#ummm i got really into it

[roupoii]

Guess what I just finished playing

Mr. Scarletella you will always be famous to me

Maybe I'll finish this at some point ^^

[starrysharks]

reassassination swap AU... fuckin.... unassassination idfk

[medicalunprofessional]

play dentist

[blaithnne]

I wanna draw more of them but I’m not in the mood to draw ducks so

Meet the Cast!

╰┈➤ Canon ☄. *. ⋆

→ Scrooge McDuff → Matilda McDuff → Hortense McDuff → Qalhata Duiker → Goldie O'Gilt → Jack Duckworth → Bentina Beakley → LÙ Huifen (post-casefiles) → Ludwig Von Druska → Bradford Butcher

╰┈➤ OCs ☄. *. ⋆

→ Lucrais NicRiada

.ೃ࿐

[sea-me-now]

HEY THEY DIDN’T CALL IT FINAL FEST I’M JUST SAYING THERE MIGHT STILL BE MORE SPLATFESTS

[sunonwaxyleaves]

After hanging out with Sirius’ little brother for a few months now - sometimes the three of them but more and more just the two of them - James first realizes he’s in love with Regulus on a summer night with cheeks warm from sunburn and sweet red wine. They’re on an old leather couch at a party Sirius is throwing at the Potter’s beach house, and Regulus rests his head on James’ shoulder with a deep, heavy sigh. Absolutely plastered, he mutters in defeat, “I think I’m now ready to admit that I’ve probably missed my chance at becoming a mermaid.” James wants to laugh until his stomach cramps, wants to kiss him on his peeling lips and point out that Regulus turns 21 in just one week, what does he mean he’s willing to admit this now, but instead he shrugs lightly and rests his head on Regulus’. He says in that cocky voice of his that makes far too many people swoon, “You’d be the prettiest mermaid of them all” and Regulus would roll his eyes even though James couldn’t see, he’d bury his head further into James’ neck, and tell him “Yeah, James, obviously”.

And then a week would pass, the morning of Regulus’ 21st birthday, and he’d wake up before anyone else and sneak out of the house for his morning run. Sometimes on the really hot days, like the day of his 21st birthday, he’d cool off in the ocean before walking back to the house, the walk long enough to let the sun dry him a bit.

Except this time was different.

Regulus runs and jumps into the ocean, does a few slow strokes atop the rolling waves, then promptly begins to scream bloody murder in the blink of an eye; his legs have become so heavy it’s as if an overweight adult man is clinging to him. He twists and turns his body, lifts his cement legs up to see what the fuck is going on, freezes, starts drowning, then screams even as his mouth fills with saltwater.

Where his legs are supposed to be - where they used to be - there is now a beautiful emerald mermaid tail with scales that glitter tiny rainbows like the polish on his finger nails.

A mile away, the split second Regulus screams the first time, James wakes from a deep slumber with a gasp so sharp it throws him into a coughing fit. He drinks from the glass of water on his bedside table and grabs his phone before leaning back onto the fluffy pillows, pulling up his messages to text the birthday boy.

(7:02am) Happy birthday Reggie!!!! 21 WOOHOO!!!!!

(7:03am) Are u back from ur run?? Do u want blueberry or chocolate chip pancakes?

(7:04am) Had the craziest dream last night. Need to tell u all about it over some Potter Pancakes(;

(7:26am) Reggie??

(7:38am) Sirius said u never came back from ur run is everything okay???

(7:41am) Ur freaking me out Reg can u pls respond

(7:55am) Wherever u are: STAY THERE

(7:55am) I’m coming to find u. Call me when u see these, pls pls please

(8:06am) Where the fuck are you, Regulus?????

[meirimerens]

the pathologic cane using as i see it...

MARK IMMORTELL canonically. he has a cane canonically, now whether or not the game wants us to believe he uses it for real or it's an accessory... for real to me. in my mind's eye he has sciatica. it acts up on and off so sometimes he'll be prancing around like a goat swaying his cane like he's trying to hit people with it, sometimes he uses it for real, and sometimes he has a fanciful little wheelchair when the pain's too bad to stand on his two legs. in which case he still holds his cane for hitting people purposes. his cane is a constant thing.

