I worked a few 12 hour retail shifts in a row, and all I did was take a fifteen minute walk. my hands have turned red from the blood pooling in them now. I haven't slept for more than three or four hours in a row in almost a week. I can't sleep, but I'm exhausted. exercise doesn't help, it just makes my body hurt.

im tired. I haven't written in days because I havent really been capable of thinking in days. my brain fog has been so bad that I can't spell really basic words and it takes forever for me to formulate sentences. even when I do, they tend to be rambling and not make a whole lot of sense. I can't comprehend things im reading. I can't sleep. I tried meds and it didn't help enough. sigh.

#delete later

[alwaysahiccupandastrid]

On my way into the playground to begin work yesterday morning, I found the way cut off by ducks - namely four male ducks and a female. There was one (male) sitting on a hedge (not shown/pictured) but the others were on the path and it was the best thing ever.

The two males in the pictures were following the female around, quacking at her in quite a harassing way; this female already has a mate and at the very beginning of the video, you can see her and her mate leaving the other two by dodging past a pot of plants. The other two lads then looked around rather confused, clearly perplexed not just by the female’s lack of interest but by myself and one of the other staff members filming/watching them in hysterics.

In case it’s not obvious, I absolutely love where I work SO much.

#work #sucks #duck #animals #nature #hampton court #hampton court palace

[evita-shelby]

Memories

Modern!Jack x Eva

Tropes I've combined for this one: modern au, spy au, reincarnation au and soulmate au

Also i this au, the Nelsons are the Kennedys so JFK is JFN

It was exactly as it had been when the famed Nelsons were born.

Everything from the pot on the stove to coats they used to wear.

It was the birthplace of Jack Nelson Jr, the youngest and, so far, only president of Latin American descent.

The house turned museum was a perfect shrine to America’s most perfect president.

And yet the sense of Déjà vu was so fucking strong he felt as if he’d lived here.

Not as JFN nor his identical twin brother as some quacks have claimed, but as something far worse, John Fitzgerald Nelson Sr: the alleged gangster and patriarch of the Nelson Family.

Whatever shit they put in his drink before sending him here was making it worse. A drug to allow as many memories of his previous life to go from vague feelings to the moments he lived.

The Agency needed to know if he was the real thing, and for that he needed to live for a weekend in the house he may have lived in during his past life.

Only he isn’t here alone, the reincarnation of Mrs. Eva Nelson is getting the same treatment as well.

After all the two of you were soulmates, the power couple that birthed the greatest people ever and knew the code to several millions left to the reincarnations of Jack and Eva Nelson.

Granddaddy Lawernce had never forgotten how the Nelsons screwed over his mother, Gina, in the inheritance and that was why Jack Gray was born.

Jack figures Eva Riley was born for the same thing, the Rileys were richer than God and needed this to cover up the numerous scandals the sexy heiress had racked up over the years.

He’d seen her handiwork, when she wasn’t playing the fucked up socialite, Eva was a covert ops agent. So good at it, Jack had gotten hard from watching her take out a mobster disguised as a dominatrix.

To think she was the Catholic and tame wife of his past self.

“Here.” She said offering him Irish Whiskey old enough to have been drunk by Jack Nelson himself. Good shit too, same way he liked it to boot.

“Gotten in character, I see.” Jack notes as he takes a good look at her in an old timey nightgown that left little to the imagination. “If the real one dressed like that every night, no wonder they had nine fucking kids.”

“The OG Eva left everything as it was the day JFN was born and then some more. The pamphlet says it helps jog the memories.” She poured herself a glass and joined them on the kitchen table. “You’d be surprised what I found; they were some kinky fuckers. Surprised OG you only managed to knock her up seven times.”

Nine children, four had been twins and the other five hadn’t. If he didn’t hate kids he’d like to see if he too would make twins on the first try.

“Fancy way of saying we’re roleplaying as them, princess.” Jack grumbled and tried to look at the bright side of it:

A whole weekend of good fucking.

#jack nelson peaky blinders #jack nelson imagine #eva x jack #jack nelson x oc #jack nelson x eva smith #national anthem fic