#Jacob quack

[theinheriteddutchess]

Here it is @welp-heregoessomething

I'm both horrified and amused. And i spend way too much time on this.

[httpseungmxn]

Big Boy

Quackity X Streamer!Female Reader

🍡 - flirty/extra flirty

Authors Note: Hello hello my Angels, I know I promised the Jin fic soon buuuuuut Q posted this photo and everyone, including myself, went wild over it! So I just had to make a fic about it! I have decided to make a new fic category just for this one, flirty/extra flirty! This fic will also play off of the other fics I made about him! I hope you guys can enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it!<3

Warnings: Lanai attempts to get reader canceled:( , Reader is called “hermosa” and “amor”, wee bit of cussing fr this time

Triggers: None as far as I am aware!

You had really come to know Alex over the past few months. Him becoming one of your best friends, especially after it came out that your best friend Lenai had been spreading lies about you. She had gone to Alex first, expecting him to believe her, but that was a big mistake. As soon as he noticed the negative way she was speaking, he hopped on call with you while also helping notify your fans of the girl's lies.

Nightly calls were almost a daily thing between you two, as well as constant facetimes during yours and his visits to the gym. His hat was always left on, despite feeling just a little extra hot, he wasn’t quite ready to show you yet. You fully understood considering you used to hide your face from everyone. 

The closer you got, the more you wanted to visit him. You were bringing much more in than you expected from streaming, so a plane ticket wouldn’t be a problem. You wanted it to be a surprise to Alex though, knowing that would make it more fun. Alex had often talked about you guys meeting in real life, and how exciting it would be. It was decided, you would be booking a flight to see him. You already knew where he lived, having reached out to karl to help you with the surprise. Making him swear he wouldn’t tell alex you were going to see him. The plane ticket was much easier to get than you expected, and packing was done in a matter of hours.

The nerves set in that night after you had finished packing. It was clear to you and the fans that you had a bit of a thing for Alex, and getting to meet him was making you nervous. You always wondered if you should tell him how you felt but was always too scared to let it slip out to him. You had come so close to saying it a few days ago but it just got stuck in your throat.

You hardly slept the night, and as much as you hoped you would sleep on the plane, you didn’t. You were too nervous and excited at the same time. Feeling bad when you had to decline a facetime from alex while you were on the plane, not wanting to spoil the surprise. Though you answered him as soon as you were off the plane and in a taxi. “ hermosa, why didn’t you answer any of my calls before? I thought you were mad at me! “, “ im sorrrryyyy, I was taking a long nap, I’m in a taxi now though “,  “ a taxi? Where are you going, hermosa? “,  smiling to yourself, knowing in just a short while he will know where you are.

That came sooner than you expected though. Getting out of the taxi and making sure the camera is angled directly at your face so he can’t see where you are. “ im just visiting a friend nearby. Hold on just one sec, alex. “. knocking very gently on his door and looking to the camera, nerves setting back in when you see him leave his room. “ someones here, but I didn’t order any pizza. if I die, it was the hut, hermosa. “, unable to hold back a giggle. Looking to the door when it opens and smiling brightly at the boy in front of you. “ guess now you know which friend I’m visiting, huh? “. He didn’t respond at first, probably still trying to process it. Just as you didn’t process what he was doing until you were lifted up into a tight hug.

Smiling brightly as you hugged back. Not even letting go when you were set down. His arms were wrapped to tight around your waist, if you were a balloon you probably would’ve popped by now. You didn’t mind it though, you felt safe in his arms. Your nerves being shooed away with one little hug. “ how the fuck did you manage to surprise me so well, hermosa “ ,  “ you know I like to keep you on your toes, ‘lex “. Smiling again when he lets out a light laugh at your response. 

“ come in, come in, sorry it might be kind of a mess “, Alex spoke as he gathered your bags and carried them inside for you. Only then did you realize just how big he had gotten in the muscle category. Eyes staring at his muscles as they flexed with each movement. “ alex, when the hell did you manage to grow those? “, unable to hold your filter. 

Listening to him laugh again before he flexed his arms to show off for you. “ are you checking me out, amor? “. That was new, he had never called you that before, and it was obvious to him you knew what it meant considering the blush coming to your cheeks. “ now don’t get too ahead of yourself, cowboy, you were the one purposely checking me out on call just five minutes ago “.

“ Did you expect me not too? You look really beautiful in that dress “. That was also new. Alex was constantly teasing you, but the tone in his voice was different now. It sounded so serious and dripped with confidence in how he felt. You found it hard to hold eye contact wit him now. Not even five minutes into the meet up, and alex already had you red.

“ Lets be honest, Amor, surely you didn’t expect me to hold back just because you’d turn all red and yell at me. You being here just means I can let it all out, times ten. “. His smile had you wobbly in the legs, there was something so different about seeing it in person compared to facetime.

Only now did you realize this visit was going to be a lot more different than you expected. 

Alex was going to be the death of you.

Authors ending note; So who else got butterflies reading that? I got jittery and I’m the one writing it! I feel like I’m slowly beginning to get better at portraying him, and thats probably because I study the way a lot of people write him while also paying extra attention to how he is in streams/videos. Perhaps soon we will get a confession, and possibly a hair reveal? Who knowssss, guess you guys will have to just stick around for the next one! Also who else lost their mind over that photo he dropped last night? I’m in the whatsapp and as soon as he sent it, twitter was going absolutely chaotic[myself included]! If you guys wanna follow me on social media, my X is @/f_fuyuma! Until next time, My Angels 🫶

[theinheriteddutchess]

I am very proud and it is absolutely mental.

So....

I have cracked the code!

I ended this life long debate!

Genius if I say so myself!

Proof:

Therefor:

And we even have Seth!

Snailight continues to be a source of well thought out and informative enjoyment.

Do I need to change the titles?🤔 Breaking shell Breaking Wing? New Moon New Molt, Eclipse Plumage

Everything works here!

this is the best day. we've done it.

[skeleton-bees]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY QUACKITY I HOPE HE HAS THE BEST DAY EVER (also out there gettin old/j) OKAY ANYWAY WE KNOW THE DRILL PICTURES

quackity pictures to make everyone smile on this special day

[thelextheluthor]

Ok, so I want to really go in depth with Mary Jayne's character because while I'm really obsessed with Thomas and Varian's relationship, she's an amazing character and I love her.

So, when Mary Jayne first appears, it's a direct contrast of the previous scene. We got a glimpse of one side of the story- refugees fleeing, but also finding a safe (enough) place- one of the many realities of what it's like to be living through the Holocaust and WWII. Then it cuts to her- well-dressed white woman walking her dog, arriving at a nice restaurant.

Mary Jayne is playing a part: naive, care-free American girl who's here with Daddy's money- the most interesting thing about her. And she plays it well, not just in the scene, but throughout the story. It's not just a facade for strangers to look at, though. She says it herself- she's the bank of the operation. And others throughout the story reinforce that belief.

But she's so much more then that. Even in the first scene with her, the one at the restaurant, we see how much she cares about not just saving the intellectuals, which is what the ERC is about, but helping everyone. Far before Varian even considers illegitimate exit visas, Mary Jayne is already paying for stowaways.

Within the first five minutes, we see how much she's doing. She's stealing bread, she's giving away the clothes off her back, writing contact information, paying off Lionel, distributing food at the hotel. Mary Jayne Gold is a mask- but as the viewers, we get to see how that mask comes off and she's just herself.

And as the story progresses, she only does more for others. Even after her father cuts her off, she's selling everything she owns to keep the committee afloat- which, is pretty sad, not just because if the materialistic value of her items, but because as we see far too often, being "the bank" of the ERC is the only thing she thinks she's good at, the only worth that she brings to everyone.

