#gab babbles

[officersnickers]

WAWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

JUST KILLED A MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Do you have any good words to use instead of exclaim?

Thank you, I love this blog so much!

So glad to hear this. Thank you! <3 I love making these writing references as well.

Exclaim - to cry out, speak, or utter in a strong or sudden burst of emotion

Assert - to state or declare positively and often forcefully or aggressively

Aver - to allege or assert in pleading

Babble - to talk enthusiastically or excessively

Bellow - to make the loud deep hollow sound

Bewail - to express deep sorrow for usually by wailing and lamentation

Blabber - to talk foolishly or excessively

Blat - to declare positively; to utter loudly or foolishly

Blunder - to utter stupidly, confusedly, or thoughtlessly

Blurt (out) - to utter abruptly and impulsively

Bray - to utter or play loudly or harshly

Burst out - to say (something) suddenly

Caterwaul - to make a harsh cry

Chirp - to utter (something) with a cheerful liveliness; to make sharply critical, complaining, or taunting remarks

Clamor - to utter or proclaim insistently and noisily

Crow - to utter a sound expressive of pleasure

Gab - to talk in a rapid or thoughtless manner

Gabble - to say with incoherent rapidity

Gush - to make an effusive display of affection or enthusiasm

Hoot - to shout or laugh usually derisively

Howl - to cry out loudly and without restraint under strong impulse (such as pain, grief, or amusement)

Inveigh - to protest or complain bitterly or vehemently

Orate - to speak in an elevated and often pompous manner

Perorate - to deliver a long or grandiloquent oration

Repine - to feel or express dejection or discontent

Roar - to utter or emit a full loud prolonged sound

Screech - a high shrill piercing cry usually expressing pain or terror

Shout - to utter a sudden loud cry

Shriek - to utter a sharp shrill sound

Shrill - to utter or emit an acute piercing sound

Snarl - to give vent to anger in surly language

Spout - to speak or utter readily, volubly, and at length

Squall - to utter in a strident voice

Squawk - to utter a harsh abrupt scream

Squeal - to cause to make a loud shrill noise

Vociferate - to utter or cry out loudly

Wail - to express a prolonged cry or sound expressing grief or pain; loud lamentation

Whine - to utter a high-pitched plaintive or distressed cry

Yammer - to utter repeated cries of distress or sorrow; to utter persistent complaints; to talk persistently or volubly and often loudly

Yawp - (or yaup) to make a raucous noise

Yowl - to utter a loud long cry of grief, pain, or distress

Hope this helps. If it inspires your writing in any way, please tag me, or leave a link in the replies. I would love to read your work!

More: Word Lists

[sanguivorouscorvid]

god i love talking. love to blabber. i adore prattling. really enjoy chattering and yakking and babbling and blathering and blethering and nattering and grumbling and gossiping and gabbing and lecturing and rattling on. truly no greater joy in this world than talking excessively about absolutely nothing

[writingquestionsanswered]

How do you write a character that is very talkative, not just when they are nervous but all the time?

Portraying an Extremely Talkative Character

You can use a relatively even combination of dialogue, action, and exposition to illustrate a character's talkative personality. That way, you're not overusing any one method.

Illustrating a talkative character in dialogue can be done by: giving the character a few more lines in any conversation than the character/s they're talking to. Giving them longer dialogue (3 or 4 sentences per line of dialogue as opposed to 1 or 2 for the other characters most of the time), having them be a little wordier than they need to be, and having them occasionally interrupt other characters and/or finish their sentences.

Illustrating a talkative character in action can be done by showing the character being talkative in the background, so-to-speak. For example: I walked into the meeting room and joined the group around the conference table. I scanned the room for Clary, and chuckled to myself as she rattled off engineering facts to a trio of executives she'd pinned in a corner. Their eyes were glazed over, but to their credit, they let her go on and on.

Illustrating a talkative character in exposition can be done by having the narrator tell the reader things that illustrate the character as talkative. For example: Everyone at the box factory loved Clary, but she had "the gift of the gab," as Mary the receptionist often said. There was an unspoken rule in the office that you never walked by Clary's desk when you were in a hurry, because if she intercepted you, it could be twenty or thirty minutes before you found an in to politely break free.

The synonyms you use for "talkative" should depend on how you want to characterize the person. If this is someone who is generally nice, innocent, and someone people would want to be kind to, go for more neutral synonyms like: chatty, gabby, gossipy, wordy, babbling, loquacious, and effusive. But if this is someone who is loud, opinionated, boastful, and simply loves to hear themselves speak, you can go for harsher synonyms like long-winded, bigmouth, windbag, blowhard, blabbermouth, flap jaw, garrulous, running their mouth, etc. (And you can tweak according to what's being talked about, too. Cross-reference thesaurus suggestions with a dictionary to make sure you get the right word for the character/situation.)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

LEARN MORE about WQA

SEE MY ask policies

VISIT MY Master List of Top Posts

COFFEE & COMMISSIONS ko-fi.com/wqa

[midnightfire830]

Holy cussing stars the time this took so I could learn how to render wood, chipped wood, ceramic, and cloth textures. 😫

Because every soldier needs his lovely princess to protect, here’s Holly as a ceramic princess doll! Kudos to @sirensea14 for the design idea. I made a few edits to her original sketch, but largely the design belongs to her!

I don’t think there’s enough time for me to babble about everything my friends and I have talked about for these two, but the idea is Cuphead and Mugman protect their lovers as a soldier and knight would. It felt only fitting for Holly to be a personification of a “Tree Princess” for him to protect. Her being made of china would make her all the more delicate and she’d have to worry about not cracking. So of course Cuphead would take that upon himself to fiercely protect her and make sure she stays safe! Even at the extend of his own safety

AKA why I made him look so banged up is 1. from roughing it out in the woods (more later on the world building) and 2. a lot of accidents in his efforts to protect her and AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHTHEY’RESOCUTEEEEE!!!!

Im gabbing so much about this AU you have no idea!!!!

Oh. I should probably mention this is for Lost Toys AU. That might be a good idea to mention that lol.

