#if you are asleep .... good morning !

[buttercupshands]

I started drawing this next day after I finished Act 6

13 or so days and it's finished!

Main things are traditional and Loop's body was edited digitally after

Unedited it looks like this

I've been torn on how to do Loop's body for the entirety of lining, also

A bit sad the main lines are visible only as a wip, most of this thing is literally just a ton of sharp lines

I think it's also my first day of drawing, Loop is just a sketch here (feat. my leg)

I even finished the beans before it so they were a moral support, because if you let me things like this take a year

[jadewritesficshere]

Grey

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Synopsis: Steve gets a wake up call from yall's daughter

Contents: talks of aging, kids being kids, references to smut but nothing explicit

Steve groans as his consciousness comes to. Something is hitting his face. Someone. Repeatedly.

Steve squints his bleary eyes open as a hand smacks him in the jaw again. A small smile appears on his face even though his jaw stings from the impact. "Morning," Steve's voice is still thick with sleep as he turns to look into brown eyes barely peeking over the edge of the bed.

A quiet voice repeats back ,"Morning," to Steve before arms reach up over the edge of the bed to try and grasp something. Small hands grab the blanket and tug it off of him slightly as the child attempts to climb up. At two and half, Amelia Joy Harrington can barely see above the edge of her parents' bed, let alone get on it.

Steve hoists Amelia up and sits her on his stomach. Steve winces as Amelia scrambles, a stray foot hitting his thigh precariously close to his crotch. Arms are thrown around his neck in a hug as Amelia lays her head against her dad's chest.

Steve feels like his heart could burst out of his chest from the joy he is feeling. A hug from his baby? The best way to wake up in the morning. Who cares if his jaw is still stinging and probably red, his little girl loves him.

Steve sighs in contentment. Steve holds his daughter close until she starts to fidget and wiggle. Amelia sits up and throws her hands in the air. "Happy Birthday!" She whispers excitedly, except she has no concept of how quiet a whisper should actually be and says it in a much too loud voice.

"What?" Steve asks, hand hovering near Amelia's side in case she slips. Amelia's eyebrows furrow as she pouts at him, a look that is an exact copy of you. Her arms slowly lower as she stares at Steve. "Happy Birthday. You old." Amelia pouts at him.

Steve blinks at Amelia in confusion but nods his head. First off, rude, he isn't that old. Steve isn't sure where she gets her unfiltered, blunt commentary (it absolutely isn't him). Second, it absolutely isn't his birthday. Not even close.

"Why uh...why is it my birthday?" Steve asks, unsure if Amelia fully understands the concept. Not sure if he can explain the idea of a birthday to a two (and a half) year old. "Grey." Amelia declares giving Steve whiplash. Before Steve can speak, Amelia points at the comforter," Blue." Steve smiles," Yes, blue."

Amelia points to her shirt," Green." Steve nods. Amelia taps under Steve's eye, lashes brushing against her finger causing him to close it. Steve hopes she doesn't attempt to actually poke his eye.

"Brown." Amelia declares. "Thats right." Steve grins, his girl is so smart. Amelia points to his temple," Grey." "That's ri- what?! No!" Steve's mouth drops open as Amelia giggles. "Uncle Dustbin says grey is old. Birthday makes old. Happy Birthday!"

The creak of the loose floorboard in the hall notifies Steve of your approach. You peek into the doorway of the room, seeing your two favorite people. One looking aghast and the other giggling at her father's reaction.

"What's going on in here?" You ask, leaning against the doorway. "Grey. Birthday." Amelia announces, like it explains everything. And it does in her little mind.

You hum in response, looking at your husband who seems lost for words. Amelia slides off of Steve and off the bed, Steve guiding her so her feet land on the ground absent-mindedly. He would never let her fall or get hurt. Or you.

Amelia half walks half dances in your direction. A prance in her step, she stops in front of you and grabs your hands. "It's daddy's birthday," She says before headbutting your leg. You chuckle and pat her head as she dances out of the room, in her own little world.

"You lying to my kid again?" You ask once Amelia is gone. Steve sputters as he sits up," I did not- our kid- did not lie." "Uh-huh, sure," you say sarcastically. Steve rolls his eyes at you as he gets up out of bed.

Steve stretches as he rocks on his feet, back cracking, before strolling over to you. "Good morning," Steve mumbles, hand landing on your hip. You hum back as he leans in and kisses you. Soft. Slow. Sweet. Leaving you longing for more as he pulls back.

