#the mice storm

[tobisaurus]

[gothamsfinestdummy]

[triplethewinds]

(cooking)

[mouseratz]

suereed time

[angelwiththeblue-box]

lab rats/mighty med art dump because i have too much to post individually

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feat. skylar and kaz being chaotic besties chase and bree being gay disasters and oliver being done with all of them, leo logan and taylor beach day, the rats and mighty mice team moments and bree and skylar as the one iconic wlw meme

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taglist: @thedragonemperess @depressedtransguy @blueskiesandstarrynights @tronagon @lab-trash @joshkiszkashusband @someguyiguess @genuine-possum (lemme know if u want to be added or removed)

[fibrefox]

I, too, flirt this way.

[skidar]

I made some Skytown character sticker designs for a book event I had to cancel. I’m gonna try and make some more Skytown stuff for other events in the future but it was nice to draw these guys again. Some of these characters haven’t been drawn in 5 years x.x

[taxi-davis]

The Coming Storm by Chris Miles

[be-my-violent-smile]

You think I don’t know what you did

[novelties-and-notions]

When Storm Darragh battered the British Isles it wreaked a certain amount of havoc in the tiny Scottish hamlet of Sunnyville (still known to the indigenous community as Achmothogair), but those few residents who occupy their houses all year round are necessarily resilient so, as soon as the wind and the snow had passed, they set to with their usual irrepressible spirit, some pulling and pushing with all their meagre might, and some by adopting the principle that they also serve who stand and wait…

[mouseratz]

last but not least, johnny storm!

[elliewritesthings]

I went downstairs to get myself a lil’ midnight snack (as one does) and I’m 99% sure I heard a  godDAMN MOUSE IN MY CUPBOARD AND IF THERE REALLY IS A MOUSE I AM GOING TO BURN THIS HOUSE TO THE GROUND

[noddaduck]

D20 really taught me that ttrpg characters should be made with the player in mind, you don’t just have to make a role and try to play it.

Ally with their crazy blue blockers and “nighttime ecstasy” and Lou saying he’d love a pair of those blue blockers was just so Pete and Kingston, and that’s because they made characters they were comfortable with playing, characters they could still be themselves as.

If PiB was making a dnd character for a fantasy Highschool game, he could easily make Gorgug Thistlesprig cause that would set up so many comedy opportunities. Zac “yeah I killed em” Oyama (hope I spelled that right) plays himbos not because he doesn’t want to be mean, but because “sit down” to a massive purple worm just hits so much harder out of the kid who got bullied on his first day of school. And also maybe cause he wants to be soft sometimes I don’t know don’t at me.

Siobhan makes nerds and old characters and mind reading aliens so she can be the smartest one in the room because she is and we should all say it.

Emily makes magical/supernatural punks so she can fuck with Brennan/the system/the world/death itself.

All of Murph’s characters are so confused/stressed/wired so he can yell and solve puzzles and if you gave him Druidic powers he could absolutely figure out how to feed and care for the entire homeless population of New York.

Lou just can’t not have a title, he is the Boy of Destiny, the Vox Populi, the King of Candia, the Maximum Legend. The man has known the struggles minorities face and his ball is absolutely rolling up, it is never coming back down.

Ally Beardsley has made characters with the absolute best development and evolution baked in because of course they did. Mother Goose, the only exception, the calm in every storm of the horror that was Neverafter, as well as the body guard in Mice and Murdered who’s name I don’t remember, the stability and perseverance that comes from truly finding and carving out who you are.

Brennan would make the best parent ever, his self insert was never the eagle guy it was Sklonda and Bill Seacaster and Arthur Aguefort and the Thistlesprigs and Bud Cubby and Jawbone and-

[rosekasa]

the thing is, chat noir is so smart, and ladybug knows this, so when it comes to technical knowledge she just trusts him. chat noir, who loves fuckiny with ladybug, doesn't actually realise the depths at which this trust runs. she'll ask him what the constellation in front of them is called and he'll be like 'oh it's called The Great Almond because at the time the romans had only heard of almonds in folk stories and believed that's what they looked like' and she'll be like ohhh i see. she'll ask him how exactly street lamps sense when it's night time and he tells her 'oh it's not from the lack of sun, it's just the mice become more active after dark so when they start running around faster underground it triggers the sensors' and she'll be like wow that's so weird but chat noir said it so it must be correct.

