#i have the perfect cat paw to add on desktop

[townofcadence]

@crosseddestiny

An Adversary!! They will attack it with their mighty paws!! Bap bap bap!!

[hanadolphieron]

WE HIT 200 EVERYBODY!!!!

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 200 FOLLOWERS!!! I LOVE EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU!!!!!

and you guys know what i promised whenever i reached this milestone...

MY EIGHTH GRADE STORY ABOUT A MONGOOSE!

it’s not 2.6k words what are you talking about

@sarahbkwl i know you’ll love this and @kaepopsicle i think you will too <3

The Demonic Mongoose of the Wild West

Bert the Bird, the demonic mongoose of the Wild West, roamed through the underbrush, searching for ants to eat. A tumbleweed ran across the bland terrain, hit Bert up the side of the head, and sent him flying. After a few long seconds, Bert slapped the ground with a resounding squeal. A big thwack echoed across the desert. A frog ribbeted. Bert sneezed.  

Unfazed, Bert continued his search for ants. He sniffled and snuffled along the ground, dancing to a nonexistent tune. His overly small paws bounced in rhythm, doing kicks so high they would give the Rockettes a run for their money. A few stumbles added variety to the dance. Completely calculated, I assure you.  

After a while, Bert forgot what he was doing and decided to head into town. The ants were spared another day. The saloon was not. Bert the Bird threw his whole body weight into the doors of the tavern, a meager attempt at forcing them open. The doors unsurprisingly didn’t budge, as the demonic mongoose only weighs half a gallon. Luckily, a cowboy-hatted, blue-jeaned, spur-wearing, collared-shirted and dusty faced yeehaw man came strutting through the doors.  

Bert the Bird took his chance and scrambled after the male yeehaw. He stopped, waiting for the perfect time to reveal his identity. Everyone in the saloon was peacefully (except for the two hoodlums brawling in the corner) engulfing liquid bread.  

Letting out an astounding yowl, Bert the Bird silenced the room. Heads turned, watching as Bert stood there, threatening them with his not-so-mere existence.

“Is it really him?”

“Don’t shoot- I got two kids!”

“Big Ol’ Bert Bird!”

“It’s the demonic mongoose!”

Whispers, gasps, yells, and one nervous bark filled the room. The mongoose smirked to himself.

Bert mobilized. Moving south, the mongoose headed towards the snake in the corner. His reptilian lawyer, who was currently playing cards with a yeehaw female, hissed in greeting.  

Bert squeaked out a snarl. The room gasped as he continued advancing towards the vertebrate.  

“Where are your federal income taxes, Bert?” the snake wheezed (she’s old.)

“Don’t have job,” Bert replies, edging closer.

“Oh yes you do, you’re tasked with eliminating my kin, aren’t you?”

“Huh.”  

Desktop App (the snake) sighs. Bert remains confused at the word choice beyond his vocabulary (he barely managed to graduate Childhood.)

“You,” she motioned to Bert, “Fight,” she imitated punching using her tail, “Snake,” she slithers.

“No.”

“Bert, fighting snakes is your entire livelihood, you can’t deny it.”

“No!” yells Bert, as he jumps in for the kill, attacking Desktop App’s neck. He misses and consumes a mouthful of table leg.

Desktop App lunges for Bert but doesn’t manage to take a chunk out of his arm as intended.  

Instead, she falls to the floor as Bert stumbles out of the way on accident after his head h                                                                                 hit the table and he careened into the floorboards, away from Desktop App.

Hissing, the reptile flops back around to face the mongoose, but Bert is already gone. He has seemingly vanished, but if you had looked closer, you would have seen a small, fluffy tail disappearing around the corner.  

Panting, Bert bounds across the rough terrain. His stubby legs aren’t used to moving at such accelerated speeds, and collapse after a few minutes. However, he’s far enough away from the town that he can’t see the outline of it. Belly heaving on the floor, limbs splayed out around him, head resting on the ground- Bert takes a cat nap.