But we know that's not true, and she proves that so many times without realizing it. When she joins Thomas as a spy for the British, especially, is a real turning point for her character development, I believe. Nothing of what she's doing for the British is involving money, but she's helping. Even later when she screws up with the British POWs shes finding a way to fix it, and while she has help with it, she's a leader.

And I do believe that she gets more comfortable with the fact that she does have value to the operation-which personally, makes it heartbreaking for me to see how everyone reacts to the failed plan to get the POWs to Spain. Because they've all messed up. As Varian said, there's no blueprint for what they're doing. This is especially true for her, when the whole time the expectancy for her is either to go back home to Chicago or be a bystander to whatever's going on. But she's not willing to let herself be the bystander, she has to be in the front lines with the rest of them.

I also love how Albert and Thomas aren't afraid to show her that she has worth. Thomas especially, because while her relationship with Albert is deeper, Thomas isn't her love interest, there's nothing going on, and I personally love seeing healthy platonic relationships between men and women. And yes, Varian and Mary Jayne have a sort of sibling relationship, and they probably have more in common as theyre both American with families (technically speaking) waiting for them to return home, and they've known each other for longer, but her friendship with Thomas is just. It's everything to me. He's the one who recommends her to Margaux- who helps her use her facade, who also shows her that she is doing a good thing for a good cause and her actions are directly helping others- and he sees her for who she is since the beginning. They click immediately, when she speaks of the Villa Air-Bell as an option for the refugees, and he, to Varian's dismay, not only agrees, but says he's comfortable with danger. They have strong best friend vibes I just- !!!!!!!!!! I love them ok.

Anyway yeah MJ is a badass and underappreciated thanx for coming to my TedTalk. I'd probably say more but believe it or not I do go to sleep sometimes.

[msm-methylsulfonylmethane]

MSM is NOT a Miracle Cure, but a legally available NEUROTOXIN !!!  

MSM (Methylsulfonylmethane) is an organic Sulfur Compound (the oxidated Form of a By-Product of the Paper-Industry: DMSO) , propagated by the American Chemists Dr. Robert M. Herschler and Dr. Stanley W. Jacobs from Portland, Oregon (in his Book "the Miracle of MSM") as a Miracle Cure, and so unfortunately it was received completely untested and uncritically introduced here in Europe. MSM is a NERVE TOXIN from the active Substance Group of CHOLINESTERASE INHIBITORS, which also include some Insecticides (E 605) and most of the chemical Warfare Agents (Novichok, Sarin, Tabun, Soman, VX,...).  

 The real "Miracle of MSM" is how this highly dangerous Substance with its unspeakable Side-Effects made it through the otherwise ridiculously STRICT Health and Safety Controls of Germany WITHOUT encountering any Obstacles ! Another "Miracle" of the MSM is that on the entire Internet NOTHING can be read, but the purest, most uncritical Propaganda, according to which MSM is allegedly "well tolerated", ... allegedly is "well-known and proven secure since the Middle Ages, coming from the USA”, ...allegedly helps with Cancer, Plague, Leprosy, Cholera, Malaria, AIDS, Death & Decay, ...allegedly helps to detoxify the Body, ...and allegedly CANNOT be OVERdosed !  

The FACT is, that MSM ITSELF is a severe Poison. As a Cholinesterase-Inhibitor, it acts directly on certain Neurotransmitters (Acetylcholine) respectively their dismantling Enzymes (Cholinesterase), and unfortunately also penetrates the defensive "Blood-Brain Barrier" of the Brain.  

Furthermore unfortunately, MSM is also recommended on the Internet in UNRESPONSIBLY high Doses: While the German medical Professionals suggest a MAXIMUM daily Dose of 50 mg, as long as NO long-term studies are available about MSM, many Charlatans & Quacks on the Internet inconsiderately instruct you to take a daily Dose of 2,000 mg to even 9,000 mg without Hesitation !!!!  

The ONLY website that warns fairly, critically and responsibly about the Side- Effects of MSM:  

https://www.earthclinic.com/supplements/msm-side-effects.html

earthclinic.com/supplements/msm-side-effects.html

 ---------------------------------------------------------- 

 possible MSM Side-Effects: 

 ---------------------------------------------------------- 

 mild to severe Depression, 

 (Deep) Exhaustion, Fatigue, (Life-) Tiredness, Burn-Out,

 Tachycardia, Heart Palpitations, high Blood Pressure

 Anxiety / Panic Attacks

Insomnia, 

 emotional Blockades in the Brain/Forehead, 

 Chest Tightness, 

Pains,

 Rashes / Hives,

 digestive Problems, 

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But MSM is not just a Neurotoxin-Powder... No, MSM is so much MORE than that alone: 

MSM is a highly multiple-toxic SYSTEM, consisting of false, irresponsible “Friends”, unfair, one-sided, irresponsible Propaganda, as well as an inbelievable total Failure of the Safety Authorities and the Customer-Protection-Agencies in Charge !

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

MSM ist KEIN Wunderallheilmittel, sondern ein legal erhältliches NERVENGIFT !!! 

MSM (Methylsulfonylmethan) ist eine organische Schwefelverbindung (die oxidierte Form eines Abfallproduktes der Papierindustrie: DMSO) , welche von den 2 US-Amerikanischen Chemikern Dr. Robert M. Herschler, sowie Dr. Stanley W. Jacobs aus Portland, Oregon (in seinem Buch “the Miracle of MSM”) als Wunderallheilmittel propagiert wurde, und so leider auch völlig unbesehen & unkritisch hier in Europa aufgenommen wurde. MSM ist ein NERVENGIFT aus der Wirkstoffgruppe der CHOLINESTERASE-HEMMER, zu welchen auch manche Insektizide (E 605) sowie die meisten der chemischen Kampftstoffe zählen (Nowitschok, Sarin, Tabun, Soman, VX,...). 

Das wirkliche “Wunder des MSM” ist, wie dieser hochgefährliche Stoff mit seinen unsäglichen Nebenwirkungen es UNGEHINDERT durch die ansonsten abartig STRENGEN Sicherheits- & Gesundheits-Kontrollen von Deutschland geschafft hat, OHNE auf irgendwelche Hindernisse zu stoßen ! 

Ein weiteres “blaues Wunder” des MSM besteht darin, daß im gesamten Internet NICHTS als reinste , unkritischste Propaganda zu lesen ist, wonach MSM angeblich “gut verträglich” sei, ...angeblich “seit dem Mittelalter, bzw. sogar seit Jahrtausenden aus den USA bekannt und bewährt” sei, ...angeblich bei Krebs, Pest, Lepra, Cholera, Malaria, AIDS, Tod & Verwesung helfe, ...angeblich helfe, den Körper zu ENTgiften, ...und angeblich NICHT ÜBERdosiert werden könne ! 

FAKT ist, daß MSM SELBST ein schweres Gift ist. Es wirkt als Cholinesterase-Hemmer direkt auf bestimmte Nervenzellen-Botenstoffe (Acetylcholin) bzw. deren rückführenden Abbau-Enzyme (Cholinesterase) ein, und durchdringt leider auch die abwehrende “Blut-Hirn-Schranke” des Gehirns, sowie auch die Zellmembranen des Körpers. Desweiteren wird MSM im Körper in die 4 Aminosäuren Glutathion, Methionin, Taurin & Cystein umgewandelt.