[ghooostbaby]

Now that i am fixated on he xuan and hua cheng’s dynamic, rereading the black water arc and seeing all of the tiny but meaningful ways they talk to each other is kind of a delight. I suppose on the surface it might seem that they’re kind of passive aggressive in their communication and at minimum are kind of prickly with each other. However, obviously all their face-to-face interactions are shown through the perspective of xie lian, who they need to convince that they are a legitimate god and the ghost king who kidnapped and tortured said god. they’d have to be pretty inept if they got along any better in front of a heavenly official... if you pay attention, it becomes clear how they’re actually always working together and helping each other out.

When shi qingxuan and “ming yi” first show up at the puqi shrine, hua cheng and ming yi react to each other with intense animosity and hua cheng tells ming yi to leave and not come back, and ming yi responds “coming here was not my choice!” The narration explains specifically that their reactions to each other must be because they had last met when hua cheng had kidnapped and tortured ming yi, at least as far as shi qingxuan and xie lian are concerned - so it seems to me that they are putting on a good act to help keep he xuan’s disguise up, while hua cheng is communicating objections to he xuan involving xie lian, and he xuan is responding that he doesn’t want to, but his hand has been forced by shi qingxuan.

Then when they’re going over shi qingxuan’s scrolls hua cheng corrects the mistakes that the kills attributed to the Reverend, and that actually some kills were his own and some were Black Water’s, and then has a pretty good time insulting Shi Wudu. All of that could be typical for Hua Cheng, and there also could be a lot of other double meanings read into it, but I just think that He Xuan probably enjoyed hearing that a lot. And when Hua Cheng describes how the Reverend goes after not only the prey but all its family and friends … something about it feels like he’s speaking for He Xuan’s benefit, speaking out loud all the things He Xuan can’t say yet about what happened to him so Shi Qingxuan has to be forced to deal with it, which I think would be a little satisfying for He Xuan. Hua Cheng seems to be giving him face, showing respect…

Then when they go through the array and Shi Qingxuan gets quite close to the truth of who meddled with the array, Hua Cheng starts babbling accusations and twisting logic so Shi Qingxuan gets confused and distracted and they move on. On the surface it looks like its because Hua Cheng could look guilty himself and he was showing that he wasn’t there to meddle or help, just to be with Xie Lian … but suspicion of Ming Yi was the most probable cause of the array taking them to a wrong place, and Hua Cheng’s contributions mean they barely consider it at all.

“What’s with that look? In my opinion, don’t you think Lord Earth Master is the most suspicious one?” said Hua Cheng.

Ming Yi’s eyes also swept over. 

Hua Cheng added, “Instead of focusing on guessing who meddled after, what if the array he drew was wrong from the beginning? You don’t necessarily need a reason to do something. Lord Wind Master, you yourself are suspicious too.” 

“Huh?” Shi Qingxuan had never thought the tables would turn on him, and pointed at himself. “Who? ME?!”

“Yeah. A thief crying thief is a common thing,” Hua Cheng said. “Just why have you come? If you and your esteemed brother are truly scared of the Reverend of Empty words, why were those rags cobbled together? It’s not a stretch of the imagination to think that the two of you schemed, and intentionally led us here.”

Just by looking at his expression, one could tell that he was cheekily gabbing nonsense; but he looked so confident that almost anyone would start doubting too. Shi Qingxuan was almost shaken.

(the last part ahahaha hua cheng <3)

 Even in the novel as a whole - hua cheng and he xuan do a lot of things to benefit the other that otherwise they wouldn’t have wanted to. They always have a self-serving reason to pass it off as instead of “i just love my ghost king pal <3” but i firmly believe hua cheng and he xuan respect and *gasp* care about each other!!!

hua cheng lies to xie lian to support he xuan's plans in the black water arc and i think it would take a LOT for hua cheng to do that. And in the last book, he xuan comes when hua cheng asks to help shi qingxuan hold together the spiritual array fighting the human face disease, that also is not something he would ever do lightly- even when he does come he seems very angry, as well as that this is the only time he shows his face around shi qingxuan again, and he hadn’t shown his face to anyone since his revenge but for this either.

Also in the last book, he xuan lets hua cheng trash his territory and pretty much smash apart his bonefish, and hua cheng says he can do this because of he xuan’s debt, but 1.) it doesn’t seem like he xuan is ever paying him back, or that there’s any kind of a collection deadline, he xuan just keeps taking more and more, 2.) hua cheng doesn’t seem liable to let someone take so much from him if he had wanted to be paid back, and 3.) hua cheng does not seem to care about any of his nice possessions and wealth, he’s pretty careless with the rare treasures he has, his own mansion burning down (twice?), and so on. He seems pretty unfussed about spending his resources as if there is always more where that came from. (credit to @muigiel for this observation) So i do think this is a purposeful mislead. Like the debt is a good cover for them to do nice things for each other :3 (i love them)

I think in general in tgcf ghosts and gods are not as they appear, and the more i look into ghosts in this book the more full of goodness, hope, love, and life they seem to be. (qi rong is an outlier and should not be counted. Ok but he is loved by guzi who apparently finds him to be a better father than the original (omg i’m so sorry guzi) so he does count a little i guess?) 

I think a good indicator of how the actions of these ghost kings should be taken is given in the moment with hua cheng, xie lian and guzi where guzi is afraid of hua cheng on sight, and xie lian says, “don’t worry, this gege is a good person” and hua cheng says “no, i’m a very bad person” while making a cute little butterfly fly over to guzi. in hua cheng’s and he xuan’s responses to each other it’s as if they’re saying “i’m a very bad bad person” while making little butterflies fly toward each other. if we miss that I think we’ve missed something important about the story.

