#cliffs grub

[uselesshollowknightfacts]

By first hitting it into the grub jar, and then saving the grub, you can cause this stalactite to defy the law of gravity.

[Image ID: The Knight next to a grub that has been saved. There is a floating stalactite above the grub, seemingly attached to nothing. /End ID]

[ekingston]

Hi; I don't know if you're still following the word-stream stuff, but the app is back online on the app store as "booktok - books and podcasts". The reviews marking it as having AI scraped data are still on the page itself, even though the name has changed, and duckduckgo still directs to their page if you look up "word-stream audiobooks"-- although if I don't know how long that will last. The website is seemingly gone, but the app still presumably has access to all the stolen works in the database.

Best regards, -someone else whose fics were stolen

yup

word-stream is back

it just calls itself—in an obvious attempt to profit from the TikTok upheaval—BookTok, now. and it’s not just the app, either: the whole website is back online, same as it was just before Cliff Weitzman took it down.

(in case you missed it, here are the original story & the update.)

fortunately (so far) the fanfiction category hasn't been re-added, but if you go to the store page for the app you can see that it’s still using 'fan-created universes' as advertising.

Weitzman didn't register the app under his own name this time, but through something called 'Oak Prime Inc'. hilariously, however, the email address listed in BookTok's privacy policy still refers to word-stream.com, so if Cliff was trying to scrub the connection between Speechify and his BookTok app, he didn't do a very thorough job.

here's the thing (and i'm about to put this up in a separate, more easily digestible post): if you take a look at the terms & conditions of Cliff's other platform, Speechify, it claims a truly comprehensive license to use the works uploaded to that platform in any way Cliff sees fit, including publishing and monetizing it elsewhere. and i keep seeing posts on Reddit and Bluesky from both readers and writers, happily using the Speechify app to read fanfic, advanced reader copies and their own yet-to-be-published work to them.

this is a BAD IDEA. Cliff has already proven that he will take work authored by others without their permission and redistribute it wholesale if he thinks it might make him money.

Cliff is the financial beneficiary of both Speechify and word-stream/booktokapp. it seems pretty obvious to me that he's trying to claim, via Speechify's terms & conditions, that every work uploaded to Speechify is his to do with whatever he pleases, which naturally includes moving them to this other platform so he can charge people for two subscriptions instead of just the one.

thank you so much for keeping an eye on this, anon, and for reaching out!! like i said, another post will go up today about the above, but i'm going to ask you all to help ensure that my posts & my name aren't the only ones giving voice to this message. when i tried to approach people about this issue on social media, often the—completely justified!—response was 'why should I take your word for it?' and Wikipedia only allowed the mention of Weitzman's copyright infringement to remain on his page when 'The Endless Appetite for Fanfiction' was listed as a source.

it can't just be me. DON’T take my word for it. do your own research (i would love to be proven wrong about this!), talk to your friends, engage with posts on social media similar to the ones i mentioned above (those are just some examples, don’t pile on to the OPs!) and make sure people know what they're jeopardizing. help me protect authors from money-grubbing shitheads like this one.

[natamouche-art]

some favourite shots I did for episode 6... it was so fun crafting the final bridge scene from Travis' script, and seriously all the credit for the amazing opening seq goes to our EP Aaron for taking the emotion in Yaz's exposure therapy to the next level!

Inspo for this ep mainly came from the Alebrijes attack and car chase boards from the Coco blu-ray deleted scenes. Seriously yall, if you're an aspiring board artist, go watch those, they're all masterclasses in camera, framing, and acting.

Some thoughts below about these boards if yall are interested...

Becklespinaxes - there was a LOT of research that went into becklespinaxes (aka altispinaxes) to make this bridge scene happen. In the original script, there was the idea that Blondie (the yellow becklespinax) would be ramming and spinning the side of the van all over the bridge from the beginning, all while ben was still driving forward and Sammy was trying to climb the side latter of the van and into Yaz's window. - I think in writing it made for a really rad scene, but there were some concerns that the physics of all of that, as well as some staging issues, so I dove into becklespinax research to see if some of these problems could be fixed by grounding the conflict in the dino's hunting/attack styles - From what I can remember, as a mid-sized theropod, the becklespinax would've hunted small sauropods and the like, not van-sized dinos, so having her ramming the side of the van was out. Instead, I theorized the becklespinax would more likely be interested in rooting out the tastey treats inside, like a bird fishing out grubs from inside a tree or log. Thus, Blondie jamming her head into the window was born - From there on I tried to keep the van-and-dino physics and behaviours as grounded as possible, but i'll be the first to admit that physics was never my strong suit and sometimes the plot's just gotta come first over science

One detail I loved that unfortunately seemed to get passed over in animation was the way the second becklespinax, Brownie, entered the shot from behind the camera, and covered up the "NOW LEAVING DINOSAUR FREE ZONE" to just be "NOW DINOSAUR ZONE". Corny, I know! But it felt right and I was heartbroken to see that it wasn't caught in time to be able to go back and change it

Also no heart by sammy's name on yaz's phone :( idk why, sorry gang

About boards, an interesting thing to keep in mind was that even though this bridge may seem like a pretty isolated and simple set, there were actually several moments/shots that I didn't end up using because they revealed too much of the background, specifically the exterior island set and the exterior mainland sets that connected to the bridge! That's right, in the actual set models, those parts are just the cliff ledges and a bit on the sides, everything else would have to be what's called a paintover. That's something for aspiring storyboard artists to keep in mind about working on 3D TV shows: the sets come before storyboards in the pipeline, so often you have to make what you want to do work to the set, and not the other way around like in feature!

[birchbow]

i really like everything you've done with the concept of troll gender in pof, but i was wondering if you've given thought to why/how they developed the concept of gender as a not really sexually dimorphic species? and who exactly assigns them genders as wrigglers? like are they getting the concept from the lusii? also i was wondering how they can tell each other's genders without asking directly. i know the clowns indicate that with their paint usually, but what about everyone else? i would love to hear any thoughts you have about this!

Okay so. This is only somewhat represented in the actual fic, mostly because I started writing it more than a decade ago when I was a little weenie with no gender imagination, but the grand scope of the xeno loadout I'm contemplating is thus:

in the same way that Lord of the Rings was theoretically a localized+translated legend from another language. PoF is a translation of a troll society that is in some ways localized by its translator (me lol).

