#badger replies

[the-silver-peahen-residence]

||The cursed treasure hunt||

reserved au rp with @demon-blood-youths

"Anything yet?" Megumi blinks to hear this but he looks from his cell phone. He didn't know what was going on, giving the thought that something might have happened. Gojo was told Kisho still was on his on going mission to find the cursed items that came from that party. However, it leaves another wondering what was going on. He did have some help along the way so it was something.

Right now, Megumi was told by Gojo to check on him but he was not answering the text messages he sent a while ago. "I don't think so. I can try to call him and see if he can answer the phone instead. Or maybe something is effecting the signal."

"I guess that's possible but give it a shot." Yuji said. Megumi nods and goes to do that, seeing Kisho's number and hits speed dial and waits for him to find something.

"I'm sure they are fine you two..just call them and we will see their fine." Nobara said. Miko agrees hoping they were alright. She wanted to go with them but she was still on stand by to recover.

"S..same here..." she mutters seeing Megumi still waiting for Kisho to pick up.

[chloesimaginationthings]

Hi! I've been seeing your art reposted a LOT on pintrest. I'm not sure what your status is on being ok with people reposting your art but I thought I'd let you know anyway. The pintrest accs are:

@.Mik0mii (didn't give credit)

@.Pai0_Kai_ (gave credit)

@.ArrozConPolo_1 (no credit)

@.suilie4zui (no credit)

@.dustyfavre (credit)

@.Katsukiisama (no credit)

And about 5 million more QwQ

So when it comes to reposting my art on Pinterest, I’m personally okay with it! I actually find it kinda flattering to have my art reposted there

Though bare minimum I do want to at least be credited, so if you ever see my art on there uncredited just add the credit yourself in the comments!

[muffinlance]

EDIT: New suggestions still welcome, but skim the current replies first to make sure you're not saying what twenty others have already said. Let's just say NO MORE JAPANESE NAMES to be safe (most of the repeats are Japanese); I'm still interested in other culture's tasty snack names

---

Guys, it's an emergency guys

I have lost my notes on names for Zuko's feral mantis-shrimp badger that he pulls from the trash behind his Uncle's teashop and makes into a (hissing, snarling, Nephew Please Put That Down--) pet guys

Please reply to this post with very cute food-themed names, particularly food that is small, sweet, and generally served as a tea cake. NOT tea names, Zuko hates tea. Tea snack names.

Her working name has been Madeleine but I'd prefer something more Asian, because I don't want a subplot explaining how Iroh acquires madeleines in the AtlA world. This should be something served at his shop, or available readily in town, so Zuko can impulse-name his new Snarly McBadIdea Pet. Also I cannot for the life of me spell Madeleine without a google search, so there's that.

If I end up using your name, you'll get credited in the upcoming story.

Also wanted: names for Toph's delicate seeing-eye shrimp-badger, who is a well breed and hard-working lady and therefore deserves a ludacris beefy Earth-Rumble-type name

So that when the Gaang shows up and meets Feral Trash Badger and Little Lady Badger

And hears their names

They absolutely guess wrong on which is which

And Sokka gets an Offended Badger to the face

[sniffanimal]

I didn't know my work walkie talkie can pick up messages from the other nearby schools if you're outside and so I was outside with my student and I heard the fruitiest voice ever over the radio go "Ummm my student is having what I will call ✨a moment✨" and I felt such a kinship with the faggot on the other end, passing like ships in the night with me over the airwaves

[copper-9spurgatory]

Who would win in a fight? You or Cynessa?

What’s a Cynessa? Does Cyn become a Loch Ness monster, hence the name..Ness? The A was just added for a feminine thing.

I probably won’t win against a Loch Ness monster, it’s in the water, I don’t do good in the water. Doesn’t meant I won’t try.

[luimagines]

can u do the chain - wind bc hes a minor obvi if thats k

reaction to reader beind a siren and maybe can u make it a series?

