#skrab

[kingsprinkle]

[this-game-has-themes]

MISERY LOVES COMPANY: chapter 1 (abe/oc)

oddworld's most normal janitor finds his status quo upended around a mysterious and alluring 'corrective' - an enslaved native mudokon; whose forced muteness hides a multitude of darker truths, about herself and the world she came from.

overall cw for: non-explicit mentions of sexual assault/molestation, uncomfortable amounts of fantasy racism, objectification, ptsd, violence, and plenty of other things

[next]

The first time they met, it was by chance that their masters were in the same room.

As with any Cartel get-together, the air in the room was suffocatingly thick. Cigar smoke, cologne, and brusque, Nolybab accents were already things Abe had to endure on a smaller scale; having more than five Glukkons in a room was a little too much. But, the Boss… Molluck… wanted him there with him, so here he was. In a skrab’s den, so to speak.

He wasn’t the only mud there, of course; these parties attracted the upper echelons of the Magog who had their own handservants, specially trained ‘crimps’. Sligs were more common where he was from, but apparently in the city, taking a Mudokon slave was fashionable. The few he found wouldn’t look him in the eye; trained to cast their gaze demurely to the ground when not being addressed by their master. Abe faintly wondered if their circumstances were any better or worse than his.

He wasn’t really sure why he was made to accompany Molluck this time around, other than that appeal to Nolybab fashion. He was ‘employee of the year’, but that was more of a title that made it an excuse to be personally tormented by the Glukkon. Such was his life. Having to ‘stand there and look pretty’ was less dangerous and grueling than working around the slaughter machines, so he didn’t complain. Could do without all the cigar smoke, though.

Abe was dissociating quietly at his boss’ side when an old and venerable looking Glukkon shuffled over to chat a disinterested Molluck up - something about the new product the factory was developing, he wasn’t really paying attention. It was hard to, because the look of the older Gluk’s handservant struck him dumb.

A woman. Was that a woman? It had to be a woman; she had much more generous curves than a standard, emaciated factory scrub, or even the other crimp servants here. The Glukkon who kept her either treated her lavishly, or planned on fattening her up. The latter was more common, but if this was a female, she had to be, like… rare, right?

Would it be rude to ask that? Spending time around Molluck and his degrading words for him and other chattel admittedly skewed his grasp on the socially acceptable. Abe was painfully aware of his own awkwardness, feeling exposed as the woman, unlike the other servants, glared right at him.

The sharp tentacles of the Magog Cartel logo traced dark lines down her forehead to frame her brow. The logo on her head, shorn of its feathers, was a blatant advertisement of her ownership. Abe had never quite seen a slave tattoo so cruelly disfiguring before, and it added to the severity of her expression. Her skin had a dull, purplish hue, and the dress she was no doubt forced to wear was sheer enough to show the pale lines of more familiar whip scars. She wore a collar that could be mistaken for jewelry, had she not been a Glukkon’s slave. Abe himself had never seen jewelry before, so all chokers may as well have been collars.

It was good that their respective masters were preoccupied with each other, because Abe was slightly afraid of Molluck chastising him for ‘ogling’ her. Nevermind trying to actually talk to her. But, in his naivete, he risked a shy “hello” to acknowledge her.

The tattooed Mudokon remained silent, observing him carefully before tapping her lips. Abe mirrored the gesture, and touched his stitches.

“Oh, uh, these? It’s a long story.”

The woman blinked, and nodded slowly. She pulled down her jewelled choker to reveal an ugly scar across her throat. Abe winced in sympathy. She pointed to his stitches then made an odd gesture; both hands held up together, touching at the fingertips. Abe tilted his head, confused.

“I’m sorry, what?”

The woman looked at him incredulously. Struggling against her muteness, she pointed to her scarred neck and repeated the gesture, which clearly had to involve something Abe wasn’t in on.

“I don’t- I don’t understand, miss.” Painfully aware of Molluck being mere feet away from him, he was getting the feeling he really shouldn’t be talking about whatever this was.

The woman huffed, clearly exasperated with him, and grabbed his hand. She forced him to open his palm flat, and she drew deliberate shapes of letters onto it with her finger.

C. H. A. N. T.

She gave his wrist a light slap for emphasis, demanding his answer. Abe just shrugged. “...I don’t know what that means?”

He felt immensely embarrassed as she rolled her eyes at him, and then gave him a dismissive flick of her wrist. His heart sank, watching her return to the side of her Glukkon master; this was the first time he had ever seen a woman save for his mother - maybe - and he already fucked it up in record time.