THIS IS TO SAY: gender isn't gender. Pronouns are a self-declaration of "the role I take in my use to the Great Hive of The Empire". Trolls we translate as "male" and "female" are just roles of Use To The Hive that a human translator maps to "he" and "she".

If the mother grub, the drones and the trolls are all the same species, I find it delightful to imagine that insofar as trolls have a physical sex, it's BEING "trolls"; "troll"="the farmed ones/caretakers/(trollspecies) servant class" who provide and care for the mother grub.

Some of said class focus more into social violence not intended to kill+loud and posturing to drive away enemies+big emotions for Care About Hive. Because humans are, to quote troll xenonecroscholars, "obsessed with assigning mammal genital configurations to things", humans have dictated these trolls are "men". Some trolls focus more energy into stronger psionics+no patience for posturing/straight for the kill+hone and reinforce the inner strata of the hive. Humans refer to these individuals as "women".

I'll be shorthanding these roles as "masc" and "femme" because I use way too many words already, but just know that's an oversimplification haha.

FIG 1: Karkat by this standard? Very masc, but his insistence that he wants to be the leader/in charge is idiosyncratically femme of him. *cishet bioessentialism voice* Football player repeatedly goes out for ballet.

FIG 2: let's be clear Karkat telling Tavros to "stop playing games for girls" after he got jumped off a cliff was Karkat/Homestuck being classic 2010s shitty. But it doubles in this as "you decided to play with the Scourge Sisters (Deadly High Femme), you moron, you're lucky you're not dead".

how people figure out which one they initially go by... tbh it seems like schooling is pretty much via computers. I feel like you could easily just get like. A module on reproduction, and then a module that's essentially a fucking. quizilla quiz. Assigned pronouns at government-required school module.

Recent chapters have started making characters 'they/them' until the POV character gets a hint what their preference is--in this theoretical setup there would be quite a lot of sussing it out. "Gender presentation" would be a loose constellation of traits with a lot less certainty! The webcomic was not made with this in mind but I do find it fun to willfully reframe the pretty generically human-gendered characters we get.

FOR EXAMPLE!! Long/big hair as a peacocking flair/brag, often by old or powerful classes, or people who are powerful enough psionics they don't have to give a shit about a very grabbable liability in a fight. Trolls whose vocational pronouns translate as "female" often specialize in straightforward impersonal murder and social engineering more than brawling, so longer hair wouldn't be a liability and therefore is correlated, but only loosely.

Feferi has long hair, but so does the Grand Highblood. Equius (reads quite masc to humans) has long hair (nobility fle%), but Kanaya (the most overtly human femme) does not (practical middle-class brawler)! I don't think that's on purpose but I AM taking advantage of it lol.

'They/them' is the equivalent of the "joker" title I made up already for Clown Church--somebody with multiple skillsets, mixed roles, or fields of influence. My gender is undeclared college major. My gender is Jack Of All Trades.

Verato's transness isn't really about his switch from one gender to another--it's more because he plays a "femme" role in society but uses the "masc" pronoun for himself. His self-consciousness about it is more similar to a nonbinary or bisexual human who's used to being told to "pick one" and being told which one they "seem like" or "should be".

Meanwhile the Behemoth's 'it/its' in English stands out as a pronoun usually used for objects, but in Alternian it would be the pronoun trolls use to refer to DRONES. "(Trollspecies) made for thoughtless violence/enforcer/culls the weak". Chilling!!

I would have to go through and edit huge chunks of the fic to drag all half a million words into line with fun xeno shit alongside the clown church worldbuilding I already got in there, but damn if the concept isn't tempting some days.

[rottenpumpkin13]

If all of them got turned into birds, what birds would they be

Sephiroth: A Great Horned Owl with an impossible silver-gray coloring that makes ornithologists question their entire career choice. Looks like death with wings but is surprisingly gentle. Still terrifies every living thing in a five-mile radius just by existing, but will also carefully adjust fallen nestlings back into their nests when no one's looking. Local wildlife can't decide if they should run when they see him coming or wait for the mice he keeps purposefully dropping near hungry animals. His hunting cry sounds suspiciously like "mother" but everyone's too scared to mention it.

Zack: Absolutely a Magpie. Not because he's particularly attracted to shiny things, but because he physically cannot shut up and has to greet every single bird in a five-mile radius. A black-and-white blur that hurtles through the trees like a feathery missile, squawking at anything that moves. Keeps adopting every lost or awkward bird he meets, resulting in a ragtag gang of confused fledglings, crows, and other birds trailing after him as he dive-bombs puddles for fun. Constantly tries to share snacks despite magpies being omnivores, dramatically dropping grubs and stolen sandwich crusts in front of other birds. Researchers are losing their minds over this one magpie that does celebratory backflips after successfully stealing shiny objects.

Angeal: A golden eagle that's also a seasoned mentor. Spends his days guiding younger raptors on proper hunting form, efficient soaring techniques, and the philosophy of earning your flight. Has implemented a strict code of conduct among the local scavengers, turning squabbling buzzards into an organized, honorable cleanup crew. Regularly seen perched on the tallest cliffs, overseeing the territory.

Genesis: A raven with a massive wingspan and an even larger ego. He's not content merely cawing, he's learned human speech to recite poetry to startled park visitors. His nest isn't just a pile of twigs, but a carefully curated collection of shiny objects: hairpins stolen from unsuspecting women, pens from passing joggers, anything that glimmers.

Cloud: A chocobo, but not for the obvious stereotypical reason. It's because I think he'd terrify Sephiroth more if he were a chocobo.

[crag-the-caveman]

All ways to get sick that Crag has found so far:

Stay awake for several suns and moons in a row

Eat strange mushrooms in forest

Eat strange plants in forest

Eat strange colorful frogs in forest

Eat worms and grubs without rinsing them off good first

Sleep on top of a bison

Sleep totally soaked atop a cliff with wind blowing on you

Fall down a hole and hurt you legs

Walk naked through tall grass with bugs in it

Fight another caveman and lose

Get bitten by a wolf

Get bitten by a lion

Get bitten by another caveman

Eat the flesh of another caveman

Stay in bed for three months straight without ever moving

Not eat for long time

Not drink water for long time

Eat only dried animal meat for long time

Drink water from stagnant pond

[olenvasynyt]

Elain headcanons!

