#he just has like a quack accent

[rusmii]

hihi srry for bothering u erm, any racer!chuuya hcs or racer!dazai hcs?

thank u for ur time

MY PRIZE MY WOMAN - n. chuuya, d. osamu

fem!reader x racer!chuuya + racer!dazai hcs in scenario format

[✦🏁]. . . quack. decided to have a go at this format again.... [chuuya is a socal street racer, dazai is a norcal professional racer]

[cws]. . . dazais is a little longer than chuuyas bc i got carried away 💀, chuuya has this noticeable heavy accent, dazai is engaged to reader and proposes to reader on their anniversary, use of profanity, MENTIONED: betting money/humans (chuuyas), lying/manipulation/gaslighting/doxxing (this is all dazai), police getting involved in chuuyas part, illegal street racing in chuuyas part (street racing is illegal in cali that's why)

.001 — CHUUYA

"LOOK IT'S CHUUYA!!!"

as the crowd cheers as loud as it can; mainly women who show up at the crack of dusk just to watch street racer!chuuya zoom down the street, far ahead of everyone else. no one knows how he does it, how he modified his car to be the exact thing most other racers fear — what seems like a regular modified car, physically a carbon copy of how the others look, is a baby that can tap the gas at extreming speeds.

when street racer!chuuya lines his car up with his opponents, he gives them a smile. no, not a smirk, a smile; mockingly knowing the deep-rooted anxiety it gives them. "give it your best shot, yeah?" is what he always tells them — questioning their retaliated aggression whenever they spit back at him, anger seething through their grit.

"damn look at that speed!"

as soon as shots are fired, street racer!chuuya's car is already down the street within seconds - more than a few miles ahead than his opponents. his baby curving sharp turns perfectly — watching in his rear view mirror how some people almost crash into bridges and buildings as they fail to slow down in time for the next sharp turn — their rage turning into his high; windows open, laughs as loud as the quake when chuuya's car races back around to the line for another lap.

street racer!chuuya who smirks at everyone's dumbfounded reaction when he crosses the line first as soon as he completes his second lap, some behind him and others not even close to finishing their first lap — giving you a wink when his car pulls up in front of you as he whistles, beckoning for you to come in.

"who the hell is that?"

"you don't know? that's his girl - [name]! they always drift together! it's an absolute must for chuuya!"

not even bothered by the stares of envy, you crouched down into his car - the door slamming behind you as your boyfriend walks to the driver's side. "buckle up, we're goin' in circles dolly," street racer!chuuya warns, opting to lean over and grab the belt himself, the metal clicking in place. shifting the gear selector, chuuya rolls his car back to make room for the other cars — everyone in their own circle, some cars already starting up 'n ready to go.

"yo, nakahara! wanna bet? you win, you get how much ever ya' want - we win, we get your girl. deal?"

"that's fine. just don't cry when you lose everythin' ."

now in drive move, engine revved, you sitting next to him - the perfect scenario; perfect motivator for him to put in everything's he's got into this competition. he couldn't lose, not with you on the line. "hold on tight doll, we're goin' fast tonight," street racer!chuuya squeezes your thigh one last time before focusing his attention back on the road — giving a subtle smirk to said man who was sticking his tongue out at you. "sweetheart yer' comin' home with me tonight!" he yells at you through the window, rolling it back up as soon as the gun goes up.

the guy cursed to hell and back, chuuya leaning against the door of his car as he waited for him to drive in from the line. "chu, you didn't have to do him dirty like that," you laugh, legs crossed on the hood of his car. "couldn't have my girl thinkin' i wouldn't put in my all — betting on the line doesn't matter — as long as it's you, i'd forever sacrifice my everything f'you," street racer!chuuya grins like a lovesick fool, his one and only being able to soften his rough exterior no matter where they're at.

when worst comes to prevail, street racer!chuuya is by no means weak. gladly fighting men, women, and kicking children out of the lots if they were messing with you. with no hesitation, he cranks his arm, getting ready to throw a punch towards the man's face. "who's sweetheart you takin' tonight? 'cause it's certainly not mine."

"shit it's the police!"

"make a fuckin' run for it everyone!!"

ah - if there was one thing that street racer!chuuya absolutely loved about the freedom of the streets, were its laws and how he breaks every single one of them. pressing on the gas, he grips the wheel, eyeing for a clearing entrance from the hundreds of scattered crazies — junkies, methies, regular people or not — they were in his way and if he needed to, he'd run them over just to get you outta there safe.

"buckled up? great - now let's get you outta here safe, darlin'," street racer!chuuya winks and taps his baby, the cars ignition getting ready to blast off as soon as he finds a clearing.

.002 — DAZAI

"and over here in the blue car, number #17 — WE HAVE, OSAMU DAZAI!!!"

as number #17 revs its engine, the black tint barely concealing his identity — professional racer!dazai tuts at the sound of light. announcing to the host to hurry its introducing and start the race already. with the signal ready, dazai grips his wheel - staring at you as a good luck omen before setting off once he heard the go.

in the relay, cars have no boundaries — beating the metal til the other explodes out of weakness. too bad explosions weren't as common as they were uncommon, professional racer!dazai did love a little chaos and fire that went off behind him as he crossed the line first in their final lap.

clashing and crashing weren't just his favorite pass times in the lobby, though. what really made professional racer!dazai's day were the checks he earned whenever he won the race; bitter and sour expression being thrown his way as he pretends to pay no mind, secretly eating up every single reaction and hatred that consumes the losers of the relay — a sadistic play, other racers like to say. well, whatever they say, goes out from one ear to another as he's paid extra to participate in special racing relays.

"we have contacted a very special guest to participate in today's race!! GUESS WHO??!"

when professional racer!dazai's car drives into the last lane, everyone is cheering and shouting; the racers banging their heads somewhere in their cars as they cursed whatever devil set them up to be racing against the osamu dazai — said devil himself grinning from ear to ear, eerily creepy as he gave them a thumbs up. "good luck! don't die before me!" he laughs one last time, sending shivers down their spines.

"no way! he cheated!! there's no way he could have won! this ain't the streets - this shit is the real deal! where us real racers race for the - !!"

"i'll take that as a compliment, thank you very much! but might i correct that i do not cheat, you are simply just too weak to be in this profession."

professional racer!dazai who's smile does not falter when he is being degraded and insulted, any indication on his face not being shown through his well trained composure. when people call bullshit, dazai calls doxxing them and everyone they love to make them retract their claims and accusations — all in the guise of an innocent facade as he plays dumb to the rumored 'dazai''s cheating curse'.

"ah! - this note from our extremely talented winner says, 'this win is dedicated to my beloved [name]!' ".

"[name]? isn't that the name of his fiance?"

"as the announcer had just said, this win, as so all my other wins - belongs to my very beautiful love, [name] dazai!" a gasp escapes from the audience, what? the, fuuuck..? since when did you guys finally tie the knot? "oh! - you guys might be wondering when we got married, but it was actually a lie! we're just friends!!! - OWWWWWWW!!!!!!!" professional racer!dazai yells in pain when the sharp end of a shoe is thrown at his head.

"we're not married yet, but we're still engaged YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!!" you scream angrily, sticking your ring finger up high and proud as the crowd gasps again. getting ready to leave, a hand grabs ahold of you, twisting you back around to face your fiance. when you were about to scream at them, they pointed to the ground, "please uh - hear your about to be husband out first..?"

"my beautiful [name], will you marry me?"

finally, professional racer!dazai who was the one behind this entire race competition. all the racers, the audience, the hosts — he orchestrated it all in order to plan for this very moment; pulling strings after strings to be able to pull it off. at the same time, the racers cars pull up, all curving on the dirt outside of the relay — in the form of letters as they drift to complete a full sentence, 'Marry Me [Name]!!!'.

mouth slacked open, you stare in disbelief, walking down the bleachers that the group around you have cleared. and there, you see - your fiance - about to be husband, holding keys as a very special car pulled around him. "happy anniversary [name]," professional racer!dazai smiles softly when he sees your excited expression. "Holy shit! holy shit! holy shit! holy shit!!!" you jump, running up to dazai and bear hugging him. "exact model and color huh?" dazai laughs, handing you the keys as you nod, "perfect!" — the perfect car you've been longing for since you first laid eyes on it.

belongs to @churuai DONT STEAL >:(((

taglist (free to join!): @luvan1 @bfdazai @asqmi @squigglewigglewoo @liviash @doonifox @ishqani

other tags 🩷: @atlasnessie @xxcandlelightxx @bandshirts-andbooks

[shanieveh]

REVERSE 01 ↺: hi, i love you

wriothesley x fem!reader smau

now playing: niki — take a chance with me

That's life basically.... although Wriothesley is quite literally the biggest fish in the sea, known as the the biggest catch, the lengths you go through to get him still brings shock to people's faces. It only gives one the hypothesis that your obsession love you have for this man runs deep.

But if only they knew... oh okay tmi!!!

"Interesting..." you see Charlotte peeking through your phone—this gossip! you snatched her notes:

'Wriothesley Craze! Life from an Obsessed Fan's perspective'

You then began tearing it to pieces much to her whining and crying. With that, classes began, you open your notebooks with pictures full of him and his defined biceps.

His big game will be next week and you will make sure, oh you will ABSOLUTELY make sure, you will scream and cheer the loudest. After all, seeing his dangerous smirk and his relaxed glare, you're already giddy and focus gone while imagining as the teacher calls you much to your uninterested sigh. This killjoy.

Just as you were about to sleep, the most important notification posted. Ding!

And just like that another picture to be printed. Your innocent teenage crush on this man was taking quite the toll on your mental health, but he's just... he's so perfect.

You can't seem to describe it, but there was no part in you that don't approve of your actions. And even if every valentines he rejects you, or every christmas he puts aside your gifts. Just being on his side, just knowing his thoughts it was enough for you.

This life was enough for you. He was enough.

Hours passed and you finish all your homeworks quietly in the school library. Many have this stereotype that the duke has your whole heart, but that was not true at all.

At least, now when you're doing homework or with your friends.

After all everyone has their limit to desires, everything breaks once its pivotal point is shattered.

But as you schedule the big game in your calendar, you knew it won't be having anytime soon as you read 'Pride and Prejudice' and imagine him as Darcy who'll beg for forgiveness for his constant ignoring and rejecting!

Maybe one day he'll have to do this constant chase, and you'll be:

"Your selfish disdain for the feeling of others made me realize that you were the last man i could ever be prevailed upon to marry!"

You clench your fist to the sky as you deliver it like an oscar-winning actress with a posh and a british accent. In an embarassing moment you looked around to see if anyone saw you in the act, but only the winds and crickets answered back. Thank God.

With that thought, giggles emitted as you exit the library to your home, day over. But little did you know the oldest saying in the book, the walls... have ears.

———————————[ 01 —↺— 02 ]———————————

the whole campus knows about your 3 year crush on the student body president and basketball captain wriothesley. you were fine with his constant ignoring and rejections until something happened, until you stopped, and a reverse took place... now he won't leave you alone.

taglist: @vash-yuu @nayukiyukihira @aethion @whodissbitj @astolary @ayayaaayyiire @randomidk-123 @superdark-soul @sleepy-waffle @kittywagun @ceaether @ichorstainedskin @numwoon44 @eutopiastar @reni502 @fictionalfantasy17 @lucienbarkbark @kyon-cherri @huanator @jqnehr @yourlittlemissworld @zworllyx @unknownlololol @sara-midnight @jaguarthecat @we-wo-we-wo @duhsies @interstellar-equilibrium @ariparri @lolmeowing @aruatsu @k-cris @quacking-simp @vlamouren @semi-orangeapple @tamikahoshiko @imnotgoodwithnamessoidk @portgas459ace @r4yyyyy @vxnuslogy @kazuhasmaid @explosive-wuisa @falors @rirk-ke @shotovhs @aixaingela @ruhaxol @yelleloww

[lovethetasteofnothing]

You have a thing for accents, they find out/ you have an accent - TF 141, Los Vaqueros + Farah + Valeria + Alex

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙

includes: captain price, simon "ghost" riley, kyle "gaz" garrick, johnny "soap" mactavish, kate laswell, farah karim, alex keller, alejandro vargas, rodolfo "rudy" parra, valeria garza (everyone getting fed today; yes the boys get their smutty content too)

gn!reader, except for laswell x fem!reader (she's a lesbian, argue w the wall), fem terms of endearment

warnings: nsfw content, dirty talk (like a lot), degradation kink, praise kink (yes, you get both) reader has a tendecy to repeat words they like the sound of (pretty much copies the way they say it bc it sounds nice), multiple themes idk what i'm talking about atp

word count: 2.5k+, aprox. 250 words/ character

enjoy <3

Captain John Price

he doesn't notice it at first, he just thinks you're smiling because his dad jokes are good

you say he sounds like a regular British dad at a football match (yes, football, I'm European too)

it makes his day because if he hadn't joined the military he would have probably been one by now

you call him Bravo 0-6 sometimes, you say it in his accent because why wouldn't you

repeating his favorite phrases from missions that he brags about because you think it's cute

insert cute Price smiley face here when he hears you(bc i love it so much)

you asked him for wa-ah once, he still isn't over it

you call him a lad/old man if his accent becomes really prominent

but you can't help the way his words make your heart race and the way he says them...

your underwear is sopping wet, your honor!

you freeze up and blush when he pulls off the filthiest sentence in a British accent

when he starts talking dirty during sex you can't help but moan louder/twitch/squeeze around him

that's when he figures it out

it kind of just connects in his brain and he uses it to his advantage

"look at the way you're taking me so good, princess"

will not let you live, constantly teases you about it

he'd call you 'princess' and 'duckling'

you quack at him if you're reallly feeling silly

recorded you doing it once, his favorite video of you by far

Simon "Ghost" Riley

you call him posh just to annoy him

gives you the hardest side eye of your entire life and you take it back

you tell him the Queen died and he doesn't have to keep the act up when he really pushes it (he calls you a tosser)

insert one of his dad jokes in here

you only laugh because you love him and your humor is broken

probably uses 'bloody' on the regular; calls you 'luv' and 'pet" 100%

like that man could just pull out a "What in the bloody hell did you just do, pet?" and you'd turn back time to make him happy

calls you his princess. emphasis on 'his" because it's never missing

definitely also the type of person to just copy whatever you said if he likes the way it sounds

when you're arguing, you just copy the phrases he said as arguments

good that the mask hides his smile or he'd always lose

loves the fact that you use terms of endearment in your native language for him (for my multilingual babes)

struggles to learn your native language but still tries

listens in on your conversations just so he can learn it better

upset when he can't learn bc his job doesn't give him enough time

turns into a big softie if you scold him in it

you record phone calls and save voice notes so you can listen to them while he's gone on missions

just the sound of his voice is so hot comforting

dirty talker supreme! i feel like he'd praise you more but there's a hint of degradation

just like a sparkle and he'd ask you five times beforehand if it's okay with you

you can't help it when your brain goes blank, the sound of his voice filling up every single corner of your mind (his dick does the same)

