#fffuuuuuuuck

[laughableillusions]

All these legacy 80s movie sequels what I want is a prequel story about how Isabeau and Navarre from Ladyhawke 1985 met and fell in love and the events leading up to to the curse

[grow-bettah]

sorry to gomenspost on main but i just remembered that. show aziracrow canon. and i think i actually went into shock for a good five minutes. wdym. show aziracrow canon. no way.

[the-yearning-astronaut]

.

[basilpaste]

i would like for my brain to be kind to me please. thatd be very lovely. thatd be soso great.

[a-b-riddle]

Okay but hear me out

If Reader were to write a very specific list of poses for someone to read out during their yoga practice (because youtube teachers aren't doing it anymore and referencing one's notebook kind of ruins the state of zen one is supposed to achieve), who would they trust with it and why wouldn't it be Johnny?

Reader: I just want a nice, calm, steady voice to tell me what I need to do (= read this list). Each pose is going to be held for one minute. Absolutely no touching me and DO NOT MAKE COMMENTS.

Johnny: ... Aye babe I can stretch you out!

You just made coke zero come out of my nose with that last bit 💀

But seriously, the man would throw in downward dog, cat cow and plow pose when he wanted to get a bit cheeky. When your back arches into a cat cow poses you hear an audible "fffuuuuuuuck me" from somewhere in the isolated gym.

[raewritesfiction]

Oh god I have a Castiel fic idea brewing…. Oh god.

I’m sure my idea has been done before but… but it’s stuck in my head. Fffuuuuuuuck.

[excessive-moisture]

We really DON'T know how scav chief got their mark of communication, huh.

But also something that I've picked up on is that Pebbles pretty much only refers to the Artificer as "citizen" if he's brought a pearl he really likes. Otherwise he defaults to mean nicknames.

Thinkin about Pebbles and Moon's relationship with their cities former inhabitants.....

Pebbles is often characterized as cold as uncaring and Moon is often characterized as warm and kind, and that's not without reason as that's pretty reflective of the way they behave towards the slugcats, but that seems to very much not be the case when it comes to their relationships with their cities former inhabitants. Moon says that "none of us really miss the times when their cities were populated" and compares her city's inhabitants to "skin parasites that also ask for advice and have opinions"

Pebbles on the other hand..... part of the reason he tolerates Artificer (aside from her killing the scavengers that have taken up residence in his city) is bc she's technically a citizen. As his systems start to shut down he comforts himself with a pearl containing a hymn created by the former citizens of his city. To me at least that seems to imply that Moon's statement that "none of us really miss the times when their cities were populated" may not be entirely accurate, that Pebbles held at least some level of affection towards his citizens, that he does miss them.

And if that's the case, that would have made them effectively abandoning him via mass ascension hurt Pebbles just that much more.

[nefkyo]

Writing In The Sand

a c!TNTduo/quackbur fic (and my first official fanfic ever) where c!Wilbur meets c!Quackity before the ending of their S1 lore, but things don't go according to plan. At all.

I don't know how tagging works, but this fic contains:

Spoilers for c!Quackity's an c!Wilbur lore finale, mentions of alcohol, hungover antics, miscommunication?, I don't have it in me to write smut rn but there is pre-marital kissing, fluff but also angst, I'm still not sure if I want a sad or happy ending so don't count on it, a single mention of c!Tommy's lore and overall a lot of flashbacks

Chapter 1 (1/?)

Wilbur stirs awake, head bobbed to the side, horrible weights crushing the sides of his temples. He shifts onto a bed that is too luscious to recognize as his own. The velvet blankets underneath him are too light to be the ones you'd use in a warm house in the middle of the snow.

He didn't go home. He stayed. Fuck.

He sits up on his elbows and pinches his eyebrows, and realizes his glasses are missing. He snaps his head around, feeling the bedsheets in the relative darkness. The only light seems to be coming from curtains that were left a single clumsy ray of light filter in the room. Which was huge. As was the bed. And the window. Fuuuuck.

His fingers wrapped around something new. They were definitely not his glasses. It was something light and nimble, soft but not as much as the stuffing of a pillow, and it seemed to move on its own. Whatever it was attached to also shifted and made an almost human noise that resembled a grumble of discomfort, and Wilbur realized he was holding Quackity's tail. And his other hand was resting clumsily on a wing.