(or chain reactign to siren readinf sinking ships) and also (again) its an x reader

Hello! Thank you for your interest but requests are closed right now.

My commissions are open though, if you're willing to check those out. You can find the link to my ko-fi in bio (only works on mobile for some reason) or in the pinned post at the top of the blog.

[rainwaterapothecary]

For the micro story prompt, #7 :3

7 - Silent Fury

Early 20th Century. Little Italy, America.

Leone S. Candreva was a boy on a mission. Fiorire bounded along beside her counterpart, big adolescent paws hitting the cobblestones as her now-wolf nose lifted into the air to scent their friends between the open windows of the bakery, the bookbinders, and finally the schoolhouse.

“There, Leon!” She called out through their Bond, turning sharply to guide the duo into the playground. If Leon’s soft jaw wasn’t set and his expression thunderous, it surely would have turned so.

Fiorire smelled blood.

She couldn’t smell Panza at all.

Something’s wrong. Something's really wrong.

Her boy’s fists clenched, drawing blood away from his knuckles.

Only the friendship bracelet with her name on it showed any sign of his innocence as he tore into his bullies to save his friend.

“Leon, no!” Little Luis Serra from down the road held out a hand to stay the inevitable beatdown, but Leon came from Sicilian stock and he was silently enraged.

The upperclassmen didn’t see his tiny fist coming.

“Ay Dios mío.” The young boy sighed, holding his dormouse-shaped daemon to his chest. Panza was good to him like that, changing easily to whatever form he needed comfort from the most.

Luis’ mamá’s bombón was a badger, and having a tiny heartbeat nearby calmed him.

Especially when bullies started calling him awful names and pulling at his clothes.

Panza had tried to help but, like his human, there was only so much he could do before turning to the preservation of his boy. Luis and Panza weren’t like their friends, brave and combatative, and they tried to tell themselves that this way okay…

But when the younger boy was fighting three upperclassmen with nothing but Fiorire’s snarls (she’d taken the form of a wolf from Luis’ homeland, he noticed with shock) and Leon’s fists- and kicks, and teeth- just to protect someone else, someone who hung out with him after school when one of their grandparents had to work late, or taught him how to make friendship bracelets in the dusty backyard of a tenement, or gossiped in their Mother tongues just because they could…

Well, it made Luis feel awful.

Panza snuggled into his tiny palms, snuffling at the scrapes his boy had gotten after a bully had tried to tear his shirt and sent him to the ground.

Leon went flying, his small form bouncing as he landed in the sandy playground.

With a sniff, the blond devil picked himself back up and swiped the blood from a cut on his cheek. His steps were solid as he returned to the other kids, each footfall had purpose and his daemon twitched as her teeth sharpened to needles and her form shrunk.

Luis shivered as her ears began to thin and a bright white Glasgow Smile rippled across her chest.

Fiorire the Tasmanian Devil bared her teeth and Leon’s eyes glinted like death.

The shivering youth remembered what the menagerie said about those.

Ferocious. Mean and bloodthirsty just because they could. Would tear apart any enemy, no matter how big.

God, he hoped Fiorire didn’t Settle there.

As a bully’s skull thwacked into the unforgiving metal slide and Leon raised a ripped-up shoe to slam down onto the dazed kid’s head, Luis shook himself out of his horror and his gray eyes set.

"¡Sancho! ¡Basta!”

Enough.

Panza flowed out of his hands and landed in a very familiar shape.

Fiorire’s preferred lion cub form looked back at her with clear eyes and a lips pinched in concern.

She shuddered to a stop, her shock freezing Leon with his foot still poised to stomp his enemy into the metal edge.

Luis was many things: an intellectual, a bookworm, a hit with the girls…

But most of all he was sturdy.

He had held his Abuelo’s hand when his mama had died. He had set his jaw and ripped up one of his favorite shirts just to keep his own chest from betraying him.