one day she storms up to him during patrol and is FURIOUS. she tells him she just went on a date and this guy thought she was so stupid because she started ARGUING with him about all these nonsense facts chat noir had told her. chat noir laughs about this for weeks

[oonajaeadira]

That Awoooo Inside You, Pt. 1

Fandom: The Wild Robot / Fink the Fox

Pairing: Fink <3s OFC fox

Rating: G all the way, don’t worry. This is keeping in the world and disgustingly wholesome. Prolly too clean for tumbles 😆

Warnings: None. It’s for cuteness and for heart.

Summary: After the events of The Wild Robot, a new resident joins the island.

A/N: Listen. This is just for fun. I love a fox character and I love a sassmaster with a gooey center and my heart melted for Fink. He is very lovable. As @something-tofightfor mentioned in a chat with me, “he just wanted to matter to someone.” I totally agree. In keeping with the frank but sweet style of the movie, I just ached to give Fink a silly little sequel and it feels in bad practice to keep it locked up when I’ve had such blockage lately. Thank you for indulging my exercise.

It was a mild spring evening like any other, the sun going down as Fink bounded back inland, his belly nearly dragging on the ground after an afternoon of digging clams and catching fish. If it hadn’t been for Roz, he’d just be waking up for the evening, getting ready to hunt mice and rabbits. But thanks to Roz, he couldn’t bring himself to eat them anymore. He couldn’t eat his friends.

He smiled warmly. Friends.

And thanks to Roz, there was a soft, mossy green bed for him to curl up in after gorging himself on the pantry of the sea. It was waiting for him just ahead, its siren song of comfort and sleep calling out to him. Why be a hunter in the cold night when you can fish in the warm sun and sleep in a warm basket? What a life he’d lucked into.

Suddenly though, the spring evening like-any-other shifted into something else entirely when he was hit with a scent so new and wondrous that his quick feet stumbled to a stop just before the hut came into view. Putting his nose to the wind he let it wash over him and the scent ran through him like fire, tingled like a storm in the air, chattered his jaw and set every hair on end…

But in a really, really delicious way.

Obsession was something he was used to, but this was intense. He had to find it. Had to paw at it and roll in it. He needed it ground deep into his fur and he was running full out before he realized it, not off into the woods but to familiar ground, to his very own home.

“Your tail’s all puffed out,” Thorn noted as Fink came through the opening. “Someone chasin’ you? That’s my job.”

The bear gave a low laugh and Fink ignored him, hastily scanning the hut for the source of his agitation, not caring so much that his tail was puffy, but he couldn’t stop it twitching. “What… what what is that smell?”

“Oh. That’s probably her.” Thorn heaved himself off his big furry butt and stepped to the side, revealing Fink’s bed and the creature sleeping in it. “Found her washed up on the shore. Still alive. Barely. Thought you wouldn’t mind if I brought her here–”

“It’s a…fox. Another fox.” Fink stood aghast. He hadn’t seen a fox on this part of the island for most of his life. His mother had driven him off as soon as she was going to have another litter and the only other foxes around had been bigger males or his sisters, so he had run for days hoping to find a territory where he wouldn’t be bitten and bullied and kicked around by them. He’d found this corner of the island to be lonely, but at least he wouldn’t get himself killed over territory disputes. And then, of course came Roz and Brightbill and then this corner hadn’t been so lonely after all. It had seemed a fair trade to make; with such a warm, accepting new family, he’d never even stopped to wish for someone of his own ilk.

But now…

“She is?” Thorn mused. “Never seen a white fox before. Just thought she was a kind of weasel or something.”

Fink’s nose twitched. “No. She’s definitely fox.” Slowly approaching the bed, he craned around to get a better look at her sleeping face tucked halfway under her gray-tipped tail. She was small and her features were a little more delicate, but that scent couldn’t be denied. “Definitely.”