He wakes up three hours later. Squeaking and jumping up, Bert continues to run. He has no idea what he’s doing or what he’s escaping, but he vaguely remembers that something dangerous was about to happen. To let loose his panic, the poor mongoose screams repetitively.

The surrounding life forms are irritated by such disturbance and one decides to stop him.  

Eduardo, The Valiant Frog of the Wild West, stands in front of Bert as the mongoose propels towards him. Bert shows no sign of stopping, because when he sees an obstacle, he gets scared, and his first reaction is to run, which involves speeding towards the obstacle at Mongoose Mach I.

However, Eduardo stands his ground. Suddenly, Bert stops, sniffing the air. Frog. Leaning closer, he gets close to Eduardo. “Frog,” he says.

Eduardo stares. “Is that all you have to say, young mammal?”

Bert The Bird says nothing.

“I have heard you are seeking sanctuary from the snakes. You will find none until you banish them all from these lands. Otherwise, they will always be lurking, slithering under your feet, watching you.”

Bert hiccups, and lets out another scream. He clumsily poises to run again, but Eduardo yells out, “Stop!”

Bert does exactly that and lays down on the ground. Eduardo shakes his head. “This is hopeless,” he mutters.  

“Go north,” Eduardo says slowly.

“Who?” Bert asks.

“North is not a life form, it’s the direction you are facing right now,” Eduardo points his walking stick to help Bert understand, “The snakes’ base is there. It’s hard to miss. Go find it and save us all!”

Bert squawks and starts bouncing north like a kangaroo. Shaking his head, Eduardo retreats to his spot under the sand.

After a while, Bert sees a structure like a laboratory, and stops. Settling down near the side of it, the mongoose burrows into the sand. It’s nice and shady next to the metal wall with a snake drawn on it, and it’s even out of the sun! A perfect place to spend the night. He curls up, wraps his tail around his small body, closes his eyes, and drifts off to sleep.

He awakens fifteen hours later, yawns, and stretches, gripping the ground with his claws. But, instead of the ground, he feels something slimy and scaly. Too frightened to utter a sound, Bert the Bird lets go of the thing, then grabs it again. This time, he adds more force and crushes it. It makes no noise. Bert sniffs it. Danger.

Bert slowly hightails it around the corner. He finds himself inside the structure. He sniffs again. The air tastes different. Spicier. Cautiously, he pads forward, tiny paws making no sound.  

Hearing voices, he crouches low to the ground to camouflage himself. He doesn’t realize that the building is white-painted metal, and he is a furry brown mongoose. Bert slinks closer to the sound, not stopping. He wants to see who’s speaking.  

Suddenly, the floor drops out from under him. Bert meows loudly, scared out of his mind. He plummets five feet, and lands in some dirt. The air is knocked out of his lungs, and Bert sits on his buttocks like a human, wheezing. Shaking his head like a wet dog, Bert stands up and observes his surroundings. He’s in a dark room with no light. So, he’s unable to see anything.

Snorting, Bert decides to use his other four senses to get a feel of where he is. Bert’s never been this resourceful before.

He pats around at the dirt under him and slowly moves forward. He immediately hits a wall. Snorting again in contempt, he turns around and is met with another obstacle. Snorting even louder, Bert jumps five feet in the air in dissatisfaction and blasts straight through the roof of the dark hole.  

The surprise of his heroic and super-mongoose actions scares him, and Bert jumps again. However, this time he doesn’t snort. Mobilizing again, he trots down the hallway. The voices have stopped, but Bert hasn’t.  

A crossroads appears in front of him. He keeps moving and hits the middle dividing wall face first. Startled, he blinks twice in a row. Turning around almost completely, he takes the left path. He sees a door on his right as he moves down the path, and Bert turns quickly to enter the room.  

Four snakes stare at him. Bert recoils, barking at them. They seem unaffected by his terrifying show of terror and hiss at him, “Why are you here, mongoose?”

“Who?”

The snakes sigh.