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

you also call him posh

actually pulls out a posh accent to egg you on

you're both laughing so hard by the end of it

pulls out the most British of British sentences and leaves you shocked because the only word you understood was 'and'

clap because that's impressive

loves your accent if you have one

makes you say a word three times because he's fucking head over heels for the way your voice sounds

dirty talk champ!

but only when he feels like it

makes you beg for him to do it because he thinks you look cute on your knees so pouty

"my love, look at you getting all wet just from the sound of my voice. isn't that cute?"

his laugh!!

makes you laugh too even if nothing is funny

sends you long voice notes with how his day went or cuddles you on the couch while doing it

and you just sit and nod while listening, not saying a word

not because you're bored but because you love listening to the way he emphasizes certain words

type of boyfriend to send you a podcast of a debrief of his activities

he does it while coming back from missions even though his voice is so tired

and it just makes your heart skip a beat because it tingles your brain in the right spot

groggy morning voice, his accent all over the place, stumbling over his words because he got home late last night and barely slept

mumbles incoherent compliments? confessions? before you kiss him and make him get more rest

Johnny "Soap" Mactavish

literally pulls out the most Scottish sentence out of his ass

and you fold for some reason???

he's confused because he's used to Ghost telling him to speak English but you just nod along

you also ask him to translate because you don't understand

you pick up some of the phrases he likes to say and use them around your friends before you realize they won't understand

you try to decipher his accent sometimes

you either nod along even though you don't understand and hope you don't need the context

or you ask him to use less Scottish terminology/tone down his accent

you'd repeat certain phrases he says, out loud when doing random things

it melts his heart

he'd say the funniest joke ever and laugh at it for 10 minutes before realizing you didn't understand him

he explains it, you laugh because you don't want to hurt his feelings (it was a dad joke)

giggled a little the first time he talked dirty, you were flustered already and couldn't hold it back

you make him send you voice notes/ call you when you're masturbating now

his fucking pleasure tbh, has to hide from his team so they don't hear him spewing the filthiest shit known to man

someone caught him once, he said he was talking to his mom

Gaz is now confused as to why he would use 'cunt' in a conversation with his mom

starts saying his Scottish lover's speech and you mumble parts of it because you already know it by heart

you actually start saying it with him at some point

Kate Laswell

really concerned? but also not surprised that you have an accent/voice kink

like wdym call you 'her angel' again because you need to hear the way she says it

pulls out American mom slang on you

you call her mommy as a joke, it wasn't a joke

she catches on because it's not the first time you did it but doesn't say anything about it

understands people with heavy accents like almost perfectly

"i have to"

would pick up little words in your native language

you would also pick up her mom monologue

so when soap does something dumb and you start scolding him like Laswell would you're a little shocked

she'd be somewhere nearby and hear you, little proud smile on her lips

you have to explain whatever slang you're using to her

finally understands what gaz and soap say afterwards

i dont think she'd be big on dirty talk

so when it slips out once, you stare at her in confusion before processing her words

you beg her to do it more often

literally sitting on her lap while she does her paperwork (surprising that she even let you do that)

and you whisper sweet nothings in her ear, trying to convince her to take a break and relax

"come on, hun, you know I can't do that. people depend on me" in that cute concerned tone of hers <3 <3

pulls out the filthiest flirting tactics known to man when a little drunk

"how about you sit there and look pretty for me?" and you do

she pulls you in her car and fingers you until you're screaming while whispering about how cute you sound

it changes your brain chemistry

Farah Karim

disappointed but not surprised

she feeds into your kink thing just because she can

catches you staring in awe when she speaks in Arabic, finds it adorable

lowkey find the way she talks mesmerizing

like you can listen to her voice and watch the way she gesticulates for hours on end

has that leader/public speaker charisma to her that gets you hooked

barks orders at you because she forgets she's not on mission

apologizes immediately because you're her baby and she feels bad about it

also scolds you in Arabic before translating

bilingual queen chastises you in two languages because you did something dumb

but you die inside whenever she praises you

"my good girl, you did well" like yes ma'am, yes you did and you'll do it again if it means you can hear those words coming out of her mouth again

tries to do dirty talk but fails miserably (her face is too serious istg)

makes you un-horny not because it's that bad but because you're laughing so hard for like 10 minutes, you have to comfort her afterwards bc she's sulking not amused

you just weren't used to it

asks Alex for tips on how to improve (she's really sacrificing her dignity for you)

decided to use her new skills when you were close to climaxing because you'd probably be too dazed to care at that point

you weren't, you still remember her words to this day

you play back every single filthy thing she ever said when you masturbate

Alex Keller

our American boy™

you make him do the college bro accent

you both end up laughing on the floor because you joined in and made it funnier

pure chaos ensues

if you have an accent he'd look at you with the most lovestruck eyes

literally grinning ear to ear if you speak in your native language, this man is the biggest simp known to exist

wants to hear jokes in your native language even though they make no sense when translated

he can mimick some British slang/ can say some words in a British accent

you tell him to stick to his American English because he's hurting your ears

you mimick him lovingly when he uses really American phrases/ his accent becomes really white boy™ from the USA

he flirts in frat boy sometimes but it's Alex so you find it cute

another dirty talk champ!

like his voice is so smooth and soothing while he says it. his face is just unbothered, maybe a little smirk under his mustache

"such a sweet angel, already soaking for my dick, hm?"

insert ocean cosplay here

I feel like he'd mimick Siri and be on point

also reads you books while you try to sleep, his voice really does wonders whenever you have insomia

you make him record himself reading so you can listen to it on repeat while he's on duty

Valeria Garza

she figures it out in the first week of dating you

you still don't understand how she did it, you weren't that obvious

she said Chicago once (literally went feral over cartel mommy)

it plays on loop in your mind at random times and you have to ask her to say it again so it stops, she refuses sometimes just to see you suffer

you also copy her facial expressions and her gestures when you repeat something she says

lowkey impressed by how spot on you are, thinks of ways to use it for her own benefit

teaches you Spanish!!! she'd do it herself and give you hw while she's gone on business trips

she'd bend you over her lap and spank you for every question you got wrong

speaks whole dialogues with you in Spanish just to encourage you to learn, would not translate if you didn't understand (her lap looking hella empty rn)

so happy when you can finally understand most of her sentences but doesn't show it, just praises you

"Qué bonito... que bien ahí. Well done" (iykyk, I watch that scene religiously)

Spanglish all the way when she's fucking you

She'd just slide her strap in and degrade you

"Such a greedy slut for me. Aren't you, muñequita?" she wouldn't move until you confirmed it with words

"Eres una chica tan patética" (google translate pulls through until i actually learn Spanish)

she started arguing in Spanish with you at some point, you got wet

she had to stop when she noticed you were looking at her like that

Alejandro Vargas

literally frat boy flirting archetype

but he's so nice and you can't help giggling when he calls you those cute nicknames in Spanish

you start calling him Vaquero because really look at him, tell me he wouldn't be a ranch hand if he weren't in the military

spews out the most toe curling, smutty sentences in Spanish because he knows you don't understand

literally only does it so he can see your cute confused face

would also teach you Spanish

had a period of time when he would refuse to use English with you because you needed to learn

he stopped when you cried in frustration (literally lasted 3 hours)

big simp if you have an accent

just smiles while you talk and when you ask him why he just shrugs

learns random cute phrases in your first language and says them while you least expect it

you had to stop for a second and take it in before blushing

you sometimes share one singular multilingual braincell

when neither of you can remember the word in English or in any other language

the toaster is now officially the bread torch

figures out you have a thing for accents when you keep talking about how nice he sounds while speaking Spanish

it's being used against you

"Eres un cachorro tan guarro~

makes fun of you because you listen to his voice notes on repeat sometimes

he caught you doing it once and now he brings it up biweekly

Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra

my fav vaquero (sorry Alejandro) bc he's just so sweet

literally praises everything you do, bonus points if it's in Spanish

makes your heart beat so fast

if you get mad he'd wrap his arms around you while trying to calm you down

"Calma, bebé. Take it easy"

and it works? like the moment you hear his voice and his gentle words you're calm again

there's something tranquil about the way he says stuff

mostly uses Spanish right after waking up

gruffy voice + him whispering sweet nothings in your ear

and you understand most of it because he took his sweet time to teach you

corrects you in the sweetest way possible

so happy when you learned how to roll your Rs

begs you to say it again because it makes his heart flutter

soft dom who loves to praise you even if you're being a brat

"Ah mi princesita, you're being so cute right now. " while he's pinning you down and pressing kisses to your whole body

literally kills you with kindness

like you're really going to be a brat after he calls you all those sweet names???

literally giggling and moaning at the same time because you're flustered

like this man is really telling you he loves you while he's balls deep in you

struggles to learn your native language

powers through tho

stumbles on his words and you help him out (that cute boy smile on his face when he gets it right)

rarely yells but when he does...

he got mad at someone over the phone and you overheard him

changes your brain structure

and then he picks you up to complain about it, his annoyed voice literally fueling scenarios to your brain

[solaneceae]

nest

a team bolas oneshot (read on ao3) this one is all fluff and found family and all that cute shit.

Some days aren’t as bad as the others. As far as Team Red is concerned, day Four is one of the better ones, because their minds aren’t as hazy with the fog of war and bloodlust and they can actually, finally think properly. “The others will want our heads today,” Phil grunts, ripping stray roots off the black stone wall to free up a little alcove. (Jaiden will want to put red candles in there, he thinks, right in the middle of the many gas masks hooked to the cold stone. Add to the ambiance.) “We won twice in a row, so I think they’ll just try to trap and spaw-kill us."

“That’s low,” Foolish hums, places a Baghera skull on the improvised altar they’ve set up in the center of their little cave. Cellbit did a good job picking it free of flesh, and its smooth, bleached white surface makes a stark contrast against the red stone. “And boring.”

“Maybe, but they’ll be desperate after the bullshit we pulled yesterday,” the crow snorts, glancing back at the rest of the group — Charlie is recovering from a pretty bad glitching episode in his little ‘hot tub’, his form melted into goopy blob mode to conserve energy. Cellbit is off on the other side of the base, humming into their comms to let them know he’s close, not gone, stay, stay. Baghera has been cooking something in a hidden corner of the base, something she doesn’t want any of them to see yet. Jaiden is perched onto makeshift scaffolding, a bucket in her hand and the other dripping red, tracing lines and curves onto the wall. Carré sits among their chests, checking over weapons and food and head-deep in inventory work. He’s been spending more time with them lately, which Phil is grateful for. Carré is strong (“Carré, more like Carry!” “The goat, the goat!” "La Bestia Argentinia!"), Carré is funny, and more importantly, Carré is one of them. 

The old crow’s heart swells up with pride, pride for what his team had accomplished despite their natural disavantage. He feels lucky to be among fellow hybrids, fellow avians, hindbrain thrumming pleasantly with the proximity. His diaphragm vibrates with the low croon of flock, flockmates, yesyes, and he hears Jaiden and Baghera echo the sentiment back to him, in their respective high-pitched trills and throaty quacks.

Purgatory was Hell. Everyone had been blinded by competition and percentages and the weightless promise of getting some eggs back, unable to consider that hey, maybe the fucking cyclops that despises us and calls us sinner is fucking lying, hello! Too too focused on winning and competing to see the bigger picture like he did, but there was nothing he could do about it for now. So if he couldn’t protect his eggs, he’d settle for the next best thing and protect team Bolas. Flock. Family… 

His eyes cloud over, memories of pain and betrayal drowning the world out in static-fuzz. Étoiles had stabbed him in the back after promising to be there for him. Fit had struck him down like a heartless machine, his face steely and without the slighest trace of emotion, and Phil knows the man has serious trauma from 2b2t but he can’t bring himself to care right now. (Fuck them. Fuck everyone that isn’t on his team. The communicator strapped to his wrist still shows unread messages from Tubbo, and he refuses to read them.)

“Still can’t believe we won that, honestly,” the conure chirps from atop her bamboo scaffolding as she paints the cave wall in dripping red. Phil doesn’t know what she used to make the dye, and he won’t ask. “But yeah, I think we should just stay inside today. Let them look for us, we ain’t fucking budging.”

“They won’t find us, yes?” Carré asks, accent heavy and whistle-y as he closes the chests and hides them behind hanging vines. “They could, they could look at the map and see.”

“Nah. Cellbit made sure that the place shows up like a natural cave in maps, and our stuff is scattered enough. They won’t find it, unless they zoom the fuck in and spend five minutes checking every single cave in the area. We’re good.” Cellbit’s smart, so fucking smart, Philza Minecraft is so fucking proud right now. “How’s the food situation?”

The Argentinian smirks. “Bastante bien. Zanahorias y pan, suficiente para un día o dos.”

“He says we got carrots and bread, enough for a day or two,” Foolish pipes up, and Phil is so fucking glad he and Cellbit are here to make up for the lack of their usual translators, left behind outside of Hell. “Soooo, technically, we shouldn’t need to commit self-cannibalism today. Unless you’re down for some medium-rare chicken breast.”

“Not a chicken, you fucker,” Baghera yells out from afar. “And you don’t medium rare chicken, you want to catch salmonelle?”

“I can’t!” the shark-totem boasts with a flash of razor-sharp teeth. “Iron stomach! Comes with being part-totem.”

“Please don’t actually immolate yourselves,” Phil rolls his eyes, washing his hands in clean water (at least they have that, thank fuck) before plopping down in front of the campfire. How they haven’t suffocated in smoke with fire in a closed up space is beyond them, but maybe they have and he’s just dreaming all of this. Wouldn’t be the first time his mind fucks with his perception of reality. “We can’t make beds, so if you die you’ll just spawn right into Bad and the other’s hands. We don’t want that, you don’t want that.”