"Love you," Steve says, fingers running along the waistband of your pants. "I love you too," you want to melt into him. Curl up in his arms and stay in this moment. Let the love and adoration fill the air around you.

"Do I look old?" Steve is the first to break the silence. Your brow furrows in confusion," huh?" "Amelia she," Steve huffs out a laugh," said I have grey hair." You chuckle as you bring a hand up, fingers threading through his hair," You have some but its nice." "Its nice huh?" "Makes you look distinguished. Handsome." You bite your lip and look up at him.

Steve knows that look. Knows it well. It's the look you gave him the first time you moved past just making out. The same look you gave him on your first anniversary. The same look you wore on your wedding night. The same look you gave before Amelia was conceived.

Steve can't help the smirk that spreads across his face. If getting old gives him that look, well, he won't complain.

"What about me?" You ask, batting your lashes. "Beautiful," Steve kisses your cheek," Gorgeous," he kisses the corner of your lips. He continues to alternate between kissing all over your face and praising you.

"My love," Steve whispers before kissing you softly on the lips. You sigh into the kiss, one hand tangling in his hair, the other trying to pull him closer.

A loud crash from the living room has you two pulling back from the sweet moment you stole. "What was that?" You call down the hall. "Nothing!" Amelia yells back, making you sigh but smile. Steve can't help but grin too. His life was a little hectic dealing with a rambunctious child, but he wouldn't trade it for the world. And he thinks, if life is like this, he can manage getting old with you. He wouldn't want it any other way.

[paintpanic]

Res AU Joronia drawings. Character rambling and bonus doodles under cut.

This AU takes place a good while after the events of Triple Deluxe happened. Since then, Taranza's mostly recovered mentally from everything. He was able to move on from his grief and (somewhat) forgive himself. Now that Joronia's in his life again, seemingly back to her former self, some of those wounds he'd thought were fully healed have started to ache again. He still feels ultimately guilty for what happened to her.

He's thrilled that Joronia's been given a second chance at life, but is somewhat wary deep down. This feels to good to be true, that she's just back with seemingly no strings attached. The other shoe could drop any day now, and he could lose her all over again. Fearing this, he wants to make the most out of what could be a short time to be together again with his friend.

Joronia senses that there's a distance between the two of them now that wasn't there before. It shouldn't be surprising; he's probably still hurt from what she did. Other people definitely are. She's determined, though, to work hard to make it up to everyone she's hurt, and to prove to them (and herself) that she's not really like that, that she's capable of being better.

The Mirror's influence twisted her mind and her perception of reality. It made her feel like she was inadequate, and that everyone else were enemies to be subjugated. Now, she's supposed to be normal and better, but she still feels like there's something wrong with her head. She still doesn't feel good enough, and it still feels like everyone hates her. It's hard to trust herself. She's not sure if it's some lingering effect of the Mirror, or if there's just something inherently wrong with her now. She's scared.

She's afraid that something will happen, that she'll revert to how she was as Queen, and that she'll hurt Taranza again. Someone who'd always helped her, who'd stuck with her even when she was absolutely horrible to him, and who's kindness she's relying on again now, staying at his home as she worked on getting her life back together. She's a burden on him, and she always has been. She hates it.

Still, her deepest, most selfish wish is that they could be real friends again.

---

These two need to have a long, honest discussion about their feelings toward each other and themselves. Both of them are absolutely terrified about that prospect, though, because they each think that the other secretly resents them to some degree. If they actually talked through it, they'd quickly realize that they both want the same thing.

[zu-is-here]

More dark kcrm (just two of them heh) for the birthday fruit @orange-dreamzer <3

[felsicveins]

Do you think that julien and jd are going to get together again? Man i am clawing at your leg begging for them to have that happy ending.

Part of me feels julien genuinely loves and cares for jd, and that the guilt of what happened and the shame of what he did follows him like a lost dog. Hes never going to know what happiness feels like as long as he doesnt have his boy. And that eats at him. He feels pathetic for begging but at the same time what does he have left to lose? Dignity? He lost that the day john found out about the lip syncing. About everything.

John might be in a similar boat, having the guilt eating at him. He hates what julien did. But does he hate him himself? Fuck if he knows. All he does know is that the ache in his chest is a pain in the ass and that no matter what he cant go back to alcohol to subside it. So what can he go to? What can he do? He needs to be strong, to set his foot down. But even though he acts like he despises the guy, he still has that fucking wedding ring. He still has that ache. Sure there were others, but those were casual even in marriage. But this? This had a plan. A promise.

