#prompt: duck

[weirdowithaquill]

Traintober 2024: Day 22 - Duck!

But Who Warned Them?

When Skarloey returned from the works, he had something Rheneas had never seen before: a cab. “A cab is the latest thing for engines,” Mr Mack the manager told him. “I hope it will cheer you up after your disappointment.” It cheered Skarloey up too much! And the silly coaches made him worse. “Such a handsome engine!” they tittered. “Six wheels and a cab – so distinguished, my dears! It’s a pleasure to see him.”

He soon grew too big for his wheels. He boasted about his cab till poor Rheneas was tired. “You should get one like me, and be up-to-date,” he said. “No thank you! You look like a snail with that house on your back. You don’t go much faster either.” “Slow, am I? Let me tell you…” “Who was late three times last week?” “Oh, it’s no use talking. You’re just an old stick-in-the-mud.” The two called each other more names, and they quarrelled so bad that they ended up back to back – not speaking. It went on for days and days. Neither Mr Mack nor Skarloey’s driver Mr Bobbie could think of a solution to their quarrel, and as the days passed, it did not get any better. Worse yet, the rains came early that year.

They were heavier than usual too, making working a nightmare. None of the crews wanted to work in Rheneas, who had no protection against the elements. They much preferred Skarloey, who at the very least gave them a roof and something of a windshield on two sides. Unfortunately, the cab had no sides to it, only a front and a back. When the wind and rain so desired, it changed direction on the little engine, spraying in through the open sides and drenching his footplate.

Still, Skarloey lorded it over Rheneas. “At least I’m still getting used,” he said one day, when Mr Bobbie mistakenly forgot to park them back to back. “In the driving rain, yes,” retorted Rheneas, gazing out into the gloom. “You must feel very important, being used as a glorified umbrella.” “Umbrella?!” squawked Skarloey. The pair continued to bicker bitterly, until Mr Bobbie returned from his lunch break. He groaned when he realised his mistake. Out of sight of the two engines, a group of navvies helping to expand the big railway had gathered to place bets on who they thought would win the argument. Mr Bobbie rolled his eyes at the group, and climbed aboard his engine.

“Come on, Skarloey,” he said. “We’ve got the afternoon copper run to do.” With that, the little engine set off up the line, complaining bitterly about the biting wind and rain.

The line up to the copper mines and slate quarry was long and winding, passing by the lake Skarloey was named after before swinging around and dividing in two. One line led to the slate quarry and the first copper mine, while the other continued north, towards the base of Culdee Fell and over a deep gorge. After the old wooden bridge had collapsed, a new iron one had been built in its place, creating what looked to most of the men and their engines as a leap of faith.

As Skarloey puffed along, Mr Bobbie gazed out the cab. There was a great deal of built-up earth and mud near the top of the cutting – it looked unsafe. “We’ll have to check it when the rain stops,” he muttered to the fireman. “That could become a landslide very easily.” The fireman agreed, and the trio continued on, their long line of empty trucks clattering behind them.

Skarloey headed out across the new Iron Bridge, and arrived at the copper mine. He had hoped for a quick turn-around so he could get back to his warm shed before nightfall, but when they reached the copper mine his hopes were dashed. The heavy rains had loosened the rocks near one of the shafts, and the entire mine had stopped production until it could be safely cleared away. Poor Skarloey was used to shunt empty trucks around, and even to pull some of the more dangerous boulders down so they could be broken up.

It was tiring work, and it took a great while. By the time they had finished and loaded up Skarloey’s return train, dusk had already been and gone. The moon was steadily rising to the east, barely illuminating their return journey through the driving rain and thick fog that had begun to settle.

The little engine made his way back down the line, shivering at the cold weather. “I hate the rain!” he complained bitterly. Mr Bobbie secretly agreed. Even with the lamps he’d affixed to Skarloey’s bufferbeam, it was nearly impossible to see through the fog.

As they crossed the new Iron Bridge, the wind stirred up again. It tugged Mr Bobbie’s hat right off, stealing it away into the ravine below. Mr Bobbie felt a chill go down his spine. Something didn’t feel right, but he wasn’t sure what. They reached the other side, and began to pass through a steep gorge which had a number of jagged rocks sticking out either side.

“Duck!”

Mr Bobbie and the fireman both dropped to the floor in shock, just in time. A huge chunk of sharp, piercing rock screamed through the open cab and slammed into the opposite wall of the gorge, embedding itself in the rockface.