“I really don’t,” Cellbit says, his bulky frame appearing from behind a stalagmite. His jacket is strapped around his waist, for now clean of blood, cat-like eyes gleaming in the dim light. It’s the most clear-headed Phil’s seen him yet. “The elevator’s done by the way, shouldn’t show up on the map.”

“And the sound?” Carré checks, ever-vigilant and detail-oriented. Cellbit shrugs and grins, exposing sharp fangs. “Haven’t figured that one out yet. But it doesn’t matter for now, since none of us are going out. Fuck today, right?”

“Fuck today!” Jaiden woops, jumping down the scaffolding to admire her handiwork — a great frieze depicting all six of them in bright, darkening red, all donning masks of course. “We’re going all moleman up in this shit.”

“Holy fuck,” Foolish laughs, bark-like, clapping enthusiastically at the display. “Oh, oh, I almost want the others to find our base just so we can see their reaction.”

“Oh my god, that would be so fucking funny. They expect an iron farm and crops everywhere, and they get the gas mask and blood cult.”

“I finished!” Baghera pops her head out from behind the wall, waving at them with her beak stretched into a ducky smile. “Come see, come see!”

Baghera has built them a nest. An honest-to-god, proper nest, and Philza could cry actually. “Where did you even get all this stuff?” Cellbit whistles, impressed, patting the comfy-looking amalgamation of moss and large leaves and colourful strips of cloth. Baghera smiles. “I have my ways,” she faux-whispers, and everyone knows that her ‘ways’ just amounts to wandering around getting lost until she spots something of interest. Which seems to always work out for her somehow, to be fair.

Phil can spot feathers woven into it here and there, pale yellow and white and blue and black. “So that’s why you wanted those,” Jaiden oooh's, thinking back to their first preening session back at their old base. Baghera nods, the feathers on her neck puffed up in excitement. “Yes, exactly. I thought it would be nice, for a nest. Do you guys like it?” she preens, and the others cheer her on because yes, it’s great Baghz, oh we so fuckin' do. The duck glances at Philza, wings ruffling, and she croons out inquisitively. happy? proud? The crow cocks his head, yesyes’s back at her, because he does like it — it’s plush and colorful and just the right size for all of them to huddle, and her face lights up with joy. “Yes! I’m glad,” she laughs, adjusting a stray piece of cloth near the center. “You wanna add something in it?”

Cellbit donates his jacket, all rips and tears and darker areas where blood used to soak the fabric. Jaiden weaves in some flowers she found the day before while Charlie, now back to his not-too-goopy self, shoves pieces of glowing stone into glass vials filled with slime to make his own version of lava lamps that he places strategically around their new resting place. (“Now there’s pieces of me watching over us at night!” “That’s so gross, I love it.”). Phil unties a ribbon from his robes and lets Carré wrap it around a few emeralds to hang them up above the nest, like some sort of mobile. Cellbit in particular eyes it with rapt fascination, the moving glint on the polished surface of the gems making his pupils expand and his fingers twitch. “Check this shit out,” Foolish boasts as he burns through stacks and stacks of strings to form a tightly-knitted blanket, the other cheering him on as he does and throwing in different dyes in no particular order or pattern. “Eso Foolish!” Carré shouts, everyone else joining him, accents and all.

Baghera is choking on barely-repressed sobs by the end of it, a crack in her ‘I’m fine’ mask. “I wanted to make a nest, with my kids,” she confesses, trapped between five other bodies as they all sit inside. There’s dark tear tracks on her face, still dusty from working on the cave earlier. “With Pomme, and Dapper.” Her hand fiddles with the little charms around her wrist, crudely-shaped pieces of wood shaped like an apple and a tophat, attached to a red ribbon. “I miss them.”

(She misses her kids, she misses her brother, she misses her best friend and father of her son. And she knows that Bad and her briefly talked the day before, that he spared her after she pulled her puppy eyes on him. He still loves her, she knows, and she still loves him. But it still hurts to know he won’t hesitate to drive a sword through her body next time.)

Day Four goes by slowly, punctuated by the occasional death message from Gay Ninjas or Soulfire, and many, manyrequests for red team to ‘come out and die already’. They ignore it all, too busy feeding the fire and tearing their voices out singing, Slime and Baghera being the menaces they are and outlasting everyone else, although Cellbit and Carré put up quite the fight. The Argentinian, usually fairly withdrawn, gradually opens up and cracks them up with perfectly-timed quips and easy smiles. Baghera asks him for PvP tips, just so she can not immediately die whenever another team raids them, and they spar with sticks while everyone cheers her on. “You’re one of us Carré,” Jaiden woops, pulling him into a side-hug and gently batting at his back with a wing. “I don’t care that those ears and tail are fake, you’re one of us freaks.”

“Honorary hybrid, nice!” Foolish nods. “He already barks perfectly.”

“Cats don’t bark, asshole,” Cellbit pipes up, and Phil wheezes with laughter because oh, he just wasn’t denying it anymore, was he? “Speaking from experience I take it?”

“Shut up dad,” the Brazilian sputters, but he’s smiling, and the crow rolls his eyes at the nickname. “Dadza!” Baghera quacks, her feathery tail wiggling in amusement. “Please don’t go and buy milk though. Don’t be Kameto,” she pleads, and Phil almost falls over losing it. He loves these little shits.

Slime decides to climb up a pile of scaffolding as the evening approaches (which they can only tell from the comms, because no outside light reaches them deep underground) and raises his arms towards the gem-encrusted ceiling of their new home, belting out an improvised sermon with his karaoke-destroyed vocal cords. He speaks of masks and sins, of death-touched angels and base instincts, of the beauty of caves and the song of Mother Earth, eyes wide and shining with fervour behind his thick glasses. They all listen and cheer when his speech warrants it, the flames casting eerie shadows onto the walls as they all start dancing to a music only they can hear.

Foolish, Jaiden, Baghera and Charlie’s eyes all start to flicker green-violet as they start smiling a little too wide, laugh a little too brokenly, and Cellbit has to quell Phil’s sudden concern with a tired smile. “It’s like your Death-touch, Phil,” he explains, referring to the strange wither effect Phil’s attacks had gained recently, whenever things got… intense. “Entity stuff.”

“Enigma do Chaos!” Charlie yells, and barely avoids the rock Cellbit throws at him. “Bitch!”

"They’re okay, just… four Chaos-bound together can be a lot when they start syncing up like this. Just be ready to throw water on them if they get too crazy, or something.”

“Can I choose my entity, when we get home?” Carré asks, and Cellbit looks like Christmas just came early. “Sure man, holy shit. Please do.”

“Oh he’s Chaos for sure,” Jaiden laughs, gesturing at Carré who’s just starting doing Casualonas in the empty air, undeterred by their intense cackling — Baghera and Charlie are now dancing together, and it’s wild and uncoordinated, almost a fight. “Now if Felps logs on we can have a party.”

“Oh, meu deus,” Cellbit winces. “No no, we can’t have six Chaos players on at the same time, we’ll actually blow up this place and die.” Foolish yells out a high-pitched yeaaaaah! at that and starts barking again, and it’s all over, everyone else putting their masks on and barking at the metaphorical moon until they all end up on the floor, dizzy and sweaty and twitching with remnant giggles.

“Where’d the blanket go?” Charlie slurs out, blindly feeling out the soft ground in search of it. His glasses have fallen at some point earlier, and he can’t be bothered to look for them even though he can’t see shit. Baghera and Jaiden have passed out already, huddled together against the edge of the nest, Jaiden’s larger wings around the both of them. Foolish takes a break in his own nesting to throw it at him. “Thanks dude.”

“Get yourself into a burrito,” Cellbit orders, fiddling with his trusty knife at the center of the nest. “Your codified bits leech off heat like crazy.”

“Es fresco,” Carré confirms, poking at Slime’s uncorrupted arm. His finger dips into greenish skin, not quite going in, but close. “¿Por eso te llamas así? Like, popsicle.”

“Oh, I’m sorry mister Living Heater,” the slime hybrid scoffs, but there’s no heat to it — literally and figuratively. “Get your ass over here and cuddle me dammit.”

“Still married, Slime.”

“Hey— hey now, I know I’ve got a bit of a reputation, alright? But this cave is cold and damp, and I very much fuck with that usually, but my timer’s about to run out and send me into fuckin’— Sleepytime Junction, and this place is throwing me all out of whack and you run the warmest out of all of us I want me a heat pack, slash p. P means platonic, if you didn’t know.”

Cellbit’s hindbrain does a little jolt at the word. Pack, it whispers, a hum-buzz making his brain a little stupid. He glances at the others, at Jaiden with her head cushioned against Baghera’s chest fluff, Foolish curling up against her back with a tired sigh. He sees Phil right behind them, propped up against the moss and out cold as well — not because he chose to, but because his timer ran out earlier when he was trying to wrangle everyone into not drawing dicks and vulvas on the walls. His body had swayed as the device strapped to his wrist buzzed ominously, sending targeted jolts of electricity up his nervous system and into his hypothalamus to force him into unconsciousness. Carré had caught him, fortunately, saving him from one killer headache next morning.

“...Fine,” Cellbit relents, discarding his knife outside the nest before shuffling over to the others. Charlie flashes him a triumphant smile and plops down next to Baghera, who stirs with a quiet croon as the slime hybrid runs his non-code hand through her left wing, straightening out some feathers stuck in an awkward angle. Carré settles a little to the side, happy to be close to everyone but still needing a little more personal space than the rest of them, and the detective lets Charlie lean into his side with a click-chrrr noise he cannot parse. Cellbit blinks, replies with a hesitant mrrrp. Carré makes a terrible and inaccurate meowing noise and the Brazilian hisses at him for it. “Just wanted to feel included, pendejo!” the human laughs, and it’s bittersweet. (He misses Roier.)

Cellbit sighs, body sinking into the plush bottom of the nest (their, theirs. Pack-flock.) Charlie seizes slightly as his comm goes off with a little beep-beep as it reaches zero, and he goes limp against him. He blinks, staring out at the emeralds slowly spinning above them and resisting the urge to bat at them, play, play, hunt! “No hunting today,” he reminds himself with a whisper.

He looks higher, at the small blue and purple gems jutting out of the dark stone ceiling. They are gleaming in the orange light of the dying fire, like a pale imitation of stars in the night sky. His eyes trace their constellations anyway (a capybara. a duck. a sword. a boat.), mindlessly matching his own breathing with the sounds of his team’s soft exhales, in. Out. In. Charlie glitches, just a little bit, a garbled whine escaping his throat. Cellbit loops an arm around him to pull him closer, a very quiet purr rattling his chest, and the hybrid settles. He feels the edge of Jaiden and Baghera's wings against his hair, Phil’s hip digging into his shoulder. He hears Foolish snoring, he hears Carré’s toss-and-turn because he’s a restless sleeper, that one.

And he can smell them all, their comforting presence, hidden underneath the scent of blood and grime (they really need to take a bath tomorrow, or his nose will start to itch). The scent of them, each one distinct and unique and burned into his memory-hindbrain.

Seasalt and gold, and the subtle tang of divinity. 

Ozone-void, bone, and the honey-tar of nightshade. 

Steel and wool, thick and scratchy in his nose. 

Apples and moss, fresh snow. 

Quartz and poppies, the smell of the sky before rainfall. 

And closest to him, slime, and the electric tingle of a thunderstorm on his tongue. Tongue he has to keep firmly in his mouth before he does something stupid, like trying to groom his sleeping friend’s mop of dirty blonde hair. (Curse this place, exacerbating their mob instincts like this.)

He hears his timer go off, a spike of startled anxiety. Then he relaxes, his brain buzzing with sleep, sleep, and the world melts into cotton-soft, warm darkness.

Tomorrow is another day. And today… today was okay.

[primeministerofantarctica]

so. turns out this was easier than i thought

ignore the two generic smurfs after smurfette they're just there bc the formatting sucks :/

also i couldn't find a finance smurf but he belongs in the "burn in smurf hell'' category <3

also i have time to kill so. list below the cut!

1. Clumsy - sweetheart. doesn't have a mean bone in their body. very autistic.

2. Lazy - i don't know how to explain lazy being an unintentional allegory for people with invisible disabilities that are considered a burden and. lazy under capitalism. but he has a big heart and cares about his friends even when they're less than considerate towards him (seriously, WHAT was the slumber party episode? were they like, intentionally trying to torture him?)

3. Jokey - "Oh, the folly of a clown, masking his loneliness with a joke!" <- person who definitely doesn't have any internal issues :). Also can we just appreciate the fact that he has ONE main prank and everybody still falls for it. (not to mention that the prank is. giving people bombs)

4. Timid - he BABY

5. Scaredy - he baby 2

6. Smurfette - specifically lost village smurfette cuz that was where she peaked. you go girl give us an identity crisis and journey of self-discovery only to find the answer was with you all along!

7. Greedy - comics/ 2021 specifically, because him and chef being distinct characters is funny as hell. he's so cute i would totally give him a muffin if he asked.

8. Harmony - he sucks so bad at what he's supposed to be best at! and i think that's so interesting and criminally underexplored! and every time he gets the other smurfs to like his music it ends badly :(.

9. Painter - dramatic ass bitch (affectionate). why was he the only french person in belgium.

10. Doctor - i assume that one's doctor at least. it is now. anyways he's funny as hell, like harmony he's also...bad at his passion. he doesn't have a reason to be a quack, he's just. Like That.

11. Reporter - I like his voice.

12. Poet - there is NO need to speak in couplets all the time, he's so extra.

13. Tailor - "*terrible Kip King impression* EVERYBODY STOP COMPLAINING OR I'LL SCREAM." He's really nice, he made Smurfette that dress in one episode even though he was busy, and he made Tracker a fur coat out of the scraps he gave him and Vanity a scarf with his face hand-embroidered on it just because? AND more importantly, he's very blunt. i like that :)

14. Hefty - no no you didn't see my love for strong muscular guys that are kind and caring and totally whipped for that one girl. ok he's not maws level but like. if you can put "she's so high" by tal bachman in a ship playlist then you've got a valid m/f ship

15. Grouchy - let him say hate again oh god please i will tear my ears out if i have to hear "me, I don't like x" again. fuckin WEAK. also the grammar i wanna curl up on the floor and cry.