He had reached out to the hurting, angry Italian kid when the blond showed up at the schoolhouse two years ago without parents and without anything to hold on to.

So Luis had reached out and he had held on.

"Vete." he mentally snapped to his daemon, the cub pouncing for his heart’s dearest friend where she stood frozen.

Leon felt the hit in his chest.

“L…Luis?”

If he hadn’t known Leon like he did, Luis would think he was betrayed.

Thankfully it was just shock.

Then Luis took the fists his mamá had given him and, with the savagery of her badger soul, he threw a punch.

-

-

-

The boys didn’t win, their enemies were the sons of dockworkers after all, and at least one was using his fists in a mirror to the way that dockworker used his: on smaller boys who couldn’t hope to win.

But they put up a damn good fight.

Panza had taken Fiorire into the trees at the soonest possible moment, utilizing that brain of theirs to remove the daemons from the circling bullies – one or two of whom had already Settled into cruel, muscular forms.

A quetzal from the menagerie led Fiorire’s mourning dove into the leaves where they left the slobbering dog, fox, and panther on the ground, glaring.

Luis’ long hair was pulled nearly to the point of blood and Leon was lucky that the teeth he lost were coming out anyway.

-

He spat blood into the dust on the side of the road and winced when his skinned knuckles touched his busted lip.

“Nonna is gonna kill us, Lu.”

The bookworm looked over in alarm before seeing the grin on his friend’s face. His shoulders relaxed and he shook his head, stray hairs still slipping loose.

“Not if we told her you were sticking up for me. You know she likes me best.” He knocked shoulders with his friend. Leon nodded to one side like ‘true’.

“’Sides, you’re famigghia. I wasn’t just gonna leave you n’ Panza.”

Luis froze in the middle of the street.

His friend raised an eyebrow and turned back to take him in.

“You okay?”

Luis began patting his pockets, alarm and terror filling his eyes past the point they had even when he had three bigger boys ready to tear him apart.

“I have to go back! Say hi to Nonna for me!”

“Luis-!”

The taller boy turned on his heel and took off back towards the schoolhouse, his hands shaking and a prayer running through the back of his mind.

No, no, no-

Leon’s footfalls followed him, along with the awkward not-yet-silent paws of a baby lioness. Panza circled his human’s neck, the bright reds of a fire salamander flickering as dusk lit his smooth skin.

Luis could handle the cruel names, the violence (Panza usually found a way out before it got too bad), and the stares.

It was when the idiotas touched his stuff that he felt that cold rush of terror shoot up his spine.

The one time he brought his copy of one of the Don Quixote books to school and a mean boy knocked it out of his arms he had frozen.

Panza had nearly turned into the pterosaur from the journals Luis hoarded and taken his tormentor’s hand off before Leon (then too young to be in school full-time) had run over and picked up the book.

Now the bracelet Leon had made him with Panza’s name on it was missing.

It had probably flown off his wrist when one of the big pendejos grabbed his arm and he slipped away, but it wasn’t there and he was panicking.

“Luis?”

He had begun muttering in quiet Spanish at some point as he ran up the road, drowning out the world as his thoughts orbited the small piece of jewelry made of old beads and flaking paint.

Panza’s throat frilled as he cycled through forms on Luis’ shoulders, the boy’s distress open in the rapidly vacillating form of scales, feathers, and fur.

Sometimes Leon wondered if Panza would ever Settle…

(Some part of him hoped not. That his mercurial, fanciful best friend would keep his whimsy and window to his moods on his sleeve for the rest of their lives.)

Panza launched himself off of Luis’ thin shoulders, gliding on the wings of the sharpest-eyed owl they could think of. Luis’ chest rose and fell rapidly, breath coming shorter and shorter.

"There!"

With uncharacteristic gracelessness and lack of care for his clothes, the frantic boy fell to his knees and picked up his friendship bracelet with shaking hands.