[chrissdollie]

ran out of words to use while writing? liyah's gotchu baby dw

instead of "said":

acknowledged

added

agreed

announced

began

called

commented

declared

expressed

mentioned

noted

observed

remarked

repeated

replied

shared

stated

told

uttered

voiced

to express happiness

babbled

beamed

chattered

cheered

chimed

chuckled

congratulated

gabbed

giggled

grinned

gushed

jabbered

joked

laughed

praised

sang

smiled

thanked

thrilled

to express anger//annoyance:

accused

barked

complained

criticized

demanded

fumed

growled

groaned

grunted

grumbled

hissed

mocked

ranted

retorted

roared

scoffed

screeched

shouted

thundered

whined

sadness/fear:

cried

apologized

bawled

blubbered

fretted

gulped

howled

moaned

mumbled

shrieked

sighed

sniffled

sniveled

sobbed

squealed

trembled

wailed

wept

whimpered

question/answer:

begged

claimed

confirmed

confided

explained

guessed

hypothesized

informed

inquired

interrogated

pleaded

pondered

puzzled

questioned

quizzed

revealed

reported

speculated

testified

wondered

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

wallflower 36

Warnings: age gap, creepin’, slow burn, stepdad-adjacent, possible noncon/dubcon, abuse, violence, self-harm, manipulation, panic attack, dissociation, gaslighting.

Character: silverfox!Thor

Your mother meets a new man, but he doesn’t seem very interested in her.

Note: <3 Another erratic drabble series. Appreciate any and all feedback. Love you all. And I didn’t expect this chapter to go this way or to be a bit longer than usual.

Thrud is glowing, her cheeks rosy, her eyes vibrant, her hair lustrous and full. You feel like a shadow next to her. In awe of her beauty as she takes a crystal glass and pours dark wine into its depths.

She fills a second and clunks down the bottle heavily on the round table at the centre of the room. A room surrounded by several others in a small villa outside the main house of the vineyard. She hands one to you and eagerly draws from the brim. You sip daintily, the taste acrid as it singes your tongue.

You swallow, nearly choking as she takes her phone and thumbs at it carelessly, tossing it back on the table as she sticks her tongue out, "boys."

"Uh, yeah," you laugh nervously and pick at your dry lip, stopping yourself as her eyes catch the movement. "Sorry."

"Oh, hon, you don't have to be sorry," she shrugs as she sits on cushioned divan, "why don't you chill out, girl?"

You tiptoe to her and sit carefully with your glass, hers sloshing obliviously as she angles it to her mouth again. She slurps with zeal and pops her lips as she pulls it away. You look around anxiously, uncertain. She's so nice. Well, so is Thor so you guess you shouldn't be surprised.

"You ever been to Spain before?"

You shake your head and make yourself drink the wine. It's sweeter the more you sip. You cradle the glass gently and look at her again. She's gorgeous. You wish you were like her.

"Oh, wonderful, I'll have to show you around. There's a pool... indoors. It's a bit too cold out to be that wild!" She giggles, "oh, and the cellar! You can have your choice of any bottle. I'm my uncle's favourite so you don't need to worry about that."

"That's nice," you look down into the dark wine, "I don't drink much, though."

"Quiet thing like you, of course not, but you've got a friend now. You don't have to be stingy for these old men."

"Um," you give a goofy smile, not sure how to reply.

"Relax, I mean it. You're much better company than my dumb brothers. They always end up breaking something. Oh! There's this club near here, I used to sneak away in high school, don't mention it to daddy, but it's so nice and the men. They'll buy you a drink just for a smile. They like foreigners."

"Men?" You utter and shake your head, "I don't..."

"I'll do the talking. Ah, oh," she covers her mouth, "I'm terrible for it. I gab away and no one gets a word in elsewise. Well, please, I want you to tell me everything."

"Everything?"

"About you!"

"Me? Well, I'm not interesting."

"You must be if you're here."

"I... I dunno, my mom... it was just me and her and then---"

You gasp as the glass slips from your hand. You squeak and stand as it spills across the wood and you touch your cheeks. You don't know what you were doing, not paying attention. God, if your mother was there she'd holler and howl until you cleaned it up. You stare down at the puddle and sway, searching for anything to wipe it up.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you sniffle, "I'll clean it up. I don't know how-- I didn't mean to," you babble, "please don't be mad."

"Relax," she rises breezily and puts her empty glass aside, sweeping across the room and through a doorway. She returns with a towel but ignores your reach. She squats to mop up the mess, "it's not very much."

She sops it up and even gets a few drops from your feet. You step back shyly and hug yourself, "I'm so clumsy--"

"Hey, the glass didn't even break," she says cheerily as she lifts it, "no harm, no foul. It's all good." She smiles and goes to the table, "just means we need to get you a nice clean glass."

"Maybe I've had enough," you suggest.

"Enough, you just need to loosen up," she trills and stops, "but if you really don't want anymore, you don't have to."

You look her in the face. She makes you feel easy, like the world might not be that scary. You don't even know her but she feels familiar.

"Thank you," you try to smile, "I'm sorry. I just... don't have any friends."

"You don't have any friends?" She says without a hint of sarcasm, "well, I'd love for you to be mine so... wine or water, hon?"

You chew your lip and real curve takes over your lips, "I'll try some more wine, if that's okay."

🌻

You feel fuzzy and bubbly. Like you could float or even fly. Music pulses in the air, beats you've never heard before, a melody that has you twirling around. Thrud dances around with you in the space of the villa, her laughter mingling with yours.

You've never felt like this, free. It's as if all your troubles are gone, as if you're not you, as if you were never sad or mad or anything else.

You stumble over your own feet and she catches your arm before you can tip over. You giggle again as both of you nearly collide with the table.

"You are wild," she growls at you, "who knew the little mouse had it in her?"

You roll your eyes at her, "I always wanted to be fun."

"You are!" She slurs, "trust me."

"No one lets me be fun!" You pout and turn away from her, reach for the bottle. It's empty as you tip it up. "God. Fuck!" You cover your mouth guiltily and let the bottle roll across the table, "oh my."

She laughs and you can't help but join in, ripping your hand away from your mouth, "fuck, shit!"

"Oh god, stop it," she clenches her sides.

"I never, I never swear," you whisper, "it's... so cool."

She laughs again and shakes her head, "I won't stop you. Jeez, sounds like you've been living in a convent."

"My mother," you hiccup, "she's an old nun. Never let me swear or... wear anything pretty... or-- or--" you feel it all brewing to a boil. You fall onto a chair and clutch your head, "she didn't love me. She doesn't love me."

It goes silent as you hunch over and hold your head. Thrud comes to you, her hand resting softly on your shoulder as she coos at you, "I'm sorry, hon, please don't think about it now. Not like this."