16. Farmer - remember when all the smurfs only wore white pants so to distinguish farmer from the others he would just be randomly carrying a hoe for no reason. also his accent is SO silly in the new cartoon i love it.

17. Vanity - just...watch this.

18. Brainy - i'm sorry for putting him so low brainy fans can you ever forgive me /hj. with all fairness i do think he's an interesting character! he's just...interesting in a way that doesn't really appeal to me specifically.

19. Handy - i feel like he would build a doomsday device if he got bored one afternoon and honestly? i respect that.

20. Papa Smurf - sometimes he's a good father figure. sometimes he's a terrible "father figure". it depends on the medium. and the direction of the wind.

21. King (pretentious) Smurf - made a whole authoritarian regime in like. two days. what the hell man.

22. Finance - capitalist :/

[dhmis-brainrot-side]

Just my ocs and headcanons for the main group

Melody Jones my oc -

Tied with Harry for second oldest at 32

A purple cat that's taller than David (only just enough though)

About 5"6

Nurturing

Autistic & ADHD

Best breakfast cook

Asexual aromantic

Shares David's bed platonically

Introduced David to age-regression

Acts as David's care giver when he regresses

Stims with hand flappies and swaying

Angel Jones my oc -

The newest and youngest member of the house at 4 years old

A blue cocker spaniel puppy that Melody adopted

Loves his "big brothers"

Calls Harry uncle Red

Calls Syd uncle Quack

Often toddles around after Harry following the feline's tail

Loves Syd's stories

Harry Peterson -

Tied with Melody for second oldest at 32

Tallest housemate 6"4

Autistic

Has a tail

Best at making up a song or story on the spot

Best dinner cook

Second best at acting as a caregiver for David

Sees Melody as a sister

Big dad energy

Married to Sydney

Stims with his tail mainly but also patting with his left hand or stroking someone's hair

Kicks a foot when tickled

Sydney (Syd) Peterson -

Oldest at 36

3"8

Has anger issues

Not quite OCD but prefers things a certain way

Absolutely best dessert maker

Married to Harry

Has a playfully bickery friendship with Melody but appreciates her 

Not as harsh on David now that Melody lives there but still slips up

Stims with arm flapping and foot stomping

Drag Queen

David Pierson -

Youngest at 22

4"2

Moved in to escape his abusive dad

Autistic

Uses healthy age regression

Sees Melody like a mother

Has a sweet tooth

Only let's Melody call him Dave

Melody keeps his batteries at about 50% charge 

A leash 'kid' or holds Melody's/Harry's tail gently (not an actual leash but those wrist ones)

Loves light up sneakers

Prone to night terrors about his dad

Clingy in his sleep

Loves the motion of rocking chairs 

Stims with hand flapping, swaying, hand tapping and foot stomping

Pig hybrid (has pig hoof like feet, tusks, a snout and a tail)

"Manny" Gribbleston -

A fully charged David

David pulled him out of the mirror in the kitchen

He works to translate the tome and often corrects the teachers when they visit

Got invited to live in the house with the others and ends up with a bed all his own

Acts like David's older brother

Workaholic 

Stims by foot stomping and hand tapping

Pig hybrid (has pig hoof like feet, tusks, a snout and a tail)

Ray Pierson -

Roy's twin brother (so David's uncle)

A widower

Bleaches his hair but the 5 O clock shadow and mustache are still blue

Has a faint Scottish accent that gets thicker when he's annoyed

Truly cares for his nephew

Nothing like Roy

Visits often

In a queerplatonic relationship with Melody

(He may not be mentioned or written about often but this was so people have an idea if his name comes up)

[bom-bombon]

Helloooo can you gives us headcanons over illojuan

ABSOLUTELY!!!!

I think my boi Juanito is like Willy in that he just likes causing trouble. I always describe him to my friends as a little shit. He’s a troll! There’s no real reason or explanation for his actions, just that he think they’re so funny

When I think of Illojuan, I think of him as some guy. He's not extraordinary like the rest of the boys; he's just a silly, simple dude! Bro keeps to himself

Actually, he uses that invisibility to his advantage to commit crimes, frame others, etc.

To me, he's BiAce

This isn’t really my headcanon, I read about it on twitter, however, I like the idea that Illo and Quackity treat each other like brothers. They teach each other their respective Spanish accents and vocabulary (though I feel like they will both try to troll each other with that or worse, to their friends). They would see each other at an event and think “oh yeah, its gonna be a fun day” and like fuck with each other. Sometimes when Quackity needs to rant, he goes to Juan and let it out, and in the meantime, Juan is just eating it all up cuz he is a fucking chismoso. You know how I said before that he’s a simple dude who mostly stays away from drama, that doesn’t mean he will not listen in to all that drama with popcorn. Or worse, cause the drama. Also, he’d probably convince Quackity into getting him to work for him too like for instance, cleaning up the chiringuito as he just rants. If he’s being honest with himself, Juan do like Quacks around and sees him as the closest thing to family

Speaking of duos, I think my favorite one involving Juan is with Sapo Peta, the Cupid Duo. I just love their dynamic so much. Actually, I need to ask: did y’all remember when Illo was like “me gustas” to Sapo Peta? If you haven't seen it, here it is. I find it too funny to not include it somewhere here. Aside from that whole confession, Juanillo genuinely enjoys his company and sees Sapo Peta as one of his closest friends next to Mangel. He also gets Sapo Peta to also help him in some illegal acts without him knowing. They need to team up and impersonate as Quackity more often I still quote them from that stream. Actually fuck it, those two would do more letters from other members and have fun with it or to try and get Sapo Peta’s their ships canon.

Just a personal touch but he sells mezcal in his chiringuito

The chiringuito smells like Karmahuana I just know it. You know what. Not just the chiringuito, the whole damn area. People stop by and go, “Oh it smells nice here” and its literally weed

Tangentially related to the last point but I know for sure Juan makes some bomb ass edibles, a good cook as well

Not a headcanon but man I wanna draw him getting high on a beach... and also a beach episode for his chiringuito......

You actually got me to revisit a drawing I did during the Titi custody battle before he died lmao:

Actually, it be funny if Illo has experience in law

Since it's been a while since you've asked this, I'll throw in a couple of old sketches I have of my babygirl under the keep reading section.

i actually don’t mind this as much, i just think i hated how oversaturated I made his shirt fghjhgf

This was when I tried to make a ref sheet for him (and the rest of the karmaland boys) but i was too ambitious with so little time

[90s-neon-rat]

Fearsome Five Next Gen AU

I’ve had an DWD AU rattling around in my head for a while where in the future a new Fearsome Five forms with the descendants of the original group. This is a run down of the characters so far (bare with me, some are more developed than others).

MegaByte (Tessa Sputtershock)

Parents: Megavolt and Lexi (biological)

Pronouns: She/They

Sexuality: Bi

Species: Rat/Opossum hybrid

Age: 15

Powers: Inherited Megavolt’s electrical powers, however instead of stealing light bulbs she uses them to hack and manipulate machinery. Also controls an army of electric-powered robotic rats she designed/created herself.

Weaknesses: Much like her father, water is the easiest way to take Tessa down. She is also quite inexperienced with her powers and tends to get over emotional.

Personality: Geeky, scatterbrained, awkward, tech savvy, sensitive, insecure, shy

Appearance: Physically Tessa is more rat-like similar to Megs but has grey fur/white hair like her mother. Quite tall and rather scrawny. Her villain outfit generally consists of a black tank top, yellow combat trousers, purple boots, gloves and goggles. Like Megavolt she wears a battery pack but hers is fashioned after a square battery. Her hair is rather choppy and often worn in a short ponytail.

Random facts:

-Megavolt’s powers were passed down to her, however they didn’t properly manifest until her early teens. She hasn’t quite gotten the hang of controlling them yet.

-She tends to spark randomly whenever experiencing strong emotions

-She’s easily spooked and rather skittish

-Has a sister-like relationship with Quackerjack’s daughter, Harleen.

-She speaks with a mix of British and American slang, often in the same sentence.

-Her main robo-rat companion is named Sebastian (shout out to anyone who gets the reference 😉)

-She has very poor eyesight and needs glasses.

-Has a personal grudge against Quiverwing Quack.

Harley Quack (Harleen Quackson)

Parents: Quackerjack (adopted)

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: Lesbian

Species: Duck

Age: 17 (same age as Gosalyn in this timeline)

Powers: Has no physical powers, but is an exceedingly skilled gymnast. Also very experienced with an array of weapons. The absolute best at disguises. Very convincing actress.

Weaknesses: Her cockiness can lead her to making rash decisions. She also tends to run into situations without a plan.

Personality: Talkative, sassy, fearless, girly, outgoing, energetic

Appearance: Slightly shorter than Tessa. She has a rather muscular build due to being athletic. Her main outfit is similar to Harley Quinn’s gold dungaree outfit in Birds Of Prey, but in a more pastel colour palette. Has split-dyed pastel blue and pink hair.

Random facts:

-Quackerjack’s adopted her when she was seven.

-She’s a very skilled weapon/trap builder, having been taught by Quackerjack from a young age.

-Makes all her own costumes.

-STRONG. Seriously, she could carry the entire fearsome next gen if she wanted to.

-Has an unsettling obsession with horror stories.

-She can be a bit snobby, especially in regards to fashion.

-Good friends with Tessa since they’re a similar age and basically grew up together.

-Has a one-sided crush on QuiverWing Quack and often flirts with her during their encounters.

-She’s really good at pulling off different accents.

-Considers Megavolt her second dad, but refers to him as ‘Mega Mom’ just to wind him up.

Buster Flud

Parents: Bud Flud and an unnamed mother (biological)

Pronouns: He/Him

Sexuality: Unspecified

Species: Canine

Age: 20

Powers: He can con his way out of anything, a very smooth talker, street savvy, great strategist

Weaknesses: Physically he’s not a good fighter, usually choosing to stand back and observe from afar.

Personality: Controlling, persuasive, distrustful, rebellious, bossy.

Appearance: I don’t have a fixed design for him yet, but in contrast to pre-mutated Liquidator’s formal style Buster has a more punky, rock-influenced look.

Random facts:

-He has a very strained relationship with his parents, especially Liquidator.

-Budding musician. He’s been trying to put a band together since he was a teen but no one can put up with his control freak tendencies.

-He’s been conning people ever since he was a kid.

-Has been put in juvy more times than all the other next gen villains combined.

-His parents wanted him to go to business school.

-He comes up with a lot of the group’s plans.

-Absolute compulsive shopper. He can go to the mall without coming home with at least five new band T-shirts.

NegaGos (Goslynnda Mallard)

Parents: NegaDuck and NegaLaunchpad (adopted)

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: AroAce

Species: Duck

Age: 17

Powers: NegaGos’s power lies in her deceptiveness, she looks sweet and innocent but can turn into a nasty psycho in an instant. Tiny but mighty, she can wield weapons with just as much confidence as Negaduck.

Weaknesses: Doesn’t like being called by her full name (only NegaGos is acceptable). She struggles with her morals.

Personality: Manipulative, vicious, deceptive, cold, teasing.

Appearance: Not too different from her cannon design, however obviously older. Her outfit is also full-on creepy pastel goth aesthetic. Think skull hair clips, striped tights, bows, etc.

Random Facts:

-Once Negaduck was gone, Gos went off the deep end. She wanted to do him proud, so became a vicious criminal despite her conflicting feelings.

-She has a soft spot for animals but keeps it a secret from the rest of the gang.

-She’s more diplomatic than Negaduck when it comes to the gang, but can be just as cruel if provoked.

-Wields a chainsaw similar to the one used by Juliet Starling in Lollipop Chainsaw (It was a custom made by Harleen).

-After everything that’s happened she’s come to despise the Negaverse and spends most of her time in the primeverse.

Vinez (Vincent ‘Vinnie’ Bushroot)

Parents: Bushroot (creator)

Pronouns: They/Them

Sexuality: Pan/Ace

Species: Mutant plant duck

Age: Physically only around 2-3 years old, mentally a teenager (being a plant he ages differently)

Powers: Like his creator he has the ability to control plant life, however he specialises more in poisonous plants.

Weaknesses: Weed killer, buzzsaws, fire, basically anything that can kill a plant.

Personality: Quiet, brooding, moody, solitary.

Appearance: Like Buster I don’t have an official design finalised for him yet, but I’m thinking a rather dark colour palette in contrast to Bushroot.

Random facts:

-Created by Bushroot by accident.

-Going through a constant emo phase.

-Very reserved and quiet, but has a sweet, caring personality.

-He uses a lot of dark and self-depreciative humor. The others are rightfully concerned about this.

-Not really that interested in being a criminal, he just does so to fit in with his peer group.

-Has a crush on Tessa (she is unaware).

-Has a nice singing voice.

-Bushroot is a bit of a over-protective helicopter parent, which gets on Vince’s nerves.

[inklore]

Ok but Druig with an oral fixation and letting you suck on his fingers? Yes pls

in her mouth.

pairing: druig x (f)reader

warnings: mostly implied smut, but mentions of fingering and foreplay, teasing, finger sucking, the slightest blowjob mention. 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI.

word count: 774

etc: guess i'm back on my druig shit ya'll lmaoo. and let me just say: this man being obsessed with your mouth? absolutely!

“D’you want them inside of you?” Druig hums sweetly, his mouth rolling into a sinister smirk as he looks at you. He has your back pressed to the wall, hand beside your head as he leans into you, as he’s centimeters from you. If you were to lean up ever so slightly you could easily press your lips to his again. Could show him how bad you wanted him, speak through a lust filled kiss that could speak volumes more than your soft words ever could.

His other hand displays itself in front of your face. Two of his fingers pressed to the bottom of your lip. Your doe eyes are looking up at him with a plea. He knew how bad you wanted to be filled by him, by any part of him.

You can feel your arousal on his fingers spread across the flesh of your lip. The two digits having just been between your wet folds, rubbing, teasing, circling your clit so good that you had to dig your nails into Druig’s arm. Face pressed into his sleeve just to stay quiet.