And that was broken. Years ago.

I wonder if they’ll ever fix it.

Nothing will get fixed if no one changes

[dawnthefluffyduck]

Crazy issues that come up when a character is written a little too well

[slamminslamminmcgill]

hi so like fucking joel would include him manhandling you bc he’s strong enough to treat you like a sex doll. picking you up and throwing you down in all different configurations, sex positions with no names you can think of. pulling your legs however he needs to get the deepest possible angle. both of your holes are soaking wet and at this point it’s hard to tell one from the other; which was taking his cock and which was stuffed with the $10 dildo he got from spencers. you’re grabbing a pillow and howling to his entire apartment building until he says—

“shhh, shh, shh…”

—in just the sweetest, most soothing tone of voice. it calms you right down. plus shoving your whole face in the pillow definitely helps with your volume. joel’s quiet tho. he’ll give a few grunts and oh’s every now and then but they’re few and far between. when he DOES talk to you it’s instructions.

“ass up, legs together”

“on your side”

“yeah, c’mon now, cum on my cock. squirt for me, baby, give it to me y-oh, there we go, such a good boy...”

as soon as he pulls out you fall flat on your stomach, landing with enough of an impact to feel the mattress springs bounce beneath you. you get a few seconds to breathe, panting with a dry throat that’s raspy from screaming at him to keep stretching your asshole out. but that’s all behind you now, right?

then you feel two big hands pulling your ass cheeks apart, and a cool breeze flicking across your gape. joel whistles in admiration.

“look at that pretty hole… good boy.”

and rather than letting you recover, he just climbs on top of your limp body and sticks his cock in your gaping ass to fuck you pronebone style.

[roses-and-revolutions]

Almost finished reading Dungeon Meshi and I got an idea

So in Dungeon Meshi or Delicious in Dungeon, there are these... dungeons.

And from what I have gathered dungeons can be made naturally or artificially but both types have the same few things in common.

They are made to contain demons

They attract adventures

The dungeons have lords who manage/control the dungeon and are given the power to do so by the demons

I know that I'm skimming over some important bits, but long story short, the demons come from an alternate dimension called 'The Infinite Realm' and feed off of people's desires, the Lord of the Dungeon's specifically.

That being said... (incoming dp x dc prompt)

Beings from the Infinite Realms aren't ghosts but demons. And while they do still have obsessions, they lack desires. And so, they've become something they hunger for.

Danny learns this the hard way when he accidentally eats his parents' desire to hunt 'ghosts'.

When the endless, all-consuming hunger, that had been growing inside himself became just a bit satisfied by the action, he got scared. He ran to Clockwork, who immediately explained everything to him.

From there he became terrified. He didn't want to eat people's desires, especially considering that he had some of his own. But CW explained that while other demons will most likely never be satisfied no matter how many desires they consume, because of Danny's halfa status he may be able to. (Also it would be a bad thing if the baby starves itself. No one wants the baby to starve!)

To test out this theory, CW pulls (more than) a couple of strings, and soon his dungeon was set up in Gotham City in the DC universe.

He felt a bit bad since he had to set up shop in another ghost's/demon's territory, but Lady Gotham seemed to have taken a liking to him.

Danny takes his time searching for the most desperate person he can find, (Lady Gotham is leading him to some of the most desperate people in her city, aka the Batfam.), and appears to one of them as a fawn (signifying his hunger and current 'lack' of power). He then looks deep into their mind and offers them the power to fulfill all their desires.

The Batfam? They should be better than this, but damn they were in a tight spot and the city is going to shit because the rouges have been more active than ever, and their family is on the verge of crumbling!... And the answer to fix it all was right there, just within their reach.

They held the fawn in their arms gently. Its ivory wings, coat of starlight, and piercing Lazurus green eyes. Gotham began to change.

A few years later, some members of the JL and the JLD are once again trying their hand at clearing the dungeon but are a bit discouraged because last time their team was wiped out completely.

It was inconvenient how their powers were nullified whenever they were inside the dungeon, but they had yet to find a spell to counteract it.

In an attempt to get past the third floor, they teamed with a team called Team Phantom, which comprised two young adult siblings, their 12-year-old sister, and a few teenagers.

Morally, they were against this. No one this young should be trying to clear the dungeon! But on the other hand, this team was the closest to getting to the fourth floor.

Sucking it up, they teamed up with the young dungeon dwellers and quickly found out why they were so close to getting to the third floor.

These kids were skilled. These kids were powerful. These kids were trained. On top of that, they didn't care about their lives! Because these kids? They wouldn't- no! They couldn't die, and they were using it to their advantage.