Another fox! Here! Where did she come from? How did she survive into maturity with that coloring in the wild? Was she friendly? She’d have to be taught the rules of their community. She’d need a place to stay…well, here, of course, with himself. No doubt. Foxes united. Was she clever? Another fox could help keep the raccoons in order. Would she be in pain when she woke up? No visible injuries. Would she be hungry?

Fink gasped.

Another chuckle from the bear. “Well that’s just great. Now there’s two of ‘em. Dandy.”

Ignoring the sarcasm, Fink turned and ran for the door. “If she wakes up before I get back, don’t let her leave!”

“Where you goin’?”

“River! Fish!”

Darting under fallen trees and skipping over the bank stones, making the grasses into a blurring tunnel of green, Fink made quick work of the path to the river. Getting a fish under duress and desperation was less than graceful though, slipping off the tree spanning the water and falling in, swimming halfway to shore before surrendering the indignity of being wet and turning around to paddle back to the center of the stream and bite bite bite at the water where the fish were jumping in the twilight as they came up to the surface for bugs. By the time he returned to the hut with a fish in his jaws the sun was finally down.

There were a number of animals sitting in the meadow outside of the shelter when he arrived, sitting up on their haunches and vying for a view, attracted by the noise of spitting and snarling, of Thorn bellowing reassurances, and a great deal of scampering happening inside. It seemed their guest was awake. Fink had to paw at the bear’s backside to get into the hut–Thorn was plugging the entrance with his body–and was able to squeeze through in a moment of silence.

The hut was in chaos, everything that could be upturned had been, and the white fox herself was at the side furthest from the door, braced and ready to spring, exhausted and panting, seemingly fighting for her life. She was now ashy as the shadows inside the hut; it seemed she’d fallen into the cold fire pit at one point, her bright coat splotched with soot.

“I keep tryin’ to tell her she’s safe but she doesn’t wanna believe me,” the bear moaned, his defensive roar shaking the walls.

Dropping the fish, Fink rolled his eyes. “Gee. I wonder why.” He took a few steps toward the newcomer. “Hey, hey, I’m sorry this big lug scared you–”

“Oh right,” she panted. “Why would I be afraid of two predators that are keeping me trapped in a cave and won’t let me leave????”

“Whoa. Whoa whoa whoa,” Fink flinched at her ferocity. He couldn’t blame her for going on defense, but he knew he had to calm her down fast before her flight instincts led her to hurt herself. He put on his gentlest voice. “You can leave, I promise you. But? Weeeeee need your help first.”

This threw her off, her breath catching and her eyes darting between Thorn and Fink in the darkness. 

Her eyes— one dark and one light–

“Help you? Help with what?”

It was working. Her panting slowed and her shoulders began to relax. Fink sneezed in a show of playfulness and gave a sideways glance to his quarry. “I came all the way back from the river to bring you this feast and it’s just gonna rot and stink up the hut if you don’t eat it.”

“I’ll eat it,” Thorn offered, earning a jab in the belly from Fink.

She continued to watch them a moment before slowly sitting back on her sooty haunches and considering. “I don’t get it. What’s the catch.”

“Trout, by the taste of it,” Fink sassed, sighing in mock dismay. “A little embarrassing, if I’m being honest. I’ve caught bigger, but I was in a hurry and they tend to be slippery. I had to take what I could get and–”

“I mean, what do you want?” She wasn’t amused. But she was calmer. 

“I…want you to…eat the fish?”

She huffed, squinting at them. “Why don’t one of you eat it?”

“Because we’re not hungry.” Returning to sincerity, Fink took up the fish and walked it around the central fire pit closer to her, stopping just as a twitch in her side warned that she might run. Laying it on the ground gently and turning his back on her to show trust, he resumed a sitting spot near Thorn at the door. “You’re new here. A guest. And we have rules. And rules are, the animals around here are all friends. Well, mostly. We don’t eat guests. And we don’t eat friends. And we don’t let guests eat friends. Or squirrels.”

“But… you’re predators,” she countered weakly, the fish beginning to pull her focus.

“We aaaare,” Fink conceded. “But? There’s enough bugs and shellfish around here for everyone, and plenty of good roots and berries. Someone really special made us understand that we survive better when we’re counting on each other instead of chomping on each other. My big friend here found you and brought you here to help you survive. You seem to be doing nicely with that and you can go, but we’d like to send you off with a full belly so you’re not tempted to eat any of our pals on the way out, capiche?” 