The tattooed Mudokon was brazen in demanding her master’s attention, brushing up against him to give him a tug on his lapel. He didn’t snap back at her like some Glukkons probably would have; he was practically patient with her as he bent over to her level, getting uncomfortably close. The woman pointed to her throat, and gave him a doe-eyed, pleading look that a Glukkon like Molluck would have probably killed any other mud for.

Her master, however, just chuckled fondly at her big eyes. “Alright, alright, fine. You gonna behave yourself this time?”

She did a good job of masking that more severe, serious look she gave Abe. When plying the Glukkon, she smiled sweetly; playing up her enthusiastic nodding and clasping her hands together eagerly. The Glukkon closed in on her to present his cheek for her to kiss. She did so without hesitation.

The Glukkon craned his neck to tap a button on his lapel with his chin, and there was a muffled click. The Mudokon froze in place with a wince, her face scrunched up momentarily in discomfort. She coughed, and the sound came out with a metallic edge.

The Glukkon had already gone back to brown-nosing to leave his servant to recover on her own. The woman cleared her throat in an effort to wrestle control over her voice again. “There. Wasn’t sure that was going to work.”

Her voice had a slightly artificial reverb to it, but it didn’t take away from its pretty tone. Abe still glanced warily at the Glukkons to make sure they hadn't gotten their attention. “So does yours, uh, take your voice away for talking back? That's rough.”

The woman shook her bare head. “It's ‘cause I'm a threat.”

“A threat? Because of the-”

“Shh.” The tattooed servant shut him down, “ya don't talk about this here, are you insane?”

“Well, it's not like we can go anywhere else.” Now that she could speak, Abe found himself flinching back at her harsh tone and Nolybab accent. She had spent a lot of time picking it up from Glukkons, it seemed.

The woman narrowed her eyes thoughtfully at that, and turned to her distracted master again. “I know what to do.”

Abe had done enough of demeaning himself to know what she meant. The old Gluk she belonged to clearly seemed to respond well to the coy, flirty act his servant played up around him, as her brazen affection towards him was met with the sort of affection one would give to a pet begging for treats. It wasn't any less uncomfortable to witness than it was to be in her shoes; though, admittedly, she at least had the charm to pull it off. If Abe ever tried any of this with Molluck he'd get shot. And then still have to go back to working the slaughter machines.

The woman returned to her fellow Mudokon, the smile she flashed for her master utterly absent for him. She unceremoniously grabbed him by the shoulder. “We're gettin’ drinks for them.”

Abe was used to not having a choice in the matter, so he complied.

The bar, as it often was with these events, was miserably crowded. The Sligs and muds that served their superiors were rushing to keep up with the demands of both Glukkons and their chattel. The wait to get a word in over the din of activity would be in their favor, for once. Any moment away from Molluck was one that was savored.

“They call me Howler, by the way.” The woman said, when they were sure they were suitably invisible as mere slaves in the background of the party.

“Oh! Uh, I'm Abe. Nice to meet you!” Abe’s offered hand and warm greeting was met with Howler's sneer.

“Huh. Didn't think you'd have names.” She pointed out. Abe sputtered.

“W- well of course we have names, we all have names-”

 “You're scrub-stock, ain't ya?” There was a distinct derisiveness in the way Howler said that term. “Hatched in bulk on factory property, fed on paste, chemically castrated? Wouldn't expect ya to have more than a number.”

“Hold on a minute,” Abe tried - and failed - to put on the same kind of edge to his voice that she had. It didn't suit him. “I- I'm not judging you for your name, or your voice, or anything like that. Just because you're some- some fancy Gluk’s pet doesn't mean you can just talk to me like that!”

As soon as he realized what he was saying, he clapped a hand over his stitches. Sometimes, he wished they were tighter just to keep him out of these situations. Howler, however, didn't seem to take offense. She granted him the first genuine smile he saw her make, though it was a little colder and crueller than her fake ones.

“My, my. I see now why your master tried to muzzle you.”

Abe kept his stitches covered for more self conscious reasons, now. “Uh, no, that's - that's a long story. I don't really want to get into it.”

Howler gave him a curt nod. “Mine is too.”

“It had something to do with what you were asking me about, right?” Abe glanced nervously around the room before mirroring the gesture she tried to get him to recognize. Howler gave him a sour look.

“Don’t worry yourself about it, scrub-stock. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Well, uh, yeah - that’s why I’m asking?”

He might as well have been talking to the wall, now. Howler ignored him, having apparently made up her mind about him upon learning he was a factory scrub. He couldn’t really blame her; he was probably the only person she could look down on here, so why wouldn’t she take that chance?

Howler was direct in giving her orders to the barkeepers, though they didn’t prioritize her like they would have for a Glukkon. When she found that Abe was still by her side, she looked a little annoyed - well, she always looked a little annoyed. She had a severe look in her eyes that he didn’t know a Mudokon could make.