MSM wird im Internet leider auch in UNVERANTWORTLICH hohen Dosen empfohlen: 

Während die deutsche Ärzteschaft eine TagesHÖCHSTdosis von 50 mg vorschlägt, solange über MSM noch überhaupt KEINE Langzeitstudien vorliegen, leiten viele Scharlatane, Quacksalber & Kurpfuscher im Internet rücksichtslos dazu an, bedenkenlos 2.000 mg bis sogar 9.000 mg Tagesdosis einzunehmen !!!! 

Die EINZIGE Internetseite, welche fair, kritisch und verantwortungsvoll vor den Nebenwirkungen von MSM warnt: 

https://www.earthclinic.com/supplements/msm-side-effects.html

earthclinic.com/supplements/msm-side-effects.html

--------------------------------------------

mögliche MSM-Nebenwirkungen: 

--------------------------------------------

leichte bis schwere Depressionen, 

(Tiefen)Erschöpftheit, Auszehrung, (Lebens-)Müdigkeit, Burn-Out

Herzrasen, Bluthochdruck

Angstzustände / Panikattacken, 

Schlaflosigkeit, 

emotionale Blockaden im Gehirn/Stirnbereich, 

Engegefühle im Brustkorb, 

Schmerzen,

Hautausschläge, 

Verdauungsprobleme, 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

MSM ist aber nicht einfach nur ein Nervengift in Pulverform... Nein, MSM ist weit mehr als nur das: 

MSM ist ein hochgiftiges, mehrfach-toxisches SYSTEM, bestehend aus falschen & verantwortungslosen “Freunden”, unfairer, einseitiger, unverantwortlicher & unwahrer Propaganda, sowie einem unfaßbaren, völligen Versagen der zuständigen Kontroll- & Verbraucherschutz-Behörden & -Institutionen ! 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

MSM ist KEIN Wunderallheilmittel, sondern ein legal erhältliches NERVENGIFT !!! 

MSM (Methylsulfonylmethan) ist eine organische Schwefelverbindung (die oxidierte Form eines Abfallproduktes der Papierindustrie: DMSO) , welche von den 2 US-Amerikanischen Chemikern Dr. Robert M. Herschler, sowie Dr. Stanley W. Jacobs aus Portland, Oregon (in seinem Buch “the Miracle of MSM”) als Wunderallheilmittel propagiert wurde, und so leider auch völlig unbesehen & unkritisch hier in Europa aufgenommen wurde. MSM ist ein NERVENGIFT aus der Wirkstoffgruppe der CHOLINESTERASE-HEMMER, zu welchen auch manche Insektizide (E 605) sowie die meisten der chemischen Kampftstoffe zählen (Nowitschok, Sarin, Tabun, Soman, VX,...). 

Das wirkliche “Wunder des MSM” ist, wie dieser hochgefährliche Stoff mit seinen unsäglichen Nebenwirkungen es UNGEHINDERT durch die ansonsten abartig STRENGEN Sicherheits- & Gesundheits-Kontrollen von Deutschland geschafft hat, OHNE auf irgendwelche Hindernisse zu stoßen ! 

Ein weiteres “blaues Wunder” des MSM besteht darin, daß im gesamten Internet NICHTS als reinste , unkritischste Propaganda zu lesen ist, wonach MSM angeblich “gut verträglich” sei, ...angeblich “seit dem Mittelalter, bzw. sogar seit Jahrtausenden aus den USA bekannt und bewährt” sei, ...angeblich bei Krebs, Pest, Lepra, Cholera, Malaria, AIDS, Tod & Verwesung helfe, ...angeblich helfe, den Körper zu ENTgiften, ...und angeblich NICHT ÜBERdosiert werden könne ! 

FAKT ist, daß MSM SELBST ein schweres Gift ist. Es wirkt als Cholinesterase-Hemmer direkt auf bestimmte Nervenzellen-Botenstoffe (Acetylcholin) bzw. deren rückführenden Abbau-Enzyme (Cholinesterase) ein, und durchdringt leider auch die abwehrende “Blut-Hirn-Schranke” des Gehirns, sowie auch die Zellmembranen des Körpers. Desweiteren wird MSM im Körper in die 4 Aminosäuren Glutathion, Methionin, Taurin & Cystein umgewandelt.

MSM wird im Internet leider auch in UNVERANTWORTLICH hohen Dosen empfohlen: 

Während die deutsche Ärzteschaft eine TagesHÖCHSTdosis von 50 mg vorschlägt, solange über MSM noch überhaupt KEINE Langzeitstudien vorliegen, leiten viele Scharlatane, Quacksalber & Kurpfuscher im Internet rücksichtslos dazu an, bedenkenlos 2.000 mg bis sogar 9.000 mg Tagesdosis einzunehmen !!!! 

Die EINZIGE Internetseite, welche fair, kritisch und verantwortungsvoll vor den Nebenwirkungen von MSM warnt: 

earthclinic.com/supplements/msm-side-effects.html

--------------------------------------------

mögliche MSM-Nebenwirkungen: 

--------------------------------------------

leichte bis schwere Depressionen, 

(Tiefen)Erschöpftheit, Auszehrung, (Lebens-)Müdigkeit, Burn-Out

Herzrasen, Bluthochdruck

Angstzustände / Panikattacken, 

Schlaflosigkeit, 

emotionale Blockaden im Gehirn/Stirnbereich, 

Engegefühle im Brustkorb, 

Schmerzen,

Hautausschläge, 

Verdauungsprobleme, 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

MSM ist aber nicht einfach nur ein Nervengift in Pulverform... Nein, MSM ist weit mehr als nur das: 

MSM ist ein hochgiftiges, mehrfach-toxisches SYSTEM, bestehend aus falschen & verantwortungslosen “Freunden”, unfairer, einseitiger, unverantwortlicher & unwahrer Propaganda, sowie einem unfaßbaren, völligen Versagen der zuständigen Kontroll- & Verbraucherschutz-Behörden & -Institutionen ! 

------------------------------------------------------------

Reports of personal Experiences of Victims of MSM and its Propaganda:

------------------------------------------------------------

[lilywastaken]

⇝ SICK DAY SCENARIOS !

CC!DreamWasTaken, CC!Sapnap, CC!GeorgeNotFound, CC!Quackity, CC!Karl Jacobs x GN!Reader.

SUMMARY: taking care of CCs when they're sick :( <3.

WARNINGS: SFW, a few spicy moments here and there, illness, a tiny drop of angst in Karl's part!

A/N: I'm alive!! The brainrot is real for these guys so I just had to write something, even if it's a bit crap LMAO. It's my first time writing for Karl/Quack, so they might be a bit weird/stiff, apologies! Once again, requests are open!! Please don't forget to reblog/comment if you enjoy the post, it helps a lot!! Thank you for reading! <333 If you see any mistakes, do not hesitate to let me know, please!!! I wrote this quite late so there might be a few!

MASTERLIST.

DREAM:

"Feeling a bit better?"

You whisper softly as you open the door to your boyfriend's bedroom, noticing that he had made his way off his bed and onto his chair, legs up and pressed to his chest with his knees tucked under his chin, the bright screens of his monitors reflecting onto his sad face.

"Mm…"

His broken whimper makes you sigh, walking over to him carefully and placing the bowl of chicken soup next to his keyboard, leaning down to press a kiss to his sweaty forehead.

"You should be resting."

You're about to lean back until Dream grabs your arm, his pointer finger coming up to tap his lips, hopeful eyes staring up at you.

"Clay. You're ill."

"Which means you're refusing to kiss your poor, suffering boyfriend?" He sighs dramatically, his voice deep yet nasally due to his stuffy nose, leaning into your touch as your hand comes up to cup his cheek.