It seemed alright, nothing was snapped or broken. He bounced it on its thread once or twice, just in case any of the beads were hiding cracks.

“Luis? Hey…”

Leon could fight. He could swear. He could help his Nonna make meatballs with the best of them. (His hands were the perfect size, she’d said so herself! And you never doubt Nonna).

But he was at a loss when his friend started crying.

What would Nonna do…Fuck, what would Abuelo do?

Wincing as his bruised thigh twinged, Leon knelt on his knees before his friend.

“Luis? You okay?”

The two daemons held one of their silent conversations before the lioness translated into Leon’s head:

Your bracelets are one of his dearest possessions. He’d hate to lose his.

Leon blanked.

His young mind couldn’t fathom how important their afternoon of laughter and craft materials from neighbors must have meant to his friend to have the boy silently weeping.

Suddenly his arms were filled with his friend and he could do nothing but hold on.

-

-

-

-

-

Arctic Islands Research Compound

Nearly 19 years later, when one of the faceless scientists slipped an item the test subject had nearly forgotten about into his pale hands at the Dust trials, faded blue eyes snapped into understanding.

“What they’re doing here is wrong, my friend. And I won’t let them take anything else from you or anyone else trapped here.”

The bracelet in his hands matched the tattoo on his wrist, though it said a different name.

The beads were sun-bleached, the paint nearly gone, but as the man tethered to his daemon only through strength of will and the thinnest of threads turned it reverently one direction and then the next…

Laughter, bright and joyous filtered to his ears from between the claustrophobic tenement walls where two boys knelt over beads from a Romani laundress and paint from a German clockmaker.

His fist clenched around the bracelet that was still warm from another person’s skin.

The sewing thread from his Nonna had been replaced somewhere over the years with a thin, leather cord to fit the wrist of an adult.

When now-sharp blue eyes shot up to the retreating back of the scientist in a white coat, the warm eyes of a fire salamander looked right back.

Panza, the bracelet in his fist read.

Panza, the scientist whispered as he slipped into the nearest holding pen.

Fiorire, the salamander called…

And a wolf with dull eyes snapped to clarity and attention.

Panza was still an escape artist.

Leon was still vicious.

Fiorire still loyal.

Luis still whip-smart.

…And he had long stopped being afraid when it came to anything or anyone his still-soft heart held dear.

Besides, his Abuelo’s gun fit his hands, his old volumes of Don Quixote sat secure on a shelf in his safe-house, and his dearest friend held his bracelet.

What did he have to be afraid of?

-

Leon’s grin was feral as he heard Abuelo Serra’s gun going off in the hallway in front of his cage.

---

A/N Thanks for the prompt!!! This started off as that good good scorched earth Leon and then turned into babbies and then turned into 'I wanna do a Daemon au so I'll add it in' And now I have feelings and Ideas about where this au could go, so we'll see! :3c >:3c

Now with a [part 2]!

4/7/25: NOW WITH A COMPLETE FIC, LORE, AND MEMES.

[strangedisciple]

DO YOU LIKE GORILLAZ

VERY MUCH SO YES!!!!!!!

[wildwolf-fandoms]

Ngl I don't care, I'm firm about my boundary about the scam "help asks".

If you have enough time to copy and paste the message you've sent to everyone's in box, than you also have time to read the pinned post YOU'VE JUST REPLIED TO

No matter how many people have "approved" "your" go fund me, if you can't tag me to your donation post, than I have every right to view your account as a scam and block you from my ask box and comment section. It is what it is

[ben-adryl]

@n0rth0w1 pokémon

Still one of the greatest Pokemon GIFs of all time:

[deathofacupid]

ceo!sukuna x bubbly!barista!reader, i fear it's my new obsession. banner credits to @/uzmacchiato. both inspired by, and dedicated to @salsakiyoomi! hope you like it, pretty <33

ceo!sukuna, a man whose resting face could curdle milk, hates physical touch. like, he'd rather wrestle a rabid badger than endure a friendly pat on the back.