Yulia... she also mentions Leg Problem in P2 so Joy the cane be upon ye. i think her deal is a repetitive strain injury of tendinitis in the knee & ankle, and she never got enough rest for it to heal properly, never did physical therapy, so now, like other types of tendinitis, it flares up from use & some movements/postures. as the rainy & cold season approach, she gets more and more sedentary because the weather makes tendinitis worse by stiffening the tendons, so it gets in vicious cycles of Stiff tendons from the cold -> even less easy to do some stretches to help with the pain -> tendons get stiffer from no stretchin -> even less easy to do some stretches... her cane is an on and off thing, but becomes regular as fall & winter roll around

Notkin as he grows up. in p1 & 2 his spoken dialog mentions (a) bad leg(s); considering his mom died in childbirth (likely His birth) in my mind's eye his bad leg(s) is attributed to having been pulled out of there Fucked Uply. mom didn't make it through a complicated birth and baby got a leg messed up when they hurried to get him outta here. adolescence and getting taller gets him apophysitis (a bone + cartilage inflammation/strain injury often seen in teens because the bones grow faster than the muscles around them) in his knee and he never gets to have the rest needed for it to heal properly so as an adult, while the pain is mostly gone, it flares up sometimes. he's way past giving a fuck what anyone might think about seeing him limp with a cane in hand so he periodically, but quite often uses one. also might use it to hit people.

Khan occasionally once he gets into his mind that it's not a big deal & if he needs it he needs it. he already has a messed up knee as a kid (p2 model bandage) but i'm still deciding how extansive of a wound that is. more than what that is i think this guy gets inflammatory arthritis as a plague residual symptom, and while most of it is concentrated in his hands, fingers and wrists, it sometimes, rarely, attacks his ankles & knees, which is when he gets on his legs wobbly like a newborn foal. while his coping mechanism for it is to lie down and suffer through gritted teeth because he still has in mind that showing pain is showing weakness and is undignified of a man of his rank (the imaginary kingdom he once had) he eventually, from being yelled at "hey moron CATCH" and thrown a cane at, gets into his mind that he should use one for such moments and not even his Mortal Enemy* will care. his own would be a fanciful thing, black-lacquered wood, silver rings, a silver dog's head at the end of the handle. too proud and proper to hit people with it but he can't say he doesn't think about it.

Burakh, later in his life (his 40s). he also has a bad leg as of Being In His Twenties, but copes and manages without a physical aid for a while. he's on homemade painkillers and various rest regiments (when he can). when it gets too bad & arthritis sets in around 40s he's on that wood and bone tool in a blink and keeps it. maybe his father used on in his old(er) age... he reuses it...

[astral-schools]

(manticore's) endgame

[nonerrata-myarchives]

No wonder the old man called him ordinary.

I'm so disappointed...

But I see the old man's view now.

[tobibius]

realised there isn't much arthur on this blog so have some secret arthurs (and a lot of john still sorry). why does he have a cane and glasses in some of these? well, (i start running

[chaotic-minds-think-alike]

Our little dance soon became a losing battle. ---

I heard this audio on tiktok and had to make something inspired off of it

[doctahchang]

he can't keep getting away with this

[lunarharp]

Very important conferences.

[tunastime]

Stars Realigning

what's GOOD! happy mcyt au fest day(s)! this is my contribution to 2024's mcyt au fest, based on the art of my fantastic artist in crime @eyesandbees. super shoutout to tetris (GO LOOK AT THE ART RN), this au really did something fantastic for my brain :3 and kudos to all the @mcytblraufest mods, contributors, and my mutuals new and old who joined in. mwah!

Xisuma and Exonia were explorers by nature—and how could they not be, when the world rested right outside their fingertips. When Xisuma pulls himself and their brother into an unfamiliar End dimension, their only chance of escape is with a player they've hardly met, to a space station they've never even heard of. Built on the foundations of exploration and discovery, HC might be all the opportunity the siblings need to start a new life—or ruin their only shots at understanding themselves.

(12,765 words) (Read the whole fic here!)

Every player knows two facts about the End: one of those is that it is very large. The other is that it is very dangerous. The islands stretch onwards as far as they eye can see, tipping over a black horizon line invisible to the naked eye. The static particles of void—ink black and speckled grey—fill the spaces that stone and cities and blocky fruit trees do not. No players make their home here—none dare to spend more time than they must. The End is a utility, more than it is a dimension of its own. Hostile conditions make it unlivable to those other than the ones that know it best: endernians, endermen, the dragon, and her egg. 