1. Has had a sweet tooth ever since she was little, and was one of the reasons why she started to learn how to bake. Before she turned 8, she already had 4 cavities. Puts WAYYYYY too much sugar and cream in her tea and coffee (and Lucien teases her for it)

2. Loves animals but is never good with them. Especially horses: a horse stepped on her foot accidentally one time and now she’s constantly on alert around horses (And they can definitely sense it)

3. Has high-functioning autism. Needs detailed instructions when given tasks, struggles with eye contact, and has sensory issues with loud noises and certain textures.

4. Doesn’t mind cleaning and doing chores and sometimes she enjoys it, but she HATES doing the dishes (it’s the autism. Wet food is a no). Wears cleaning gloves and an apron.

5. Has the huge collection of hats. Floppy sun hats, garden hats, beach hats, cloches, bonnets, etc. Dare I say berets? Modern headcanon: golf visors? She’s look so cute in a tennis outfit with a cute visor.

6. Takes care of her hair and spends a lot of time styling it in the morning.

7. Very adventurous, especially when she was young. Always looking for cool, unknown spots on the beach and in forests. Wanders away from the group a lot and they’ll find her at random places. Can be quite daring too: she once climbed a cliff just to pick a flower she spotted at the very top. Her sisters often remind her the infamous day of when she went wading in a neighboring lake and got a bunch of leeches or her ankles. Nesta spent almost an hour picking them off.

8. Does not like wearing heels. She’s not bad at walking in them, they’re just uncomfortable.

9. She loves bugs, and always tries to rescue a spider or moth that gets into the house. The only bug she hates are grubs and maggots (and leeches. The infamous lake memory is permanently engraved in her brain)

10. Kleptomaniac. Especially as a little kid.

11. Loves party planning. Is a huge fan of themed decorating and coordinated outfits. Has done a lot of surprise parties for her family and friends.

12. Gets cold very easily (Lucien 👀 you know what to do)

13. When she was little, she was always playing in nature. Made little moss huts for her toy dolls, pretended to be a witch a make nature potions with crushed berries, rain water, ears whatever else she could find, and would serve her sisters mud pies.

14. Has kept a diary ever since she was little

15. Her favorite party trick is being able to whistle with a blade of grass

[jiubilant]

cw: horror elements

He’d been a scrib of three, sticky-fingered and clinging to his sister’s skirts like an anther-burr, when first he saw a war-wasp of the Dres. In less than seven years they’d be extinct: their cliff-hives burnt, their grubs smeared across singed flagstones or speared wriggling on An-Xileel pikes. But it had been a bright morning—the dust had glittered in the air like motes of kanet, like the specks the goldsmiths blow off their tables—and the messenger from Bal Foy had circled his glorious mount three times above the marketplace, like a victorious chap’thil, before landing her in the middle of the street.

“Give her a pat,” he’d said, laughing, to the children clustering round—and the adults, too, a few merchants and house-servants whose stern faces broke with smiles. “She’s polite, my Khes.”

He ran, that scrib of three—not towards the great wasp grooming her feelers in that circle of hands, as oblivious to her admirers’ attentions as Benitah, but to a basket of comberries abandoned at a fruit-seller’s stall. The first fistful he stuffed in his mouth. The second he stretched above his head, high as he could reach.

“Khes!” he’d called, his voice shrill and garbled with fruit. He remembers the moment even now. Juice dribbling down his wrist. Dust in his throat. His little heart surging upward with that cry, as if on jeweled wings. “Khes!”

The wasp turned her alien head, broad and shining as a bonemold shield. Her feelers whiskered over him. Out flicked her wings once, twice: sheer and strong as wevet, fluted like stained glass into a thousand fiery panes.

“Hold your hand out flat, hla!” the messenger called.

He did. The mouthparts that could crush a Nordling breastplate descended to meet it. Delicately, like a lady reaching into a bowl with finger and thumb, the wasp took a single berry from his palm.

* * *

He wakes in his cold dormitory cell feeling stiff, sore, and improbably cheerful. Mzulft and its horrors, the Synod included, are behind him; it’s up to Mirabelle, now, to decide what to do with what they’ve learned. A magic staff in Hjaalmarch—perhaps the first item of import, he thinks with amusement, to ever come out of Hjaalmarch. And the Thalmor know nothing about it. And he’s rising late from a bed, not a bedroll, with the fading idea that he’d dreamed something pleasant.

“She’s stung me to the heart,” he sings in soft Velothis over his washbasin, scraping off the journey’s stubble with his shaving-knife. The ancient song comes to him in snatches, like the dream. “She’s stung me, jewel of the sky, armored queen of the valleys of the Shir”—someone raps on his door, probably one of the prentices with a question about a translation, and he takes some smiling liberties with the next line—“one moment, per favore, s'il vous plaît—”

“Break it down,” says a curt voice.

The door crashes open. He makes a startled, absurd swipe with his shaving-knife at the first of the intruders—black robes, beaky buttons that glint gold in the firelight—before a burst of magic shivers through him like heat-lightning. He hears a thump. Himself, he realizes with belated surprise, hitting the chilly floor.

“Is he immobilized?” the voice asks pleasantly.

A chorus of subordinate voices, at least three: “Yes, Secretary.”

They’ve never gone this far, thinks the man on the floor, struggling to budge limbs that have gone rigid and heavy as kedge-anchors. Something’s emboldened them at last. A heavy-gloved hand dips into the neck of his nightshirt and fishes out his Company chain.

“Justiciar Ancano was right!” the young Dominion agent attached to the hand exclaims. He dangles the pendant in the light. “East Empire Company. A factor’s clerk. A pleasure, Master”—he squints at the inscription on the copper, above the tarnished ship—“Ramo, to properly make your acquaintance.”

That’s right, the clerk thinks. They’d bungled his name on the thing. Probably in the records, too. A laugh escapes his spell-sealed lips as a stifled huff.

“Kick him,” the pleasant voice suggests. “Oh, cousin. To scribble and scrape for the mayfly enterprises of men!”