his employees? mere rodents scurrying around his corporate cheese grater, their sole purpose to make his existence slightly less agonizing.

of course, they mostly failed at that. they were less "competent assistants" and more "walking disasters with access to staplers." his day was basically a high-stakes game of "clean up the employee-induced apocalypse," and he was running out of patience, and more importantly, employees.

ex-employees, he'd mentally correct, adding them to his ever-growing blacklist. he'd personally ensure they'd be lucky to get a job at a clown college.

and yet, despite this raging misanthropy and deep-seated aversion to human contact, he ends up craving your arms. the irony was thicker than his expense reports.

"'kuna?" you ask, peering up from your couch fort. "how was your day?"

a grumble is his reply. you've deciphered his grumbles into a complex language, and this one translates to "hell on earth."

you open your arms, and he promptly transforms into a sentient, grumpy weighted blanket, flopping onto you with the grace of a falling grand piano.

you wheeze, but you're used to it. he’s basically a cat, except instead of knocking things off tables, he knocks the air out of your lungs.

"don't even get me started," he mutters, his voice muffled by your chest. he sounds like a toddler who just lost his favorite pacifier. "do you know how many people i had to terminate today?"

"fired, you mean? sukuna, you mean fired, right?" you’re picturing a corporate bloodbath, and it’s not a pretty image. he waves a dismissive hand, which, due to his position on top of you, almost knocks your phone out of your hand.

"yeah, yeah. whatever. they were basically performance art pieces of incompetence."

"okay, but, like, how many?"

"enough." he then changes the subject. "what about you, flower? how was the caf��?"

your mood instantly does a 180. "oh! it was great! nice and slow. but this one guy came in, all grumpy about his coffee. said he could make it better."

"he did?" sukuna raises an eyebrow, a feat considering he's basically face-planting into your chest. "what happened?"

"told him to go do it, then," you say, grinning. "and then kicked him out."

"that's my girl," he says, a rare flicker of approval in his eyes. "did you throw his coffee at him first?"

"i considered it, but i didn't want to waste good coffee."

he's impressed, that much he'll admit. he shifts, crushing you further. "sukuna!"

"i've been away from my girl all day," he grumbles, nuzzling into your neck. "let me have this."

for a man who supposedly treated physical contact like it was kryptonite, he sure seemed to enjoy clinging to you. maybe he just needed a you-shaped stress ball, you think. and maybe, just maybe, he was secretly a giant softie, hidden under layers of corporate armor and general grumpiness.

or maybe he just liked your couch. either way, you were trapped, and honestly, you weren't complaining. too much.

general taglist: @jeonwiixard. (i didn't forget this time 👩‍❤️‍👩)

[sniffanimal]

I may seem epic sexy and confident but just know that whenever I leave a comment or a DM that wasn't solicited directly, I immediately turn my phone off and throw it into the Puget sound

[zhelin-thames]

A Ghostly Text Mishap

Danny flopped onto his bed, phone in hand, glaring at the screen. Another long day of dealing with Vlad's manipulative nonsense had left him frustrated beyond belief. He opened his messages, found the contact labeled Trucker, and began furiously typing.

Danny: You will NOT believe what Plasmius did this time. The absolute NERVE of this guy. You’d think being half-dead would make someone LESS petty, but nooo, this man’s ego is bigger than the Ghost Zone.

Danny: He tried to "buy" my parents' company AGAIN. He offered to “help” with ghost containment tech but really just wants to snoop around for weaknesses in the portal.

Danny: AND he had the audacity to call me “Little Badger” like it’s a term of endearment. I swear, if I hear that ONE MORE TIME, I might go full ghost and dropkick him into the Fenton Thermos.

Satisfied with his venting, Danny tossed his phone onto the bed and buried his face in his pillow. Unbeknownst to him, he had made one critical mistake.