"Are you ready to take care of me when I inevitably get sick, sweetheart?" You coo back, watching his expression morph from one of self-pity to one of dread.

"O-of course." He mumbles, hoping you don't remember how stressed he was when George had gotten sick a few weeks ago, running around the house looking for medicine in hopes that his friend wouldn't die. "Still… What if the cure to my sickness is a kiss from my beautiful partner?"

"Oh?" You play along with a smile, your hand coming up to play with his hair and run your fingers through his dirty blond curls, watching him flutter his eyes closed to enjoy your touch with a smile, half expecting him to start purring. "Well…" You sigh dramatically in defeat, leaning down so that the tips of both your noses are bumping. "I guess if it helps."

Dream makes a soft noise of excitement before you press your lips to his, his soft hand holding your head to his to slot your lips together easily.

"Now get to bed." You snap as soon as you pull back, causing him to huff and pause whatever video he had been watching.

"Fine." He grumbles like a child, lifting himself up and taking a few moments to make sure he isn't about to collapse before turning to you, letting you lead him to his mattress, onto which he immediately collapses on with a loud groan.

He situates himself under the covers and outstretches his arms to you expectantly, yet instead of your warm body he finds himself holding the bowl of soup you had brought.

You press a kiss to his forehead as he begrudgingly starts to sip on the soup, his gaze softening as he realises you're not about to leave his side.

Needless to say, the next day you were as ill as he was.

SAPNAP:

A loud groan resounds across the house.

You try your best to ignore it, going back to scrolling through your phone and scratching behind Patches' ears.

Another groan, louder this time, finally brings your attention away from social media and back to reality, frowning at the unending dramatic groans that come from your boyfriend.

You sigh, carefully pushing Patches off and starting your trek upstairs, listening to the borderline fake sounds coming from inside the room.

"You sound like you're dying."

You comment as soon as you push open the door to his bedroom, rolling your eyes with a smile as you meet your boyfriend's gaze, his lower lip curled into a pout as he makes grabby hands at you, his bed covered in what you assume to be snotty tissues.

"I am dying, darlin'. Feels like I'm being ripped apart."

You laugh, making your way towards him and sitting on the edge of the bed, and placing your hand onto his forehead, frowning instantly at how hot he feels.

"Wait, are you actually sick?"

"Yes!" Sapnap whines, throwing his head back and slamming it accidentally onto the wooden headboard, whining at the additional pain. "You thought I was fakin'!?"

"I wouldn't put it past you." You grumbled, wiping some of the sweat on his face with your sleeve, watching him try to adjust in his bed just to be closer with you. "What hurts?"

"Everything." He sighs out, closing his eyes in pain as his head throbs.

"Everything?" You repeat, unamused, already getting up to retrieve an ice pack from downstairs, hoping to cool down the fever he seems to have caught.

"Yes, every-" his eyes snap open as soon as he feels the bed shift, whining. "No, don't leave!"

"Nick, I need to get you something for your fever!"

You struggle against Sapnap's grip as he pulls you into his lap, arms wrapped around your waist and stubble scratching against your cheek.

"No… all I need is you, darl'." He grumbles against your skin, peppering sloppy kisses onto your neck.

"You're delirious." You sigh, melting into his warmth as he pulls you under the covers, sniffling and whining with every move he makes. "You'll take some medicine later, right?"

"Mhm … yeah." He says drowsily as he starts to fall asleep right there, listening to your breathing as a means to calm himself down. "Anything for you, sweetheart."

GEORGE:

How can George still be asleep?

You think to yourself as you stare mindlessly into the TV, the plate of food you had been eating abandoned on the coffee table as you take note of how long it had been since you had seen your boyfriend after last night.

You know he's prone to sleeping in for long, but not this long. Especially now in Florida, where the sun rises earlier and helps him wake up at the same time as you and your roommates.

Once you give your half eaten plate to Dream, you carefully push open the door to your boyfriend's room, stopping for a few moments so your eyes get used to the darkness his room was covered in.

"George? Are you awake?"

Treading carefully so you don't trip on any loose cables or stuff that he might have tossed onto the ground, you finally reach his bed, kneeling next to him and placing your hands on the body beneath the covers and shaking softly.

"Georgie?"

"Hmng."

You feel him turn around, meeting his gaze despite the darkness around you, watching as his pained expression turns into one of relief.

"Hi…" He mumbles, voice coarse as if he had just finished screaming for over an hour, reminding you of that one time he had lost his voice after a particularly long stream. "Time…?"

"Almost 4." Your hand comes up to push back his bangs, a shiver racking through his body as your cool touch makes contact with his atypically hot skin. "What th- do you have a fever?"

"I think." You feel his arms creep around your waist, pulling you closer with abnormal strength and placing his head onto your lap, snuggling himself into your thighs, letting out a shaky sigh at the warmth. "Tried getting up this morning and I think I passed out."

That would explain the crash Sapnap had claimed to have heard early in the morning.

"You passed out? Why didn't you call me?" You whisper back, running your fingers through his hair and massaging the back of his neck, a spot you know always gets him weak. "We could've brought you downstairs so you weren't cooped up like this."

George laughed as the image of Dream and Sapnap dragging him downstairs came to mind, but the sudden stabbing pain that attacked his lungs caused him to start coughing with a whine.

"I'd rather just stay up here with you." He started to manhandle you to lie under the covers, his hands warm on your hips as he quite basically shoved his face into your chest, trying to calm his raging headache. "We can order something later… I just want to be with you for now."

You chewed on your lower lip before your hands came up subconsciously to bury themselves in his soft locks, a whine leaving his lips as your nails started scratching at his scalp. "Fine. Just for a bit, okay? You still have to eat, we got to get you medicine, and you probably stin-"

You squeaked as he nipped on your skin in an attempt to get you to shut up, rolling your eyes at the smirk on his pretty lips before he fluttered his eyes back closed, a silent way of telling you that he was going back to sleep.

QUACKITY:

"You're an idiot."

Your boyfriend sputters out a confused sound as he walks into the kitchen, not having expected to be instantly insulted first thing in the morning.

"Huh?"

"Why are you half-naked!? You're sick!" You point at his feet and then his shorts with your spoon, making him groan and roll his eyes.

"It's hot!" He throws his arms up in the air as he sits down at the kitchen island, ignoring the way you frown at him. "And I'm not sick. I'm fine. It's just a cold."

"That still counts as being sick." You mumble under your breath, pushing a plate of food in his direction before pulling off your hoodie (which casually happened to be his) and handing it to him. "Put it on. I don't want you getting worse."

"...fine." He mumbles, starting to eat once it's on. "Thank you, mi vida."

Your face heats up at the casual nickname, nodding as you start on your own breakfast, too busy scrolling on your phone to notice the way your boyfriend starts squirming in his seat, sweat dripping down his forehead as he tries to focus on his food.

"You alright?" You finally realise how sick he looks despite having looked fine mere moments before, face flushed and skin sickly pale as he wipes the sweat away with his hoodies sleeves.

"Mhm. Okay." Your hand reaches over to cup his cheek, almost flinching back at how hot his skin feels. "Jesus! You're so fucking hot!"

You instantly regret what comes out of your mouth at his cocky expression, watching him m lean into your hand and sigh dreamily, eyelashes fluttering open and closed as he speaks.

"You think I'm that hot, babe?" He purrs out, despite the absolute pain that's racking through his body at the minute. "Damn, didn't expect you to be bold."

"Shut up." You pinch his cheek, forcing a high pitched cry to leave his mouth as you turn around to look through the medicine cabinet. "I meant you're literally hot, Alex."