And then his fingers slipped a little lower, circled your weeping hole. Only pushing in with the lightest of pressure. Not enough to do anything, not enough to put salve on that ache that has your knee’s feeling weak and hips straining to move, get any friction to relieve that painstaking ache that leaves you a submissive begging mess. If only to get that beautiful high. To feel that building pressure deep inside of you explode throughout your entire body.

The kind of orgasm that leaves you feeling wrecked and completely at his mercy.

With or without his beautiful mind he can leave you a sobbing mess, whether from that tantalizing desire that seems to embed itself deep in your marrow. Or from the way he drags out pleasuring you. Making you cum over and over until you think that if you do it anymore you might pass out. You might lose your mind.

And you’d welcome each nerve wrecking feeling, desire, lust filled quack from Druig like a sinner repenting to their God; begging, with an open heart, open soul, and an open mouth.

So when he lifts an eyebrow, his question ringing hard in your ears ‘d’you want them inside of you?’: you open your mouth obediently, a small nod of your head, and then his fingers are on your tongue. Your slick coating your taste buds.

“Suck.” He orders, his eyes fixate on your mouth as you wrap your lips around his fingers. As you suck, letting your tongue roll around them. Soft whimpers reverberating from your throat. Druig’s light eyes turning just a bit dark, his own mouth parting, his breath picking up as he watches. Listens to you coat and suck his fingers in your saliva, taste yourself and swallow it down.

The both of you know you’re wet enough to take two fingers, or more. But Druig would be lying to himself—and you—if he were to say he didn’t love the way you looked with something in your mouth. His fingers. His cock. It wasn’t just how the sight made him swell in his pants, dirty thoughts of how good your tongue felt against his flesh, or how he couldn't get enough of the little noises and slurps you made while your mouth worked. It was also the way you got lost in it. As if you had something to prove, and in some ways you did; how much you wanted him, how you craved him, how you’d do anything to hear those low groans slip from him, or that praise of your mouth being unearthly, godly, fucking amazing in his deep accent. His power may have been in his mind but yours was surely your mouth and the way you made him completely weak from it.

Your eyes always looking so soft and gentle when you looked up at him whilst your throat swallowed him down. Shining with unfallen tears, with devoted lust only for him. He couldn’t get enough.

And if his cock wasn’t throbbing in his pants to the point of frustration he would make you suck his fingers and fuck you with his other ones, until you made a mess of yourself. But he cant help himself. He lets himself get completely lost in the way your mouth feels that he’s pulling his fingers from the heat of your tongue. Pressing a rough passionate kiss to your lips, as his spit slicked digits find your hole again and push inside of you leaving you gasping and whimpering against him.

[tenthgrove]

La Squadra 30s AU: Overview

(A/N: So I literally thought of this on a whim and decided to write it down. You're welcome to use this AU for your own stories since I probably won't, but please give credit where due.)

The year is 1934. In the throws of the Great Depression, poverty and crime continues to be rife across the urban east of America. But as many titans of the mafia world collapse with the end of prohibition, the growing syndicate known as Passione begins to swell in numbers and wealth like never before.

The recent immigrant, Risotto Nero (age: 28, real name: Rosario Nero) was picked up practically at the dock by Passione for his formidable appearance and fighting prowess, not to mention lack of other viable prospects in America. Indeed, his journey across the Atlantic was most certainly an act of desperation, but what he was running from, he won't say. Risotto guards the infamous Passione nightclub after which the syndicate gets its name. He also receives a number of orders to pursue the group's enemies in a more... direct manner of confrontation, and there are high hopes for his career as a Mafioso owing to his great sense of honour and budding reputation as unkillable. The greatest hindrance to this goal is at present, a simple matter of communication. He knows barely a word of English.

Hoping to remedy this issue is a Passione associate known to the group by the codename Prosciutto (age: 37, real name: Christopher Perkins), Professor of English Literature at a local university. Why this mild-mannered, rather stuffy young teacher is beholden to Passione is anyone's guess, though he staunchly rebukes any claims of Italian heritage. His impeccable skill at the language, however, speaks for itself. Christopher supports the syndicate financially through his great inherited wealth, as well as providing alibis for its members, many of whom are filed through the corrupt institute as 'students.' Prosciutto is one of the few Risotto would call a friend, and the two meet regularly for Risotto's english lessons. Unknown to anyone but the leaders of Passione, is the truth behind Professor Perkins' unfortunate predicament. In truth, Prosciutto is both a murderer and a patricide, his victim- his own father, the former Don of Passione. Back in 1920 when the Don was found dead in his apartments, it was dubbed the murder mystery of the decade. The case has since gone cold, however, all thanks to the new leadership of the syndicate.

Nowadays, Prosciutto finds solace in his students, of which he hopes the young post-boy he nicknames Pesci (age: 15, real name: Peppi Sciaccia) will soon be joining. Pesci is a poor but cheerful boy, raised by his ailing mother and doting grandparents. The identity of his father is subject to many jokes in the family, some even saying the man was a murdered mafia don whose illegitimate children were all whisked away to be raised in secret, but in truth, Pesci has no idea who he is. Anyway, he recently found work as a post-boy for the university campus, catching the eye of Professor Perkins for his polite and helpful attitude. The professor now tutors him regularly in the hope he might receive a scholarship once he reaches 18, and obtain a good career that would lift his family out of poverty. A pity that Passione, with it's secret ties to the institute, has its eye on the boy as well, and is using him to carry orders without his knowing.

Meanwhile in the Passione nightclub, one Illuso (age: 30, real name: Michelle Illuso), works his fraud. He is an attendant at the casino, though in truth he has full permission of the club's owners to scam and steal from his customers. His talents come from his side-hustle as a magician, tricks he frequently shows off to his victims as a diversionary tactic. His partner in crime is Formaggio (age: 26, real name: Danny Fabbri), a popular Jazz musician at the bar who frequently assists in the swindling. Formaggio, so nicknamed for his unbearably cheesy personality, was until recently impoverished, until coming across the abandoned loot of a bank heist totalling at $50,000. Passione would have killed him if they realised he had taken the whole lot, but instead they simply requisitioned his services at the nightclub. He continues to indulge his newfound wealth in secret. Illuso and Formaggio are friends by necessity to Risotto, who steps in to save their asses whenever a swindle goes wrong. They're trying to improve his social life by taking him out in his free time, but the friendship is a little stony due to the language barrier. Neither Illuso or Formaggio are entirely fluent in Italian, even less the thick Sicilian Risotto speaks.

A few streets away from the Passione Club lies a rather innocuous looking flower shop run by a pair of quote on quote "brothers in law" nicknamed Sorbet (age: 40, real name Nicolo Farina) and Gelato (age: 35, real name: Elia Farina - taken after an unofficial marriage to Sorbet). The pair are quite beloved in the neighbourhood, a kindly, approachable pair of businessmen who would happily offer their wares for free to those experiencing tragedy, but in truth the flower shop is a front for a life of criminality. The couple offer a variety of services to various local mafias, Passione included, and it is known in their past they were a ferocious pair of assassins. A murdered man's coffin is most often adorned with flowers sold from their shop, and quite frequently, his end was delivered by a hitman found through their network, purchased with a large commission, naturally. In terms of murder themselves, however, Sorbet and Gelato have long ago put down their guns, the reason quite domestic.

Sorbet and Gelato have one son, who they adoringly nickname Ghiaccio for his icy temperament (age: 18, real name: Arthur White). Ghiaccio was kicked out by his impoverished biological family at just age 8, after which he broke into the flower shop for shelter and was promptly taken in by the owners. The couple used their contacts to forge papers stating that Ghiaccio was the child of Sorbet and his late wife (who of course, never existed). Ghiaccio is incredibly zealous about keeping up this false story, to the point of putting on a fake Italian accent to visitors which is quite frankly, hilarious. Sorbet and Gelato are both very insistent that Ghiaccio stay out of mob life and as a result, sent him to university under the professorship of Christopher Perkins. They have no idea how much closer to the criminal underworld they've just pushed him. Ghiaccio's best friend is Pesci, who he beat up after Pesci accidentally drove his bike into him on campus. Sorbet and Gelato were incredibly angry with him for this and forced him to make amends, leading to the unlikely friendship. They take shifts at the flower shop together when Sorbet and Gelato are out on dates.

Finally, there is Melone, (age 25, real name Harry Nelson) who gets his nickname from his absolutely terrible handwriting when writing out his real surname. Melone is, quite frankly, a quack physician, operating illegally under a myriad of fake identities throughout the city. He made the mistake of swindling some senior Passione members and ended up being forced to run narcotics for them, a surprisingly easy task considering cocaine is still considered a perfectly good medicine at this point. He is a frequent at the Passione Bar through which he knows Formaggio and Illuso, as well as a student at the same university Prosciutto works at, which he is attending in an attempt to learn some actually viable medical knowledge. Against the odds he has managed to befriend the professor, with whom he discusses the many gruesome crimes the group perpetrates. There are rumours, it is said, that Passione wants to establish an assassination squad, and with many of the more obvious choices already known to the police, it is said some more unconventional individuals may be chosen for the role.

[amjustagirl]

Notes: Title stolen from Song Of The Soul XXII by Khalil Gibran.

Companion piece: In the absence of sound (she hears her heart break)

Wrote this indulgent piece angst and fluff to reset after the very angsty The Astrophile (which took a lot of my own heart). As always, comments are gladly appreciated <3

Summary: Yaku bursts into her life like a hurricane, even whilst Akaashi lingers on like the memory of a summer breeze.

Pairings: Yaku x reader, Akaashi x reader

She runs into Yaku at the New Year’s Party the Japanese embassy in Moscow throws for expatriates (a fancy term to describe birds who’ve flown the coop after finding it unbearably small). He’s in the middle of chattering with a bemused waiter in very broken Russian about the spread when he explodes into a delighted laugh, so loud that she startles and spills her drink all over his shoes.

Pandemonium ensues – the restaurant staff scatter to fetch napkins and she’s trying to pick up the pieces of her broken glass, stammering out apologies (because dear god, her boss is going to have her head for upsetting a guest – especially one so prominent as Yaku Morisuke, the only Japanese volleyball player who broke into the Russian professional league), when his laugh cuts through the noise.

‘This was my favourite pair of shoes’ he tells her when he stops laughing, and she’s about to launch into a litany of apologies when he grins at her cheekily – ‘But you can make it up to me by buying me dinner instead’.

‘Now?’ she gapes at him in shock. ‘I can’t, I’m working’.

‘Whenever’, he answers, stealing her phone from her hands. ‘Look – here’s my number. Call me when you can’.

She’s left in shock, watching him in silence as he bounces off to join another conversation.

She texts him that night (because a deal is a deal, and she always pays her debts) and they arrange to meet the next day at a dumpling place he recommends.

She’s there five minutes early, and he bursts into the restaurant five minutes late, apologizing whilst complaining about goddamned Russian traffic. He orders for the both of them in such an excruciatingly terrible Russian accent that she winces, but he must have been here before because the waiter takes their order without batting an eye. The owner, a wizened old lady with apples in her cheeks swings by to smack kisses on his cheeks noisily.

‘It’s a little strange, but it’s the closest thing I can find to home’, he tells her when the waiter presents them with their dumplings with a flourish. It is indeed strange – the dumpling skin is thicker and doughier than she’s used to with Japanese  gyozas, stuffed with varying fillings of beef and pork and cheese, but his eyes are bright when she takes her first bite and gives a hum of appreciation because it is as he says, strange but good.

There is indeed an echo of home in her heart but she clamps it down firmly.

‘It’s good right?’ he asks and she nods mutely, mouth full of dumplings. He talks her ear away, telling her about his time in the Russian league, how he’s just made the first team this week. She learns he can’t remember a time when he doesn’t know the feel of a volleyball in his hands, and how he broke his mother’s heart when he chose to train outside of Japan, six thousand, four hundred and forty-eight miles away from home.  

He asks her why she’s in Moscow. She tells him she’s studied Russian as a child – her father, a math professor, believed it necessary for her and her sister to learn Russian, and while she’s never quite had a head for numbers, she takes to languages like a fish to water – and since she was looking for a new adventure, Moscow seemed like a good fit.

(She does not tell him she’s actually on the run from her broken heart)

‘You can teach me Russian then’, his words presumptuous, but there’s mirth and warmth flickering in his eyes that makes her hesitate to tell him off.

‘Maybe’, she responds with a shrug, standing up to pay the bill. To her surprise he lets her pay without a fight - very unlike Akaashi, who had only agreed grudgingly to allow her to split the bill on their first date.

‘It’s my turn to pay when we go out next time’, he tells her when they stand outside the restaurant about to part.

‘Will there be a next time?’ she asks him archly, and he pouts at her with puppy-dog eyes. He texts her less than five minutes after he takes his leave, inviting her to an ice skating rink.

To neither of their surprise, there is indeed, a next time, and a next time after that.

Yaku has an extremely sweet tooth, unlike Akaashi who prefers the bitterness of black coffee.

She tells him to drop in on her apartment after training (only if he’s up to it of course, she’s learnt that lesson from Akaashi after all). He does so without complaint, and she’s removing the pie from the oven when he lets himself in with the key he sweet-talked out of her.

‘Tadaima’, he calls cheerily, pressing a kiss to her cheek as he drops his gloves on the kitchen table. ‘Is that for me?’ he asks, gaping bug-eyed at the steaming pie in her hands.    

‘I don’t see anyone else it could be for’, she teases, setting the pie down on the table, cutting him a slice. The fruit seller at the corner of her street had a sale on apples, and she remembers Yaku telling her that he used to buy apple pie on the way to school every week, but would always end up giving it up to Kenma as a bribe to train harder during practice and finish running his laps.

He takes a bite and moans loudly even though he burns his tongue – it’s so good, a flaky, buttery crust hiding a jammy filling of caramelized apple and browned butter. It tastes like home in the fall when the leaves turn golden and red, when his mother brings home apples on discount from the store and he and his little brothers fight over the apples pastries his grandmother makes.

‘I love you’, he declares firmly, as he reaches for a second helping, and he pretends not to notice when she shrinks back and does not respond.

Yaku revels in public displays of affection - unlike Akaashi, who used to shy away from it.

‘I like your hair. Have you always kept it short?’ He asks her one day when they’re feeding ducks in the park near his house.