"I'm sorry," you sit up and swipe your fingers over your lashes, "I'm stupid."

"No, no," she gets to her knees beside you and rubs your arm, "you've been hurt. That's all, baby."

"I'm grown, I just needa suck it up."

She scoffs, "suck it up? I hope that's not what my uncle's been telling you."

"No, no, no, he's so nice. He... he listens to me," you wiggle your nose, fighting the tide of tears, "he's too nice to me. He's..." you smile a little, "he's a good doctor."

"Good," she says, "that's very good."

"It's Thor," you eke out and quickly swallow up your voice.

"Thor? Dad?" She wonders, "what do you mean?"

You blink, long and hard, then look at her. You want to say it all. He's scary, he's confusing, he's suffocating. But she's his daughter and she loves him. And he loves her. You can't say it because it might not even be true.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"He saved me," you shrug, "from mom."

"Oh," her hands brushes down your arm, "that's good."

A sudden pounding comes at the door and you feel it in your chest. You whimper and knot your fingers over your chest, letting out a high-pitched squeal. Thrud looks up, her eyes smoky as she stands and wobbles around the chair.

She crosses the villa and grabs the iron hand, pulling open the heavy wood door. Her father waits on the other side, as if summoned by your mention. You cower and refuse to look at him.

"You two, it's late--" he stops short, "Thrud, is she..."

"She's okay, daddy, we're just having fun."

"How much have you given her?"

"Daddy, get out, we're young, we're just--"

"Thrud, you don't understand, she can't drink that much on her meds."

"Oh, uh, I didn't know--"

"You didn't give me time to explain, did you?" He snaps.

"Alright, you don't have to be so rude," she whines drunkenly.

"I should take her to her villa, look at her--"

"She can stay here, I'll keep an eye on her--"

"You're drunk too."

"Daddy, I said get out," she stomps her foot and latches onto his arm as you finally glance over.

"You don't underst--"

"I understand, just fine. I can take care of my friend," she insists, "hon," she inserts herself between you and Thor, "do you wanna go or do you wanna stay?"

You look between them. Thrud sways slightly, cheeks flushed, and lashes drooping, but Thor stands with a dimple in his cheek and a tick in his jaw. That same anger that lingers just under the surface. You hang your head and sniff, "I wanna stay."

"See, daddy, now good night!" Thrud says, "ugh, you always spoil the fun."

"K--" Thor begins and stops himself, "alright, fine. Just... no more. And go to bed."

"Nightttttt," Thrud sings as she ushers him to the door, snapping it shut at his exit, "I hate when he does that."

[precious-little-scoundrel]

I know you have so much you are working on and I'm not trying to jump the gun because I cannot wait for the current wips you have - but I have to ask since I just stared at the gif of Buck x Bucky fighting for five minutes straight, if that is something you have ever considered incorporating in TWC?

Oh, hi. Oh yes, oh you just opened Pandora’s box. Lol.

I’d really like to explore many aspects of them and of male sexuality in those times in here. Not pretending I’ll do some grand deep dive but it certainly has already effected certain things in the story -like why Gale is at all drawn to Maureen or trusts her more than others.

Short answer, 100% they’re an ephemeral thing in here already.

I mean? To mention things that already happened: Who watches their friend get a handjob? Who notices said friend is watching and has to remind themselves to pet the girl’s femininely long hair to remind himself it’s not said friend doing it. Who gets so fucking angry at the notion of a friend’s lover calling his sexual incapacity “useless”? Ok, ok actually even a friend would likely get mad but you get the point. Bucky is fucking tuned into this relationship.

In my head for TWC, Gale has acknowledged to himself that he is attracted to men. Before the war.

Whether he blames that attraction -and he does blame it, because lord knows he hasn’t got a gracious explanation for it- on youthful abuse or poor upbringing, I dunno, but he certainly tries to give it a scientific explanation and lock it down. The homoerotic poetry is a lapsing indulgence, m’kay? And a necessary one once he meets John Egan who doesn’t seem to be a pansy so much as a fella who never met a body he didn’t love -gender be damned.

In my head so far, I don’t imagine there’s been any action or any declaration of feelings before the camp. They are devoted. They are The Buckies. John sleeps around, Gale is secretly fraternizing, it is what it is.

Then the camp happens. Gale’s new trauma hardly comes as a surprise to himself, and Bucky would be a fool not to guess at it when he himself can admit just how beautiful his boy is. Except the boy ain’t his, not really. But Gale’s internal war regarding his abuse and his already established attraction is gonna be a big thing for him. And something Egan will eventually be essential to properly differentiating.

I hope even some of this made sense. I’m babbling but it’s a big ole plot arc I haven’t had the chance to gab about before.

And to throw in some poor, collateral John Brady into the mix is par for the course.

[clerk427]

Pinned post + meet the artist

!Small warning! Although not explicitly nsfw, this blog might not be suitable for minors. Please tread with caution.

H hiii hii haii!!!! Here's a pinned information post

Art tag is #clerk art

Ramblings is #clerk non art

Ask me and/or message me on discord (same nickname), I'm always open to chat:)

My name is Artyom (feel free to call me Clerk or give me nicknames lol), I'm 21 years old. This is my art blog. I'm still not very confident with my art, but I'm trying my darn best! Some info I decided to throw in under cut:

• I have type 1 diabetes since I was 6 and I am pretty bad at keeping my blood sugar level at bay. Please don't do that, suuuper bad for you!!

• I was diagnosed with ADHD recently

• Forgetful as HECK, I swear my brain resets every 5 minutes, probably connected to the last fact?