The third, most often overlooked fact, that meshes with the others in vastness and hostility, is that the End is no place for strangers to combat. 

Xisuma is one of those strangers—was one of those strangers. World hopping was dangerous, unpredictable, dimension hopping even more so, especially for them—for the untrained. He hadn’t meant for either of them to tumble into the End dimension, prepared or otherwise, with its thin air and itchy end dust and large, very large, very angry dragon. It's the first thing his eyes catch—the movement of large wings and a massive, black snout as the world tilts and settles around them. 

Xisuma gasps as they finish settling into the world and Exonia follows suit, shoving them both behind the pillar beside them. The air feels charged with energy, thick with the beat of air from the dragon’s wings. Xisuma swallows as the two of them drop behind the pillar, and as they manage to catch their breath from the initial shock, he stirs up the courage in his chest to peek out behind the pillar. He steps out into the ring around him, eyes searching for the dragon above him. He can hear her cry even from on the ground. The crystals that bolster her strength glow brightly as she passes. It only takes a moment for her to swoop down as she circles, and it’s in this moment that Xisuma realizes he’s been seen. 

They freeze.

The dragon crashes to the ground, the heavy footfalls of her landing shaking the dirt around them. 

Xisuma stares into the creature’s face, purple eyes unblinking.

Something grabs his hand. It takes him a startlingly long moment to realize it’s Exonia, their eyes wide behind their tinted glasses. He’s still too busy staring up into the maw of the black dragon, her eyes trained on his every movement, the betraying flick of their tail. His heart beats fast in the base of their throat. A voice jumps to life in his mind—surely if he stays put, if he doesn’t move, the great dragon will turn her head away from him, and spare him, and spare his twin, and the world will be right again. Xisuma shuts their eyes. The beat between his first and second breath feels like a millenia.

The dragon snuffs a great breath that catches into a screech, its heavy head whipping back and around as Ex tugs on his arm. His eyes snap open. 

He’s not dead.

The dragon roars.

If he squints, Xisuma thinks he can see a shape, blurred by the scent and fog of the dragon’s breath, barely visible against the dark black obsidian pillars. It draws back its glittering weapon and fires, arrows flying high above the dragon’s head and to the peak of the pillars above. The peak explodes; obsidian chips and dust rain down from the blast.

He jerks his head to look at Ex. Their face is pulled tight in confusion and fear, a mask of anger flickering over it instead as they tug his hand again. He stumbles forward, feet catching pocks in the stone before he regains his footing. The dragon’s focus stays trained on the newcomer. She slashes with her claws, jaws chomping on thin air as the figure darts around with the effort of someone trained to deal with monsters her size.

An adventurer. Another player.

He turns back to look at Exonia—the back of their head, the tip of a pointed ear they can see. They’re practically pulling him along into further darkness toward something he can’t yet see, weaving between obsidian pillars as the island stretches out in front of them, all the way to a noticeable drop into void. As they cut through a section of chorus trees, a craft makes itself known on the next ridge.

A way out.

Xisuma pales, the oxygen in his lungs suddenly feeling very thin.

“What is that thing?” he manages as they start to slow. Ex shoots him a look over their shoulder, eyebrows tightly furrowed.

“A ship!” they say. “Don’t be foolish!”

“We don’t even—” X starts, but Exonia pulls them further forward. They dip their head, avoiding the endermen that roam around them, sinking in on themselves to appear smaller. They scramble up the next hill. In the short distance they’ve put between the dragon and themselves, they can still hear the screech of her anger and the beat of her wings. X’s heart still slams away in his throat.

“D’you want to be eaten, you derp?” Ex hisses, dropping into a crouch as they shimmy over the crest of the hill. X scrambles after them, finding their footing on the steep slope and up onto the ridge.

“No!” They blanch at the thought of the dragon finding them again, with her huge, yellow-white teeth and debilitating breath. “Why would I want that?”

Ex shoots them a pointed glance, taking a few quick steps around the edge of the “ship”—if it was a ship at all—as they do.