Left to wait on her drink order, the Mudokon woman resigned herself to Abe’s company. Her artificial voice crackled as she lowered it to a half-whisper. “I’m talkin’ about the old ways. The old rites you wouldn’t have been born into. Most of you don’t even know where you come from, don’t ya?”

“Most of us, yeah.” Though its clarity had faded over the years, the faded, blurry image of his mother still crossed Abe’s mind. “Some of us… remember a little bit, though. I remember my mother. I think.”

Howler tilted her head curiously at him. Of all the muds he could have mentioned it to, he didn’t expect her to be the one not to brush him off immediately. The inquisitive look returned to her eye. “How much do you remember?”

Abe shuffled uneasily on his feet. He tapped a stitch on his lips, and left it at that. In their proximity, he heard her take a pensive, metallic exhale.

“I remember being outside.” Howler’s voice came out as a mumble, though her voice box seemed to keep it at a regulated volume, denying her complete secrecy. “I remember being free.”

Abe wasn’t given time to react before a Slig at the bar with a bowtie and vest barked at them to pick up a tray of glasses. He recognized Molluck’s usual disgusting martini on the right, and took it.

“You were hoping I was a… a ‘bush-mud’ too, huh?” He asked. The tattooed woman took the tall glass meant for her master and looked numbly at it; as though it alone triggered unpleasant memories.

“Ya look like one, at a glance; depressive pigmentation, punitive disfigurements-” She stopped herself, looking almost embarrassed. “Sorry, I picked up a lot of ‘mud-trade’ lingo over the years.”

“Yeah, I’m aware of what I look like.”

“Well, try not to stand out too much eh, Abe?” Very briefly, Abe caught the corner of her mouth threatening a smile. “You workfloor stock have it easy. Ya don’t get labels that add to your price tag.”

Abe couldn’t really argue with that, it was quite nice when he didn’t stand out. When Molluck would thankfully ignore him when he walked by, instead of stopping to flick ash onto his head, or find some new way to molest him without needing to touch him. Those days had been fewer and farther in between, now.

As it was uncouth in Glukkon society to use your hands when a servant could use theirs for you, both Mudokons were expected to serve their respective Glukkons by hand. Abe was always nervous when handling food and drink around Molluck; intrusive thoughts made him jumpy, and Molluck liked to point out when his hands shook, to make the nervous tic worse. Even now, though his thoughts were preoccupied with the woman’s words, the urge in the back of his mind told him to pour the drink over his Boss’ big ugly head. Or smash the glass in his eye, then take the shards and sli-

“Watch it, stitch-lips.” Molluck paused from taking a sip to pull his chattel into reality with a warning growl. Abe blanched when he realized he had let but a drop of the martini land on the Glukkon’s pinstriped lapel. As he apologized profusely, he noticed Howler watched him from the corner of her eye.

Abe’s stomach turned a little, watching the elderly Glukkon fully, brazenly kiss the woman on the lips. He wasn’t… a stranger to that at all, but to do it in public? Even Molluck had a sense of shame. When Howler pulled back from her master’s lips, she paused to take a mouthful of his drink and ‘serve’ it to him again. Abe deeply hoped this wasn’t going to give Molluck any ideas.

Frankly, he was a little relieved to see Molluck sneering at the spectacle his peer made. “You make it chew and swallow your food too, Kwalia?”

“On the contrary,” The Glukkon countered after catching his wheezy breath, “I see it as an advertisement of the kind of stock you can get from the Viss Madre Correctives. Would you believe this one was a wild catch?”

The look in Howler’s eyes was dull. Abe knew that look intimately, but it was different seeing it across from him. Looming above him, Molluck scoffed.

“Bush-muds ain’t worth it. It get my m- my stock from the egg trade, they’re just as good. Besides,” Molluck paused, clicked his tongue to prompt Abe to give him a drink, and savored it for a moment of anticipation. “Wild caught can be a bit gamey, ya know?”

“Does this look gamey to you?” Kwalia nudged an elbow in Howler’s side hard enough to make her gasp, and hard enough to make her breasts jiggle in her dress. The Mudokon kept a straight face, despite her pigmentation gaining the slightest, briefest red tinge.

“You keep the females intact, they fill right out without even getting them pregnant. And I guarantee, the product is of premium quality.”

Abe would have preferred to listen to Molluck go over his favorite workplace accidents this year, rather than have to hear the flesh-trader speak a second more. Much like his mauve-colored peer, he didn’t have a choice, save to stand there and look pretty. To his quiet horror, he watched Molluck’s eyes draw leeringly down the curves of the woman’s frame. A low growl of interest rumbled in his throat.

“Ya might be onta somethin’ there, Kwalia. But I’m not lookin’ to buy - not yet.”