The fireman gave out a great yell, and practically fainted on the spot. Mr Bobbie just stared, unable to even process what had just happened. “Thank you, Skarloey!” he exclaimed. “If you hadn’t warned us… we’d be gone.” “I didn’t say anything, Mr Bobbie,” Skarloey replied innocently. “What’s going on back there? I felt something fly through my cab.”

Even as Skarloey spoke, Mr Bobbie felt his blood turn to ice. If Skarloey hadn’t warned them, who had?

Mr Bobbie didn’t say anything more until they reached the sheds, thoughts whirling in his mind. Someone had saved their lives, but he just didn’t know who. He did know one thing though: he was never driving an engine past dusk again.

Next time, there mightn’t be someone to save him.

Back to the Master Post

[munacy]

Duck

posting a day late but, for @stars-a-n-d-scars and @thebisexualswiftie, thank you, loves!

A continuation Part 1: Ignorance

For the @wolfstarmicrofic prompt: duck

***

Sirius, to the regret of every nearby resident of Gryffindor Tower, is caterwauling facedown in his four poster bed.  

He’s been going on eight minutes now. The volume and the pitifulness is nearly intolerable, but James, fortunately, was blessed with great patience, along with superior Quidditch reflexes, toned pectorals (for a seventeen-year-old) and excellent hair. To him, this level of histrionics is nothing. 

“Does this make me queer, then!?” Sirius wails.

Peter, understandably, does not possess the same level of patience, and irritably remarks, “Well if it swims like a duck and it quacks like a duck—Owfuck, James!”

“Be nice,” James scowls, hand smarting from smacking Peter upside the head.

He settles down next to Sirius’ form, pallid and limp and skinny and worn-out, and runs his hand through the dejected black strands hiding his face.

“You really had no idea, Padfoot?” James murmurs softly.

“None,” he moans, “Oh, except, oh, I kept wondering why I was always so happy to see him!”

“You, erm, you never been excited to see someone before?”

Sirius turns his face to the side, one grey eye looking up at James miserably. “I’ve never felt excited like it was the first time I’d seen the sun in days. Or, or, oh, the moon, fuck, Merlin’s sake--”

“There, there, Pads. So you have deep, soppy feelings for Moony. There are worse people to fall for you, y’know.”

“Yeah,” Peter interjects chirpily. “I bet even if he doesn’t like boys, or doesn’t fancy you back, he would still be so nice about it!”

Sirius suddenly scrambles into a sitting position as James glares at Peter. Tactless, he is. 

“Does Moony fancy boys?” he whispers in a rush, eyes like great, big hollows in his wan face. 

Peter and James exchange a dubious look.

“We’re not sure--”

“--We’ve thought about it of course--”

“--Long hours of academic type debate--”

“--But at the end of the day--”

“--Even though you were rather obvious--”

“--Well, that Moony, he keeps his cards close to the vest, doesn’t he?”

Sirius looks back and forth between James and Peter, and lets out a frustrated snarl.

The door to the dormitory opens suddenly at that same moment, and Remus’ alarmed voice is heard as he shuts it behind him and hangs up his robes. “Whoa, Padfoot, what’s wrong?” 

Sirius’ increasingly distressed eyes rove over Remus’ shape, lingering on his newly exposed scarred forearms and eventually landing on his mouth. His expression is that of one having heard confirmation of a terminal illness. 

“You look awful, what’s the matter?” Remus prompts again, a tendril of fear injected into his voice.

“Oh, I think Pads is just a bit nauseous,” James answers dryly.

Remus leans in closer to Sirius, who flinches slightly at the sudden proximity. 

“Your eyes are all glassy!” Remus moans with concern, getting even closer and lifting one of Sirius’ eyelids. 

“Umm.”

They are nearly nose to nose, now. 

“Have you got a fever, too? You’re all hot!” Remus frets, pressing the backs of his fingers all over Sirius’ crimson face and neck.

“Christ,” Peters mutters sympathetically. 

“Ah! AHA, that’s, erm, a, a ticklish spot, Moons, please--”

“I really think you ought to see Madame Pomfrey.”

“Nnngh--”

“No, you know what? I’m not taking no for an answer; you’re clearly very sick.”

“No, no, please, I feel--”

Remus, with his stupid insane werewolf strength, scoops an unnaturally stiff Sirius up into his arms with little more than a huff.