“So you’re not going to kill me.”

Fink and Thorn’s heads swung in unison.

“Too pretty to kill,” Thorn mumbled. Both foxes stared up at him. “What. I’ve never seen fur so white. She glows in the dark.”

They followed his gaze up to the round vent hole in the roof where the moonlight was shining in. The parts of her coat that weren’t besmirched with soot reflected it brilliantly, bluish-white in the darkness of the hut.

And perhaps it was the moonlight or perhaps it was her hunger, but something in her changed just then, grew softer, let go. And thanks to Roz, Fink had learned to see it.

“I’m Fink,” he said. “This collection of fur and odors is Thorn. You can stay as long as you want. Or you can go…but there are more who would probably like to meet you. Thorn? Move it. Let the lady pass if she wants.”

The bear stepped away from the door and let more of the moon in, catching the fish in its sparkling light. Beyond, it also illuminated the clearing outside and the crowd of animals there, predators and prey alike, peacefully side-by-side, trying to get a peek at the newcomer. 

Her eyes–one dark, one light– reflected the moon and her tentative decision not to run. “I’m Farrah,” she said with careful unveiling trust, before settling down and digging into the meal.

A collection of tiny possum voices called from outside. "Nice to meet you, Farrah! Welcome! We're glad you're not dead!"

Thorn bumbled about the hut, tipping things back into place with his nose, trying not to amble too close to Farrah or scare her while Fink simply laid down and, crossing his paws in silence, watched her eat.

Not so long ago, he was just like her. They all were. In one short year, a robot–a machine with a heart–had come and shown them all a better way to live. And for a while, Fink was happy. He had love and family; he mattered to someone. To many someones.

But he hadn’t considered that he might ever matter the most to one specific someone. 

Not until now, at least.

It was spring on the island. And he was a fox. He did foxy things. And maybe one of those things was finally considering what it might be like for a specific someone to matter the most to him.

---

PART 2

MAIN MASTERLIST

[echantedtoon]

Oh, Rats

You find a wounded rodent on a stroll by Big Ben and being the kind lady you were, you take it home and tend to it until it gets better. Little do you know what you've done.

(This was really inspired by @sindysugar and @lilgrimmapple   I really adore their artwork and story involving The Great Mouse Detective and If you get a chance please check out their stuff. Warnings for Ratigan being in bad shape with some broken bones.)

"I don't like that."

"Don't like what?"

A thunderstorm rolled across the sky that night. The sun was just setting over the horizon with the last few rays of daylight disappearing but it was hard to tell when the dark storm clouds took over the sky and claimed them as their own. Thunder shaking the lanes of the windows and lightning sounded off like an angry whip from whatever deity was angrily stomping around the clouded skies, lighting up the sky and city below for nothing but a brief second. 

It would've been absolutely dark if you hadn't lit up a few candles inside the comfy room and placed them on the table to light up the room. The warm light comforting against the scary night sky that just appeared as the last few daylights were chased away. The candlelight lighting up the scowling scrunched up face of the old maid that peered downwards at the rather large vanity in the room. It was large enough to be used as a vanity, work desk, and table so you used it as such. But lately it's had a new purpose. And it's purpose being the temporary home for your temporary new roommate. 

"I swear whatever this...this THING is it's evil!," she spoke pointing out a little but decently sized caged sitting on the vanity. It had been an old bird cage stored in the attic but you'd brought it out again to use it for someone else. "The way it just looks at everyone..." She shivered. "I swear it's almost human like! It's disturbing!"

"Calm down, Olga." Your calm voice usually soothed the older woman of any worries but lately her insistence has been a bother. Soft hands closed the curtains to your window hiding the sights of the gloomy storm outside. "He's just a harmless little mouse, and you don't have to take care of him. So why does his presence in one room of the house where you can just easily avoid him forever bother you so?"

The woman never looked up from where or more accurately WHO and WHAT she was staring at giving a loud huff of disapproval. "Hmph. It's his look that bothers me. I swear that evil smugness he always gives me is unlike a rodent!"