• Awful at remembering people's names and faces

• I burn in the sun super easily and sweat like a teenage boy; summers are not for me:(

• I was a very bitey kid

• Kinda handy! I enjoy assembling stuff and find instructions fun to follow

• People say I'm pretty funny and I think of it as my best quality

• Absolutely will give the shirt off my back, I really enjoy sharing and gifting stuff

• I freaking LOVE talking chatting babbling gabbing jabbering running my mouth, but am not the best at keeping up conversations, especially with new people

[yellowcry]

It's a great night

Pedro really wishes for Isabela's proposal evening to go perfectly

Mirabel just hopes that her Abuelo won't find out about the vision

Happens in Pedro and Alma swap au

"Don't panic... Everything is going to be fine..." Mirabel reminded herself, gazing at Dolores across the table, not even daring to blink. Others didn't seem to notice their strange staring competition. Abuelo and Señora Guzman were chatting about how they wanted this wedding to be. Isabela picked at the plate, occasionally exchanging a few words with her future fiance, who just couldn't stop babbling with the face of an excited puppy. Luisa was just staring down with a dense expression; what Mirabel just swept aside, knowing that Luisa was probably just worried that she might hurt Mariano in a sparring. Part of Mirabel really wondered if it was actually fair to force Mariano to fight a person with super strength just to get allowed to marry her sister (who wasn't even interested), but she wouldn't say anything about this.

Becides, right now, it was the last of her concerns, as she had to keep staring into Dolores' nervous eyes, trying to keep her from splitting the truth out. Honestly, there was no reason to make Abuelo worried; he'd probably go crazy in fear if he found out. Part of Dolores seemed to understand it as well, as she definitely held herself back, but it was obvious how hard it was by her quering lips. Mirabel was sitting almost breathless, ignoring the gabbing around her. Just keep it to herself... Everything is going to be fine...

“Avocado?” Mirabel starled at Mariano's voice, blinking at the bowl in front of her a few times before her brain had finally processed what just happened. She pushed the dish aside, but it was too late. With her side eye, she could see Dolores whispering something to Camilo, whose eyes were already widening in fear before he chocked panickly, shifting between Mirabel and Tio Bruno. An awkward silence hung in the room as everyone stared at Camilo.

“What's going on?” Pedro demamded, Camilo obviously wasn't left unnoticed. Oh, great, there was no way out of here. The boy looked at Mirabel as if he were begging for help, while Dolores looked away couly, now asking Antonio something, possibly to keep him distracted from the whole mess. Why couldn't she just keep her mouth shut? 

Camilo kept looking at everyone with pleading eyes, visibly begging to save him from something that no one could understand. “Uh... Well...”

Mirabel gasped; she knew she had to do something right now to stop the future exlocation. “Abuelo, I mean, it's just our uncle. He disappeared ages ago...” She shook her head, giggling rapidly, but soon gibberished again as Pedro opened his mouth, probably wanting to say something in protest. “And don't we have more recent things to do?” Her lips feigned a smile as she put her hand on Mariano's shoulder, completely ignoring how betrayed Isa looked, but she would probably hate it more if the secret got to Abuelo.

The elder looked like he was thinking about a life-threatening decision; his gaze shifted between Mariano and Camilo. After what seemed to be an eternity, he sighed, slightly waving his hand. "I suppose it would work." (It would be better to have more people who could help in a case of danger.) "Luisa, go get your sword."

The mentioned woman didn't say anything except a light nod of her head before she stood up from the table, somehow managing not to push it away even slightly. Mariano stood as well, while Luisa disappeared into the doorway. Señora Guzman reached down to grab his bag and pass it, giving her grandson a slight proud pinch on his cheek before standing up. Mirabel bounced off her seat and went onto the patio along with the rest of her family. Abuelo hoped that tonight's fight would be really good, so the dining room wouldn't really fit for the whole moving and fighting show.

Mariano kept pacing back and forth, swinging his weapon to heat up before the start. Dolores looked at him, pursuing her lips, before she came closer and put her hand on his shoulder, getting attention. "Are you worried?" Her tone wasn't interrogative, despite the looming sentence.

Mariano shook his head slightly. "Ah, I just can't imagine fighting Luisa."

Yes, Dolores couldn't blame him. She sometimes listened to her and Camilo's training when she was especially bored. Luisa was a serious rival, even in training battles. "She won't use her whole strength." Dolores promised, tilting her head slightly. She looked to the side to hide how her cheeks started to blush lightly.

"Oh... nice to know." Mariano scratched the back of his head, also looking away. Dolores couldn't blame him; frankly, it was the first time Dolores actually talked to him. Usually,  she was too worried that she wouldn't be able to hide her feelings and end up running the proposal. "I just need to last in a fight long enough," he reminded himself.

Dolores winced at the sound of a creaking door. The fact that Luisa didn't slam it open was surprising; her heart was beating so fast, almost like in an anxiety attack, but her face didn't lose its usual durability.

Mariano took a deep breath, standing opposite the stairs as Luisa's rhythmic footsteps echoed across the patio. She held the dull espadín tightly, slightly looking down. It feels like it was a few hours while Luisa was walking down; her free hand slid along the railings.

Two fighters had bowed to each other as a sign of respect. The patio froze, looking at how Mariano rushed forward. Luisa put her sword forward, blocking the blow, before getting aside half-turn, blocking the following hit.

Luisa threw the sword from hand to hand with the dexterity of a wild animal each time Mariano managed to almost touch her. She didn't attack very much, blocking the blows most of the time. The cold metal rang when their swords struck against each other. Mariano could tell that Luisa didn't really try to hit him, focusing on defense, and he wasn't even sure if he could evade Luisa's attack.

Luisa's face looked like she was focused on her own thoughts, but her body kept swinging the weapon, not letting Mariano come close enough to strike her. They circled opposite each other as if it were an actual fight to death. 

Luisa's eyes sparkled for a moment, distracted by something else. It was the moment when Mariano acted, jumping closer to her, just enough to strike closer to her. But to his surprise, Luisa didn't dodge. The espadín stuck into her stomach, and she let out a shocked gasp as her clothes started to get wet. With all her strength, she swung and hit Mariano, now acting on her bare instincts. Luckily, the dull blade couldn't actually pierce him, but the force of the blow was strong enough for him to fall down, feeling a fresh bruise on his side.

For a moment, everyone froze, unsure what to do as Luisa pressed her palm against the wound, feeling thick blood coming out. Soon enough, Julieta came to her senses, rushing to Luisa with a tray that she held to give snacks to the spectators.

"Dios Mio, Luisa." She screamed, standing next to her and forcing a mogolla into her daughter's mouth. 

Luisa breathed out in relief, feeling how her skin tightened. After half a minute, the wound dissipated completely. She decided to ignore the fact that it was way too long for their mom.