Sirius lets out a tiny, pathetic sound.

Remus tuts. “Oh, you poor thing, let’s get you better.”

And he walks out of the dorm, carrying out a nearly swooning Sirius bridal-style, without so much as a word to the other two. 

“He never carries me like that,” Peter grumbles. “Remember that time the wolf broke Wormtail’s littlest toe? He told me to deal with it.”

James ponders. “Not a sufficient body of proof. That was post-Full Moony and he tends to get fairly cranky. He might’ve told Sirius to stuff it too.” 

Peter sighs dramatically. “Sirius is absolutely gone for him, isn’t he?”

“Badly, and from what I’ve just seen, Moony’s got no idea about that fact...We’ve got to do something, Wormy; we’re his best friends.” 

“Eh? We’ve spent hours trying to figure out which way Remus swings, to ill effect, if you’ve noted.”

James grins wildly. “That’s it, Wormy. No more talking. It’s time to put it to the test. We’re going to figure out if Moony is bent, too.”

Part 3: Anticipation 

Part 4: Thirst

[ailithnight]

DPxDC Prompt #8

Danny was practicing shapeshifting with Amorpho when he felt the tug of a summoning and heard the distant words drifting into his mind.

Normally Danny would just ignore it. Or if it seems like this was a group that needed some sense scared into them, he'd shift into his Horror form and terrify them into never pulling this shit again. But then he heard them mention live sacrifices, and Danny just had to step in before that happened. So he let the summoning pull him on through, briefly forgetting he was shapeshifted into a... less than ideal form.

Danny lands in the circle right on top of one of the intended sacrifices, a group of people in weird outfits and, is that guy green? Irrelevant. Immediately Danny on knows something is very wrong. His powers feel muted and far away. His form suddenly feels, locked somehow.

He casts his gaze across the summoning circle and, to his horror, recognizes the binding ritual. These cultists wanted to bind and seal him in one of these mortal's bodies after they were sacrificed. But they fucked up the spell. Or maybe Danny fucked it up by coming in too soon? Irrelevant again.

What matters is the spell went sideways. Instead of locking Danny into one of the sacrifice's bodies, it locked him into his own form while pulling most of his abilities just out of reach. Now he's here. In the shape of- He's stuck as-

"Dude, is that a pigeon? Did the Ghost King, like, send you to voicemail?"

[diabolichare]

Is this courtship?

Danny is going to Gotham for his scholarship.

Good news! There's another halfa in the city, and he seems to be a good guy. Bad news: the nearest path to his university is through that halfta's haunt. He could take the long way around, but the costs would be more than his budget can handle, and he'd like to avoid dealing with a pissed-off Red Hood.

Hopefully the offerings will be enough to sate his annoyance (and help maybe, god that man has the most malnourished core he's ever seen).

Jason is getting incredibly confused over the strange gift baskets that keep appearing on his patrol routes.

[xxkitsuneknightxx]

A bunch of shinies get transformed into baby ducks ,and as ducklings do they imprint on the first vod they see. Who is that vod you ask? Well it just so happened that commander fox walked by with his usual cup of caf.

Due to fox being sleep deprived he thinks he’s hallucinating six red and white ducklings following him. It’s not till thorn points them out that he realizes they’re real.

After a lot of questioning and a visit to some Jedi healers our little ducklings get turned back, but not without gaining new names related to said incident.

Say hello to fowl, feather, ducky, goose, peck, and swan

[zylev-blog]

HONK! CRASH!

Danny woke up with a jerk. He laid in bed for a long moment, staring at the ceiling and listening to the chaos downstairs. He could hear something running around the house honking, his dad yelling, and the sound of a gun going off. He didn’t have enough sleep to deal with this. All he had wanted was to sleep before school, but was that ever going to happen? No! Why was it always him that had to deal with everything?

“GRAB IT MADDIE, IT’S GETTING AWAY!” Dad yelled.

“I KNOW, JACK!” Mom yelled, shooting her gun again.

CRASH!

Danny rubbed his eyes with a deep sigh, tossing the covers off of him and putting his feet onto the floor. Just as he was about to get up, he heard thumping coming up the stairs. Great! Now he would get in trouble if he didn’t try to head off whatever was running around their house. He ran over to his bedroom door and yanked it open, running down the hall until he was face to face with a black duck. It wasn’t even a ghost! The duck had a patch of blue around its eyes that looked like a mask, and blue markings down the side of it. In his confusion, the duck slipped between his legs and kept running down the hall.