You sighed again as she finally turned up her nose, laundry in her arms. This happened every day since you first brought it home. Brought HIM home. Ignoring her worries, your footsteps echoed in the room making the small journey across the room to the vanity and smiled at the little occupant of the cage. 

"Hello there. Is Olga being a worrier again?" Your voice softly cooed.

Black eyes turned up towards you from the inside, teeth on display but you knew it wasn't malicious. He just seemed to like his teeth showing. Honestly it looked almost like a smirk but that was ridiculous. Mice couldn't have enough thought process to smirk. Olga was just imagining things as usual. 

"I find it disturbing how you treat it?"

"Don't like how I treat him how?," you questioned playfully wagging a finger at the cage like it was a kitten instead of a mouse.

"That! Like THAT!!" A finger released itself from the laundry she held to point at you. "You talk to that creature as if it was a human! It's disturbing and not normal!"

You again sighed tiredly before looking at her. "I talk to them the same as I do everyone else. Is that so wrong?"

"YES! It's not an equal it's a filthy vermin!"

"He's not filthy. He had a bath yesterday and I cleaned the cage this morning."

"That isn't what I meant and you know that."

Another soft sigh left your mouth along with a tired eye roll. This has happened over and over again with Olga. Honestly the older woman didn't like any animals unless it was cooked on a plate for her to eat, so this wasn't an unusual occurrence but it has been the first time she's been so insistent about you getting rid of the animal. She must really not like like mice. 

She hated him the moment you brought the poor thing home with you. It was on a similarly stormy night actually just like this one some weeks ago. You were taking a stroll through the streets of London after a day of shopping but lost track of time. A storm was coming in from the thick fog and made itself known. You decided to take a short cut past the famous Big Ben to get home faster but something else had caught your hurried attention.

As you hurried down the sidewalks with thunder sounding overhead and the fog clouding the streets, your footsteps echoed throughout the dark streets eerily, something caught your eye. A single black lump laid out upon the middle of said sidewalk making you slow down to a stop until it was but a yard away from you. What was..that? It looked at first like a black blob a little larger than a single one of your hands within the fog but as you slowly approached, it began to form more clearer and take shape. It was a-..

A large mouse? Rat maybe?

Whichever one it was, it laid face down splayed against the concrete covered in some kind of tattered black cloth. ..Poor thing. Many people considered rodents in general a burden and considered it good fortune at seeing one dead but you couldn't help but feel sorry for it. Maybe it was because you loved animals but you did feel sorry for it. It must've been stepped on by someone or maybe run over by a moving carriage the wheels throwing it onto the sidewalk with their momentum. Although you hadn't the faintest idea why it was covered in black fabric. Maybe it crawled out from a dumpster tangled in it? Or had someone tied a bag around it only for the animal to shred it apart? You had no idea. 

But SOMETHING important caught your attention as you took a closer look at it. It's chest slowly and shakily rising and falling in shaking breaths. A wheezing breathing gasping sound exiting it's mouth as it desperately clung onto life. It's body shook lightly with every gasp. It was-

"You're alive."

Olga shrieked when you got home shopping bags around your elbows and a half dead unconscious rodent in your hands wrapped up in your handkerchief. She shrieked at you that it carried diseases and it was dirty and it should die and you should throw it out the door right that second! You ignored her of course because she always reacted this way whenever you brought home an animal and sent for the local veterinarian. 

"He's incredibly lucky to be alive," the doctor had told you after the animal had been properly cleaned up and treated. "Any more time out there, especially in the rain, and he would've died. I don't know where you find these beasts but as my best customer my service is yours."

"Is he going to be alright?"

"Certainly! He has some broken bones specifically some broken ribs and some wounds but with proper treatment he should be back to normal again in no time! I'll write down the care he needs and prescribe some medicine that ought to help."

Your care had been going on for a while now since then and he's been doing so much better! You made sure he was given a good clean space to stay in and comfortable things that seemed to make him feel better. Though it was quite odd for a mouse. He seemed to prefer the water you gave him in a smallish wine glass (small to a human not him), and he seemed to not like the scraps you tried giving himself. You tried giving him fresh food cut from your daily meals, which worked better. It was almost like he preferred to be served actual meals like you were a maid instead of feasting on scraps like mice usually do. But you supposed after spending so much time outside any animal would want fresh food instead of old scraps. His bed was an old cushion that was torn apart by a cat you were also caring for but had managed to sew the scrapped fabric up enough to make him a small pillow to rest on. Which he was doing now.