“Where are your federal income taxes?” they inquire, just as Desktop App had. Bert doesn’t answer. “Bert, you have been in debt to us for years. Each time you fight us, we lose purposely so someday you will have to pay us back for all the victory we have given you.”

“I disagree.”

And with that, Bert runs away, hooning down the hall and bursting out the door. He feels different. His head feels heavier, less empty, like something’s in there. Brain cells, he thinks to himself! He’s finally found some! The chemicals in the snakes’ lair must have given him some.

The ground disappears under his paws as he runs ferociously towards town. He must inform them of the nonconsensual agreement between him and the snakes regarding debt. He doesn’t understand what federal income taxes have to do with it, so he decides to disregard those for now.

The low skyline appears on the horizon, but Bert has no energy left. Slowly, the mongoose begins to decrease speed until he drags himself to a stop. Being awake for three hours is too much for a mongoose. Bert falls asleep a mile out of town.

The next morning, Bert wakes up and sneezes forty-seven times. Immediately, despite the sleep in his eyes and mussed-up hair, the valiant mongoose bounds towards town, making it there within the span of ten minutes.

The people are hiding in their houses, frightened of poor, misunderstood Bert. He meows pathetically. Suddenly, his voice acts without him thinking about it, like he’s saying a prophecy. He says, “Humans! My name is Bert the Bird, The Demonic Mongoose of the Wild West! But I do not claim that title! I am just Bert!”  

He pauses, waiting for an answer. Silence.

Bert continues, “I need your help. The snakes have tricked me. My past lack of brain cells made me victim to a devious scheme- each time I fought a snake, the reptile would lose purposely, consequently indebting me to them. I never consented to this agreement or trade! I need your help defeating these reptiles, as the ferocious mongoose you know as Bert the Bird is not me, and I am just a mere mammal. I do not seek revenge, just justice.”

Bert the Bird looks around, partly perturbed by his voice acting on its own, and partly to see if there were any takers to his courageous call.  

A door creaked open. Bert looked hopefully towards it and saw a badger.

“BADGER!” He screeched. Perhaps not the wisest call, but it sufficed, as Badger came hurling out the door towards Bert. (in fear.)

However, once he saw the wide, hopeful smile spread across Bert’s face, all fear dissipated. A few other animals slowly left the security of their homes and Bert was soon surrounded by a kingdom of squawking, ribbeting, barking, meowing, mooing, squeaking, and aggressive flapping.

“We will help you!” a turkey said. Cornbread was his name.  

“YEAHHHHHHH!” came an overly loud yell from a rare blue land shrimp. (Her entire body consists of a voice box supposedly; Bert had heard stories.)

Resounding expressions of agreement echoed throughout the square. “I am unendingly grateful for your assistance. Do we have any weaponry in this town?”

“Cabbage catapults,” growled an ostrich named Oallllyieee (exact spelling.) Bert could barely hear the baritone bird.  

“Pitchforks!” squeaks a rare yellow land whale. (This is the Wild West we have some interesting species.)

No one else reported any items, so Bert assumed that cabbage catapults and pitchforks were the extent of their defense system.  

“Let us prepare! Up and at ‘em!” Bert inspired, moving to go follow the animals as everyone streaked (not that kind of streaked) towards the barn located on the outskirts of Editing Reference File, the town.  

Everyone grabbed pitchforks, except for the bears and tigers (and the cacophonous rare blue land shrimp) who prepared the cabbage catapults.  

Lining up along the northern edge, all the animals positioned their attention on the outline of the snake structure at the top of the hill and waited.  

Not for long though, as a thunderous kerplonking and whooshing resounds from the hill. Hundreds of slithering noodles rampage towards the rest of the Wild West’s animal kingdom, slapping their tails against the sand in an uncoordinated fashion. These reptiles don’t stand a chance.

“Catapults at the ready!” roars Bert. The tigers’ claws fortunately abstain from becoming stuck in the voluminous leaves of the green vegetable. One of the bears, however, is not so lucky and now has large, round, leafy hands. He uses this to his advantage and begins to beat up some slimy thugs.  