Jazz screamed from somewhere downstairs. “There’s another one!”

“IVE GOT IT!” Dad yelled.

Cursing, he ran after the duck just as his Mom ran up the stairs. He grabbed the duck off of the ground, ignoring it as it hissed at him and tried to bite him.

“What the fuck?” He asked Mom.

“Language, sweetie.” Maddie said while she aimed the gun at the duck in Danny’s hands.

“What’s going on?” He had to raise his voice to be heard over the duck squealing.

CRASH!

They both ignored the sounds coming from downstairs. Danny decided it wasn’t his immediate problem, so he said nothing on what sounded like Dad plowing through a wall at top speed while running.

“We thought these ducks were ghosts at first, but they’re not. We don’t know where they came from.” Maddie took a step towards him, a frown on her face. “They came out of the portal.”

The duck was still trying to bite him. It couldn’t even break the skin of his hand, so he didn’t try to fight it.

“Weird looking duck.” He commented. “Ducks aren’t blue.”

The duck squawked loudly in protest.

“GOT IT!” Jack yelled from downstairs.

“Can we like… throw it back in the portal?” He asked.

“It could come back in. We don’t know where in the portal it came from.” Mom said, lowering the gun now that the duck had stopped trying to escape.

“You think another dimension?” He asked as they walked downstairs.

“Perhaps. For now we’ll put them in the holding pod and figure out what to do next.” Mom led him down to the lab.

When they got down there, he added the duck in his hands to the cell that housed the other duck. The other duck was differently colored from the first. It was black, with green feet, a green mask around its eyes, and red markings along its body. The duck seemed to be howling bloody murder.

“This one put up a fight!” Dad said proudly. “Too bad it’s not a ghost.”

“Great. I can go back to sleep now, right?” He asked tiredly.

“You sure you don’t want to help with the interdimensional search? You’ve always been the best at this.” Mom offered.

“No thanks.” He declined, yawning. “But if they’re still here when I wake up then I’ll help.”

“Okay. Good night, sweetie.” Mom kissed his forehead.

“Night mom, Night dad.” He waved as he walked back upstairs.

As soon as he got back upstairs, he found Clockwork sitting on his bed. He screamed in frustration.

[duckprintspress]

Duck Prints Press Kinks Your October!

Love prompt-a-day challenges? So do we, which is why we thought it would be fun to put together our own Kinktober list – assembled collaboratively with input from interested Duck Prints Press contributors. And now here we are! Welcome to the Duck Prints Press Kinks-Your-Tober challenge – 31 days of prompts, three prompts per day, loads of horny ideas there for the taking!

This is a rules-light challenge with no minimum word count or minimum art amount or whatnot. We’re kinking up your October, so anything goes! Pick one prompt per day or mix-and-match all three. Create fiction, art, graphics, playlists, or whatever else floats your boat. Fanworks or original works welcome. Combine our list with other October lists or don’t. Anything goes!! The only thing we won’t tolerate? Intolerance: no kinkshaming, shipshaming, fandom hate, etc.

We’re not reblogging or boosting works; this is a lowkey, for-fun challenge for y’all and for us. But, if you post your accurately tagged work to AO3, we encourage you to add it to the Kinks-Your-Tober 2024 collection.

Also, feel free to come hang with us on our Book Lover’s Server!

HAPPY KINKING, Y’ALL!

Full list in text form (read more):

Oct. 1: breathplay – sentient creature bestiality – collars Oct. 2: incubus/succubus – heat sex – breast worship Oct. 3: wax play – stone top – wartenberg wheel Oct. 4: xenophilia – human furniture – tailfucking Oct. 5: somnophilia – roleplaying – piercings Oct. 6: age play – oviposition – rough sex Oct. 7: nipple orgasm – suspension bondage – wireplay Oct. 8: service top – watersports – clothing kink Oct. 9: public use – tentacles – breeding kink Oct. 10: pervertable – come inflation – cigar/ash play Oct. 11: pet play – consensual non-consent – hair kink Oct. 12: knifeplay – mutual masturbation – sensation play Oct. 13: praise kink – fucking machine – wing kink Oct. 14: ice play – magical healing dick – safeword use Oct. 15: boot worship – clit/cock warming – melolagnia Oct. 16: biting – cock-and-ball torture – rut sex Oct. 17: sex work – size kink – hand/finger kink Oct. 18: exhibitionism – face sitting – underwater sex Oct. 19: blood play – vaginal/anal plug – merpeople Oct. 20: belly bulge – chastity – figging Oct. 21: objectification – voice kink – first time Oct. 22: lingerie kink – dollification – fisting Oct. 23: fire play – pampering – self-cest Oct. 24: handcuffs – hemipenes/hemiclits – glory hole Oct. 25: voyeurism – double penetration – S&M Oct. 26: lacatation – orgasm delay or denial – kneeling Oct. 27: overstimulation – dry humping – android/cyborg Oct. 28: dendrophilia – creature shifter – impact play Oct. 29: public sex – omorashi – electrical play Oct. 30: sex pollen – cunnilingus/blow job – humiliation Oct. 31: sex toys – power bottom – knotting