Abe and Howler exchanged harrowed looks. The tattooed Mudokon was much quicker to put on a distant, disaffected expression.

The night went on with both slaves at their masters’ sides, with no reprieve or opportunity to talk to one another. Abe tried not to stare. Then, he tried not to look like he was staring. Eventually, he settled for just trying not to stare too disrespectfully. It wasn’t that Howler was female, or that she was pretty - she was mysterious in a way that Abe didn’t see with other worker muds. People didn’t really have time to develop a personality in the slaughterhouse.

Every once in a while, he caught the tattooed Mudokon staring at him, too. She would lower her eyes just as quickly, a fleeting hint of some shared melancholy leaving them to return to the numbness that made up the background of their lives. Abe wondered if she found him just as interesting as she was to him, but that probably wasn’t the case. She was probably looking at his stitches and blue skin, and wishing he was a kindred spirit to share her pain with.

As a worker class, Abe was practically a different species to her. But it didn’t feel like it.

-

The second time they met, Abe had resigned himself to never seeing the tattooed woman again. He was certain he would go the rest of his life without ever having that sort of interaction again, so he may as well accept it.

The most interesting thing happening at RuptureFarms at the moment was the rumors of an looming paramite shortage. A disease had spread through the kept livestock in a wave of death, and their meat was considered contaminated. Molluck took his frustrations out on Abe for a month straight. Even though he was back in his factory uniform on the butcher floor by now, he could still feel the heels of the Glukkon’s shoes digging into his bare back.

Misery ebbed and flowed through the factory, as certain as the tides. Threats of downsizing had some workers whispering about what would become of them if they were ‘laid off’. A few machinery accidents happened before Abe’s eyes. He watched, helpless, as a particularly fed up scrub simply walked off a catwalk and into the exposed bowels of the facility below. Even the accidents that weren’t accidents, were still written off as such. Such was their lot in life. Mudokon lives had very little of that to begin with.

His dormitory pod was quieter after his roommate got pushed into the scrab pit by a Slig. This was, admittedly, something he wasn’t too upset about, as he never liked the guy anyways. Solitude was welcome, for a while. For a while.

A mud had no use for keeping track of the days, so for all Abe knew it was a lifetime since he met the Mudokon girl with the tattooed head. Her face lingered in his mind, and took up a similar space and role in his head that the vague, ephemeral memory of his mother did. Another woman who he may very well have hallucinated.

Beginning to see Howler as a product of his imagination made meeting her again extremely awkward. Not that their circumstances could get more tense than they already were. It was a shipment of new blood to replace the dozen or so workers that got chopped up in the broken eviscerator the other day. The airship’s side bore a logo that was unrecognizable, but weirdly… familiar. Viss Madre Correctives. A different supplier, who brought in different muds.

The Mudokons that Viss Madre sent in were tattooed in obvious, unhidable places, like their necks and faces. They were a little more robust than the fragile scrub-stock on the floor, but there were more obvious signs of mistreatment. Abe noticed missing eyes, ears, and a few cut tongues amongst his new co-workers. In hindsight, Howler didn’t stick out amongst these muds at all.

His shift was starting when he saw a Mudokon tempting fate by sitting down on the job. Or rather, curling into the fetal position on the job, which was probably even more egregious. The other Mudokons simply ignored the mourning slave, but Abe had been in that position enough times to at least attempt to risk sympathy. He reached down to get them to uncover their hands from their face.

“Hey, the Sligs are gonna be mad if you don’t…” He trailed off there, because he found himself looking at a ghost. The Mudokon woman, with her tattooed head and scarred throat, looked back up at him with bloodshot eyes.

The sound of a Slig cocking his gun as a warning gesture snapped them back into reality. Howler was quick to get back on her feet, take a deep, silent breath, and regain her composure in an instant. Abe himself took a few seconds longer, being less skilled at it than she was.

“Well, it's, uh… good to see you again?” Abe shrugged. He was met with a silent scowl. “I guess they took your voice away, huh.”

Howler sighed, and looked around the room before gesturing with a finger, pretending to write on her open palm. Abe checked his pockets, but of course all he could give her in the end was an apologetic shrug. “Sorry… I don’t have anything like that on me.”

Howler slapped her tattooed forehead in frustration. As the bell for the shift change rang, she brusquely shoulder-checked him on her way to work.

Abe was quickly starting to see why there were no females in the workforce, as they were apparently very distracting. As Howler remained on his mind, he made more than a couple mistakes working around the processors. Some of them were a little too close to ending in disfigurement. He just couldn’t help but worry about the former handservant, even if she looked more than able to handle herself. If she was only a ‘domestic’ before, factory life would likely run her ragged.