Someone does kick him. He finds himself facedown on the hearth, seeing nothing, hearing creaks and thumps and curses as the Thalmor toss his room. One rummages through his sea-chest, takes something out, slams it. His ewer shatters. Floorstones scrape in protest as they’re pried up; the thieves’ Altmeri chatter grows excited, then. They must have found his papers. The clerk scrabbles through his mind for what little Altmeris he knows—

“Closer to the fire,” says the pleasant one in Cyrod, perhaps for his benefit. The clerk’s heart petrifies like his limbs. “He fell. A terrible accident. Put his cane—yes, there. As if he’d been trying to reach it.”

Someone drags him closer to the hearth. Flings his arm into it like a peat-brick. The heat bakes his hand. “I can seal his heart-valves to be sure—”

“Don’t be a fool,” snaps the pleasant one. “That shrieking cat who heads up Restoration would notice. Let us defer, out of respect for our cousin, to Velothi custom—”

The click of the closing door.

The silence.

He can breathe, the clerk thinks, breathing fast. He can blink. Involuntary motions, then, are not suppressed by the spell—only those that he wills. Sitting up. Crying out. Smothering the fire nibbling, with increasing interest, at his sleeve.

It was once said of the war-wasps of the Dres, he recalls with faint amusement, that the venom of their stings worked much the same. One was advised, perhaps as a way to bide one’s time before the end, to battle the enervation in increments: try wriggling a finger. A toe.

Something pops in the fire. The cell begins to smell of smoke and singed hair. He wonders whether the jerk of a limb exposed to flame, to that sharp, betraying sting, is involuntary—no, it seems not. The pain scourges his arm, his ear, the side of his head.

A finger, he thinks, concentrating all his awareness of his body into the palm of his lifeless hand. A toe. A terrible accident, they’ll say when they find him. Don’t think it. Hold your hand out flat, hla—

A strained rap on the door. “Magister?”

Relief crashes through him where the magic holds him fast. His thumb twitches free of the spell. It makes less noise than a crumb of peat shifting in the hearth.

“Magister,” calls the voice, dear and strangely small, “the—the Master Wizard, she wants you in the quadrangle—”

“Brelyna,” a familiar brogue interrupts, “J’zargo does not think he’s in.”

Her voice rises nearly to a wail. “Where is he, then—”

They’re going, the clerk thinks, gripped by a panic more searing than the flames climbing his sleeve. His hand jerks. It hits his cane, which the Thalmor had propped so tellingly on the fireplace-jamb.

The cane wobbles. He holds his breath.

Then, with a magnificent scrape, it clatters to the floor.

A silence.

“Is it unlocked?” asks Brelyna.

The creak of the door. A gasp. The panicked squeak of boots. Then someone throws the contents of the washbasin on him: a shocking blue chill, like a plunge in pack ice. He breathes out. His shaving-knife swirls past his head on a runnel of suds.

“Turn him over.” J’zargo’s voice, sharp as claws. “Is he dead?”

“I don’t think so.” Magic crackles in the air above his head. “I, I think he’s—didn’t Master Neloren show us how to dispel this? Let me try—”

Something heavy and sluggish evaporates from the clerk's bones. He stirs with some difficulty, blinking soap from his eyes, and finds himself in a circle of worried hands: J’zargo lifting his head, Onmund buffeting the last of the fire, Brelyna slapping his ridiculous half-shaved face.

“Hlai,” he rasps, laughing, trying to raise his arms to fend them off. They’ll beat him to death. Ai, a terrible accident. “Hlai, I’m not a rug—”

“You look a rug,” snaps Onmund, terse as ever. The clerk recalls that he’s wearing the nightshirt patterned with fleurs. “What happened? Who spelled you?”

The less they know, the better. The clerk flexes his hands, then his face, breathing with great care around the boot-shaped ache in his side. “Shouldn’t you”—the fire’s ghost gnaws his arm when he bends it, and he winces—“be in class?”

“In class?” Onmund sits him up so roughly that they nearly knock heads. The boy’s hands, the clerk realizes with a start, are shaking. “We were in class. Don’t you know what’s happening outside?”

Brelyna sits back in the mess of hearth-ash and washwater, rubbing her crumpling face with both hands. Her voice wavers like a shrill flute. “I thought you were dead, too.”

“Too?” The clerk, blistered and dripping, stares at his pupils. “Who’s dead?”

A muscle jumps in Onmund’s ashen face. J’zargo flattens his ears and looks away. It’s Brelyna, choking on overwhelmed tears, who answers.

“The Archmage,” she sobs. Outside, muffled by the dormitory walls, a scream pitches above the cries of gulls. “The Archmage.”

[arlemangel7]

She came home to me

Gambit x blackfem!reader x rogue

Cw: drinking, 21st birthday celebrating, drunk person sitting, love, extra fluff, cliff hanger

So picture this right you walk.. more like stumble into your shared house damn near busting your ass on the the front cement stairs right outside your door. Tossing your keys into the bowl right next to it. "Honeyyyyysssss I'm homeeee" you announce to the the living room audience(which was empty btw) after about a minute you kick your left over shoe off and slide down the wall in need of immediate comfort of w cold floor when you hear a familiar voice "well someone had fun night" your girlfriend says coming to your aid from down the hall "hell yea, I did" giving her an excited fist pump in the air to emphasize your point.

It was your nieces twenty first birthday party and you just had to celebrate it at your bar, your thought process was " if it happened in my bar then she would be the safest place possible plus free drinks from her auntie wouldn't hurt" what you didn't anticipate was your niecy-poo wanting to have a drink off with the owner of the bar i.e you as the night went on and the drunker she got.the more emboldened she got as well. So sure enough you ended up having to teach the poor girl a little lesson about honor and the that said lesson being "you keep your word when it's given. If you say your gonna do someone you try your hardest to get it done' so needless to say you took shots with her until until she had reached her limit and then you gave her shots of water until the end of the night . After that you closed down the bar took an Uber home(because being responsible is important) and that's when the alcohol started to set it.