“Then start lookin’ for a way in!” they bark. Xisuma sets his jaw. Sighing through his nose, he picks himself up from his crouch, and follows suit. The ship is bright white and grey-black, hidden carefully by the dark sky around them and by shimmering enchantments that Xisuma can only guess at as he travels around its side and toward the back. It’s not a large craft—certainly different than anything he’d ever seen. 

Ex investigates with the unshakable confidence of someone who’s read far too much about this exact situation, or craft, or biome, or what have you. Xisuma tries to siphon that energy for himself, watching as they track the side of the metal with eyes partially obscured. They reach the back together, the ship’s large bay door shut against the End and void around them. X watches Ex’s face, their tail flicking agitatedly. Their hands find a depression near the fins of the ship. As they press into it, the door hisses, starts to lower onto the dusty stone below. Exonia scrambles back, catching Xisuma as they do, their hands clasping together again. Xisuma watches as the dark inside floods with the End’s pale glow, illuminating the sparse space within. 

It’s a holding bay—a handful of boxes are scattered around, their heavy plastic lids strapped tight. Bolted storage units line one wall, and a short staircase leads upward, into the space Xisuma can only assume is the main cabin of whoever that figure was.

Xisuma blinks. 

Exonia enters.

Enters is a loose term, because as his foot steps onto the metal-ribbed platform, Xisuma feels something crawl it’s way up his spine and turns, much too fast, Ex’s name already jumping from his throat.

There’s a crackle, like the sound of fireworks in the distance, as the sky fills with soft purple light. Xisuma alone watches the figure turn, a large, dark object cradled in their arms, and feels them stare back. Distance and the helm obscuring most of their face doesn’t do their features justice—it looks like a man, a human, staring back at him, eyes wide and bright, expression unreadable from here. All Xisuma knows is that the chill starts at the base of his neck and pulls through him, catching his lungs and heart and spine all the way down, hooking him in place. 

“Xisuma—” Exonia starts, tone bordering on impatient, but as they turn, they see exactly what they did. And they say again, their voice taking a fine, fearful edge:

“Xisuma.”

The figure starts toward them, and X can feel the immediate betrayal of all his senses, all at once, as his hackles raise, body recoiling until his feet hit the cold metal of the ship behind him. Exonia grabs his arm as he stumbles from the platform, tugging him away from the ship as the figure starts to close the distance between them. The man is carrying the dragon egg, much too large for his arms as he calls out to them.

“Hey! Wait! Wait!” The man calls. Xisuma stutters as he tries to scramble away, skittering to a stop at the man’s plea. As he turns to look over his shoulder, against all better judgment, he realizes the man has crouched by the entry door, egg still in his arms. The beat between the man stopping, dropping to a crouch to make himself small, and his next words is a rift Xisuma considers just jumping into. He wills a small, shaky breath into his lungs. The man sets the egg at his feet, hands spread.

“Are you okay?” he asks, breath evening as he stills for a moment. “I didn’t mean to scare you away. The dragon looked pretty dangerous!”

Xisuma blinks, breathing hard. Exonia manages to summon the courage he can’t seem to even taste, voice coming small from beside him.

“Who are you?” they muster. The man dips his head.

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” he says slowly. “I’m Keralis. Are you two from here?” 

Xisuma shakes his head. The man, Keralis, nods.

“Are you lost? Do you need help going home?” 

Xisuma offers a nod this time.

“Do you… know where home is?”

There’s a beat. The silence stretches on in the absence of anyone’s voice or actions, until Ex finally says:

“Not anymore. ‘S too far.”

Keralis doesn’t say anything for a moment. He stares instead down at the egg in his arms, the only expression on his face evident by his eyes through his visor. Xisuma watches him, trying to read that expression and coming up blank. It doesn’t look malicious, though. He’s begun to settle from the razor’s edge of nervousness and back down into a sense of normalcy. 

“I don’t want to leave you here. I…” Keralis hums. “I can take you back with me. And then maybe there will be someone who can help you get home, how about that?”

“Where’re you from?” Exonia asks. Keralis smiles—Xisuma can tell by the squint of his eyes.

“I’m from a ship. A spaceship in the sky.”

[ai-kova]

two of my current fav ze wips of wildly different emotions lol (id in alt)

[gooberthed]

hi will i ever not post at 5 am? errrr anyways lookie!!!!

the video is from my last post, I loved the hc that Vigilante has a pet rat mount named Jimmy … shes so beautiful.