Friendship was discouraged among the workforce, but maybe he could keep a notepad and pen in his pocket, for the next time he sees her. If she ever lets him near her again.

As his shift ran its course with no sign of her, he almost started to consider her as another benign hallucination in his fractured mind. When he relaxed in the free time timeslot leading up to Lights Out, he didn’t imagine her barging into his dorm pod, or anything. But… that’s what she did, in the end.

Neither of them looked happy about it, as the tattooed woman stood stock-still in the pod’s entrance with a rolled up extra uniform tucked under her arm. Abe was immediately stressed and put on the spot. Howler just huffed voicelessly, and took the cot that Abe wasn’t on. The way she turned away from him and curled defensively around herself, that alone should have told him not to approach. Abe never technically learned such etiquette before, so it never crossed his mind.

“I got you this.” He stood, needing only to lean over to reach Howler’s newly-claimed side of the pod. He held the notepad over her until she was willing to look up at him and snatch it out of his hand. She didn’t write in it right away; simply laying it on the mattress beside her, her heavy-lidded eyes remaining on it like she considered the futility of using it.

With his good deed done for the day, Abe retreated to his side of the pod. He needed his own time to curl into a ball and try to process her presence. He never even remotely considered that he would share a room with a girl, and part of him wondered if there was some mistake made in the processing of the new workers. And if Molluck found out…

Abe didn’t want to think about him, but the Glukkon remained a looming specter in the back of his mind.

As night settled over RuptureFarms, the many clusters of worker pods were lifted up a few stories from the ground. Suspending the cells was just another method of making escape a little more dangerous, but when you’re born into this life, you could come to see it with a sense of security. As their pod was slowly pulled upwards, Howler stared out of the windows warily at the shrinking ground below.

“Oh, you’ve never slept in one of these, haven’t you?” Abe asked. He received a fervent shake of the other Mudokon’s head. “It’s not so bad, honestly. I mean, it’s perfectly safe - I think I’ve only seen a pod fall once.”

Howler looked at him like he was insane, before resigning herself to her fate again with a huff.

At least she would be a quiet roommate, even if that silence was against her will. Abe would have preferred having a conversation with her again, even if that conversation would be curt. Faintly, he heard scribbling from Howler’s end of the cot.

When she was done writing, The tattooed Mudokon balled up the paper and tossed it at him. Abe fumbled with the crumpled note, and spread it out to see awkward, but readable handwriting.

‘Thank u.’

He would have told her she was welcome, but he found the mute woman had purposefully blotted out her bleak new world with a pillow over her head.

[opskriftertilida]

Crème Brûlée

8 personer.                         

Tid i alt 3 timer                         

Arbejdstid 15 min

2 Vaniljestænger

8 spsk. sukker

6 dl piskefløde

2 dl sødmælk

10 æggeblomme

+ 4 spsk. rørsukker, til karamelisering på toppen

Flæk vaniljestængerne på langs og skrab vaniljekornene ud med kniven. Fordel vaniljekornene i sukkeret. kom fløde og sødmælk i en gryde, sammen med den tomme vaniljestang.

Pisk æggeblommer og vaniljesukker til æggesnaps (en tyk, stadigt flydende blanding) og indtil at sukkeret er rørt helt ud.

Varm gryden med mælk, fløde og vanilje op indtil det næsten koger og tag så gryden af varmen, lad det køle af et par minutter og hæld så den varme fløde i æggesnapsen under omrøring. Alt det skum der lægger sig på toppen af skålen fjernes (der er meget skum, fortsæt indtil den gule creme kan ses under skummet).

Fordel vaniljecremen i otte ramakiner og bag dem i en forvarmet ovn ved 140 grader varmluft i 20-30 min.

De skal være bløde og skælvende i midten og må ikke få for meget. Lad dem køle af i stuetemperatur, hvorefter de sættes på køl i et par timer, eller til næste dag.

Ved servering drysses de med et lag sukker, som brændes med en gasbrænder indtil sukkeret karamelliseret.

[azhefa-moved]

                                           THE ICE NATION ROYAL LINEAGE king theo,  uniter of the realms and forger of the crown  queen nia, daughter of king theo and conquerer of the south  king toron, husband of queen nia and warchief of the east king roan, son of queen nia, caretaker to the throne and keeper of the fleim

[blookmallow]

hey i finally got photosets working properly again heres some more from this picrew im still obsessed with. heres the ancient ones 

ft some never before seen concept designs and some human forms that have never happened as well 

Mother, jacinda, rachna, “muffin” (who does not actually have the ability to use its human form, as far as anyone is aware), kadri, skrab, [ R E D A C T E D ], and kalidasa

which, i believe, means ive done all the lumenia side now, 

[gnomeo-and-juliet]