"You said that about every animal I've cared for," you pointed out to her raising a brow. "Like the dog with the broken leg. You said he was possessed by an evil spirit. Or the carriage horse. You say that he's waiting for you to get in front of him to run you over!"

"I stand by both of those statements still thank you very much! But this thing-" she shuddered hard. "There's something else about him that's borderline evil!"

"He's not evil. He's a mouse-"

"That thing tried to bite me through the cage first week he was here!," he accused.

"That's because you yelled at him and hit his cage which I told you NOT to do!," you countered back with a frown and crossed arms. "He was hurt, irritated, and you scared him being aggressive like that." 

You remembered that day. Olga shrieked and SWORE he was smirking at her and called him a qoute 'disgusting, filthy, disease carrying, germ and flea infested, ugly RAT' before hitting her fist on top of his cage. She almost got bit when the mouse let out a rather loud squeak. A rage fueled squeak that sounded almost like a shriek itself as it lashed out and was almost able  to catch her pinky finger in his teeth. To this day you've never heard any rodent sound like that. You had to physically shove the hysterical screaming woman out of your room and lock the door to prevent her from swinging the broom at the cage and it took nearly an hour and a half for the mouse to calm down enough for you to safely look over himself. Thankfully both were ok but you've banned Olga from going into your room at all unless you were there and made it clear if anything were to happen to him, she'd be fired immediately. You were now tired of her continued antics.

"Just leave him alone!," you ordered firmly. "He's very well behaved and he's not staying here forever. It's just until he gets all better then I'm going to release him back outside."

"Hmph. Well that's the only good thing about him being here! I swear that thing is evil and I won't change my mind. "

"Oh come now. If he was really bad he would've done something to me by now. He's so good even the kitty I'm looking after likes him."

"You mean that obese beast that eats all our good fish and lazes about all day? She's almost as bad as him."

You scowled harder at her making her sigh. The poor kitty had fur torn from her making bald spots and looked like a pack of stray dogs got her. You brought her back home to recover about two weeks before you found the mouse. Both seemed to like each other very much when you accidentally left the door open one day and came back to find both cuddled up with each other. But surprise surprise Olga didn't like her either. 

"She's on a diet so she's not used to not getting so much food. Whoever owned her previously probably just over spoiled her so she's not used to portions." You didn't see it but the mouse gave you an eye roll of slight irritation before you smiled back at him. "He's a little extinguished gentlemen. Here. I'll show you."

Olga looked physically disgusted before you reached out and with a click slide the door wide open. Her face immediately paled as your hands reached in cupped and you cooed at him like you would a kitten to come over to you.

"W-WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

You looked up at her shriek not seeing how he stood up on two legs before turning on a heel and flopping onto your palms smugly. "I'm taking him out. He's always so well behaved." Her expression worsened as you pulled your hands out with the mouse in it and smiled brightly holding him up. "See? Isn't he such a cute little guy?"

Instead of answering she squealed out as the mouse stuck it's tongue at her not that you saw and pressed herself Against the doorway in her panic fumbling with the doorknob. Wretching it open a sheet dropped from her arms as her fearful squealing continued down the hall and towards the downstairs. You blinked for a moment as the door slowly creaked closed again and more thunder rolled above you. Eventually sighing as the mouse flipped onto his stomach and regarded you with a smile as you shook your head. 

"I swear that woman just hates any animal she doesn't eat. You're certainly a gentleman no matter what anyone says. Let's get you back to bed now."

Gently your hands pushed him back into the pen and laid him stomach down on the comfy pillow. However his front paws caught onto your pointer finger and a small kiss like motion was felt on your skin. Blinking you pulled your hand away from him to look at it then at him.. before shaking your head and relocking the cage. Kissing your hand. Too many of Olga's fears was getting in your head. He probably just licked you as any animal would do. 

After all he was just a rodent and nothing more.