“Fire!” Bert triumphantly yells once the snakes are in range. The cabbages hit the snakes dead-on, and an estimated sixty-three of them remain motionless. Not dead, just unconscious, as cabbages are not deadly projectiles no matter how hard you shoot them.

The snakes keep heading for the opposing army, and Bert screams, “Charge!”

Shrimps, buffalos, common loons, rhinos, tamarins, cows, and more trample two-hundred-sixty-four reptilian noodles. The head snako calls for a retreat. Bert’s militia hesitates, letting them fall back and re-group. Bert’s army is considerate, unlike the scaly, legless bodies.  

Instead of asking for a surrender, the snakes turn around, screeching, and attack again. Bert charges at them. The chemicals in the snakes’ lair had not only given him knowledge, but also some speed.  

Using his stout legs, Bert kicks those floppy worms out of the park! None of the snakes get even close to hurting Bert, he is just too fast. Cheering erupts from the Southern side. The North deflates and retreats again.

This time, only one fishy noodle comes back. He is wearing a lop-sided top hat and looks like a prestigious pirate.  

Heaving, he goes up to Bert. Bert quirks up a hairy eyebrow.  

“We surrender,” the sophisticated mustache-having snake breathes.

“I accept,” Bert responds, “But you must promise to leave the South alone. Stay back in the North with your failure of a capitalist economy.”

Johnny Smith, the snako, snarls but retreats, saying, “To the North!” His army dejectedly follows, slithering slowly. A cloud of dust appears and hides their retreat. Bert watches to make sure it was not a mask to hide a second attack. It was not. The sand settled, showing the snake structure’s door opening to let all the reptiles in.  

The Southern crowd cheers. No one is hurt and all is well! Bert is named Bert The Bird the Speedy and Slick and is unanimously proclaimed sheriff of Editing Reference File. He is now free to live his life as he chooses, saving the world and making uplifting speeches to his fellow citizens.  

Sometimes he struggles to feel satisfied with all the stress on his shoulders and misses his easy life back on the plains. He goes back sometimes and reminisces about the times where his head was empty, and a brain did not disrupt his inner peace.

But he remains in Editing Reference File as a hero (who can pay his federal income taxes.)

*The directions have nothing to do with the Civil War, my brother is paranoid and is making me put this here.

[thewritewolf]

Rekindle Chapter 4: Birthday

It looks like Marinette is going to be spending another birthday alone, unless a certain feline hero intervenes.

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@marichatmay

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

Adrien opened the door to his house and immediately began fumbling for the light switch. It had been another long day at work, where he had been back to modeling again. The modeling sessions were getting fewer and more spaced out, but that just seemed to mean that when his father did call on him to pose for the camera, he expected him to do the work of two or three sessions in one day. So much for slowly getting away from modeling and into the business side of things.

His eyes felt heavy, and his limbs heavier still. A few weary steps inside and he collapsed onto the couch in his living room, unable to make it to his bed. Plagg emerged from his jacket pocket, the kwami hesitating over Adrien for a few moments.

“Kid, you need to stand up for yourself.” It was all Adrien could do to avoid rolling his eyes. This was becoming an ever more common topic of conversation for them and it was starting to wear thin. "Gabe always had did run you ragged, but these last few years he has practically run you into the ground."

“I get paid for all that work, you know. Someone has to pay for your cheese habits.”

Plagg's fur bristled in irritation. “No way kid, you’re not putting this one back on me. You know as well as I do my delicious camembert is a drop in the bucket with what you make. Besides, you don’t even spend most of it since you don’t do anything. If you really wanted, you could stop working right now and be fine for what? A few months? A year? More?”

“Father pays for the house. I can’t just say no to him.” Adrien yawned and rolled away from his kwami, only for him to zoom back into his field of view.