Marino stood next to her, carefully touching the bleeding cloth. "I'm so sorry! I didn't want to actually harm you." He begged, his voice was filled with guilt. Luisa didn't have the strength to answer, feeling the tears welling up in her eyes. She swallowed to bury them deeper into her eyes. Abuelo wouldn't approve if she started to cry; she was already in trouble for being distracted during the fight. 

If the tenseness at the dinner table was heavy enough, then now this silence felt like it was about to crush everyone. Camilo stared at Luisa, trying to grasp the fact that Mariano had managed to hit her. In ten years of sparring, Camilo's biggest victory was to scratch Luisa slightly if she didn't have space to godge fully. 

Mirabel was about to run to Luisa as well when she noticed something. A pair of rats climbed her dad, who seemed too shocked to notice something, and grabbed the green pieces of shattered vision with their small teeth before jumping down and rushing upstairs. What in the world was going on? 

Luckily, her family was too shocked to notice if Mirabel decided to run after them.

[kalolasfantasyworld]

Ooo Can I get 7,and...21 for Helena? 👀

Hi Laura! 💕

Thanks for the ask and let's Helena answer. It's an interview after all.

7. Who do you look up to?

Oh that’s easy. Mi papa. He’s very strong, calm and collected. I wish I could have his patience. However despite his seriousness he’s a very warm person and has a sense of humour. I always feel loved in his presence and papa believes in me. He made sure, that we were safe through all these years, that our king and military were very happy about taking us out. Papa can perfectly take care of our house and he’s good to the people. I wish to be half a Lady of a House compared to how amazing he is. Besides he’s simply a great father and a loving husband. I admit *blush* that growing up and seeing mis padres love and care for each other I wished for something like this for myself… I’m drifting off topic right now.

So yeah mi papa. ^^

21. Describe your ideal partner.

Hmm, so I love Nozel more than anything, but I wouldn’t say that he’s my ‘ideal’ partner. When I was growing up I obviously imagined a handsome nobleman, my prince charming to sweep me off my feet. Hah Gabs would say that I read way too many childhood romance novels and honestly he was right. Raen was actually my ideal type… Funny, charming, everybody loved him. However over time I suppose I learned to look past the ideals. How do they say it? Imperfection is beautiful, madness is genius and silly is better than boring. Once again I’m babbling. Back to the topic I’ve alway thought that the little things matter, so I wanted my partner to be perceptive, especially even though I try to be good at communicating, I’m only human. So I also would like for them to be patient with me. Besides all of that I want to feel comfortable around that person, to be my silly self and for them to love me for who I am… even though I’m a tease and I make fun of them a lot. This is affectionate. 

Mi amor if you’re watching this know that I love you and you might not have been my ideal type, but became someone who’s my ideal other half. ;*

[lazypanartist]

Hi today is Thanksgiving here aka Friendsgiving for me and Disaster has struck in lego city so uh have this funny writing i did to cope with Piesis (Pie Crisis). -📝 anon

---

Raphael slowly uncovered Mikey's ears, his face a few shades lighter from the shock he felt listening to the long line of curses come out of your mouth.

"Jumpin' Jack Flash, I hadn't even heard summa those, and we ran around Manhattan for a while..."

Red and Orange both watched as you slid down the side of the counter in a heap, a mess of rich blues and purples splattered all over the floor, your shoes, and the fridge nearby. You looked utterly wrecked.

"Uh, what was that screaming that sounded vaguely like it came from a horror movie we aren't old enough to watch?" Leo murmured, slinking into the kitchen along with Donnie, who glanced up from his phone long enough to see the mess and let out a low whistle of sympathy.

"Yikes. That's a lot of pie guts."

You gave a mumble in reply and tucked your head into your knees. Mikey picked his way across the battlefield, shimmying his way past minefields of pie crust collateral and trenches of blueberry goo before squatting next to you.

"You good...?"

The only response you gave was a hollow "no" and the shaking of your head.

"What in the name of Lou Jitsu even happened?" asked, Leo, looking around. It was almost impressive. There were dots of pastry on the ceiling.

"I'd wager a guess, based on the pie splat radius and the angle, our little hard at work baker forgot how they take up space with physically existing and accidentally hip-checked the pizza stone their homemade lemon blueberry pie was on." The softshelled mutant slowly lifted his goggles up. "Knocked the whole thing to the ground, didn't you?"

His response was a warbled wail that vaguely could be understood as words.

"I think we need to babyproof edges and doorways..." the youngest murmured. "It seems to be an issue with you."

Raphael, his arm around their friend, leaned forward and swiped a chunk of crust laden with the filling and popped it in his mouth. Donnie shuttered and politely turned to gag.

"...Dang. Dang that is...REAL good pie. Still good pie! Its got salvageable bits!"

Mikey lifted the face-down tin and gabbed a piece of busted latticed crust himself, Leo opting to swipe a finger through a splotch on the counter.

"Oh wow. Yeah that is good."

"Dang! You should give me that recipe."

You whined out a series of hard to understand words and babbling as your hands flailed while you talk.

"Yeah, that's a problem." Donatello nodded, opting to have some of the remnants of pastry that clung to the inside of the tin and had not touched any of the tile. "Its nice that we like it here on the floor, but- Ooh, wow that is nice, very bright- you can't exactly bring it to the lair's Friendsgiving dinner tomorrow like that."

"Splat Pie~" crooned the youngest, reaching to grab some more of the demolished desert.

"Yeah, and the stores're all closed until the day after, ain't they?" Raph asked. You whined and nodded.

"Dont worry about it," Leo preened, waving a hand dismissively, "I think I'll actually die if I dont get a full slice, we'll get you what all you need again." He paused, listening to your mumble as you began to collect yourself from the meltdown. "Mikey can help remake the crust while we go on a run. You need more blueberries and a lemon? Easy. Surely something is open somewhere!"

"I'll stay and help clean up." Raphael said, slowly standing to his full lumbering height. "You should go shower off the pie gore."

You slowly began trailing away, mumbling something pitifully.