The JL/JLD now had much more to worry about than clearing the dungeon.

[coeluvr]

Hellooo! I'm not sure if the prompts are still open, but if so, maybe #61 for Vincent? 🙈

“Say it.”

As Vincent falls onto the bed, his eyes widen in surprise, his body tensing for a moment before relinquishing control to you.

“Say it,” you breathe, your voice husky with desire, your eyes simmering with intent. This time, you’ve decided to take charge, assert your desires, and make him beg for your touch. It’s a departure from your usually shy and submissive nature, but the power that surges through your veins at this moment is intoxicating.

You straddle him, your thighs spreading on either side of his hips, and hold his gaze with unwavering confidence. Leaning closer, your lips hovering just above his, you tease him, testing his limits. “Beg for it, Vincent. Tell me how much you want me.”

His breathing quickens, his lips parting to speak, but you can see the struggle within him. Pride and vulnerability wage war on his face, tugging at his desire and restraint. His eyes, filled with yearning, search yours for a moment before he finally succumbs to the delicious temptation.

“Please,” he rasps, his voice thick with need. “I want to feel your touch, to taste your lips. I crave you like nothing else.”

[wildsaltair]

how DARE he if he’s not going to blow my back out immediately after

[pilotduty]

boyfriend who meows dedicated 2 @lightningzombie

[moonchild-in-blue]

dawn chorus 🐦

Taken at 6:06am, just a few minutes ago, from my corridor window. Please watch it with sound - there are so many birds singing at this hour 🎶

That one cloud looks like a heart 🩷

Tagging the sunset golden girlies specifically @lifemod17 @melit0n 💛🧡

[maniacalmole]

               When Aziraphale finally came back, Crowley didn’t really much care what he was saying, or mumbling, or choking out, but instead was watching him like a hawk for signs of what he really meant, like he always had, and it was so familiar an action that he almost didn’t even care what he found, he was just so blessed glad to be able to do it again, only what he did find was that Aziraphale was sagging under a despair and a relief so profound that eventually Crowley was satisfied enough to say, “I’m tired. Need a good night’s rest. Let’s pick this back up in the morning.”

               And Aziraphale had looked both petrified and grateful, so Crowley had leaned back on the bookshop sofa and gone to sleep. Which wasn’t really a surprise, given that he hadn’t exactly been sleeping well lately, but what had surprised him was that in the morning he’d seen Aziraphale had fallen asleep, too, something he’d hardly seen in their millennia of knowing each other. So he supposed they’d both needed it.

               Which was why, when they both woke up around noon, Crowley did something the bookshop had never seen in its decades of existence, because normally they had so many places they wanted to go together, but now all they really wanted to do was stay there, and so he ordered takeaway.

               And so there they were, Crowley sat on the sofa and Aziraphale in an armchair, Chinese takeaway boxes scattered on a hastily cleared-of-books end table, with Crowley shoveling noodles into his mouth because he hadn’t realized he’d been so hungry. And Aziraphale was holding one dumpling between a pair of chopsticks, looking like a statue.

               “So—” Crowley said, with difficulty around the noodles—how had the angel always managed to talk and eat at the same time, all while looking so prim?—and he’d never gotten the hang of chopsticks. Which, all right, he’d lived in China for a few centuries over the ages, but he’d eaten far less often than humans did, so it still wasn’t all that shameful. “So, what’s next, then?”

               “Rather a lot, I’m afraid.” Aziraphale glanced at him when he said it, did that little twitch of an eyebrow he couldn’t help doing sometimes, even when he was squashing everything down inside him, like now, then looked away.

               Crowley shoveled more noodles into his mouth. Aziraphale took the history of the world’s smallest bite of his dumpling. Crowley frowned.

               “And—er—”

               “I wish I could’ve come back to you with it all being finished,” Aziraphale said sadly. “‘Done, I solved it’. Well, I’m afraid I wasn’t all that useful.”

               “From what you told me last night, you did loads.” Crowley stared at the dumpling. “Aren’t you hungry?”

               “Oh.” Aziraphale grimaced at his chopsticks. “Er. Haven’t really eaten much. I don’t want—uh—don’t want to upset my stomach. You know how it is.”

               Crowley just frowned. He took another gargantuan bite. Too big, really. It was all he could do to chew.