[iguessthisisanewobsession]

On the outskirts of Gotham a farm is made.

No one can pinpoint when it was started but it was clearly bountiful.

New orchards of plums apples and several other fruit whisper promises of fruits in the years to come.

Bee houses buzzed with life and ducks quacked and scurried to and from their pond, coop and the garden.

Vegetables by the rows with seasonal berries brushes spring up at the corners of the property.

Greenery that almost seemed to glow with how lush it was.

It was like a small oasis in the desert of Gotham’s dirty land.

And it was ran by only three people.

The woman’s name was Sam. She was known as an activist who seemed to do the primary care of the plants. The property was in her name and she went out of her way to invite people to take what they need.

Danny was the most well known of the trio. He brought the produce into the heart of the city. Anywhere that would take the food, kitchens, pantries, school cafeterias even people’s doorsteps.

Tucker was the technical mastermind, hidden but equally important. The sprinklers, planning of the pollination rotation, harvesting planning and statistics were his main focus on the farm. Not a single square inch of the the land was not under his watchful gaze.

All the food was fresh or properly stored and most interesting of all free.

Of course people were going to talk.

[un-pearable]

I humbly offer you these

these donalds brought to you by enduring love of color block shadows in pre-digital comics

[surreal-duck]

es rarepair week 2024 day 8 | free day/sleepover

two mimir

[flakatita]

You can't sit with us.

[magentasnail]

happy drawctober, I made ducks !

[finemealprompt]

DP x DC Prompt #70

Sam decides one day that she wants to start a band. Then, she decides to rope Tucker, Danny, and Valerie into it. It started off just as a way to spend time together, but then they started booking gigs. They’re still not any big name, but they got hired to play at a high-end nightclub called “Iceberg Lounge.” Sam has a good feeling about this.

[star2stop]

no idea what to do for this prompt so u get the first and probable last jashtober shitpost art lmao

[inubaki]

Lingerie and Leather

The KING of Hell and his Duck. Based off of @marthaluvsya’s designs! Lucifer’s Throne is hard to do since I can’t clearly see it. I love them so much! They give me such comfort. I had to work on this little by little with everything going on. I love you all like it anyway.

[starweaversguidetothehazbinhotel]

Okay I am taking the NSFW out of this prompt.

https://www.tumblr.com/worm-writes-hicfics/757388510855593984/hey-its-the-same-person-who-asked-about-a-luci

It may or may not be a hot take- but..

-~-~-

Lucifer can’t get hiccups.

A shame really-Because he finds them absolutely ADORABLE. They are the mortal version of a rubber duck squeak.

So tiny. So precious. So human.

Oh- He has tried to trigger his own hiccup-fit; but after a millennium or two, Lucifer has begrudgingly accepted that it’s never going to happen. It’s disappointing, but He is not mortal and his angelic body doesn’t need to randomly spasm in such a way. (After all this time, He’s still not even sure why humans bodies did it. Seriously- besides being cute- it served no purpose whatsoever)

The hotels resident radio demon however? For all his sense of propriety and self-control; is NOT immune to the condition.

A fact Lucifer gleefully discovered after a night of drunkenly swapping puns and terrible dad jokes with his daughter’s creepy hotelier.

Alastor’s laughter ringing through the hotel lobby; before dissolving into a fit of unrefined snorts, hiccups, and -“Apple of Eden, was that a BLEAT?”

Oh; that had no right being as adorable -interesting-as it was. And it was definitely not something Lucifer would exploit for his own amusement in the future.

Now he just needs to figure out how to make the sinner laugh like that again.