"So you think I'm not figuratively hot?" You refrain from the urge to groan at his teasing, pulling off the cap to some medicine and dropping a pill into a glass of water.

"If you keep acting like this, you'll be less than hot to me." You snap, handing him the drink and waiting for him to down it like he usually does when it comes to ill-tasting medicine. "Go lie down, I'll make you some soup."

Before you can leave, he grabs your arm, pulling you into the space between his open legs and wrapping his arms around your waist.

"With me?" He mumbles into your hair, causing you to roll your eyes at how clingy he's become. "Come on, cielo. We can just order soup."

"But will it be as good as my soup?" You brush some of his longer strands of hair away from his eyes and trace the invisible lines between the beauty marks on his face.

"No… but I'd take cold soup any day of the week if it means having you in my arms."

KARL:

"Your nose is running."

You comment as you watch your boyfriend sluggishly make his way towards the fridge, eyes barely open and sweatpants almost falling down his waist.

"Mhm."

He doesn't even acknowledge your words, digging through the countless cans in the fridge to pull out some orange juice, instantly downing it without a second thought.

"Sorry. You want some?" He slurs, extending his arm and offering you the carton.

"Just finish it, Karl. I'd rather not get sick."

You notice that instead of his normal sleeping shirt he has a button up on, the buttons all messed up from probably trying to do it on his own in the bathroom mirror.

"You going somewhere, baby?" You comment on his appearance, frowning as he instantly nods, throwing the carton into the bin before looking for some snacks.

"Filming with Jimmy." He casually says, as if he hadn't been battling with a fever for almost a week. "I volunteered yesterd-"

You slap your hand over his mouth, stopping him from talking and meeting his shocked gaze, feeling his hands immediately find place on your waist out of instinct at how close you are.

"You're not going anywhere, Karl. I don't want you to get worse." You comment with a frown, having half expected him to lick at your hand when you had covered his mouth, but the sad look in his eyes feels worse than how that would've. "Please. You've been in pain for almost a week, I just want you to get better."

You let go of his face, moving your hand to cup his cheek and watch him press into your touch, nodding solemnly.

"Just don't like being useless. I wanna do stuff, I want to help!" He whines, closing his eyes as if afraid of your reaction to his complaint.

"You're not useless, though. You're sick. I'm taking care of you because I love you and I want you to get better. Jimmy's your friend, he'll probably won't want you working while you're sick, either." You lean up to press a soft kiss to the corner of his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a comforting hug, his cool hands roaming your skin under your shirt. "So get back into your pyjamas and get to bed and I'll bring you some food, okay? Then we can watch a movie, whichever one you want."

He nods enthusiastically, taking his turn to cup your cheeks in his hands and pepper kisses all over, brushing your lips with his before pulling away, aware of how sick you'd get if he gave you what he had. "I love you!" He says before rushing back upstairs giddily, not even waiting for you to say it back, aware that even without saying it, you do.

[m3r1m4r5u333]

Conspiracy goggles on? Check!

Curious that the name "Tommy" comes from Thomas which means

"twin", "alike-looking man"

Interesting to bring back this man into an episode which was all about jealousy, focused on the things that Eddie and Tommy have in common... And was pretty clearly titled after the song Bewitched, bothered and bewildered - and the lyrics mention "an imposter".

His last name "Kinard" is also interesting but feels harder to unpack so I won't really dive into that. Can't find a clear consensus on the origin/meaning of the name, but one suggestion was "high place", which is funny to me whenever I think about Tommy telling Buck that he'll take him "up" if Buck wants to.

(I'm cracking up here btw. So dramatic of Buck to moan that it's been hard to get Tommy's attention when through the episode Tommy is repeatedly like "So... Do you wanna..."fly" 😏?)

Anyway, back to Kinard. Curious, how google keeps suggesting the result "canard" as the word is so similar.

Canard has several meanings but "fake story" is one, and his first appearance on the show showed him acting straight - but had a scene which suggested he might be "Team Jacob". Canard is also an aircraft - he's a pilot. And a duck... Maybe as in "If it looks like a duck, walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, then it just may be a duck"?

So my unhinged conspiracy goggles are telling me that this theme about being false, or an imposter relates to him and Buck. On the same episode they had an emergency about face blindness, and that resulted in a loved one's tragic demise. Hurting someone you love without realising it because you were just so confused and made the wrong choice.

Btw on a tangent!!! The fact that all these intensely queer scenes keep happening in kitchens rather reminds me of Eddie's breakup, in his kitchen. Ana did not want to leave him to deal with a disaster in his kitchen but finally came to the conclusion that fine. It's a mess, but it's your mess now.

(Btw WHAT is this Tommy/Buck ship name, I'm getting desperate. Tagged it Rudolph Air after Buck/deers/reindeers and flying. Help me out 😂)

[totallynotaqua]

Starting syndicate because my desires got to me.

Doing the Charles Dickens mission(s)

And my guy is quack and Jacob 101% like:

"I have no fucking what this guy is on but I want a part of whatever it is"

Evie's judging face is amazing lmaoooo

[flickys-courage-club]

Ask the CTCD Characters + OCs!!!

I'm doing asks for the CTCD characters and also my OCs of the show, so you can ask them all too

You can ask!

Courage

Muriel

Eustace

Computer

Katz

Le Quack

Cajun Fox

Black Puddle Queen

Weremole

Clutching Foot/Big Toe

Bunny

Kitty

Charlie the Mouse

Mad Dog

Schwick

King Ramses

Cat Thieves/Paul and Jim

Storm Goddess

Ma Bagge

Shirley the Medium

Banana Suit Dealer

Freaky Fred

Olive (OC)

Felix (OC)

Clive (OC)

Justin (OC)

Nathan (OC)

Teresa (OC)

Barry (OC)

Bunitty (OC)

Sin Clowns (OCs)

Lauren (OC)

Matt (OC)

Oliver (OC)

Tony (OC)

Maxie (OC)

Sir Mist (OC)

Lucifer the Puppeteer of Terrors (OC)

Velvet Vic

Duck Brothers

Hunchback of Nowhere

Radley (OC)

Claude (OC)

Nigel (OC)

Iram (OC)

Oden Kits (OC)

Courage's Parents

Cruel Veterinarian

Blizzard (OC)

Twigs (OC)

Kameron (OC)

Francine (OC)

Olly (OC)

Trixie (OC)

Krimson (OC)

Sirius (OC)

Raven (OC)

Aaron (OC)

Petal (OC)

Alan (OC)

Jacob (OC)

Barbara

Dorothy

Badru (OC)

Amaris (OC)

Canine Assassins (OCs)

Feline Hunters (OCs)

Grinz (OC)

Frownz (OC)

Rules:

No NSFW (suggestive questions are fine)

No questions that involve s#xualizing

No offensive questions

Bigotry questions are unacceptable

Hugs are allowed

No questions that include slurs

[cdyssey]

Facetious

Summary: After the end of yet another long work day, Melissa comes to collect Barbara. [Post-1.01]

CW: Emotional Infidelity

AO3 Link

—

At precisely five past three, there are two blunt knocks on her halfway open door. Barbara doesn’t even have to look up from the reading diagnostic that she’s skimming to know that it’s Melissa dropping in to either say goodbye or to forcibly collect her at the end of yet another long day. She glances up anyway, her golden-rimmed glasses sliding down the bridge of her nose, and smiles softly.

For this is habit between them, long-established and well-loved tradition—as baked into their daily routines as their shared communions at their favorite round table in the teacher’s lounge or their little rendezvouses at the copier, where they trade new bits of gossip with their elbows pressed on top of the machine. 