Rogue was on the case tho walking you to bed Giving you water, and warming up some of the Cajuns left over jambalaya, he wasn't home yet due to a late night mission for the thieves guild. But "he isn't one to leave his girls without a home cooked meal" as he put it. You weren't allowed to fully rest until you got a decent amount of food in you and at least a glass and a half of water. When you woke up you were In the arms of your beloved Cajun while rogue was down stairs russelling up some grub(at least from the smell tapping your noise). Apparently around about 4am was when remi was back around the house and he came in to the sight of his two beauties snuggled together in the center of the bed with the tv watching them. And around 10 this morning was when rogue got the brilliant idea to make yalls some much needed breakfast and feeling yalls big strong man holding you both in his deep slumber was all the push she needed to carry out her self appointed morning task.

It was a simple eggs grits and corn beef hash, with s side of toast and coffee/juice. When yalls got down stairs you gathered around the table that was already set with made plates awaiting hungry bellies. The day to follow was something you all had been waiting for, for a while. And it was possibly the start of a already solidified forever. 🤭🤭🤭

....stay tooned children 🥰🥰🥰

As always requests are open

Stay safe, and take care of yourself and each other, signing off for now. 💋🩷💋🩷

[secret-spirit]

Melodies among the rain, help soothe the pain

Hollow Dreams AU

Clyde walked out of the soul pool spa with a handful of geo, Hearing the scammers wails and cries being accompanied with Alex's nail thrashing against shell. It counted the geo and realized they had double the geo from the amount it originally gave the scammer, It figures she had scammed another bug out of their geo and thinks to ask the local bugs of Dirthmouth or any non-infected bugs if they had any lost geo.

Little footsteps come nearing closer to Clyde and it felt the tug of the other half of it's charm by it's side, a small buzzing sensation flows through Clyde as it looks down at a moss of hair with two sharp horns peaking through the greenery.

"Did you uhh- kill her?" Clyde asked.

Alex looks up at Clyde, the deep empty void eyes stare back at it fills it with an odd sense of comfort after being around them throughout their adventures, They shake their head 'no' before looking around the area, doing a little spin to get the whole view.

'Huh' Clyde thinks to itself. Usually Alex doesn't like it when something messes with the both of them and ends up ending their life, but on rare occasions they spare the offender with reasons unknown Clyde has yet to understand. Since the scammer didn't exactly hurt them it felt like a good reason to spare her, It never exactly cared for geo but it was useful in buying items from the shops in Dirthmouth.

Clyde watches as Alex run around the area, jumping ontop of platforms that doesn't seem safe and scaling the walls, They have a habit of making sure to explore every bit of an area even when it's already explored, usually to find a grub or finding a secret passage way that hides a hidden treasure behind it's walls.

Clyde doesn't follow them as usual, instead walking up to the tall glass window and looking through it to see the distant blurry shapes of the abandoned City of tears.

The rain pouring down heavily on the glass panel creating a rhythm, The glass then reflects it's appearance, Clyde focusing too much on it's broken antenna and bandaged up face, it slowly creates an outline of it's scar behind the bandage, before getting a brief flash of the infected Mantis lord...

...It blocks of the memory and instead let itself slip off into the noises in the background, Alex's distant footsteps, the rain pouring down the glass, the soft melody mixing within the rain, slowly it lets it's mind drift off.

Their soft deep humming echoed in it's head, the warm embrace of their arms flowed through it's body, their charms sending each others thoughts and emotions, the hot burning headache, the burning light that filled it's mind, the cold winds of the cliffs, lost and alone, where was it's partner? Before suddenly- the sharp nail blade hitting it's claws and tail, hurt hurt hurt it hurts- where were they why didn't they come looking for it? Why why why-

The harsh tug of it's cloak brought them back into awareness.

Clyde felt itself getting dragged by their cloak and looked down to see Alex.

"Alex?! Where are we going?!"

Clyde reassured itself that the area is safe if Alex explored it's nook and cranny top to corners. They lessened their grip and led them to a lit up room behind a few furniture, the soft pink light seeping through the door and Clyde grew curious.

They both walk in, a stage is set Infront of them with roses scattered around the neatly decorated room. Alex jumped onto the stage, Clyde following along them. Suddenly a butterfly appeared infront of them almost making Clyde slip back from the edge of the stage.

"I see you came back little one, and you brought a friend, how kind of you to offer me an audience" Her voice flowed through ethereally. Clyde noticed the dream symbols floating around her and guessed she was a spirit.

Alex sat down on the ground, but Clyde was still confused.

"If i may ask, who are you?" It asked.

"I am Marissa, a songtress of some renoun, huge flocks came to hear me sing, but something happened and they all stopped coming, i still sing but my voice only echos in deaf ears" she says sorrowfully.

Clyde hummed, thinking about the distant melody that it heard a few minutes ago.

"Feel free to sit down and rest, let my voice soothe your worries away" Marissa says softly.

Clyde tensed at that, but sees Alex looking at it and thought it wouldn't hurt to rest for a few moments.

It sat down next to it's partner as Marissa began singing, her voice was even more ethereal from her regular speaking voice.

Clyde found itself feeling it's tensed limbs growing relaxed as the melody flowed through the room, the scent of the flowers helped the feeling calm it's nerves.

But it's mind thought back to it's previous partner, their deep calming humming mixing in with the melodic song of Marissa. But before it began to spiral again it felt damped moss touch it's side.

Clyde saw Alex had began leaning on it, the wet messy moss hair sinking into it's cloak as they breathe in and out, they seemed exhausted.

Clyde slinked an arm around Alex, getting into a comfortable position as it listened to Marissa's singing, mind clear from any unwanted memories.

'Maybe it will be fine'

'All will...be fine'

Clyde wasn't sure for a moment if the second line was it's voice or another.

Marissa's song echoed the place as the two relaxed underneath each others embrace.

[fly-sky-high-bug-games]

Gambit of Crystal Peak (she/they, aromantic, possibly ace as well but who knows)

Species: Cricket

Design based of: House Cricket

As a toddler, Gambit was part of a large and poor family. When she grew a little older, she was your typical troublemaker, ending up in places she shouldn't be because her family was busy working to keep everyone fed. She would often get lost, hurt or dirty from playing outside constantly. Kind of a wild child.

Then, at some point, a load of caravans with merchants was passing by. They are usually a family of their own, with rows and rows of homes and shops on wheels, passing by the roads like a train. Gambit got invested and during their stay near home, she got around helping the merchants and traders, earning her first dime.