She laughs at him as he quacks exaggeratedly back at a very greedy duck chasing the bread in his hand and answers without thinking - ‘no, I cut it before I left Japan because I hear it’s what break-ups make you do’. Then she freezes, because this is the first time she’s ever alluded to Keiji to him – it’s a part of her life that she’d very much like to bury in a deep, dark vault and throw the key away.

But the expression on his face is very much like a cat eyeing a rat it’d like very much to trap and she’s right, he’s relentless (she should’ve known that, could’ve seen that from just watching one of his matches). As he walks her home, she finds herself telling him about Keiji - how his lack of affection and inability to step away from his job created a silence so still she heard her heart break.

When she finishes what she self-deprecatingly terms her tale of woe, he pulls her to a stop, ignoring the indignant protests of the people walking behind them. ‘What on earth, Mori’, she squawks, but he ignores her too, choosing instead to wind his hands into the ends of her scarf and tug her face to face with him. She does not want to look at him, does not want to see pity in his eyes – but there is none of that, only a quiet tenderness that warms her to her core.

‘I love you’, he tells her softly, and it’s a wonder she can hear every inflection of his voice through the rush of blood to her ears. ‘I will continue saying it as many times as you need, as loudly as I can until your heart is no longer broken and the silence is gone’.

Then, without an ounce of shame, he kisses her right in the middle of the busy street, completely oblivious to the glares of the people who pass them by.

Yaku is quick to anger, whereas Akaashi is the calm before the storm.

She’s told him again and again not to send her flowers – she swears she’s developed an allergy to them, the memory of Keiji sending her flowers every Friday even after they broke up sends bile up her throat (pink camellias for longing, violets for devotion, forget-me-nots for obvious reasons) – but Yaku doesn’t listen and sends her a bouquet of red roses for her birthday (for love).

So she screams at him when he pops by her flat after training –  because why on earth doesn’t he just listen to her, he knows she hates flowers, what on earth would possess him to send her flowers for her birthday, and he screams back that he does, damn it - but he’s not Keiji, he’s spent their entire time together trying to prove that, why can’t she just trust him for once.

Finally, he storms out shouting that he’ll come back when she’s calmed down, when she’s finally ready to forgive him for whatever Keiji has done – even though for the last goddamned time, he’s not bloody Keiji and she sinks to the floor, wondering why she’s allowed the ghost of Keiji to continue haunting her, six thousand, four hundred and forty-eight miles away from home.  

He’s right - it isn’t fair to him for her to keep comparing him to Keiji, to keep watching and waiting for him to slip up, not when he’s poured all his love and affection into her – into them . He’s not Keiji, never has been and never will be, and she wonders if this is the point his patience and kindness and love finally runs out.

But she’s not going to let another man she loves walk out of her life without a fight.

So she throws on her coat and climbs down the stairs, determined to march to Yaku’s apartment just a couple of streets away when she slams into him head-first at the corner of her street. ‘I’m sorry’ they both chorus immediately, and despite themselves, they break into a laugh.

‘I’m sorry for not listening’, he says, but she shakes her head, determined to say her piece. ‘You're right, it's my fault for not letting Keiji go. I should have figured this out earlier, but I know you’re not Keiji, you never have been, and I trust you never will be’.

And to drive the point home, thanking her lucky stars he’s not tall, she pulls him close by his collar and presses her lips to his. ‘I love you’, she whispers, when they finally come up for air. He looks at her like she just hung the stars up in the sky.

The next day, she presents him with a literal bushel of red roses, and he laughs at that - loud and clear and bright.

(The sound makes her heart feel whole again)

‘Why don’t you move with me’, Yaku asks her matter of factly through a mouthful of rice, at the end of her tirade about her awful landlord who just tried to stiff her by doubling her rent in less than a year with a month’s notice.

She stills, hand frozen halfway to her mouth. He does not swallow for fear of choking the mix of uncertainty and hope rising in his throat - because sometimes even though he promises to wait for her as long as she needs, he wonders if she’ll ever forget that he’s not her bloody ex – until he senses her relaxing her tense shoulders, and decides to close in for the kill.

‘Come on’, he wheedles. ‘We could even adopt a kitten so you won’t be lonely when I’m away for work’, and he laughs fondly when her face lights up. There we go.

‘You drive a hard bargain, but alright’, she pretends to grouse, but she laughs along with him when he triumphantly presses his lips to her cheek, dodging her swats when she scolds him for leaving grains of rice on her face.

They adopt a black kitten from the shelter and they name him ‘Kuroo’.

Much like its namesake, their cat is a piece of shit and contrary as hell. He doubles over in laughter when he comes home one day to find her chasing Kuroo (the cat, not the middle blocker) around the house, furniture upended everywhere. He later understands through her huffs that she meant to give him a bath.

He sends endless pictures of Kuroo (again, the cat and not the middle blocker) to the Nekoma groupchat and they all fall head over heels in love. Kai sends him advice on how to grow catnip in an apartment. Fukunaga asks to video call the cat more than he texts him. Shibayama and Inouka ship a box of clothes for the cat because they’re worried it won’t survive the Russian winter. The worst offenders are Kenma who sets up social media accounts for it, and bloody international supermodel Lev who pours oil on flames by tagging the damn cat on his own posts. Yaku is alarmed to wake up one day and find that his cat is more popular than him.

Well, all of them save for its namesake, who threatens to retaliate by naming his dog ‘Yaku’.

He gets drafted onto the National Team, and he’s elated until he realizes that he’ll have to spend months away from her.

‘It’s fine’, she reassures him. ‘Kuroo will keep me company while you’re back home’. The little demon licks its ass and looks intolerably smug when he shoots a glare at it behind her back, because he knows damn well the cat is going to take advantage of his absence to take over his side of the bed.

He extracts a promise from her to call him every day (screw the time difference, seriously) and he in turn promises to send her tickets to watch him play. Then he packs his bags and flies back to Tokyo.

It’s nostalgic being back in his childhood home. The posters from his teenage years are still on his bedroom walls (gods – he was such a horny bastard back then), and his mother smothers him with his favourite foods and far too much attention. But he lays awake at night thinking of their little apartment filled with the smell of her baking and the sound of her singing and realizes he misses  Kuroo - again, the cat, not the middle blocker, who’d miss him - despite its despicable way of stalking him while he takes a shit and most of all - he misses  her.

He figures he has it bad when he starts turning down his grandmother’s apple pastries because they remind him too painfully of the apple pies she makes after either of them have had a hard day at work, and wonders when he started thinking of Moscow and the little apartment he shares with her as  home.

But he soldiers on because playing for Japan is his dream (and has been, ever since he first learnt the thrill of keeping the ball in flight with his hands), and gets by on video calls and texts and pictures of Kuroo and the promise of dumplings and apple pies when he comes home.

He makes the mistake of mentioning that he has a girlfriend in Miya Atsumu’s earshot after practice one day.

‘You have a girlfriend?’ the piss-haired setter asks in disbelief. ‘You? Mr bossy - under five foot five – libero-chan managed to land himself a girl that’s willing to tolerate him?’

‘Just because you have an issue keeping girls from running away from you doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t find girlfriends’, Sakusa interjects flatly, face firmly masked up, trusty bottle of sanitizer pointed in Atsumu’s direction.

Yaku is about to claw Atsumu’s eyes out when Hinata prances by and asks to see a picture of said girlfriend. Growling, he whips out his phone, and is mollified when the rest of the team crowds around and pronounces her to be very pretty. Everyone – except Atsumu, who sulks in a corner, sneering that he could do better (no he can’t - he really can’t get a girl to save his life), and Bokuto, who corners him later when he’s about to leave.

‘She used to date Akaashi, you know?’ Bokuto tells him solemnly, a marked departure from his usual jovial self. ‘They broke up on a pretty bad note’.

Yaku does not in fact know, because she’s never mentioned her ex-boyfriend’s last name, always opting to refer to him as ‘Keiji’, a fairly popular name for guys their age. ‘Oh?’ he replies, and tries his best to sound encouraging and not derisive or threatening or whatever it is that Atsumu has accused him of over the past few weeks of training.

‘Yeah. She’s a nice girl, I met her once or twice, but between you and me, I don’t think Akaashi is really over her’.

Too bad for him, he wants to say but doesn’t, because despite whatever Atsumu might say about him, he’s tactful, thank you very much, and knows it’s probably not the best idea to badmouth his teammate’s best friend to his face, especially a teammate he likes as much as Bokuto. Instead, he stuffs his shoes in his bag, shrugging and grunting noncommittally before heading off.

He doesn’t mention this to her during their nightly video calls. He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t want them to have to talk about him being an old acquaintance with her idiot ex over a call, their time together is too precious to be tainted by any mention of him. But there’s a part of him that wonders if it’s because he’s afraid that she’ll bump into Akaashi when she’s back in Japan and he might convince her to let him sweep her away. Akaashi is tall, dark and handsome, and most definitely smarter and more educated after all - a better match for her than him, an idiot that chases balls for a living.

But then her laughter chimes through his phone’s speakers as he pouts when she carries Kuroo to the screen to ask if he misses his daddy (the traitorous hell spawn refuses to even look at him) and it banishes the shadow of his doubts away. It’s as clear as day that she loves him, ball chasing idiot Yaku Morisuke.

He falls asleep to the sound of her humming his favourite songs.

She flies to Japan with their cat in tow a week before the Olympics and even though he’s moved into the Olympic dorms by then, he sneaks out to meet her for dinner as often as he can. Atsumu catches him once and grumbles something about  ‘hypocritical bossy know-it-alls’  - but shuts up when Yaku turns up for practice the next day and is too busy grinning ear to ear to yell at him for flubbing an easy receive as he usually does.

When he finally steps onto the court for his first match, it’s easy to get carried away, because the light bearing down on the court is brighter than any game he’s played in before, and the roar of the home crowd is so loud he swears the tremors in his feet are from the floor - but he doesn’t. Because there’s a girl in the VIP stands shouting his name, and maybe it’s childish of him, but he has something to prove - he wants to make her proud.

And he does, because they win.

The entire team is in the locker room when he hears the clatter of familiar footsteps, then a shrieked ‘Mori’ before she tackles him into a bone-crushing hug. Atsumu barks at her ‘not to break our dear libero-chan’, but neither of them pay him any mind - she doesn’t even care that he’s literally dripping in sweat and snot and tears - because they won, they won, they won  -

Then he looks up and sees Akaashi staring at them. Ah. The idiot ex-boyfriend has to ruin their moment.

Just as he’s wondering whether his fist should meet Akaashi’s eye or nose first, Bokuto swings by at the moment to distract her. She’s so excited at seeing a familiar face that she disengages herself from their hug and throws her arms around Bokuto instead. Yaku thinks that Bokuto is probably a lot smarter than most people give him credit for as Akaashi approaches him, his hand outstretched.

‘Take care of her’, Akaashi says with a bittersweet smile on his lips. ‘You’re a lucky man’.

He pauses briefly to glance at her - and gods she’s radiant even as she’s chattering away to Bokuto, her eyes sparkling, the light shining softly on her hair -  fuck, Atsumu’s right, he’s whipped - and tries to imagine a world where she slips through his hands. Suddenly, the twisted knot of spite in his chest unravels, and he can only feel the dregs of pity pooling in his belly. He's not blind, he can recognise the look of wistful regret on the taller man’s face, and he's certainly not deaf - he suspects that if he listens hard enough, he can hear Akaashi’s heart break.

I know, I’m lucky to have her - he wants to say but does not because that would mean twisting a knife in an already broken man. Instead, he steps forward to take Akaashi’s hand.

‘Always’, he promises firmly. Akaashi inclines his head in thanks.

Her heart is safe in my hands.

She returns to Russia first, and he follows a few weeks later, after a whirlwind of awards and press interviews.

He breaks into a run when he sees her standing at the arrivals gate with a bouquet of red roses and a cheeky grin on her face. ‘You’re rubbing it in at this point’, he pretends to pout, but rather spoils its effect when he swings her into his arms.

She cooks dumplings for dinner and there’s an apple pie waiting for him in the oven. His jaw drops in surprise when the dumplings taste exactly like his mother’s cooking. ‘I learnt it from your mum while you were at training, in case you already miss home’, she teases.

‘But with you, I am home’, he responds, his voice earnest and low. She flushes pink and blushes bright red when he carries her off to bed.

She is his home now, she and their cat in their little flat in Moscow bursting at its seams with apple pies and dumplings and  love .

‘I want this to be my forever’, he tells her later, laying his head in her lap. His heart skips a beat, waiting for her response.

‘So do I’, she finally replies, running her hands through his hair. Her heart hums quietly, finally in safe hands.

[kasey-writes-stuff]

i have a request!!

ler gogs ler quackity lee sap: they’re streaming together and obvs gogs and quack bounce around a lot more than sap does. basically they go feral and accidentally find out that saps ticklish and mess with him for it.

kinda love the idea that sap is too stubborn to admit that he’s ticklish hehe.

Woo I finally got this finished!

Debates ending in laughter

George, Quackity and Sapnap had met up and were doing their first official stream together! Karl would’ve been there but he was stuck filming for mr beast and Dream was at a family reunion so thus the three were left alone! They had decided to do a Q&A and despite it being titled “chill Q&A with the boys!” It was anything but chill! Currently the three were debating over whether apple juice or orange juice was better and it was semi calm at first seeing as Quackity and George agreed but things quickly grew less calm when sap said he leaned more towards orange juice…

“I’m just saying I like both but I lean towards orange juice” George shook his head “Well you’re wrong that’s just wrong” “what do you mean wrong ?! It’s an opinion?! And most importantly my opinion so it is definitely not wrong!” Quackity shook his head smiling a bit “man I gotta agree with George here you’re wrong” sapnaps mouth gaped open “Quackity how could you?!” George giggled softly “Quackity is just cultured and has good opinions unlike you sapnap” sapnap scoffed and lightly shoved George and George shoved back to sap shoved back and George shoved again and sap shoved again sap poked at George’s chest and so George went to poke at saps chest but accidentally poked his ribs instead

Sapnap jumped and squeaked as an instant pink tint could be seen on his pale cheeks “EEK!” Quackity and George looked at each other and then at sapnap,

Quackity was the first one to speak “Oh sapnap.. what was that?” He had a devious grin as did George “yea sapnap what was that squeak about?” Sapnap cleared his throat as he says “what what squeak? I didn’t squeak you guys must be hearing things” Quackity shook his head smiling excitedly “no no you definitely squeaked! George what did you do?! Do it again!” George shrugged “all I did was poke him like this” George poked sap again and sap once again squeaked but George kept poking which make giggles begin to slip past sapnaps lips and so that’s when it clicked for Quackity!