"It's no problem, we love you too!" Leonardo chirped before waving you off, "And dont thank us yet! Thank us with full pie. Come on Donald-"

With that, the twins portaled off somewhere in search of groceries while you slunk off for a boiling hot shower as Raphael and Michelangelo started cleaning between stealing salvaged bites of the confection.

--

(Its all okay now but Oof i had some BIG emotions when The Tragedy Struck.)

OhNo.. sounds like an Issue happened. I hope you're doing okay now!

This sounds like another instance of Big Brother Raph's instincts popping up to control the situation & calm everyone down. Love how everyone's just Ready To Go as soon as there's a plan!

[shipstylennyman]

Far Far Away from South Park, Valentines Day. 2pm

“Th-thank you everybody! it’s been wonderful puh-performing for you this evening!”

The cameras swarmed him, but not as close as they would like. Because Jimmy was on a mission. His crutched thwacking more than a few intrusive shins as he made through the crowd begging for his answered. They couldn’t protest his carelessness of course, that would be rude. They were the ones flashing lights in his face.

“W-w-we’ll have our new, schedule up on the w-website as soon’ as possible! I love you all!” He called out one more time, face bright as usual as he swung around and ducked low to swoop down into his waiting car.

“What it the conflict Mr Valmer?”

“Is it another new mistress Mr Valmer?”

“Are you dying Mr Valmer?”

“Will you sign my ass Mr Valmer?”

“You’ve been a wonderful audience!” He piped as the door slammed. The window was still ajar though as they pushed into it, damn shins protected. Jimmy pressed the button to start rolling it up as he turned from them, thoughts elsewhere.

He felt a constriction in his chest now that finally he was alone, allowing his face to fall and wipe away the signature grin. He struggled to regulate his breathing as he shakily pulled his cellphone from it’s holster. He didn’t have to scan long to get the right speed dial. The number went straight to voicemail.

“Timmy!” The tone called out mockingly before the beep sounded.

Jimmy bit his lips to steady himself as he organized his thoughts to speak. “Tim? Timtim I n-n-n-need you t-t-t-to get back t-t-t-t’ me.” His stutter deepening as the anxiety racked at him. “I n-n-nenne-ne-nee-need to hear you say it. I nuh-nuh-nuh-n-n-n-need to hear wh-whats goin on.” He pleaded, trying to sound serious despite the fear that gripped him. “P-pe-people are talkin’ about it. P-p-p-p-people in my c-circles. An’ I don’t like w-wh-what they’re sayin Tim.”

He felt dizzy. There was nothing he wouldn’t give to have the other man infront of him now. If not offering him the answers, at least his presence might bring him some ease. His companion of the decade. He’d trust anything the man told him. Even if it was the doom of the whole world that fell from his lips.

“Timtim, wh-wh-what the fuck is going on?”

Less Far Away from South Park, Valentines Day.

“Timtim, wh-wh-what the fuck is going on?” The screened phonecall rang out. It went on a few moments more, syllables coming out in jarbled mess of desperate pleading for reaction, for reason, for reassurance. But the voice could not receive it. Not over that line anyway, it was tapped for constant surveillance. It’s owner himself killing time in surveillance of his own, awaiting the time that he would be allowed to have a more private conversation with the man on the other line.

A titular celebrity gossip show, all conspiracy and gab, saturated bright and scandalous. A beloved and topical rising star dipping out before the taping of his main performance in the middle of the day. Theories abounded of what could be the issue. Medical problems, frivolous vanity and ego tipping the mood, angry women making angry demands, controversial rumors threatening to spill out. It was tickling to the insides to know exactly what the truth was. It made the spectacle all the more entertaining, to see the common wretches babbling mindlessly about realities they couldn’t begin to fathom.

Another monitor, much more dreary. The testing grounds. But with comfort it showed that it was coming to a close. This was also a recording, anyway. They’d finished hours ago. Their subject was by now safely tucked away in the arms of his lovers, allowed to rest now for some time. It’d be days, weeks maybe, before they had processed the meaning of the results. If it provided results at all, of course. This carnage very well could have been all for naught.

Yet another monitor was one that did not change, under strict programming. It was not to be switched away from, off, or lowered from the droning of fountains spilling just outside it’s frame. More could be heard, of course, but those were sounds that one only heard in the deepest recesses of your mind. After you had strained too hard for too long to search for something, or quicker yet if they were paying no mind at all. It worked less painfully that way, to not know how your cells were being rescrambled to understand the noise. To hear what it had to tell, to prophet it, to be haunted by it. Few could stand an hour with these worms in their ears, eating at their core. Thankfully, for everyone, Timmy was made from different stuff. And he liked worms.

He was still bored though, itching for his guest who would surely arrive as soon as possible to show up at his door. And these screens weren’t entertaining him like he would have so preferred.

Could you keep him entertained until then, perhaps?

Jimmy and Timmy are open for questions for the next 48hrs! good luck getting answers, though

[blossomingbellflower]

Once, a long time ago, the hanyou had refused to come down from the branches to be in her company. Not that it was her fault—of course not— but the tiny human gremlins surrounding her made him reluctant with their curious stares and constant babbling. Now, that memory was playing before his eyes and tugging at his aching heart as the village kids claimed her attention, briefly pulling on her hands or clothes and showing her the weeds and few herbs they pulled out of the ground. They grew quiet and wary when he approached, slowly returning to playing with each other on the fields as he squatted down by her side. "Dunno how you managed to deal with kids all the time," he muttered after a beat of quiet. "I would've lost it if they wanted to gab my ears off or pull my hair—but you've always been good at it." [ the idea popped in my head and I had to give it to you uwu i missed you too <3 ]

Unprompted asks|| @museguided

🏹 Kikyou’s smile remained on her fair countenance as the hanyou approached. The children, while wary at first, seemed to eventually forget about his presence and returned to their squealing and giggling. Most children had incredibly short attention spans which sometimes worked in their favor. It  also most  likely helped that Kikyou was there to oversee them. Being amicable and a priestess, were just one of the many reasons children gravitated towards her or their parents trusted her to keep their children safe.

No matter the reason, Kikyou had infinite patience for the young ones. After all, she did raise Kaede..until her first passing. One could also say she was gifted with strong maternal instincts, which was why she enjoyed her time with the children. The need to nurture, love and protect them was ingrained into her very soul.