Jason Todd, aka Red Hood, was sitting in his safe house, polishing his guns when his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen.

Unknown Number: You will NOT believe what Plasmius did this time…

Jason raised an eyebrow. “What the hell is this?” he muttered, scrolling through the tirade. By the time he got to “Little Badger”, he was smirking.

He typed back:

Jason: Kid, I think you’ve got the wrong number. Unless this “Plasmius” guy is a Gotham villain I’ve somehow missed.

Danny’s phone buzzed, and he rolled over to check it. His heart dropped when he saw the reply.

Danny: Oh no. This isn’t Trucker, is it?

Jason: Nope. But you’ve got my attention. Who’s Plasmius, and why does he sound like the type of guy I’d shoot on principle?

Danny hesitated, then decided to just roll with it.

Danny: Short version: he’s a half-ghost fruitloop billionaire who’s obsessed with ruining my life, becoming my creepy stepdad, and taking over the world. Think Lex Luthor but undead and ickier.

Jason burst out laughing, earning a curious glance from Roy Harper, who had just walked in.

“Who’s got you laughing like that?” Roy asked, setting down a bag of takeout.

“Some kid who texted me by mistake,” Jason replied, showing him the messages.

Roy skimmed them and snickered. “Plasmius? Sounds like a knockoff vampire villain.”

Jason’s fingers flew over the keyboard.

Jason: Okay, kid, you’ve officially got my interest. I don’t know who you are, but if this Plasmius guy’s half as bad as you say, I’ve got some creative ways to deal with him. You in Gotham?

Danny stared at the message, blinking. Who even was this guy? But... he did sound like he knew how to handle problems.

Danny: Uh, no. I’m from Amity Park. It’s kind of a supernatural hotspot, so I’ve got it covered. But thanks for the offer, I guess?

Jason smirked.

Jason: Supernatural hotspot? Kid, you’re talking to someone who’s been resurrected. Ghosts don’t scare me.

Danny froze. Resurrected? Oh no. This guy might actually know about the supernatural.

Danny: ...Wait, who ARE you?

Jason: Name’s Jason. Most people call me Red Hood. Ever heard of me?

Danny blinked, then groaned. “Of course. I text a vigilante. Just my luck.”

Danny: ...Yeah, I’ve heard of you. So, uh, thanks for not tracking this number and showing up at my house or something.

Jason: Yet.

Danny felt a shiver run down his spine.

Danny: That’s not funny, dude.

Jason: Relax, Little Badger. Your secret’s safe with me. For now. But hey, if you ever need help dealing with your undead billionaire problem, hit me up.

Danny sighed, shaking his head.

Danny: Sure. Thanks, I guess?

Jason leaned back, grinning as he saved the number under Ghost Kid.

“Roy, I think I just found the weirdest contact in my phone.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Roy replied, tossing Jason a burger.

“Not bad. Just… different.” Jason chuckled. “Plasmius, huh? Sounds like fun.”

[clown-demon]

((So I have ten drafts, nine in the queue, and two threads on Disco.. I'm gonna see what is coming out (I think one more is popping out) and fill up my queue so it'll be full tomorrow.

Now that my queue has caught up, I'm probably gonna lower it once it hits zero.

[a-hazbin-spider]

[ help ] sender runs to receiver when they scream for help + Reverse - @e-m-p-error (From Ostello!)

Assorted Acts || @e-m-p-error

Ostello wasn’t a bad guy, really. But Angel didn’t quite think he’d grown any lasting attachment, at least, not until he heard a yowl for help. Contrary to the belief of likely misinformed few- Angel wasn’t a good samaritan. And yet he all but biffed it in his dead sprint to see what the call was for, eyes wide, fur bristled. “What’s wrong?! ‘Tello, are ya hurt?!”

[strangedisciple]

listened to demon days , obsessed! so funky :3

YIPPEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!! im glad u liked it!!!!! do u have any favourites in particular???? :]]]]