“Oh I get it I get it! Sapnap here seems to be a little ticklish” sapnap was quick to disagree but his nervousness and voice crack gave away the true answer “WhAt no I’m nOt!” George Quackity both burst into giggles at his voice crack and George rolled his fondly saying “yea sure like we believe that” he looked to Quackity who had a big excited smile on his face and they both nodded, Quackity quickly got up and held sapnaps arms above his head while George straddled his waist! Sapnap had already begun pleading “guys guys guys you really don’t have to do this!”

Quackity shrugs and says “Well yea sure we don’t have to but we want to! Only if you want to tho dude” sapnap blushes brightly he’s thankful that Quackity is being sure he’s okay with this but something about admitting he was okay with this was very flustering…he couldn’t find the way to use his words so he just nodded his head yes softly, Quackity and George smile brightly and usually they would tease him about something like this but opted not to seeing as he was already so flustered.. George smiles softly “okay so where should we start?” Quackity thinks for a moment and says “hmm try his sides” George nods as he begins poking at sapnaps sides

Sapnap squeaked as he shifted back and forth with each and every poke “eek! Geeheohohrrgehehe!” George smirked softly “what sapnap can’t take a little poking? I’m barely doing anything” Quackity giggles softly using his over exaggerated British accent as he “aww is sappity nappity too ticklish for the pokey wokeies?” Sapnap blushes darkly as he giggles “friihihicckkk ohohofff duhuhuddhehehe!” George snickers softly “wow sapnap if you’re giggling this much from just some poking I can’t wait to see what happens when I do this” he begins digging into sapnaps sides! Sap shrieks and falls into laughter “AhAH GEORGEHHE HAHAHAAHA!”

George smirks softly “wow sapnap never knew you were so ticklish!” Quackity nods excitedly “yea man why would you keep this from us?! This is pure gold!” Sapnaps face turned even redder at their teasing as he says “ BEHEHEHECCHAHAHUHUHUSEHEHE IHIHIHI KKNHEHHEWWW YOOUU WOOUULDDD AHAHBBUHUSSHEHWHE. IHIHITT EEEEP!” He squealed as George switched to vibrations along with a mixture of random squeezes, also his statement was a bit of a lie while he did know they would abuse his ticklishness he didn’t actually not tell them because of that… the true reason he didn’t tell them was because he was too embarrassed to ever bring it up, he actually didn’t mind them abusing it a bit and to be honest he more than didn’t mind it he liked it… he just silently hoped they wouldn’t realize that but unlucky for sapnap they did indeed realIze it

George snickers softly “well for someone who didn’t tell us because he knew we would abuse it you certainly haven’t tried to get away” Quackity nodded in agreement “yea sapnap you’re definitely stronger than both of us yet you haven’t even tried to get away why is that?” Seeing as sapnaps face could not go much redder his ears began to turn red, George paused his tickling for a moment to give sap a small breather and allow him to answer “ihihihi uhuhuh ihihi ihihittsss hahaharddheherrr fahhacihihinngg ahahggahahinnsstt yoouuu ahahttt the same time..” Quackity rolled his eyes chuckling softly “yea uh sure, hey sapnap why are your ears so red?” Quackity gently traces the outer shell of one or sapnaps ears

Sapnap squeaks as soft melty giggles pour out “eeek! Nhahaha dohonnttt dohoho tthahahattt!” George’s eyes widen as he smiles brightly “No way! Look at him he’s practically a puddle of jelly! You should try his neck next!” Sapnaps head snaps up at George’s words “NONONO DONT!” George’s smile morphs into a devious grin “why not sapnap is your neck too ticklish? Can it not handle the tickly tickles?” Quackity laughed at George’s teases as he joins in “yea sappynappy is your neck too ticklish for me to even do this?” All he did was place his hands on saps neck and sap flinched a small quivering smile on his face, George couldn’t help but laugh softly at cute it was “no way he literally can’t look at him he’s already about to break!” Quackity maneuvered his head so he could see sapnaps face and he broke into laughter

“PHAHAHhhaha dude no way! So imagine what would happen if I-“ he began fluttering his fingers all around sapnaps neck making his neck instinctively turn and twist on every way possible to try and escape the sensations “EE QUACKITY NOHOHO AHAHAHEHEHE HAHAHEHHEHHAHAHHA FRIHIHICCKK!” George shook his head “Sapnap I literally don’t understand how you were able to hide this from us for so long, is this why you always wear hoodies?” Sapnap through his laughter manages to say “NOHOHO IHIHI JUHUHUSSTT LIHIKKEHE HOHOHDDIHIHIEHESSS”

Quackity rolls eyes his light heartedly as he stops and says “whatever you say man” George hums softly as he says “where should we go next? Maybe….here?” He experimentally pokes at both sapnap’s armpits giggling when he sees sapnaps arms twitch, sap squeaks as he shakes his head “eek! Nohowherhehe you should go nowhere” Quackity smirks before using sapnaps words against him “oh trust me sapnap I don’t think we’ll be going anywhere for at least a few more minutes haha” George giggles softly rolling his eyes fondly at the two before wasting no time scribbling in sapnaps armpits

Sapnap squeals as he twists back and forth, half heartedly trying to get his arms down “EEP GEORGE NOT THERE AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA FRRIHIHICCKKK HEHAHAHAHHAHA!” George smirked a bit as he says “oh ticklish armpits sapnap how cute!” Sapnap blushes bright red as he says “SHUHUTTT UHUHUPP IHIHIMM SUHUHURREHEE YOOUURRRSS AHHARRHEHE JUHUHUSSTT AHASS BAHAHDD” George blushed lightly and Quackity laughs “geheheohorrggehehe your sohoho pihinkk!” George grumbles softly “shut up I’m sure yours are just as bad as well” Quackity immediately shut up looking away his face now pink…

George simply smirks as he begins focusing on the middles of sapnaps pits making him shriek “gAH GOHOHOGGYY NHAHHAAHAHAHAHA!” George grins “oh are the middles the worst hm? Well I won’t stay here too long I still wanna get that tummy of yours” Quackity nods “yea sap I bet your tummy is really ticklish isn’t? I bet you can hardly take it” A few moments pass and George stops and just rests his hands on sapnaps shirt, sapnap giggles residually gratefully taking in air “hohollyy frihihicckk yooouuu guhuhyysss ahharrhehe rhehehahallyy gohohoddd ahahttt thihihiss”

Quackity smiled brightly “Thank you thank you I take a lot of pride in being good at this” George snickers softly “yea thanks for the compliment, you ready to finish now?” Sapnap nods shyly “yea sure…” George nods smiling very slightly “so uhm are you good with me lifting your shirt?” Sapnap hesitantly nods “uh sure” George lifts it just enough to expose his tum button and curiously pokes around his stomach, sapnaps stomach jumps at each poke and he squeaks falling into giggles “eek! Geheheohohorrgehehe juhuhusstt gehehettt ihihitt ohovvehehrr wihihitthh dohohonnttt thehehahahseee”

Quackity scoffs softly “dang someone’s impatient” George laughs a bit “ohohkay then you asked for it” he began quickly skittering and scratching his blunt nails all around sapnaps tummy! Sapnap squealed as he fell into soft laughter “EEP GOGS ahahAHAHAH!” Quackity’s eyes widened slightly before narrowing as he blushed slightly “dang his stomach is pretty bad” his blush was due to the realization while sapnaps stomach was pretty ticklish it wasn’t near as bad as his own…. Suddenly sap shrieked bringing Quackity back to the situation at hand “EEE GOGS NOT THE BUTTON!”

George smirks softly “oh? Not the button? Is this little button too ticklish?” Sapnap nods softly and George softens a bit “well I won’t stay here too long then okay?” Sapnap smiles gratefully and Quackity smiles at the softeness of it all, usually he would make a joke about how sappy all of this is but he decided not to, George quickly dipped his finger in wiggling it around! Sap shrieked again as his back involuntarily arched up “AAhh HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHA NNAHAHHAHA!” True to his word George only kept it up a few short seconds before stopping

“Hey sapnap can George try one more thing?” Quackity curiously asks, through his tired giggles sapnap says “yehehahhaa ihihi gehehuhuhuss” Quackity smiles excitedly “George do you know what a raspberry is?” George nods “yea it’s a fruit duh” Quackity rolls his eyes as he says “no no no not that kind! Here switch positions I’ll do it” and so they swiftly switched positions and Quackity wasted no time leaning down and blowing the biggest raspberry he can over sapnaps tum button!

Sap actually screamed before falling into silent laughter! “AAAAHHHH QUACK ………….” Upon his silent laughter George immediately let go of sapnaps arms and Quackity began rubbing away the excess tickles as sapnap giggled residually “You good sapnap?” Sapnap nods through his giggles “yehehehahaha” suddenly George gasps and they both turn to look at him and Quackity is first to speak “what?” George blushes as he says “uhm we forgot about stream…” Sapnap immediately sits up and looks at the camera and then slides down into the floor

Quackity laughs a bit not at sapnap though but at the ridiculousness of them forgetting to turn it off and how none of their friends bothered telling them… or so they thought but actually they all just forgot they had so not disturb on on their phones so they didn’t get any notifications though to be fair Dream can get through George’s do not disturb so Dream must’ve just not tried to get through… They quickly wordlessly end stream and promptly all break into laughter

Sapnap is first to speak “well that’s definitely getting clipped” George nods “oh please it’s probably already trending on Twitter!” Quackity nods in agreement “I bet vod channels are already uploading it right now” suddenly sapnap smiles a bit deviously “so next Q&A which one of you is getting wrecked?” Quackity and George blush stuttering and pointing at each other “definitely him!” George says, “no no no George started this so it should definitely be him!” Sapnap laughs “I’m sure they’ll be many more Q&As in the future so I’ll get you both back eventually, now I’m starving let’s go get food”

And so the night was spent rather uneventful apart from the shared laughter at Twitter

The end

[thatoneao3writer]

I imagine Quacks learning a bunch of languages to see if any of them just click.

Let's pull from irl Quackity n say he starts learning Spanish n it only takes him a little while because somehow he has the accent down and full sentences come as easily as English, probably even easier.

He comes to the conclusion that he must be of some sort of Spanish descendance and feels just a little bit less like a vague persona.

He's still a gremlin so he teaches Sapnap and Karl Spanish so they can have obscure, entirely mundane conversations in company but they always have devilish smirks on their faces so everyone assumes they're up to no good.

Ah, the art of doing nothing but still being suspicious XD

AAAA /pos I love this! 

Karl would find it reallllly hard to learn to speak Spanish when Quackity tries to teach them. But if he’s suddenly very fluent the next day, that would be his secret to tell ><

[misskittysmagicportal]

I’m A Creep

Fandom: The Messenger Jack x Rin Davies

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: suicide discussion, oral sex, penetration, mention of masturbation, angsty whomp because OOOOF is Jack a Whomp!character

Note: The events of this fic contain spoilers for those of you who havent seen The Messenger.  It takes place after the end of the movie.  Read at your own risk if you haven’t seen it!  If you want it’s free on Tubi :)

Present Day:

Jack stood beside Rin in the dead of night watching her sleep for just a moment. Only a moment because she roused the instant she sensed him breathe. Sitting up, she quickly reached inside the nightstand. He knew her routine, Rin was impulsive about making sure her leather motorcycle gloves were on before she let him in.

Jack wordlessly pulled his shirt over his head and stepped out of his sweatpants and boxers. 

Rin lifted her covers and opened her legs to him. Obliging, Jack lowered himself onto her showering her neck with kisses. His tongue and lips trailing down along her collarbone, erection hard against her thigh. A hand found its way under Rin’s t-shirt and over a naked breast where he pinched at a nipple. 

“Jack,” she was breathless. “Stop. Don't touch my skin, please.”

Jack pushed himself up by the arms, “How is this enjoyable to you, duck?” A northern term of endearment. “My thighs ah touchin’ you aren't they?” The moonlight caught his eyes as he teased her with the head of his cock. “What about this, inside you?” Suggestively whispered. 

Rin moaned but held her cool. “It’s not the same. Like you said, that's inside. It's just my.. skin. From my..” her voice trailed off. 

“Would it be so bad? I just want to feel you under me without fuckkin clothes.” Jack took a chance and kissed her. Tongue pushing inside of Rin, but she stiffened. “Sweetheart,” now he whispered, just his fingertips brushed her cheek. “Please, love, just touch me”

--------

Several Weeks Before:

Rin sat alone at a center table in the middle of the visitation room.  This wasn’t her first rodeo, probably won’t be her last.  She flexed her hands outwards the leather of her gloves cracking and flexing in a satisfying manner.  No one was going to come and see her. Besides, the solitude allowed her to quietly spy on all the other nutters around the room.

Just to her left Rin noticed a pretty redheaded woman and her son as they sat across from probably the most attractive guy ever in an institution.  There was a tenseness to the way he sat, shoulders hunched and hands between his legs.  His hair unruly and a blank stare that wasn’t really focusing on- she came to realize-  his sister and nephew.  Rin knew him from group therapy where he was equally quiet, eyes glassy from a psych med cocktail.  The majority of his speaking hours tucked away in that overbearing therapist’s office.  

“Jack, will you please just look at me?” his sister, Emma tried her best to reach out to her brother. “I.. I think Martin and I made a mistake.” 

Jack only stared straight ahead between Emma and his nephew, Billy. The preteen looked uncomfortable and scared as his mother nudged him softly. “It's ok. Billy tell Uncle Jack.” 

“I did, Mom” , his voice quiet. “I'm supposed to say no. That you should get me help before it's too late.”  Rin watched as Billy folded his arms and laid his head down. “Only I can't. It's all night and day, Jack. I can't sleep because they don't have you.” 

“Best leave him here with me then, Emma.” It was the first time anyone heard Jack speak in weeks. His sister had a posh accent, so Rin was surprised when Yorkshire dripped from his lips. “For good, right?” 