Quackity. Quackity was sleeping next to him.

FFFUUUUUUUCK.

He basically leapt off the bed. His heart and his brain were running two, maybe three marathons at once. What his he doing there? What is he doing here? And what now, should he wake him up? No, he couldn't. Not yet, at least. For some reason, he felt he needed to see him first. Was it out of spite? Out of pride? ...Affection?

Flashes of images from the night before were already seeping in. Sand being strangely cold in his fist. A pile of empty glasses, ice melting slowly inside. Elaborate drinks and straight vodka. Quackity's eyes glinting up at him before both tastes blend in his mouth.

As he staggered towards the drawn curtains, he bumped into his own shoes. He also realized the lower half of his body was still clothed, socks included. He checked his pockets and sure enough, his glasses were tucked in there, miraculously intact. He opened the temple tips and placed them on his head.

He peeked out behind the curtain. He wasn't afraid of heights, his father basically uprooted the fear out of him, but holy shit they were high up. He could see all of Las Nevadas from there. The sky over the sandy hills and still dormant city was grey. It must've been midday already.

From the window, he spots the lavish bar he found Quackity in some ridiculous time at night. He hadn't drank anything yet, just kept picking at a plate of olives with a toothpick. Which he threatened him with as he sat down two seats away from him.

He turned around, hand slowly pulling back the curtain just enough. And he looked out in awe.

Quackity was barely more dressed than him, resting on his side. His right arm was drooped over his head, on which he was shocked not to find the infamous beanie. He spotted it on the floor, right below his flabby left hand. And his wings, oh my god, his wings were splayed out, hanging with some sort of grace over his body. It almost seemed his left wing was shielding him from the light like a veil of protection.

He now remembers the dancing. They were enough drinks and chatter in that Quackity had stopped holding everything like it could double as a weapon, and had decided to take him to the lounges a few steps from the bar, holding a bottle of gin and two glasses in the same hand. The whole place was empty except for the two of them, and they sat on these velvet couches next to a jukebox. "You want to pick something? Go ahead." Quackity asked him, sat on the couch in front of him. "Hm, I dunno." he replied, realizing he'd been staring at it. "It feels kind of weird to look at music discs that hold no meaning for the first time in a while, doesn't it?" he chuckled, and strangely enough, Quackity did as well. He stood up and picked a disc himself. He doesn't remember what the song was, maybe he was more focused on watching Quackity miraculously untense. It was gradual enough you couldn't tell he was very into it at first, but at some point he just let loose. It reminded him of Niki's birthday party, except there was no party to entertain. It was just the two of them. He remembers Quackity pulling him in to dance as well, and the song shifting to something softer that brought his hands to his waist, and Quackity's on his shoulders. It was intimate. It was pretty.

Wilbur snapped out of it, realizing he might've woken up if he kept shining light on him. A thought he hoped his hungover mind would've repressed for just one more minute. "Today is the day." he whispered to himself. He sighed and let go of the curtain.

Guided by what he had memorized of his surroundings he came across his sweater, discarded carelessly on a chair, then his shirt at the foot of the bed. Both reeked of alcohol, but so did he, and it's not like he knew his way around wherever he was enough to find a washing machine. He did, however, find the bathroom.

He squinted his eyes at the flash of the light above, and barely cared to notice how immaculate the whole place was. He held onto the marble bowl of the sink with both hands and looked in the mirror: saying he looked more dead than he already was would've been an understatement. He washed himself up as best as he could and drank so, so much tap water.

As he was about to close the door, he noticed a 'Do Not Disturb' sign hanging on the doorknob. He looked up and noticed a golden plate with the number 801. He was in the hotel! And it was as expensive as it looked from the outside, judging by the tidiness and faint smell of cologne permeating the hall. Wilbur prayed he had any money left in his coat, wherever he'd lost it, and also to find a spare key downstairs when the door ungracefully slipped out of his grip and locked him out. (Quackity definitely had the original somewhere on his person, but the chances of waking him up were too high.)

He took the elevator down to the ground floor ("holy shit, it goes up to 17?!") and reached an immense reception. Initially, he was surprised to see people already awake, until he noticed they were all employees. All smiling, dressed in pristine uniforms, carrying serviette trays, luggage and cleaning products. Not an actual customer in sight. It only came to him as he was reaching the front desk that he was also the only human in sight. Behind the desk was something green and slick, shaped like a man with a wide smile, who immediately met his eyes and greeted him with a half-screamed "Good afternoon, Wilbur Soot from L'Manberg!", almost giving him a heart attack.