As the merchants were to leave, Gambit insisted to come along. It wouldn't be the first time the folks of the caravan would take bugs with them as long as they would help with work. Gambit was stocked for it and her family agreed that she'd be better off with them, seeing the world but still having someone to keep a watchful eye on her. 

Gambit traveled with them for years, seeing various places and kingdoms, both through hardships of the weather and people, thieves and welcoming bugs with shelter. The caravan folks helped her grow some communication skills and thought her many songs and stories she would often whistle through work.

At some point, they arrived and stopped at Hallownest. Intrigued by the mines, she went to explore the place. Well attuned to the sounds, she could hear the crystals "sing", soon learning from the miners that those are charged with energy used to power devices. She was practically a natural at hearing them, surprising miners to the point of asking her to stay and work for them and at first, she denied, having her current "family" with the merchants.

However, as the caravans lingered within Hallownest due to good business, Gambit got to visit the mines as well as the miners working there. They acted like a big family, just like her merchant folks. She got close with few of them, got introduced to the director of the mines, Cineraria (AKA Dusty), Galo the supervisor, the musicians... her core felt "at home" so she started to doubt her decision from earlier.

What completely sold her on it is when she was introduced to the dynamite! Blowing rocks and crystals up brought back the rush she had as a kid when she scaled dangerous cliff sides on her own or running for her life from an enraged wild critter! She decided to focus on becoming a demolition expert of Crystal Peak! The merchants understood, as once again, it wasn't the first time someone leaves the caravan crew in pursuit for something greater. They bid the teen Gambit goodbye with hopes to see her again some day. Gambit never cried so much in her life, both from joy and sadness.

: 

Time has passed, many issues arose at the kingdom of Hallownest. Nobles demanded greater distribution and shipment of powered crystals, life got quite busy at the mines. Still, the miners persisted, sticking together as a family, looking after each other, sharing burdens and grief of lost miners, sharing food and shelter... Through sacrifices of Dreamers, the Vessel, the disappearance of the King, the silence of the Queen, the mystery of the Great Knights... they persisted as long as they could...

This made Gambit grow a calmer poise. She learned to be serious and not mess around. She wasn't the smartest but she knew about living a life more than some miners every did. She persisted and so did her family.

Then, one day, when traveling back to the mines from the Crossroads, she heard a faint cry....

THE COMIC STARTS

FURTHER STORY, FUTURE COMIC SPOILERS BELLOW! (if I ever continue it that is!)

:

Gambit took the grub as her own and did her best to raise it. Once it pupated, she learned that the mystery child was some kind of butterfly. It quickly became adored by the miners as there weren't a lot of kids left at the mines' community.  

A lot of folks fled due to the slow and steady decline of the kingdom's state. Those who could flee did and those who didn't have anywhere else to go stayed with hopes that them sticking together will be enough to keep everyone safe. 

Given the name Silva by Dusty, the little butterfly was a little troublemaker of her own. It was uncanny how much she resembled Gambit as a child, wondering off on her own, getting lost within the mines, almost getting gravely injured... Gambit finally got the taste of her own medicine. She cursed her younger self for not realizing the dangers but in the same time was proud how much Silva was also learning and gaining experience this way. 

As she grew, the mines got worse. The reappearance of the infection was a disaster. Lockdowns around the kingdom begun to take place, mines included. Few miners got infected as well. They were losing their friends and families to it... 

Silva just hit her teen years when this happened. They struggled to survive and hide from the miners who lost themselves to dreams. Gambit, unfortunately, was losing herself in this too. 

Seeing her family members no longer being themselves, she focused on protecting Silva, keeping her safe. Unfortunately, the pressure allowed her own mind to slip away... she was no longer strong enough. 

Her mind was running after Silva to keep her close and safe but in reality she was almost hurting her. Silva fled to the Hallownest Crown, no longer having space to hide and run from Gambit, she hid behind the large statue. Gambit, in her foggy infected mind, went after and slipped off the cliff to her death... Silva was alone.

[th3-b4ll4d-deactivated]

my second oc for my mspfa: skaler sussex

sprites by @kattzsz!!

name: skaler sussex (YES I KNOW THATS A PLACE IN ENGLAND. SHUT UP.)

typing quirk: “oh my god ! can’t bel!eve you actually d!d t#at”

trolltag: antisocialAssassination (AA)

blood color: indigo

strife weapon: scythe

kissmisses: tammer cerand

matesprits: zack madden

morail: polvar marbea

hight: 5’2 (haha short)

age: 15

sexuality: gay

he/him, cis man

derse dreamer (he’s the only derse guy lolz :p)

lusus: father-snake

trickster food: blueberries

dancestor: salsis sussex

ancestor: the archiver

god tier: mage of void

land: land of whispers and cliffs

clothes style: UGLY EMO BITCH!!

other info:

-All of his boyfriends die (loser)

-The only one that DOESNT smoke weed

-when he was in jail someone gave him a beat up pair of Yeezys

-bare foot the entire time

-rich snob

-DEFINITELY wrote fanfic before but it will NEVER see the light of day

-when he was a grub he bit other grubs (Charad)

[fnaftiism]

MAKE A INVADER ZIM ID PACK!!!! Please and thank you :3

INVADER ZIM NPT + GRAPHIC PACK

NAMES

- zib, dib, gaz, gir, zim, splug, greeb, fratch, glub, nyx, noah, norman, finn, kev, todd, kurtis, terri, stan, cliff, marvin, floyd, clyde, mabel