Melissa comes to look for her at the end of every day—of course she does.

And Barbara’s enduring role is to simply let herself be found.

“The ops are upstairs with Jacob,” the younger teacher says, leaning against the door like it’s both habit and home. Her vivid hair is haloed by the ring of Barbara’s sunflower wreath, and the effect is lovely—all that scarlet, crowned in pops of autumnal gold. 

“Quick. You ‘n me can make a break for it if we hustle.”

“Girlfriend,” Barbara can’t help but chuckle, “you’re fooling yourself if you think I ever belong in the same sentence as the word hustle. I don’t hustle, I—“

“—sedately shuffle from place to place?” Melissa grins, waggling a mischievous brow.

“—gracefully swan from one destination to another,” she finishes with a mock sniff, unable to be especially affronted when Melissa laughs like she does, so loudly, with the entirety of her belly. “Don’t tease! You’re not making it anywhere quick either on that hip of yours."

They both have a bad something or another. Melissa’s bad hip and Barbara’s bad knee. They're mutually bad backs. They complain about these grievances to each other often, especially now that it’s fall and the cold is starting to seep into their bones.

“Sheesh, don’t remind me,” her friend half-smiles. “Almost threw it out again luggin’ that new rug to my room.” 

But then she half-grimaces too, lightly rubbing the affected area with three fingers, and Barbara frowns just as immediately, pushing her playfulness to the side along with her class’s reading report.

"You should really go see a specialist about that, you know.” 

“And let some rich quack put me on a bunch’a painkillers? Hell to the no,” Melissa scoffs easily. She has distrusted doctors for as long as Barbara has known her, thinks they’re all two-bit charlatans and overhyped clowns. The only person she ever goes to see is her second cousin, Frankie, a general practitioner whose practice is adjoined to a pizza joint that may or may not also be a money laundering front.

Barbara doesn’t like to think about that fact very often.

“Well, at least come here and get yourself an Advil for the road,” she exhales, making the more expedient decision not to press the point. They’ll have that row another day, and it’ll likely be spectacular—as their rare arguments usually are—but that’s future Barbara’s cross to painfully bear. “You know I hate it when you’re hurting.”

“I hate it when I’m hurting too,” Melissa quips, always a snarker, even in the pits, but all the same, she obediently peels herself off of the door and limps on over, one plod of her clunky boots at a time. Barbara’s heart inexplicably plummets into her gut when the second grade teacher decides, apropos of absolutely nothing, to partially lower herself on the edge of her desk, rattling her pencil cup with her added weight.

Her sheer and overwhelming presence. 

Her leopard-spotted blouse and those tight black pants. The way the leather rasps when her thighs brush together as she incrementally shifts and makes herself comfortable—cozy even—on Barbara Howard’s extraordinarily immaculate desk. The endless cascade of her fiery red hair and the saints that are perpetually worshiping at the altar of her marble bosom. The slight citrus smell of her favorite perfume.

“What?” Melissa chuckles, apparently seeing something complicated in Barbara’s expression, something that Barbara would probably shy away from in the uncomplicated honesty of a mirror. Sudden heat crests within her. It becomes a knot in the column of her throat, becomes a ticking time bomb, a violent pleasure, a pleasant wound. “You prefer I keep my ass off your stuff?”

She has less than three seconds to decide which is worse—having Melissa Schemmenti on her desk or not having her there. Neither of these options frankly brings her closer to God.

“You’re being absolutely facetious,” she finally mutters, not looking the second grade teacher in the eye as she dives down to retrieve her purse. She makes quite a meal out of rifling through it for a bottle that she handily keeps in a side-pocket.

“That isn’t an answer.”

“Your question was hardly appropriate enough to warrant a response.”

“So I’m being naughty, huh?” Melissa guffaws. Melissa jokes. From Barbara’s limited perspective, it’s all a joke to Melissa: her innuendoes and habitual crassness, the intimate geography of their bodies in relation to each other. 

Their closeness in general.

In so many more ways than one.

She’s always like to flirt with Barbara, no matter their respective marital statuses.

Nothing ever truly inappropriate, of course, calling her hot mama here or lightly ribbing her about them being work wives there. And that was all fine and good until one day, after many, many years of them being the very best of friends, Barbara suddenly collected the punchline like a baseball bat to her gut.

Until one day, every touch and casual glance, every hon and other pet name lightly thrown her way, actually did something to her.

Set her eternal soul on fire for one thing.

Condemned her.

(Saved her.)

Condemned her.

“That word has an entirely different connotation, and you know it.”

“I mean, depends on how you’re using the word.”

“Melissa!” She groans, flushing, feeling nauseous, vaguely suspecting that she’s flirting back.

“Okay, fine, fine. I’ll stop being a cagacazzo—“ Melissa chortles obliviously and goes to get up, but before Barbara can capably stop herself, before morality can catch up to the rest of her usually well-ordered senses, she impulsively places her free hand on her best friend’s knee. 

They both shiver violently upon first contact, stunned silent, both incredulous that she actually dared. 

Melissa’s cheeks blanch and then just as immediately color, all the mirth draining from her face and becoming… well… Barbara doesn’t know.

(Barbara doesn’t want to admit the mirrored emotion—even to herself.)

(Especially to herself.)

“You don’t have to get up,” she croaks, withdrawing her hand as though burned, cupping the pill bottle she finally retrieved like it’s the only thing keeping her from kissing her colleague. Surely, there are other barriers, though.

Surely, there is her wonderful husband.

Surely, there is God.

“I was just… joking.”

“Me too,” Melissa says quickly, eyes averted. “I was just joking too.”

And they both laugh then because they’re both joking—obviously—a little too loudly to ever sound entirely sincere. Still, they grant each other the kindness of overlooking this inconvenient truth. Still, they laugh and unpleasantly laugh.

(That’s how this—whatever this is that exists between them—keeps going after all: this almost tango, this halfway song-and-unending-dance. This terrible thing. This beautiful thing. This unfathomable sin. This simultaneous grace.)

(They’re a chemical collision that keeps never, ever happening, and there’s primal relief in the fact. There’s unspeakable sadness too.)

“Here,” she says, untwisting the cap of her bottle and finally shaking an Advil into the palm of her hand. Extends it. An offering. A perfect opportunity to move on from the stickiness of the moment. 

Melissa takes it. Her fingers scrape Barbara’s lifelines.

“Take a swig of my coffee,” she continues weakly, all her atoms thrilling at even that barest touch. “I don’t mind.”

“Thanks,” Melissa grunts, popping the pill into her mouth and hastily lifting the aforementioned drink to her lips. Her nose promptly screws up in disgust.

“Blegh. Too flippin’ sweet.” 

An unsurprising criticism coming from this particular woman. Melissa usually takes hers black.

“It’s just French Vanilla creamer.”

“It’s a milkshake in a mug is what it is,” she shakes her head fondly. “Don’t how you flippin’ stand it, Barb.”

“Oh, well, believe it or not, I have my sundry vices too,” Barbara chuckles lightly. They both do. And it’s far more genuine this time, perhaps simply because it’s the kind of banter they’re more accustomed to. It's familiar territory, safe and solid ground. They won’t get themselves in trouble joking about their coffee preferences, and Barbara almost convinces that she doesn’t regret their capacity for discretion, their exercise of extraordinary and remarkably Christian restraint.

“You? Vices?” Melissa arches an amused brow. “Get outta here, Mrs. Barbara Howard, perfect woman of God.”

Barbara opens her mouth and then abruptly closes it, immediately wants to refute the point, needs for Melissa to know that faith and perfection aren’t necessarily intertwined, that she is as flawed as any other human on this God-blesséd earth. 