Plagg shook his head. “Yeah, the house that you hate to be in and always try to find an excuse to get out of. You need to tell your old man-”

The ringing of Adrien’s cell phone cut Plagg off. “Oh no. I guess we’ll have to shelf this conversation. Too bad.”

Plagg glared and pointed a grubby paw at him. “This ain’t over, kid. You gotta stand up for yourself eventually.”

It was a struggle to pull out his phone, but he managed it. Nino’s face appeared on the screen.

“Sup, dude!” He took in Adrien’s appearance and cracked a smile. “You look like crap, man.”

“Thanks for sparing my feelings. I may have collapsed on the couch after getting home from the shoot. All the hard work of the makeup and hair teams - wasted!” He threw his arm over his face dramatically, earning a chuckle from Nino.

“Whatever you say, dude.” His face eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Wait. Another day of modeling? I thought you said those were a thing of the past and you were a management guy now?”

Adrien winced on the inside and shrugged. “I’m still the face of the company which means my face needs to be in some of the company’s products. For now, at least,” he rushed to add when he saw the look on Nino’s face. “Soon enough they’ll all be done and someone else can be the face of the company.”

“I dunno, bro. Your daddio’s got his claws in you and if he keeps you modeling, you’ll be too tired to do anything else. I think he’s really dragging his feet if he still hasn’t moved you to some other part of the company. Or he’s just saying he’s gonna promote you to keep you placated.” Nino shook his head. “You gotta talk to him, dude. Nothing’s going to change otherwise.”

Somewhere else in the room, Plagg cackled and Adrien shot a glare in his general direction.

Nino’s face brightened. “You got some peeps over? Good on you! Not gonna lie, I feel guilty sometimes when I realize how little we get to hang out. Especially with all the traveling Al and I do.”

“No, no one’s here.” Growling at Plagg, he added, “Just a stray cat that I’m considering shooing away.” Nino’s words caught up to him. “Wait, are you guys going to be still be gone in a couple weeks?”

“For Mari’s birthday, you mean?” Nino chuckled while Adrien felt his cheeks heat up slightly. His smile faded away as he continued. “But yeah, you’re right. We won’t be able to do anything with her this year. It’s a real bummer.”

“Yeah…” Adrien frowned. He was used to his birthdays being disappointing, but Marinette had always been surrounded by friends and family. Being alone for such an important day after being used to that… it couldn’t feel great.

“You know, this might be the perfect time to rekindle that friendship,” Nino said hopefully.

“I don’t think she’d want to spend so much time with the guy who broke her heart.”

“I’m telling you, dude, I’m sure you guys would be the best of friends. I get that you don’t see her in a romantic light, but I know she’d be happy to have a friend close by, you know?”

A friend? His heart clenched in sympathetic pain. “Yeah… okay, maybe. No promises, though, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“That’s all I can ask.” Off screen, Adrien heard Alya calling for Nino. “Sorry, dude. Gonna have to cut this call short. Best of luck with you two, okay?”

“Thanks, Nino. Stay safe and goodbye.”

“I do what I can. Bye!” The screen went dark as Nino hung up.

Adrien lowered the phone onto his chest, still staring up at the ceiling. Despite what his best friend had said, he didn’t think Marinette would be happy to see him appear out of the blue. At least, not if it were Adrien showing up. Smiling, he ran his fingers over his ring. Thankfully, he didn’t have to be Adrien all the time.

But… he shouldn’t just show up empty handed, right? This wasn’t just a normal day to hang out. This was a birthday party for two! They couldn’t leave her apartment, but he could make it feel the special day that it was. Oh, and he should get her presents too.

Adrien leapt to his feet and sat down in front of his desktop computer, searching for anything that he thought Marinette might like. Maybe he could get away with getting her two presents - one as Chat Noir and one as Adrien? That’d be a good way to ease into a normal friendship, right? And had nothing at all to do with the fact that this allowed him to justify buying her twice as much as was socially acceptable.