               “The last thing I wanted to do was to come back to you with more problems,” Aziraphale said wretchedly. “But they just kept getting larger and larger, and eventually it was now or never—and I’m just—I’m just so useless—”

               Crowley chewed faster. He really shouldn’t have eaten so much at once. He could do the snake thing, he supposed, but he really didn’t think a big old reminder of how inhuman he was would be quite appropriate, right now. Still, he had things to say, or rather, to interrupt, so he swallowed painfully, made a horrible noise, and finally hissed, “Never mind that, just, let’s just, get through this day, all right? Just one day.”

               Aziraphale’s eyes went distant. Crowley wondered if they even measured days, in Heaven. They certainly tried not to think about it in Hell. Aziraphale was still holding that blessed dumpling, hardly touched, with perfect chopstick finesse, and he wished it would fall, just so the angel would have to catch it with his teeth.

               “What are you doing?”

               “What?” Aziraphale snapped halfway out of his daze.

               “What are you—why are you eating like that? Why aren’t you eating?”

               “I told you—” the angel said, sounding just peevish enough to spur him on.

               Crowley reached over and took the chopsticks from him. Aziraphale sputtered. Crowley gestured with the dumpling. “Why are you being so weird about it?”

               “I’m not—”

               “It’s eating. It’s food, look, here it comes—”

               “Crowley, are you airplaning that dumpling at me?”

               Crowley paused mid-airplaning the dumpling towards him. He said, “N-n—”

               Aziraphale gave him an icy stare.

               “‘Member before it was airplanes?” Crowley said. He smiled. He felt something bubbling up inside him, and Aziraphale, remembering himself and trying to look penitent again, was not going to stop it. “It was trains, for a while, right? ‘Here comes the train, carrying your food.’ Don’t think they ever did that with a horse and buggy, though. S’pose you’d imply the kid was eating the horse, which wasn’t really the thing.”

               “Crowley.”

               “Before they had food-carrying vehicles, how did they get kids to eat, then? Do you remember?”

               “Not really.” Aziraphale looked a bit wretched again. Crowley handed him back his chopsticks, and the angel took them. Took a bite. So small, it could hardly even be called a nibble.

               Crowley sighed and leaned back into his own seat. “Anyway, I guess none of it really makes sense. You’d have to eat the whole airplane, too.”

               They sat in silence for a while. Crowley took another bite of lo mein. Because of the chopsticks, and his fear, after everything, of what would happen if he dropped food on the bookshop floor, he’d held the whole carton up to his mouth and dumped it in, and now he really was choking, and after a few moments of terrified silence, he gave up and did the snake thing. Dislocating a human-shaped jaw really was less dramatic than when the entirety of you was just a long tube, but he knew it still looked odd. It wasn’t the reason he hardly ever ate in restaurants, but it was a small part of it. When he was done, he clenched his teeth back together and winced in the angel’s direction.

               Aziraphale was looking at him with a wistful expression that was part amused and part something else. He said, “I missed you.”

               Well. If everything before hadn’t been enough, that certainly was. Crowley said, “Do you at least want to try drinking something? Some cocoa?” and his own voice startled him with its softness.

               Aziraphale looked thoughtful. Then doubtful. “I—don’t know.”

               “C’mon. I’ll make you some. You’ve got to wake up the stomach with something, right?”

               “I suppose—”

               “I’ll make you some.” He rose from the sofa with the grace of a marionette being picked up by the strings, which was ironic, since he had never felt less like a puppet. “Be in the kitchenette. Right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

               And he left, because he knew he wouldn’t.

               When he came back, steaming warm mug in his hands, Aziraphale had put the dumpling away, but the doubt in his eyes had changed to something near hope. He took the cocoa and stared into it while Crowley sat back down. Not all the way, not leaning back into the sofa, but elbows resting on his knees, leaning forward towards the angel. Aziraphale looked at him, and Crowley tilted his head at the mug and raised his eyebrows, just a little. Aziraphale smiled, closed his eyes and, after taking a deep breath, took a sip. Then he winced.

               “Too hot?” Crowley said, brows pulling together.

               “I should have waited—”

               “Here.” Crowley reached for the mug and touched it with his index finger. Then, needing something to calibrate the temperature to, he put his other hand on top of Aziraphale’s. He performed a minor miracle.

               He let go, leaned back, and Aziraphale looked at him. He took another sip. The angel closed his eyes and, slowly, drank the whole thing.

               When he put the mug down, it was empty.

               “Mm?” Crowley said lightly.

               “Thank—” Aziraphale started to say, but he shifted, his face a pained grimace. He put a hand to his stomach, waving Crowley off with his other hand when the demon had made a noise of worry. The angel sighed and his face relaxed.