@ me next time bb

the absolute madgnome

[scaramouched-a]

a running list of all of tartaglia’s nicknames for scaramouche:

scaramoushka: they’ve finally worked out that this is just a diminutive, cutesy nickname meant to pick on their small size

moushka: a derivative of the former. they have no idea that it sounds the same as “ little fly. ”

skaramyslo: this one is a pun on their name but ultimately means nothing that makes sense. they think it’s an insult of some sort.

skrab: this one’s just when childe is being lazy and making a play on “ scrub, ” although it does mean an exfoliant ( which is irrelevant ). yet again, they assume it’s some sort of insult.

skaramusor: a play on “ musor, ” meaning “ garbage. ” musor is also a degrading name for cops. this one he is right about it being an insult.

another nickname that isn’t from tartaglia:

shlyapa: it means “ hat, ” but can also refer to an inattentive person or an unpleasant situation.

[astadanielsen-blog]

Skrabelodder

Skrabelodder og skrab og vind spil er populære måder at deltage i konkurrencer på, og denne type af spil ses brugt i rigtig mange sammenhænge både fysisk og digitalt.

For at læse det fulde indholdsbesøg på mobilskrab.

[coolartist1110]

The Lives of Scrooge McDuck AU

After many long and happy years adventuring, Scrooge finally decided to go on 1 last adventure alone. With this final treasure, he could spend all of his time on business and with his family. This final treasure was a small crystal known as the Shard of Skrab Lrac. Scrooge reached out, grabbed it, and...

It all started over.

Scrooge started from scratch. From his first dime to his moneybin, Scrooge lived again. There were slight discrepancies from his last lifetime, but that is to be expected with the lives of Scrooge McDuck. There are very few constants. One such constant up until that point was finding the Shard of Skrab Lrac near the end of his career, but this Scrooge found it on 1 of his first adventures. He grabbed the shard, just as he had in his other lifetimes...and it all came rushing back.

Flashes of the previous life Scrooge experienced came to him. Not one to just forget those images and move on, Scrooge attempted to make sense of the visions. As his life went on, Scrooge noticed a few more constants. Beakley coming to be his housemaid, Duckworth being his butler, and having a family of Della, Donald, Gladstone, Huey, Dewey, and Louie. Scrooge rarely let anyone in on what he knew, mostly since people found it crazy.

Scrooge, despite not remembering every detail too clearly, was still devastated by this discovery. How many other lives had he lived before this one? How many families had he left behind? How many people had he forgotten? Even when he got his family back, they weren’t the same. He misses his own Huey, Dewey, and Louie too.

The reason THIS Scrooge seems so much more physically fit than the last is because he vowed to be the best version of himself this time around. He HAD to be the best version of himself. How else could he protect his family? He even went the extra mile to spend more time with Della this time around! Unfortunately, that lead to the accident on the Spear of Selene. The accident, as we know, destroyed Scrooge; he had lost another family member after losing a whole lifetime.

All the events of the series play out the same, just some character differences for Scrooge and his family.

The Mechanics of Scrooge’s Lives:

Scrooge only remembers the ‘87 and 2017 TV series..ses...whatever the plural of series is. Scrooge’s lives as shown in older shorts or cartoons are all the lives of the same duck. It’s just that, in some form or another, all of those McDucks made contact with the Shard of Skrab Lrac. All continuity errors between appearances of Scrooge can be explained by the discrepancies between his lives. Scrooge doesn’t remember every single detail of the ‘87 series either, they’re normal memories. Nobody remembers things in exact detail. When asked what his other life was like, his default response is that it was “Not too different, although it was a bit sillier.”

For some reason, one of the Moon People Scrooge reminded him an awful lot of the other Gladstone, but he couldn’t place his finger on it.

[the100trigedasleng]

S

sad in verb: decide, choose

from: said in

sad klin verb: decide emphatically, choose definitively, make a firm choice

from: said clean

sad op verb: (transitive) pick out, choose [something]; (intransitive) like to have, like to decide

from: said up

Sadgeda proper noun: Conclave

from: said-gather

Sadon noun: vote

from: said-one

Sadrona noun: significant other

from: side-runner OR decide-runner

sak au verb: outsmart, outwit

from: psyche out

sak daun verb: take (as a strategic point)