But she stops herself; she disciplines her wayward tongue.

She’s spent decades upon unceasing decades constructing the meticulous reputation that her friend is proposing that she has achieved. And that gratifies her, of course—sure, yes, absolutely. Her lifelong project of embodying excellence beyond excellence has clearly been a quantifiable success.

But still, there is something in her that instinctively balks at Melissa elevating her to a lofty pedestal. She wants the whole world to believe that she is perfect but needs just one person—this person—to understand that it’s all just a well-executed and beautifully performed facade

She’s saved from trying to resolve this frankly unresolvable contradiction, though, by Melissa suddenly wincing again, her hand going to her hip as she shifts a little on the desk, and Barbara latches on to this microgesture and readymade excuse gladly. She leans forward, shoving her own thousands of invisible hurts away.

“You should have told me that your hip was bothering you, sweetheart,” she murmurs seriously, still flexing her fingers around the Advil bottle, resisting the urge to reach out and help her friend, to work her fingertips into the sore tissue there… discovering the plump softness… the forbidden fruit… of her rosy skin…

She briefly turns away, coughing into her own shoulder.

Ridiculous impulse.

Absurd.

“We could have gotten one of the Three Musketeers to shoulder an additional load.”

“Pssh,” Melissa rolls her eyes, “I don’t think Jacob could lift a log if the log was a two-by-four with the word log written on top of it.”

“Foul!"

“But I’m right,” the younger teacher grins.

“The two aren’t mutually exclusive,” she agrees as Melissa laughs again, all mischief, so playful and unapologetically loud. Barbara swats at her arm, always pretending to be the sanctimonious one between them. 

A smile smuggles itself at the corner of her lips anyway.

“‘Sides,” Melissa eventually shrugs, “it was worth it to see the pipsqueak all happy.”

“Mm,” Barbara shakes her head fondly. “That Janine.”

She’s certainly a handful, that’s for sure—overeager and overzealous, clearly overcompensating for something that’s likely above Barbara’s thoroughly abysmal pay grade to ever fix. But even still, the young lady has a kind heart and an admirable passion for what she does. She’s good with her kids and tries hard to be better for them every day. 

Those traits alone aren’t sure signs and predictors that she’s going to survive this Sisyphean hell of a public school system, of course, but they’re certainly not going to hurt her chances either.

After a year of having known her, Barbara likes her—not that she'll ever admit as much to her, though.

“A flippin’ mess.”

“Oh, beyond a shadow of an entire doubt.”

“Think she’ll last?” Melissa asks, which is a pretty remarkable question in and of itself. No new teacher has stayed long enough recently for either of them to bother caring. Their investment is hard won, fought for, far from easily earned.

They’ve both been endlessly burned in the past, or rather, more accurately still, they’ve mutually spent their lifetimes burning themselves trying to care for other people.

“If life has taught us one thing,” she starts thoughtfully, “it’s that good things rarely do…”

Before she can continue, though, Melissa cuts her off with a short laugh like a bark.

“Ha!” Her verdant eyes twinkle. “What about us old bats then?”

“Exceptions to the rule clearly.”

“Clearly,” the younger teacher mocks. 

“Girlfriend!” She chides, laughing. “Let me finish.”

“Okay, okay, go on telling me about how shit the world is.”

“Vulgar,” Barbara shakes her head in a long-suffering manner, “and not where I was going with that sentence anyway. Good things rarely last, yes, but who but the good Lord ever truly knows? Perhaps Janine will surprise us in the end. Maybe Mr. Hill too.”

“Oh, look who’s bein’ all facetious now,” Melissa grins as she finally sidles off the desk, straightening up on the tiled floor with a thud and a slightly pained grunt. She towers over Barbara now, who’s still in her rolling chair. The skin of her leopard-print shirt stretches across all her delicious curves. 

“At least it’s not the same thing as being naughty,” she mutters, glancing away as her friend seizes with laughter.

“Semantics, schemantics, Barb. We both sound like total lesbos sometimes, y’know.”

Barbara can't help herself—she splutters incoherently, accidentally dropping the Advil bottle she’s been fiddling with for the last five minutes. It rattles and comedically rolls somewhere far beneath her desk.

“W-what?!” She eventually gets out, now gripping the arms of her chair. “We don’t? I could never. Melissa! You and I—“

“God,” Melissa goes on, all her features alive with raucous delight, positively shit-eating. She taps her chin with one finger.  “Come t’think of it. I’d make one hell of a good lesbian if I didn’t also like dudes—“

“Melissa! Be serious!”

“I am serious,” the second grade teacher laughs, not sounding particularly serious at all. “About who I am anyway. Don’t worry, hon. I know you play for a different team.”

But that last sentence, even if it’s a part of the joke—of this game of fluster-Barbara-Howard-senselessly that Melissa is expertly playing—suddenly veers into an earnest sadness that Barbara can’t quite unhear and her friend can’t just as quickly disguise.

“Shame,” Barbara mumbles without really intending to, but the word slips from her mouth before she can catch it and scold it for being reckless anyway.

“Shame,” Melissa agrees and tries another smile. It's an exhausted, little thing; it slumps like a body in the darks of her eyes.

“You would'a made a great one too.”

[casinoroyale]

I posted 6,059 times in 2022

That's 6,059 more posts than 2021!

3,087 posts created (51%)

2,972 posts reblogged (49%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@songbird-sunrise

@tubbolul

@viceduo

@casinoroyale

@goofygoop

I tagged 5,991 of my posts in 2022

Only 1% of my posts had no tags

#poker face - 2,489 posts

#anonymous - 1,922 posts

#under the table - 1,080 posts

#i don't want you to be alone down there (songbird sunrise) - 921 posts

#quacks - 626 posts

#big queue - 303 posts

#ooc - 269 posts

#i don't want you to be alone down there (songbird-sunrise) - 258 posts

#light at the end of the tunnel (dark content) - 245 posts

#a shared reflection (tubbolul) - 157 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#ooc: i literally told my friends that i was going to get an ask like this. i love you guys so much lmao. i love this blog's anons so so muc

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

if your ex is shitty it's legal to kill and eat them ❤️

120 notes - Posted September 20, 2022

#4

Cannibalism Pog

291 notes - Posted May 25, 2022

#3

Taylor swift will never love you

WRONG you know NOTHING about Taylor. here's us together when we were young and in our emo phases. she used to visit me in juvie and cheer me on in MCM. we're fucking besties.

374 notes - Posted March 27, 2022

#2

Effective Immediately the Karl Jacobs Burrito is BANNED from being served at the Las Nevadas Chipotle

378 notes - Posted March 29, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

440 notes - Posted June 6, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[ignitingwriting]

Igniting Writing ‘Mealtime’ Contest 2024, Submission by Viha

The Darkness of Living Food

Ring ring, ring ring, ring ring, ring ring. Aanya hurried to the phone.

“Hello, this is Aanya speaking. Who is this from?”

“Yes. Hello, this is Jacob, from college.”

“Oh, hi Jacob. Been a long time. How’s work?”

“Yeah, good, especially since I changed role it’s been pretty great. How is your MBA?”

“I guess it has been good. Makes me a little busy every now and then, but I’m free this weekend. If you’re free then we could meet up,” Aanya said.

“I’m busy on Saturday, but I can always do Sunday. You up for lunch?”

“Yeah, definitely! Let’s do this.”

“So, we do brunch on Sunday at the Old Oaks as normal, as we presume.”