PRONOUNS

- zim,zim,zimself,zimself

gir,gir,girself,girself

vort,vort,vortself,vortself

irk,irk,irkself,irkself

squeak,squeak,squeakself,squeakself

blip,blip,blipself,blipself

zap,zap,zapself,zapself

mek,mek,mekself,mekself

drone,drone,droneself,droneself

scrap,scrap,scrapself,scrapself

doom,doom,doomself,doomself

snack,snack,snackself,snackself

buzz,buzz,buzzself,buzzself

skoot,skoot,skootself,skootself

plush,plush,plushself,plushself

squee,squee,squeeself,squeeself

gunk,gunk,gunkself,gunkself

smudge,smudge,smudgeself,smudgeself

sploot,sploot,splootself,splootself

sludge,sludge,sludgeself,sludgeself

grub,grub,grubself,grubself

piggy,piggy,piggyself,piggyself

taco,taco,tacoself,tacoself

static,static,staticself,staticself

glitch,glitch,glitchself,glitchself

sizzle,sizzle,sizzleself,sizzleself

zapzap,zapzap,zapzapself,zapzapself

blotch,blotch,blotchself,blotchself

wobble,wobble,wobbleself,wobbleself

crash,crash,crashself,crashself

moth,moth,mothself,mothself

TITLES

- The Squeal of Doom

The Snack of Destiny

The Buzz of Chaos

The Blip of Fear

The Sludge of Time

The Wobble of Secrets

The Crash of Silence

The Glitch of Nightmares

The Moth of Madness

The Static of Suffering

The Piggy of Power

The Sploot of Regret

The Grub of Tomorrow

The Gunk of Shadows

The Scraps of Fate

The Smudge of Eternity

The Plush of Despair

The Drone Who Forgot

The Zap Who Screamed

The Moth Who Ran

The Gir Who Cried Taco

The Grub Who Knew Too Much

The Piggy Who Spoke

The Blip Who Would Not Blink

The Buzz Who Betrayed

The Wobble Who Waited

The Static Who Loved

The Snack Who Vanished

The Crash Who Stayed

The Sludge Who Dreamed

The Gunk Who Lied

The Plush Who Melted

[birchbritches]

Granite Pandering

Granite pandering to its thus-far predictably certain homestead entombs like historical-society tomes, not so much meant anymore for reading, only a lowing hoard stuck with old-timers timing out, ROMs held for heartache because what if the heart couldn't take aching? So we make a niche to ache about. We've had homes, supposedly,

we've known other ways to be, we've seen people snuffle and grub and can't work up the courage to care, see all the tear-down and can't outrun it, are the extrapolation or declension thereof, will clean so long as we can cling a cliff-face but aren't sure why, are the epicondylitis of the grip giving way, a nameable nonsense notable for brevity and how it isn't about to last,

least of all to fit our fallible purposes, how landscape remembers and we pretend we remember back but we can't make out a single femur or even a skull, how we'd claim the space defining, but spin out because of how unmutual it is, the fizzing, popping, nonstop nothing like there's something strange about this spring and someday maybe they'll find it, but meanwhile, why are we here?

We sidle and gesture for decades, wait for adequate answers, are at a damnable standoff because we both know not to talk.

[samcampbellfans]

Sam Campbell Podcast Masterlist

Here's a masterlist of podcast episodes that feature Sam Campbell, in reverse chronological order. I tried to find all of the episodes that are available on the internet, do send me an ask if you find any that I did not include here!

Note: some of these links are Spotify links but usually podcast episodes are available anywhere you usually get a podcast i.e. Apple podcasts, Acast, etc.

March 2025

Sam Campbell in Conversation with James Donald Forbes McCann. March 30 2025.

September 2024

The Adam Buxton Podcast, Ep 226. Sam Campbell. Recorded 26th and 27th July 2024 at Latitude Festival.

July 2024

The Last Video Store. Hosted by Alexei Touliopoulos.

May 2024

Lucy and Sam's Perfect Brains, Ep 6, Ep 7, Ep 8, Ep 9. Hosted by Sam Campbell and Lucy Beaumont.

April 2024

Some Laugh Podcast - Episode 99. Taskmaster, Edinburgh Fringe & Secrets. Hosted by Marc Jennings, Stephen Buchanan and Stuart McPherson.

Tim Key's Poetry Programme. 3. Safari. On BBC Radio 4.

Lucy and Sam's Perfect Brains, Ep 2, Ep 3, Ep 4, Ep 5. Hosted by Sam Campbell and Lucy Beaumont.

March 2024

Lucy and Sam's Perfect Brains, Ep 1. Hosted by Sam Campbell and Lucy Beaumont.

Off Menu with James Acaster and Ed Gamble - Episode 229, Live with Sam Campbell in Nottingham Royal Concert Hall. Note: the episode was recorded on October 18, 2023 and released 2 March 2024.

January 2024

Drifting Off with Joe Pera Ep 12: Australia and its Greatest Horse ft. Cut Worms. Guests: Sam Campbell, Aaron Chen, Guy Montgomery and Yaraman Thorne aka Yaz.

November 2023

Ep110. SAM CAMPBELL / Plato, Purses & Palm Readings. Trusty Hogs podcast. Hosted by Catherine Bohart and Helen Bauer.

BONUS: Ep111. NATHAN FOAD/ Colleagues, Cucks & Cliff Richard. Trusty Hogs podcast - Sam pulls a prank on Nathan Foad at 22:38. Nathan Foad was in Bloods, the Sky TV sitcom that Sam was also in.

Taskmaster The Podcast. Ep 149. (S16 Ep.10.) Hosted by Ed Gamble.

Northern News. ‘A Spider’s Intern’. Hosted by Ian Smith and Amy Gledhill. Sam Campbell's guest appearance starts around the 21 minute mark.

September 2023

Taskmaster The Podcast. Ep 141. Sam Campbell - S16 Ep. 2. Hosted by Ed Gamble.

May 2023

WTF w/ Sam Campbell. Welcome to Meet You podcast. Hosted by Dart Sultan and Robbie Armfield.

April 2023

Mugg Off #173 Live Show Melbourne. Sam Campbell, Sam Taunton, Tim Hewitt, Laura Hughes.

November 2022

NTS - Hot Mess W/ Sam Campbell (hosted by Babak Ganjei).

October 2022

Dave’s Edinburgh Comedy Awards: The Podcast with Lara Ricote and Sam Campbell.

September 2022

Plot Twist podcast Kevin ‘KG’ Garry and Sam Campbell. Sky TV.

June 2022

Mugg Off #139 - Sam Campbell. Hosted by Cameron Duggan, Gerard McGowan, and Yaz.

May 2022

Backyard Stories - Episode Thirty Four - Sam Campbell

October 2021

Aunty Donna Podcast Ep 277 Nippers Feat. Sam Campbell and Eric Hutton. Hosted by Zach, Mark and Broden.

July 2021

The Phone Hacks Podcast 170. Sam Campbell - Hay Ladies. Hosted by Mike Goldstein and Nick Capper. (Thanks to Cambo Fans!)