from: sack down

Sampada noun: footstep

from: sand-padder

Sanch noun: lunch

from: sandwich

Sangedakru proper noun: Desert People

from: sand-gather-crew

Sankrola noun: lizard

from: sand-crawler

Seda noun: teacher, instructor

from: said-er

Sef conjunction: but, except

from: except-for

Sefi noun: picture

from: selfie

Sei verb: mean, signify

from: say

Seifas noun: trap

seigeda klin verb: vote

from: say-gather clean

Seim adjective: same

from: same

Seimbeda verb: prefer

from: same-better

Seimon noun: same, same one

from: same-one

Seingeda noun: family

from: same-gather

Seintaim adjective: same, same as; too, also

from: same-time

Seiso noun: counsel, advice

from: say-so

Sen noun: smell

from: scent

sen daun verb: put down, set down

from: send down

sen in verb: hear, listen

sen klir verb: release, set free, let go

from: send clear

sen op verb: send

from: send up

ses op verb: sleep with, have sex with

from: sex up

set daun verb: get down, stay down; give up

from: set down

set klin verb: belong

from: set clean

set of verb: be born

from: set off

set raun verb: wait, stand in place; make to wait or stand in place; (reflexive) study, apply oneself to

from: sit around

Setnes noun: watch (as a sentry or guard)

from: sit-ness

Sha phrase: yes

from: yeah

shak op verb: live, reside

from: shack up

Shanen adjective: happy

from: shining

sheid klin verb: shelter, protect

from: shade clean

Sheidgeda noun: night

from: shade-gathering

Sheidjus noun: Nightblood

from: shade-juice

shil op verb: protect, defend

from: shell up

Shilkru noun: guard (force)

from: shell-crew

shof op verb: be quiet

from: shut up

Shopta phrase: how are you

from: whatcha-up-to

shoun of verb: present

from: showing off

shoun raun verb: guide

from: showing around

Shouna noun: advisor

from: showing-er

Shuda noun: weapon

from: shooter

Sich noun: trouble

from: situation

sin daun verb: sit

from: sitting down

sin in verb: witness, watch

from: seen in

Sintaim noun: day

from: seeing time

Sis noun: sister

from: sister

sis au verb: help, assist

from: assist out

sis op verb: grab, take

from: ? up

Sisfou adjective: helpful

from: assist-for

Sishou noun: shore, seashore

from: seashore

Siva noun: ear

from: receiver

Skafa noun: hell

Skai noun: sky

from: sky

Skaifaya noun: star

from: sky-fire

Skaiflaya noun: medium-sized birds such as pigeons and jays

from: sky-flyer

Skaiglaida noun: large bird

from: sky-glider

Skaigona noun: predatory bird, bird used for hunting

from: sky-gunner

Skaikrasha noun: storm

from: sky-crasher

Skaikru proper noun: Sky People, Arkers

from: sky-crew

Skaipeka noun: small bird, as a sparrow or hummingbird

from: sky-pecker

Skaren noun: scar; also ‘skaron’

from: scarring; scar-one

Skat noun: boy

Skayon proper noun: Sky Person, Arker

from: sky-one

skech au verb: draw

from: sketch out

skiv op verb: creep on

from: skeeve up

skrab daun verb: write

from: scribe down

Skrish noun: shit

from: squish

skwed op noun: repay

from: squared up

Slak adjective: open

from: slack

slash klin verb: cut, slash (to kill)

from: slash clean

Sleng noun: language

from: slang

slip daun verb: (intransitive) fall, come (down); (transitive) slay

from: slip down

slip thru verb: fail

from: slip through

Slipen noun: fall

from: slipping

Slogen adjective: lazy

from: slogging

smak daun verb: knock down

from: smack down

smuch op verb: kiss

from: smooch up

Snacha noun: raccoon

from: snatcher

Snap adjective: fast, quick

from: snap

Snogon noun: loved one

from: snog-one

Sobwe noun: tunnel

from: subway

Sof adverb: softly, gently

from: soft

Som noun: something

from: something

Somines noun: pride

Somon noun: ?

son op verb: (transitive) dry (something)

from: sun up

Soncha noun: light

from: sunshine

Sonchageda (also Sonchgeda, Soncha Kapa) proper noun: the City of Light

from: sunshine-gather

Songplei noun: music

from: song-play

Sonraun noun: (one’s) life

from: sun-around

Sontaim noun: story

from: song-time

Sontam noun: summer (season)

from: sun-time

Sora noun: bird

from: dinosaur

Sou adverb: (emphatic) provides emphasis, typically on a copula or verb

from: so

Souda verb: (modal) must

Souda noun: drink (alcoholic)

from: soda

Soujon noun: journey, travels

from: sojourn

Soulou adjective: alone

from: solo

Spechou phrase: congratulations

from: special

spek daun verb: bow

from: respect down

Spichen adjective: lying

from: speeching

Spichen phrase: goddamn

from: speeching

Spika noun: mouth

from: speaker

spin raun verb: (transitive) dance; (reflexive) think, esp. meditatively

from: spin around

Splita noun: outsider, outcast

from: splitter

sponj au verb: drain

from: sponge out

Sprintam noun: spring (season)