Kikyou had once wanted to have a family of her own. To live simply like any ordinary woman. The miko almost had that..She had been so close..but it was robbed by Naraku. The unborn child in her stomach died that very day alongside her. All her dreams were burnt with her corpse.

“I think it is something that my soul had been born with. A softness for children that simply grew over time.”, she answered lightly, looking towards him. “It is the duty of the strong to care for the weak and..I enjoy it..even when they are causing mischief or trouble.” Slender fingers reached out to gently brush some of those tresses of his from his face.

“There are many explanations for myself  but..you are also pretty good with them. I remember how patient you used to be with Kaede.”, she chuckled softly, brown hues twinkling with mirth. “And Inuyasha..if they did that, your reaction would be understandable.” His ears were sensitive and children needed to learn boundaries. Kikyou could not nor would she fault him if he lost his temper.

That said, a situation like that would need to be addressed carefully and with gentleness.

“At the end of the day, beloved, you will protect them. Keep them from harm and watch over them. It is okay to have a threshold for dealing with children. Just..remember that they are still learning of the world. They are inquisitive. Mistakes will be made as they grow..so as the older ones, we must be patient with them.”

[novemberthewriter]

a certain standard of care [1k wds]

genre: horror (comedy, surreal, gross-out)

[tw: gore, bodily functions]

--

The agency has a core rule:

-Don’t call HQ and don’t leave your assignment unless you are 100% sure something deadly will happen to you and your client.

Breaking this rule means termination.

We keep a certain standard of care here, HQ tells you, and you are careful to take no-fuss assignments – eliminate any wacky possibilities that necessitate calls to some supervisor whose job is to not answer you.

However, you can’t predict everything.

Your assignment today is Murray.

He and his roommate Mark, both aged 82, stay in the first building of a tiny apartment complex where all the buildings are two-level and stand in a circle around a central gravel courtyard. You’re only meant to be a few hours, a stopgap after the last caregiver called off ill.

Murray is bald, pale-pink, and heavy-set. Sharp blue eyes and a mischievous mouth. Mark is tall and willowy like a reed. Finely drawn face, thick gray coif, deep dark eyes, solid hands. There’s hidden strength there. Mark reminds you of an undertaker, but don’t they haul bodies? And if he could do that, surely he could help Murray himself.

Mark bids you adieu to run errands and you’re left with Murray in his wheelchair adjacent to the recliner a foot in front of the big tube TV. He tells you to call him Mo. Your first task with him is to readjust his broken leg where it’s propped up on a stack of cushions, and to redress the bariatric surgery wound in his side. The leg is nothing but the wound is so raw. A salt-copper smell as it gapes at you like a maw about to vomit blood and tissue. Mo barely hisses, though, so you breathe through your mouth and do what you gotta do, and now you just have to keep him company and help him use the bathroom as needed.  

When Mo’s not looking at the game blaring on the screen he’s looking at you with a laser focus, and you’ve worked with old people enough to understand the value they place on Respect and Propriety, so you can’t exactly deny him that eye contact he wants.

For the most part, you can only really use your peripherals to monitor what’s going on outside the apartment.

You’re on the first floor.

As Mo babbles about everything under the sun, it starts to bloody rain outside the window behind him.

Trick of the light, you think, but no, the downpour increases, the liquid gets denser, and is it acid rain? The window is steaming up. The baseball game blares on. Mo gabs away as the courtyard is filling up with boiling bloody water. The level rises. Parked cars drift off. Trees drown. The world and sky take on a lurid pink that bathes both of you in the same tint, through the window, inside by the tube TV.

There’s dead seagull flotsam floating past the window, like some kind of gory aquarium.

(You think of one of the lone items in your tiny fridge: a cup of cherry Jell-O.)       

Though there are dead things outside, you cannot legally say, with 100% certainty, that something deadly will happen to you and your client.

The gore level has risen above the top of the picture window when Mo needs to piss.

You help him wheel away from the scarlet pandemonium further into the home, over shag carpet and tight corners, into the cramped bathroom, and stand by the shut door with your eyes closed (he’d requested privacy once you’d gotten him stable on the toilet). Hearing him do his business and hearing the insistent pressure from the boiling blood rain build up outside. The rushing like the ocean and your own blood pumping in a seashell as the room grows hot and foggy and the penny-stink makes you sick. You give no indication of the existence of the doom and your awareness of it. Mo pissing oblivious.

Toilet flush and your eyes pop open at that rush of water through the walls. Is that just the pipes? The time it takes for toilet flushes to – resolve? – passes, and you’re helping Mo pull up his pants as you hear water continue to rush and gush right outside the door, crash like a bilge banging against a dock. Let Me In!

Mo in his chair all clean and looking at you with those beady eyes. 

You can’t SAY anything – the other core rule of the agency is: 

-Under no circumstances are you to facilitate the distress of your client.

Surely talking about impossible apocalyptic things outside would count as breaking that rule.

You need this money so bad. You’d hate to survive this only to be broke from job loss and lawsuits galore. But you can’t be certain what is happening is happening.  

Moment of truth. Mo looks Expectant. Maybe he thinks you zoned out. You can’t stay in the toilet forever.

You turn away to grip the handle.

Twist.

Pull.

RUSH —

Empty open doorway.

You try not to be too numb as you wheel Mo back to his place in front of the tube.

And then Mark comes home and your time is up. 

He asks you how it went and you just look at him unblinkingly, give all generic answers, trying to stay grounded, you’ll lose it if you look too hard at the perfectly normal sunset view in your peripherals.

 You keep your eyes on your feet as you walk to your car in the yard, still there, not floated away, maybe a bit damp-looking but you’ll chalk that up to your tear-blurred vision.

You can still hear the creaky old men voices carry from the cracked-open apartment door:

Everything went ok? Mark asks.

Yeah, yeah, of course, Mo says. Talked. Watched the game. She helped me put on a bandage. I took a piss. You finish dumping all of my wound drain fluid?

A sound of assent. The storm drain stopped up a bit, Mark replies, but I got it.

A happy noise from Mo. How lucky am I to be so well-cared for!