Now he remembers why he was never the one to order anything at the bar. Because the bartender - who looked exactly like the receptionist, by the way - was a tall slimey abomination who only responded to Quackity's requests. When he asked about it, Quackity said something about "an experiment" and being short on staff. And people in Las Nevadas in general. He does remember Quackity drunkenly telling one "And start listening to the customers too, goddamn it! He's been here this whole time and I had to order and do everything for both!"

"Y-Yes, uhm, good afternoon." Wilbur answered, clearing his throat as he glanced up at the huge metal clock. Sure enough, it was 12:39 PM. "Lunch will be served in approximately 21 minutes, Mr. Soot." the receptionist said without even looking at the clock. "N-no... That's not what I was looking for..." "Well, what can we do for you, Mr. Soot?" he responded without missing a beat. Wilbur placed his hands on the mahogany counter, which he could almost see his own reflection in, and tentatively asked "See, I seem to have lost my coat somewhere... It's a brown--" "Ah! Not to worry Mr. Soot, it's right here!" the receptionist exclaimed again. And without ever breaking eye contact, he reached in a compartment underneath the counter and pulled out his jacket, neatly folded inside a plastic wrapping and, even more surprisingly, clean. "You dropped it as you and Quackity from Las Nevadas were making your way up the stairs!"

"We took the stairs?" he asked mindlessly as he discretely checked his coat's pockets (no, not a sign of cash).

"Sure did! As you came in last night, you said you needed to steady your legs because you couldn't feel them, so Mr Quackity from Las Nevadas helped you walk until you reached the 3rd floor, where you shouted 'I am NOT walking up 7 more bloody flights of stairs, Big Q!' and finally took the elevator!"

Wilbur didn't know if he was cringing at the receptionist's horrible impression of a British accent or his retelling of his drunk antics. "...Right, uhm... So, I also came down to ask--" "Would you like some water and aspirins? Still on Mr. Quackity's tab, not to worry!" the man whispered with a ridiculously forced wink, probably an attempt to be friendly. So he's paying for everything and NOTHING, since he owns the place. Wilbur nodded, and as the receptionist finally broke eye contact with him to reach into the mini fridge behind him, he asked "Do you also have, uhm... A spare room key?" and watched in horror as the receptionist completely turned his head to face him like an owl. "Of course! Room 801, was it? I have it right here!"

After the nearly traumatic experience at the reception, Wilbur rushed back to the room and opened the door carefully. More light was seeping into the room by the minute. Quackity was now sleeping on his back, almost completely splayed on the bed. Again, Wilbur had to tell himself to focus. He poured himself a glass of water with an aspirin from the expensive bottle, then placed another with the same fizzling medicine on Quackity's nightstand. He scavenged for the man's missing clothing pieces and folded them as best as he could, sometimes looking back at him. He didn't have much time, but he still decided to leave a note. He consistently cursed himself under his breath as he struggled to write coherent sentences on the back of a hotel visiting card. He settled on the message and put it against the glass.

Alright, time to go.

He glanced down at Quackity. His relaxed face, with his lips slightly ajar. And his hair, a complete mess. He remembers running his hands through it. Very silky.

Start moving. You have to go.

And a vision came to him, of how they helped unbutton each other's shirts and traced lines over the scars and stitches. And how how beautiful it was that someone who had just as much history on his body knew exactly how to touch them, caress them, kiss them. And--

He wouldn't want you to stay anyway.

Someone knocked at the door. Wilbur rushed to open it, and sure enough, it was another one of those slimy things, this time in a ridiculous maid outfit. "Good afternoon, Wilbur Soot from L'Manberg! I am here to clean the room!" the maid announced way too loudly, and Wilbur shushed it. "Mr Quackity is still sleeping. Let him wake up on his own." he whispered, and the maid simply answered "Okay Mr Soot." with a surprisingly soft voice. Wilbur closed the door behind them slowly. Knowing he had no reason to open it again left a bitter taste in his mouth. The maid asked "Where are you going by yourself, Mr Soot?", to which he simply responded "Home" before disappearing down the stairs.

[endless-brainrot]

You’re a Homestuck now???