from: spring-time

spun in verb: act in the capacity of a back spoon, be (someone’s) back spoon

from: spoon in

spun op verb: act in the capacity of a front spoon, be (someone’s) front spoon

from: spoon up

Spuna noun: one who participates in “spooning”

from: spooner

Stanop adjective: good

from: stand-up

Ste verb: (stative copula) be; used with adjectives; also used with verbs as a progressive marker

from: stay

ste daun verb: be dead

from: stay down

Stedaun adjective: dead

from: stay-down

Stedaunon noun: the dead, one who is dead, dead person

from: stay-down-one

Stegeda noun: village

from: stay-gather

Steiks noun: meat

from: steaks

stein klin verb: prove

from: stain clean

Stelt adjective: hidden

from: stealth

Steltrona proper noun: a mythical horse that no one can catch

from: stealth-runner

step au verb: make one’s move

from: step out

step klin verb: march

from: step clean

step op verb: step in, interfere

from: step up

Stepa noun: shoe

from: stepper

Stergeda noun: stairs, staircase, stairwell

from: stair-gather

sting in verb: (intransitive) burn, sting, smart

from: sting in

Stoda noun: start, beginning

from: starter

stomba raun verb: be awake

from: stomping around

stot au verb: start, begin

from: start out

Strada noun: plotter, schemer

from: strategy-er

Strat noun: plan

from: strategy

strech au verb: walk

from: stretch out

Strecha noun: walker, one who walks

from: stretcher

Strechplei noun: walk, walking

from: stretch-play

Strik adjective: small, little

from: streak

strik daun verb: reduce

from: streak down

Strikon noun: little one, small one

from: streak-one

Stringboba noun: puppet

from: string-bobber

Strisis noun: little sister

from: streak-sister

Stumucha noun: an utterly deplorable person

from: just-a-moocher

swap op verb: flank, surround

from: swap up

swega klin verb: swear, promise

from: swear-to-god clean

Swela noun: throat

Swima noun: fish

from: swimmer

Swis (also swison) noun: knife, blade

from: Swiss

Swison noun: blade

from: swish-one

Swolnes noun: swelling

from: swollen-ness

[stenders-cosmetics-blog]

Ваша кожа дольше сохранит свою молодость и упругость, если вы иногда порадуете ее тщательной очисткой. Мы объединили эффективно очищающие природные дары с маслами, ухаживающими за кожей. #stenders #trend #beauty #beautyblog #stylish #skrab #forbody #body #soap #nature #likeme #likeitup #queen

[silentacademy]

The Silent Academy has been quiet, working on things. • However, with the arrival of new year we’re happy to announce a number of new projects involving a number of writers and artists from around the world. • The first project we’d like to mention is our imprint, ‘meantime’ - an annual edition. • ‘meantime 001’ will include work from artists: Steve Giasson James Gillham Colin Guillemet Royce Allen Hobbs Matt Hulse Christin Kaiser Stefan Klein Mark Langley Philip Newcombe Paloma Sanchez-Palencia & Lena Skrabs Andrew Shaw Penny Slinger Ignacio Uriarte Steve Van den Bosche Freek Wambacq Brittany Wilder ‘Meantime 001’ will be released in the near future. #meantimepress #journal #conceptualartists #happynewyear2022 https://www.instagram.com/p/CYI_k_VoHrQ/?utm_medium=tumblr

[billighvidvin]

Triviel speciel

Ligesom alle andre

Venter op weekend, vin, frihed

Venter på livet.

Lad være.

Stop. Nej, stop aldrig

Vær konge af, at leve i nuet

Tal, som hvis din stemme havde en udløbsdato

I morgen.

Kig op, ned, frem

Ikke tilbage

Ikke for meget

Men lad da aldrig mig diktere, hvad du skal kigge på

Lad aldrig mig bestemme

Så kig tilbage så meget du vil

Dans limbo og gå på balancebomme

Fald ned og skrab knæet

Lær, at såret heler

Lær, at du ikke dør

Lær, at det er det, det handler om

[blookmallow]

im absolutely obsessed with this magic school picrew.... im making like every single character i have 

heres all the Ancient Ones and their familiars for now. names are in the captions

kalidasa is a collector and familiar fused together, they’re not Sewn together like that but it was the closest visual i could get. clothes/colors are pretty limited but i still rly love these 

familiar designs are estimates bc i dont have clear decided human forms for these yet. skrab’s hair is Definitely wrong but they didnt have a darker brown or anything that looked like dreadlocks 

[unnwru]

Скраб для лица можно сделать в домашних условиях. Домашний скраб для лица из овсяных хлопьев. https://unnw.ru/Skrab-dlya-lica-iz-ovsyanuh-hlopev