In a dark corner of the room, Plagg watched his chosen more around the room, more lively than he had been in months. The cat kwami couldn’t help but grin. There might just be hope for him yet.

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

Marinette trudged up the long staircase to her apartment, once again cursing the broken elevator and her aching legs. Which only made her even more angry with herself because she was Ladybug! Is a couple flights of stairs really going to be the thing that causes her to break down today?

Then again, she knew that if she did get reduced to tears because of this, it wasn’t simply stairs that did it. The stairs were just the latest in a long line of awful things happening today. Spilt coffee, manically working in preparation for the fall line, asshole bosses - all on top of the frustration that they aren’t letting her do much work on actual designs since she is an intern, which is apparently another word for errand girl. No, the stairs weren’t the problem. They were just the final insult on the terrible, terrible day that was supposed to be the celebration of her birth.

She fumbled for her keys, which were somewhere on her person, feeling the tension as the breaking point starting to arrive, ready to great it like an old friend. Before it did, she caught a scent in the hallway that made her pause. Something like… Italian? But very spicy. It was making her mouth water just smelling it, which made her pout. Great, she smelled something delicious and now has to go and heat up a frozen meal. A normal day then, since she rarely got the chance to cook for herself these days.

With a sigh, she unlocked the door and stepped into her apartment, only for the scent to hit her full blast. She turned to her right, towards her kitchen. Standing there was Chat Noir in a chef’s hat, wearing an apron with a cartoon cat on it saying 'Feline Up for Some Dinner' - the cartoon cat also had a chef's hat, she noted in a daze. Chat Noir was merrily humming to himself while stirring a red sauce on the stovetop, a tall pot boiling nearby. Her small kitchen table, normally overburdened with distinctly non-food items like fabrics and dishes, had been cleaned off with two plates and a vase with a pink flower adorning it. She watched the scene for a few long moments before Chat Noir turned around and noticed she was standing stock still in the doorway.

Brief surprise gave way to a broad grin. “Hey, purrincess! I wasn’t sure when you got off work today, so I kinda got here way earlier than I needed to.” He rubbed the back of his neck when she didn’t immediately respond. Instead, she walked towards him, dropping off her purse on her couch as she passed by.

“Sorry I didn’t call or anything, I wanted to surprise you since its your birthday! Oh, that reminds me,” he disappeared below the countertop between them. He emerged with a box covered in cartoon cat face wrapping paper and pushed it towards her. “Happy birthday!”

She looked down at the box, slowly unwrapping it. Inside was a handmade card saying that she was “Pawsitively the best fur-real friend a cat could ask for,” a couple quality sketchbooks, and a few dvds of her favorite movies that her collection had been sorely lacking.

“Chat… I don’t know what to say…”

The feline hero shrugged, his lips quirking up in a barely suppressed smile. “Then don’t say anything. Dinner is almost ready, so go ahead and take a seat while I finish making it.” He turned back around to attend to the red sauce and stir the pasta.

Once she sitting at the table, she took a deep breath to savor the scent of the food. “I didn’t know you could cook, chaton.”

“I can’t,” he laughed, “I know just a few dishes. It’s been a while since I made arrabbiata, but I’ve been practicing for the last two weeks to get it right.”

“Why that dish?” Not that she was complaining - it smelled delicious.

“Well, you’ve mentioned that you liked spicy food, all I can cook is Italian, and arrabbiata is the only Italian dish I know of that’s got the heat.” She had a vague memory of them discussing food choices when they were considering if they wanted to order take out a few weeks ago. Had he really held onto that little tidbit of information for that long?

Before she could ask more questions - like, for example, why he could only cook Italian - he took her plate and handed it back laden with the steaming pasta and red sauce. Despite what he seemed to think, it had ended up amazing and if he tried to talk down his cooking abilities in the future, she’d have to give him a firm smack upside the head.

Somewhere between the unexpected meal and the ensuing conversation, Marinette felt the tension that had been building up throughout the day melt away. And for the first time since she moved here, her apartment felt like a home.