               “Did it upset your stomach?” Crowley asked. Again, that soft voice. Croaky with misuse.

               “A little.” Aziraphale looked up at him. He gave a watery smile. “It was wonderful.”

               Crowley felt his own face doing something. It was something like a grin. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah.”

               Aziraphale looked at the remains of the Chinese takeaway. There were still several unopened boxes. With the memory of the angel passed out in his chair, eyes closed, chest moving slowly, Crowley had gone a bit overboard with the ordering. He hadn’t even known the bookshop’s address. Just told the delivery person the street name, and said, ‘Bookshop with a big black car in front of it. You can’t miss it.’ And he hadn’t. It was an iconic duo.

               “We could—” Aziraphale said thoughtfully. “We could save those for later, yes?”

               Crowley beamed at him. “Yeah. Angel?”

               “Hm?”

               “Welcome back.”

[dawnthefluffyduck]

Doodles based on "Yet Another Nightmare" by Catroic on Ao3 (highly recommend reading, its very good)

[dangaer]

shi.n's amnesia later route is such an out of character experience bc wdym someone this cute shows me all the love they have for me and i dont healthily communicate with him that im feeling overwhelmed by it.

[kiwiplaetzchen]

"Thump! Thump! Thump!" Nosy hears something knocking on the door of his Majesty's dorm room. It is late at night on All Hallows' Eve, and the castle seems eerie and spooky even for such an occasion. It seems that all the other students have fallen dead asleep as nobody as much as stirs to get up and open the door. The thumps continue, and the longer the door it closed, the more insistent they become.

Does Nosy dare opening the door to be met face to face with a fierce pumpkin monster of approximately his size, sporting 6 little stumpy legs and sharp pumpkin teeth?

The castle was unusually quiet that All Hallows' Eve. Shadows stretched long across the walls as the candles flickered dimly, their light barely holding back the creeping darkness. All the students were fast asleep, tucked snugly in their beds. But one creature, the teal-furred menace himself, was still very much awake and snuggled deep in Sebastian’s mop of hair.

"Thump! Thump! Thump!"

Nosy's ears twitched at the sound. Someone - or something - was knocking at the door. The little Niffler tilted his head, considering his options. He could ignore it, of course, and return to the warmth of Sebastian's hair. But… what if something shiny was waiting on the other side? The thought of a new treasure made his little heart flutter with excitement.

The thumps grew louder and more insistent, echoing ominously through the room. Nosy sat up, his teal fur bristling slightly as he glanced around the room. Sebastian and William were still snoring like babies, entirely oblivious to the disturbance! Fine, Nosy huffed to himself. Nosy will deal with this himself!

Scrambling down from his companion's head, Nosy's little paws tapped lightly against the cold stone floor. The knocking continued, relentless and demanding. Puffing out his chest, Nosy waddled to the door, ready to face whatever dared disturb his night. He sniffed at the dark crack beneath the door and squinted suspiciously. His nose twitched again, searching for danger - or treasure. That smell was familiar...

But before he could react—

BOOM!

The door flew wide open, and Nosy froze. There it was: a pumpkin monster, no taller than the Niffler himself, but far less terrifying. The pumpkin lunged forward, clicking its legs as it skittered into the room. Nosy let out a startled honk and scrambled backward, his eyes wide with shock. But only for a moment.

Recovering quickly, Nosy narrowed his eyes. A challenge? His teal fur puffed up. How dare this gourd invade the Teal King’s domain?! With a defiant honk, Nosy darted to his little nest in the wardrobe, where he grabbed his trusty pea shooter.

With a fierce honk, he fired his first shot at the pumpkin menace, the pea bouncing harmlessly off the gourd's jagged grin. The pumpkin lunged again, snapping its jagged teeth, but Nosy was too quick, skidding behind the silky pillow fort he'd built with Charlie earlier that day.

From behind the fort, Nosy let loose another volley of peas. One struck the pumpkin square between its grinning eyes, making it stumble backward with a guttural "Gourrrr!"

Honking victoriously, Nosy leapt from his fort, landing on the gourd's back with a ferocious chirp. Grabbing its stem with both paws, Nosy yanked with all his might. The pumpkin monster swayed, spinning in circles, before finally toppling over with a resounding THUD!

Perched proudly atop his defeated foe, Nosy puffed out his chest and let out a long, smug honk. Victory! His little tail wagged in satisfaction, daring any other intruders to try their luck against the Teal King.