June 2021

The Good Stuff - Episode 41 Feat. Sam Campbell. Hosted by Sam Taunton and Tom Cashman.

Australia Debates - ABC Comedy. Series 1 Episode 1 - Should Social Media Be Banned?

March 2021

Mugg Off #80 Tom Cashman and "Dingo Duggan" - Sam Campbell plays Dingo.

December 2020

Mugg Off #069 - Sam Campbell. Hosted by Cameron Duggan, Gerard McGowan and Yaz. Note: this episode was recorded in December 2020 but the video was uploaded June 2022.

August 2020

The Grub podcast, with Nikki Britton, Bjorn Stewart, Sam Campbell, Cameron James, and Danielle Walker. Hosts: Anne Edmonds, Greg Larsen and Ben Russell. NOTE: Sam is only in a few clips in this podcast, not in the whole thing.

July 2020

Circling the Drain - Ep1: Elouise Eftos, Sam Campbell. Hosted by Andrew Wolfe.

April 2020

The Good Stuff - Episode 3 Feat. Sam Campbell (An Expose on Women’s Bathrooms). Hosted by Sam Taunton and Tom Cashman.

January 2020

Mugg Off #20 - Sam Campbell. Hosted by Cameron Duggan, Gerard McGowan and Yaz.

The Grub - 2020 Call-in Special. With Melinda Buttle, Becky Lucas, Sam Campbell, Aaron Chen, Rodney Todd. Hosts: Anne Edmonds, Greg Larsen and Ben Russell. NOTE: Sam is only in a few clips in this podcast, not in the whole thing.

October 2019

The Worst Idea Of All Time - Friendzone Ninety. Hosted by Guy Montgomery and Tim Batt.

May 2019

Special Features with Cameron James and Alexei Toliopoulos - Ep 50. Pokémon: Detective Pikachu (2019) with Tom Walker and Sam Campbell.

May 2018

Aunty Donna Podcast Episode 97: LIVE FROM THE FACTORY THEATRE SYDNEY FEAT. SAM CAMPBELL

October 2017

The Dragon Friends. S3 Ep 18: THIS BOY FREZNO. The Dragon Friends is a DnD podcast and this episode was live. From the podcast description: "Also Sam Campbell wore a mask and an elephant trunk for all of the recording so if it helps, imagine that." Cambo knows nothing about DnD - he went on the podcast to prank his friend Michael Hing (allegedly). Sam plays the antagonist (an evil Michael Hing).

The Dragon Friends. S3 Ep.17. A Dog With Human Eyes with Carlo Ritchie

August 2017

Mike Check with Cameron James & Alexei Toliopoulos - Ep 45. The Gong Show S01E04 & S01E05 w/ Sam Campbell

January-February 2015

Sad Boys, episode 1-3 hosted by Sam Campbell, Eddie Sharp and Anith Mukherjee. Originally broadcast via FBi Radio.

November 2014

Mark Williamson Chat Show - Episode 110: Becky Lucas and Sam Campbell. With regulars Lester Diamond and Ryan ‘Special Comments’ Crawford.

June 2014

Truth Nest - Episode 1 Feat. Alexei Toliopoulos. Hosted by Sam Campbell and Craig Anderson.

Below are 'lost episodes' - I cannot find the audio anywhere, or the audio files are broken. Podcast descriptions say Sam was a guest. Please do message me if you manage to find the audio!

Special Features with Cameron James and Alexei Toliopoulos: 9. 2 Guns with Sam Campbell. July 2015.

Sydney Comedy Festival Podcast. April 2015.

The Loose Five with Marcel Blanch- de Wilt. Episode 107- Sam Campbell & Shubha. January 2015.

Versus on FBi Radio - Witches vs Calendars w/ Sam Campbell and Claudia O'Doherty. December 2014. This episode has unfortunately been scrubbed from Apple Podcasts, Google Podcasts and FBi Radio website.

The Loose Five with Marcel Blanch- de Wilt. Episode 96- Sam Campbell and Gearard McGeown. September 2014.

A massive thank you to @vampire-lily / Lauren for contributing to this masterlist!!

[bookishzelda]

Whumpril Day 13: Head Injury

Today we have something that nobody asked for: animated series Link! (If you haven't watched the show, go watch it, it's so painful. I love it so much.)

Link stared over the edge of the cliff at the ground far beneath him and took a deep breath. There was no time to waste--Ganon’s minions would be upon him any second. He lit the fuse of his bomb and threw it to the ground. He counted out the seconds—one, two, three—and jumped down, holding his shield under his boots.

He’d done this dozens of times; his shield would land on the bomb just as it exploded, and the force would propel him far into the air. It was an impressive move, as long as he timed it just right and aimed perfectly.

And it was just before he landed that he realized his aim had been off.

His shield hit the edge of the bomb as the fuse burned out, sending him careening in a lopsided diagonal line. He threw out one arm to keep him balanced, his other hand clinging to the edge of the shield. As gravity began to pull him into the downward stretch of the long arc, he realized he was heading straight for a massive oak tree. There was no avoiding it; he squeezed his eyes shut and waited for impact.

His chest met a sturdy branch with a sickening thud, knocking the wind from his lungs. He dropped his shield and helplessly scrambled to grab onto another limb, but he found nothing. He fell to the ground, hitting two other branches, before landing heavily on the ground. As a grand finish, his head knocked hard against the tree trunk.

His vision faded into black.

When he began to come to, he could only feel pain. His head was throbbing, screaming as if it had been cut open. He moaned as his memory of the incident flooded his mind.

“Good, you’re finally awake.”

Soft, flowery hair tickled Link’s nose as he slowly opened his eyes. His head was resting on Zelda’s shoulder, and her arms were tucked firmly under his thighs to hold him against her back. “Zelda…?” he mumbled.

“Yes, and you’re lucky I was there to rescue you; otherwise you would be Goriya grub by now.”

He smirked against the soft fabric of her shirt. “You came to rescue me this time? What did I tell you--I knew you loved me.”

Zelda scoffed. “Shut up, hero. I never want to see you pull that stunt again. Or if you have to do it, at least do it right.”

“Worried about me, huh, princess?”

“No, I’m worried about the forests of Hyrule if you keep launching yourself into the trees!”