Three days later

Aanya looked up at the sky, at the crisp morning. The ground was still coated with a thick sprinkle of snow and the sky was as white as the earth. Aanya could barely tell sky and ground apart.

Aanya looked ahead and could finally see a board. A board of the most ordinary place in town. The walls were embroidered with tiny shapes of metal, with a large furnace where the public would warm their hands. The café was not vast, nor humble, but it was perfect for the people of this town.

There in the middle of the room, with an oak table and two couches – one of which he was sitting on – sat a man in about his thirties, with a tall posture and a welcoming face.

Aanya leapt towards him. “Jacob! It feels amazing to meet you after such a long time!” Aanya’s smile curved like a banana.

“Great to see you too, Aanya! I have already ordered some roast chicken and duck.”

“Thank you, Jacob, and I know what you are going to ask. No, thank you, I don’t feel like tea or coffee.”

All of a sudden, the lights turned off. There was an abrupt silence until an eerie whisper dominated the room. After about five seconds, the silence had changed to screaming and noisiness.

The food on peoples’ plates had been turned alive, into living things.

There were cooked ducks quacking, roast beef mooing and chicken clucking. The people in the room were causing such havoc that they started to use glasses, knives, forks and all sorts more to stop their food being alive. Aanya and Jacob were panicking too and Aanya had a knife in one hand and a fork in the other.

A few seconds later, the room lit up and the food turned normal. After the room was fully lit up, the mess the public had made was very visible, so visible that the people who made it had to clean it.Aanya looked at Jacob whilst picking up a broken piece of glass.

“I hope this never happens again,” muttered Aanya, tired from cleaning up the mess.

Three weeks later

Aanya and her family decided to go out for lunch.

“How long do you suppose it will take for the food?” Aanya asked impatiently.

“You never really…” said Aanya’s cousin.

Darkness besieged the room…

[maguro13-2]

Mario : Finally, Home sweet Home. I wonder what else for march 10th since Valentine's day?

(door opening)

Mario : Oh, Honey! I'm home! Just kidding I live alone.

*lights on*

Toad : Su-

Mario : Oh God! *Gunshot* *quack*

*sizzling*

Toad : ...prise? (Falls on the floor, dies)

Mario : Oh that's right. It's my day. March 10th.

Blue Toad : What the sh**, bro!? You shot Jacob to death! Don't you realize that we didn't surprise you to surrender, we throw you for a surprise party, you asshole!

Luigi : Oh thanks a lot. I hope you deserve that cake of yours. It's Mario day again.

Mario : When do they keep on celebrating my day. Oh well, at least it was worth a shot. Can I have some cake and just forget About celebrating my day. It's just a misunderstatement.

Luigi : Is that so?

Mario : Then you can celebrate my day spending a day in hell for the rest of your lives!

Luigi : It shall be you that is going to hell, Mario!

*GUNSHOT*

Blue Toad : Oh, sh**!

Yellow : Let's scram!

*SFX : STOCK SCREAMING*

Daisy : Why did we even think about celebrating a holiday that is totally made up?

Peach : (sighs) I knew that this wasn't a good idea.

[Iris out]

~ HAPPY MAR10 DAY! ~

[kysfimagines]

KYSF characters reacting to you dying during childbirth

warning: this is a very sensitive and sad topic which cointains youre dies. sorry

TUO: y/n noooo :( way to bring down the mood y/n!

MIKIYA: Oh, god, it can’t be... y/n is really gone, aren’t they? Well, it’s just you and me, Mikiya Jr. Mark my words, I will teach you everything I know, and we WILL avenge y/n by razing every last hospital to the ground! ...Oh, the good doctor! I was joking of course. Touchy, aren’t we? Obviously I’d never hold a grudge for you killing the person who birthed my child.

HAUNA: ok

CIJUNE: *cries for 19 minutes* my child.. you are all i have left. i will raise you into the best human being you can be for y/n's legacy. i swear i will protect you and love you the best i can *the whole time the baby is biting and scratching nurses and hissing*

PAYU: dang it! *snaps fingers* that’s such a bummer. welp. anyway. im gonna teach this baby to surf

AYASA: I am going to sue this hospital so hard that by the time I’m through with you, my child will be set for college AND retirement twice over. I have my lawyer on the line right now, actually, would you like to hear from him? *hands the doctor the phone but its his voice on the phone* Me again, bitch.

SOKEMUI: *rampaging though the hospital and screaming like a white woman in film's oscar winning scene*

ML: *kind of liked it* wow, y/n fucking died.. wow. kind of weird. i mean, i guess its sort of cute… oh yeah um *turns to the crowd of adoring fans and paparazzi* does anyone want this baby

HEAVENLY: i refuse to believe it… y/n CAN’T be dead! no way… it can’t be true…. *phone notification* oh! my starbucks order is ready. byeee

CADENCE: no.. how could this fucking happen… you’re a sham quack doctor *tries to fistfight the doctor and loses and dies*

JACOB: *through tears* y/n……. my poor sweet darling…….. i will send you off in only…. the finest of funeral rites. with highest honors. *blows up your corpse*

AURE: *glaring at baby* you did this...... you killed my beautiful yummy y/n..i am NOT going near that thing *the doctor: that is your child you have to raise them* no. i refuse to care for that creature

MARSHALL: what the fuck man...

ROO: Oh this is terrible :( Rest well, Y/N, you were wonderful... Now, who wants to raise this child? Nose goes!

LEN: this is so fucking sad *plays a perfect violin adaptation of Music of the Betrayed - 1 HOUR Of Epic Dark Sad Tragic Emotional Dramatic Music*

MIN: hahah funny prank ok y/n you can wake up now :p ....okayyyy,, theyre not waking up. you seeing this doc? o__0

CELESTIUS: *takes a picture* You’re going into my cringe compilation.

N*AH: ugh y/n 🙄 you know this is so embarrassing for me right? i couldn’t go to your seminars about “human rights” and “emotional intelligence” and “benefits of personal hygiene” because i was busy getting beer with the bros, ever think of that? you never think about my feelings. no, you always tell me that my cis white straight privilege clouds my better judgment and that i need to educate myself, even though i’m not even homophobic, no really. you always make ME look like the bad guy, and this is no different! you just went and died for attention. ohhh look at y/n, they’re dead, that’s so sad. boo hoo. because when people start caring about ME for a change you just can’t handle that because you’re a sensitive snowflake. god. and now i have to raise this stupid baby. pc culture has really ruined life for honest good men like me

[nedlittle]

🎈🌿🌈?

🎈describe your style as a writer; is it fixed? does it change?

hmmm the vibes are pretty fixed but i think as i become more comfortable with my prose i allow myself more freedom to be weird with form and grammatical structure. that said the kit guarantee is that things are going to be researched to an almost pornographic degree because i am obsessed with showing my work, and some sentences are about the journey and not the destination

🌿how does creating make you feel?

like a constant rollercoaster of "we're so back" "it's so over ad nauseam. like victor frankenstein building a dude in his dorm room because he wanted to bone his professor then immediately disowning the creature for being ugly. like victor frankenstein building the creature a big tiddy goth gf under extreme duress.

🌈is there a fic that you worked *really fucking hard on* that no one would ever know? maybe a scene/theme you struggled with?

i struggle every time i open a google doc like i'm jacob wrestling with the damn angel but my beloved quacks was a bit of an enfant terrible mostly because of the format but also because i had to be funny which is not always my strong suit and there ao3 was beating my ass while i was trying to get the formatting done especially on the second chapter (the fake links! the fake tweets!). a nightmare. my proudest moment. i got people to listen to sawbones to understand my fic. i rickrolled innocent bystanders. i think about some of my own jokes daily.