FFFUUUUUUUCK I FORGOT THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A SECRET

[jurygarroth]

Originally Kul’zak would stay with Irene while they waited for the others to come back because as a natural warlock, he couldn’t die via old age and could only be killed with magic.

And then Shad accidentally inflicts him with withering in a fit of rage. And now his body slowly rots until he’s back to just a core and the others have to routinely regrow him.

FFFUUUUUUUCK HE SUCKED THE MAGIC OUT OF HIM :(

[soggywetcatgirl]

fffuuuuuuuck... that sounds so scary tho...........

they should invent a trans discord server im not too scared to talk in

[blimbo-buddy]

Chapter 15-16 Thoughts, The End, SPOILERS

Chapter 15

Innocent is… alive but I think he got some major head trauma because he isn't thinking properly

Also this is the first mention of a nickname for him, that being "Inno", I like it!

Okay that was an odd scene of every dude getting angry at each other because there was a female cat nearby in heat

This caught me so fucking off guard because Juno RAN to the cat to beat the shit out of her. Talk about tonal whiplash, jesus christ

Anyways, onto chapter 16, the final one. Good lord

Chapter 16

Innocent just falling right through the roof actually made me laugh it's such a dumb fucking image

Juno is rightfully pissed off to hear about how Mars died. You could say "But she's not letting Eusebius explain himself!" but Juno knows that Eusebius isn't a very trustworthy cat, he makes up shit and isn't the best source of information so when he tells her that Mars sacrificed himself and told the others to run, she's rightfully angry and instantly attacks Eusebius -… Mars and Chaton are alive.. great.

I'm gonna be honest, I'm not a fan of them living, I think they both should have died or at the very least, had their fates kept as unknown. I would have loved to see Juno grapple with her grief of potentially losing her best friend, her brother

Kind of an underwhelming chapter conclusion, but wait, there's more! There's an Epilogue

Epilogue

Holy shit, acknowledgement that it's difficult for these cats to live out in the wild, wow!

Also a shocker, Eusebius decides to up and leave, and the text goes on to say, "Though they had been rivals for so long, Leander experienced a strange sense of loss when Eusebius left and he watched the other cat depart until he vanished from sight" Leander, that was your homosexual lover

It felt weirdly sad to read that all the cats slowly left one by one, including Leander! I like that whatever happened to Vergil, Reine, and Jean was left up in the air, they could be dead, or they could be alive, maybe in another city or exploring the world

I like the description of how Leander handled surviving in the wild, it actually makes a point that it was difficult for him

The ending was so small, so comforting and warming. The scene with Leander and the old woman was the sweetest thing ever and the call-back to the Le Chat legend was great. "Le Chat had come home" FFFUUUUUUUCK

I'm not sure how I'd interpret the ending, perhaps that the cats could not realize that "Le Chat" was referring to just cats, not the character of the legend, but themselves. They believed humans worshiped and loved Le Chat just as much as they did, that Le Chat was the human's whole world too. But they never realized that the humans were talking about them, the cats were their whole world and they always would be

[miraclestrife]

the opposite of selfcare is listening to gamkar playlists on spotify and making your yearing to hear karkats stupid raspy voice next to you in bed even worse

[mmochabear-moved]

I'm really, really tired

[kindestegg]

Fffuuuuuuuck dude you're gonna make me cry here!!!! This is so touching to read and it makes me very happy that this has given you so many strong and positive emotions, this is EXACTLY why I write and make projects like these!! So I can share my vision with other people and make them happy and smile too!! Make them feel things!! Art is all about human connection and communication to me and self expression and the fact you wrote all this really!! Encapsulates that I think!! Thank you so much a thousand times!!! Awaaawaawaa!!!!!!!!! X3 <33333333

hey you!! do you like fusions?? self indulgent canon divergent aus full of stuff fans might have asked for??? WHAT ABOUT PLATINUM BONES (KING AND COLLECTORS DYNAMIC)?? then have i got the deal for you!!!!

from the foreword on the doc:

Nightingale is a “what if” canon divergent exercise that asks the bold question of “what if Collector still had a blobby goopy true form? And what if King was able to fuse with that and get cool super powers so he could also look cool and pose with Titan Luz and Harpy Eda?” And so was born Nightingale!

read their story here! have fun!

[wielderofsiegfried-blog]

I never realized how much my old rp community has fucked me in the head--holy fuck.