“That's not fair. You are sick, Jack.  You weren't caring for yourself. You.. you got too involved with that murder. You were hurting yourself,” Emma struggled with tears. “I want to take you home.”

“Oh like I'm some kind of fookin dog? Emma you and Martin made it clear I belong here. She's right, maybe it was all dad. That's traumatic you know.” 

“You deserve someplace warm! A home. Please, Jack. I found this in your things.” She slid a newspaper clipping towards her brother. “That's the boy who drowned. Why.. why didn't you tell me?” 

“Loads of kids drown in pools,” Jack stated bluntly with a shrug. “Why should your pool be any different?” 

“I never said it was our pool.” 

“I recognized the address in the article”

“Jack, it's from two years ago.” 

“I got lucky. Ah we doon here? I have walls to stare at. Here Billy you can have this back,” from between his knees he produced a glass paperweight with a scorpion inside. “Tell all ya mates Crazy Uncle Jack sends his loov” 

Jack tried to stand but Emma grabbed his arm. This was Rin’s cue to swoop in. She swiftly moved from her table to theirs. 

“JACKIE!’ I've been looking for you everywhere!” His eyes panicking in her direction. “I'm Wren,” she took her glove off and reached a scarred hand in Emma's direction. “But my brother couldn't say it so you can call me Rin” She smiled brightly. 

Emma tentatively shook Rin’s hand, smiling in turn.  Rin took a moment as her mind’s eye zoned in on what was inside of Jack’s sister.  It was a loneliness, a desperation to take care of her little brother but protect her son from the same fate.  But most importantly Rin felt a small tingling of warmth from somewhere deep inside of Emma’s heart.  It was white and pure and instantly recognizable as hope.  Even though it was tiny it was growing and starting to spread, and Rin knew Emma was eager to share that with her brother.

“Wow,” Rin blurted, “I wish my brother was as invested in me as you are.  You’re a good person, Emma.  Trust me,” she winked.  “Woman’s intuition.”

Emma narrowed her eyes and studied the crazed looking woman standing between her and Jack.  The scars on Rin’s hand raised some alarms, but Emma ignored them.  She omitted a relief and let go, “Well thank you.  Can you talk some sense into my brother?”

Moments later, with the visitors gone, Rin sat down in Emma’s place.  “Thank you is a start,” she teased Jack. 

He rolled his eyes and slowly turned in her direction to face her dead on.  The intensity of his eyes took Rin by surprise.  “Thank you,” the sarcasm poured like a waterfall.

Rin took off her other glove.  “Now, Mr-”

“Jack is fine.”

“Jack.  Tell me,” Rin feigned a German accent, “Und why do zey sink you are crazy.”   

He blinked slowly.

“You got sectioned.  What bullshit excuse did they force you to believe?  Because it seems like Lovely Emma is desperate to get you out, and we know how hard that is.”

Jack took an impossibly deep breath, “Schizo-effective disorder with some dissociation, post traumatic stress disorder, non-suicidal self injury disorder and depression.”

“Fuck me, that's a trail mix of bonkers. Now ask me” 

Jack closed his eyes. They were shut for so long that Rin was certain he had fallen asleep having given in to his meds. His hunched, thin body sort of folded a bit in on itself. A moment of possible self-soothing when he started to sway. 

“Jack?” Rin's tone fell quietly with concern. She poke his arm carefully avoiding touching the skin. “Darling what cocktail did these quacks put you on.” She was an expert after all these years; if the drugs were working, no way would he be this much of a zombie.

Green blank eyes hidden behind enviable eyelashes attempted to focus “Seroquel. Clozapine?” His words start to slur a bit. “Fine. How fucking barmy are you?”

“Well,”  the young woman softened, “I have suicidal ideations with self-injury tendencies myself, severe clinical depression, a bit of the old borderline personality disorder and wait for it..”  she practically whispered a few inches from Jack’s face, “total emotional attachment to partners.”  

The skin around Jack’s eyes crinkled as he squinted just enough to indicate his hazed brain was trying to process everything Rin just unloaded. His lips parted to speak but he paused resulting in a gobsmacked expression.  “You’re barking.”

“Says the sexy scarecrow with journo clippings of dead boys.”  Rin pursed her lips and crossed her arms, “Why are you really in here Jack.”

“I’m fucking mad.” It was matter of fact.

“To quote the Cheshire Cat, we’re all mad here, love.  Look at me,” she held her hands aloft to display gnarled and prominent scars covering both hands in their entirety.  “I developed a gift or two by primary school.  See I can touch a person, and I know what they are feeling.  Except it.. It goes deeper than that.  I can PICTURE their true selves.  It’s a bit overstimulating, but no one can lie to me.  Not really.  Doesn’t do much for my sex life.  Or lack of one really.  Honestly, you put a cock in your mouth only to find out the guy you’re with is fantasizing about slitting your throat and wanking in your blood.”

Jack shook his head, “Jesus christ.”

“Well yes! My parents were religious zealots, right?  They got wind of my gifts.  Tried to use me in the church, but I rebelled.  Long story short, darling Mumsy and Papa decided if they may be stuck my hands in boiling grease I wouldn’t be able to use it anymore.  It’s not in my hands though.  It’s in my skin,” Rin smiled almost pleasantly. “Sometimes I get a bit over the edge.  I stop shielding myself from the pure air around folks, I suffocate in it.  Then,” now she held out her wrists, “I have my little accidents.”

Jack’s mouth hung agape.  His brows furrowed in confusion, “You are off you’re fucking nut.”

“That’s all relative.  Now, you can tell me why they REALLY sectioned you.  What power or ability are they masquerading as mental illness, or I can find out my way.”  Rin shrugged. 

“Why the fuck do you care?  I’m sleeping at night.  I have food and a bed and a shower.”

“Und electro-shock zerapy, und coma inducing psychopharmaceuticals, und most importantly you has lost your voice und a chance to harness your ability correctly.”  that mock German accent again.  “You shouldn’t be here, Jack.  Emma certainly doesn’t think so, and neither do I.  You’re special.  Or that bitch shrink wouldn’t have made you the living dead.”

Jack snorted followed by a rather loud.  “Just fuck off. Fuck off.  Fuck off.  FUCK OFF!” he screamed in Rin’s face.  Not once did she flinch, arms crossed again in a challenge. Disgusted by her, Jack kept bellowing his words thick with anger and cotton from the meds, “I DON'T BELONG OUT THERE EITHER!  I DON'T BELONG IN HERE!  I DON’T FUCKING BELONG ANYWHERE. HE’S DEAD.  SHE’S DEAD.  EVERY SINGLE FUCKING ONE OF THE CUNTS IS DEAD!  DEAD DEAD DYING!  JUST LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!” 

He shot up out of the chair to leave, but Rin caught his large hand.  Skin to skin, hands so small together they barely covered just his one.  Instantly her body stiffened as she gasped for air.  Tears immediately stung her eyes as she crammed them shut.  There in her mind was just a large body of water.  Ocean waves crashed overhead as she sank far below the surface.  Dark, cold, horrifying that sensation of being drowned.  Rin choked on the last bit of oxygen in her lungs and started to suffocate.  The hand she held brought her mind’s eye around to opening under the water to see Jack floating near-motionless in front of her.  It took all of her strength to push against the tide towards him where she held his face in her hands.  Death and decay flashed above them, the dead peering down from boats just waiting for Jack to return to the surface.

Rin strained to convey that tiny bit of hope Emma had passed along to her earlier as she pressed her forehead into Jack’s in the icy deep.  There was no reason in particular that she was drawn to him.  Not in the hospital or here trying to save him from drowning slowly. Was he attractive, undoubtedly, but that wasn’t all or it. Maybe it was now that she knew he was a messenger, a harbinger of death.  That was itself a form of an empathic gift.  Or it was just compassion. 

Suddenly Jack’s eyes burst open.  In that languid way your body moves underwater, he pushed her away.  His arms and legs thrashed around in a panic as if he only just realized he was allowing this place to kill him.  There was an instant loss, and Rin’s inner self slammed into a brick wall.  The physical Jack had severed the connection between her body and his.  To resurface that suddenly forced Rin gulping in blessed oxygen that she never really lost.  It was an illusion, where the two of them had been.  He really had shoved her back though, she realized that now.  Storming out of the visitation center, Jack left Rin alone to cry.

--------

Several days later

Rin lounged against the wall outside of Jack’s room with her gloves firmly in place.  Patients weren’t SUPPOSED to fraternize outside of the common rooms, but Rin had been here a few times before.  She knew which orderlies and nurses to finess, and which to avoid.  In this case Jerry was the giant, affable St Bernard of a man that kept watch in this particular hallway.

“Wren back so soon?” he teased. “What are you doing hanging around the human handbook for the recently deceased?” 

“Delightful, Jer.  How is he?  I mean really.” Rin hooked her thumb in the direction of the room.

“Easiest patient I’ve dealt with on account of he rarely speaks, pops his meds and keeps to himself.  Gave us a bit of a row when he first got here, but I like the guy.  I don’t know what to believe though.  His sister’s been sniffing around administratives.”  The orderly shrugged his massive shoulders.  “Heard you took quite the piss on visitation day.”

“I didn’t take the piss!” 

“Did ya do your handsy thing,” Jerry made jazz hands.

Rin’s eyes almost rolled back in her head, but suddenly there was a figure in the doorway which caused her to jump.  “How about we don’t talk about the nutter like he isn’t 10 feet away and only 27 years old?” Jack insisted.  His arms crossed and shoulders sagged in their usual way.  

“Can we talk?”  

Before Jack could truly answer, Rin had already pushed past him and sat down on his bed.  His mouth hung somewhat agape before he eventually joined her.  Jack attempted to sit close, just for some human contact, but the young woman beside him shied away.

“Right,” a retort.  “You’ve started being just as bloody fucking annoying as they were.”

Startled, “Who?”

“You know those.. Schizo delusions I’m here for.”

“The dead?”

Jack’s green eyes narrowed and Rin knew there was a sarcastic remark just sitting there waiting to be released.  Instead he curled his posture as if he was trying to fold in on himself.  Make himself smaller, less noticeable.  “Dissociations sparked by my father’s suicide.”

“Psycho babble bullshit jargon.  Congratulations, you’ve become a parrot.”  Rin waved her hand, “Jack has anyone ever-.”  There was a hesitation.  

“Has anyone ever what? Go on, enlighten me then”

Rin started stripping her gloves off but thought better of it.  A sense of foreboding, of drowning and clutching her chest for hair flashed across her mind.  The loneliness emanated from Jack without her touch. That empathic conduction of her skin.  Reaching instead to place the soft leather against his cheek, her thumb brushed his bottom lip.  Her eyes searched for him in that moment where time stood still before a mouth replaced a thumb.  

To not only Rin’s surprise but his own, Jack didn’t recoil.  His body relaxed as instinct took hold. There was a fervor in hands that got tangled up in hair.  Tongues fought each other as arms made their way around bodies in an embrace.  They held one another tight, the desperation apparent.  

The spell broke when Jack laid Rin down on the bed and let his warm mouth trail down her neck. He was awkward and hungry like a teenager.  He fumbled around her chest to attempt massaging her breast. 

A snort came from Rin simply to hide the panic of rushing water when Jack’s lips came into contact with her skin.  Maybe hers found it easier to beg off that inner eye from opening, but now she didn’t have a choice.  They weren’t as deep with the surface just rippling only a few inches away.  

Before she started to lose oxygen again, Rin began to squirm.  “ Stop.  Please?”

Jack sat up and faced forward as if nothing had transpired.  His cheeks flushed and a hand tugged at his tee-shirt embarrassingly then stuffed between his legs. He blinked a few times as he breathing calmed. 

“I only came to ask you if anyone had ever shown you affection.  Held you.  Emma.. Emma”  Rin inhaled deeply as she forced Jack to hold her glove hand.  “I know she sort of longs to hug you.���  Back on his cheek to make him look at her. “Obviously I got my answer,” she laughed. 

Jack silently replied by pushing his forehead into Rin's.  They laid down again this time with their heads on his pillow legs and arms tangled up in each other. Jack nuzzled the edge of his nose into the skin behind her ear; her breath caught. Then the couple seemingly melted together.

“Jack you seem less-” fingers twisted up in his curls.

“Like a walking coma patient?” hand gripped the thick of her thigh.  Then reaching a shelf above Rin Jack seized one of those creepy glass paperweights housing a floating tarantula. Turning it over underneath to show a tiny white envelope. “I started hiding my meds. Pass them along to my sister when she visits.”

Just under the surface of the water, still struggling for air exploded before Rin's eyes. Perhaps she had passed something between Emma and Jack. Was it her own faith that was transmitted to him? That first touch that woke him up after all this time. 

The next few weeks became a game of trial and error. Of how little or much Rin and Jack could consume of each other.  Kissing was no longer an issue once the meds began to wear off, lips and tongues and mouths. It felt more like standing ankle deep in a bathtub. Warm and comforting; it was Jack that was overpowering.  

Eager to make up for a very long very lost amount of time. He stumbled along Rin's body uneasily because of how little clothing she removed at first. Not that he was in a rush to reveal what was underneath his oversized shirt and sweatpants. He wasn’t the one recoiling when the stimulation overwhelmed.  

“I'll take off my shirt. Touch me here, but where the fabric of my bra is. Tease the nipple with just your fingertips. No that's.. maybe under? Touch them. Oh God. Now your mouth. Right there.  Are you.. you took your shirt off too?” (She marveled at how defined, muscular Jack's body seemed despite his slight stature)   

Jack took initiative now and slid his fingers inside of Rin. He pumped them a few times guided by her ``Oh.. maybe you can touch me.. Do you feel.. It’s like a bud or a kernel.. Here let me.. It’s just right.. OH GOD.  Right like.. ”   And she would ride his hand and fingers that circled that bud.  

Rin would cry out in surprise.  Her body exploded in ecstasy. They weren't drowning anymore. Just swimming, bobbed under the water and surface. It was the sense-memory of suffocating, coupled with the dazzling pleasure of Jack's warm tongue as it teased her nipples, his strong fingers teasing her clit at the same time. His hot skin meshed with hers washed out by fear.  She apologized as they scrambled to arrange themselves. 

“Don't think I'm going anywhere for quite some time, my love.”  His words changed with the possessive my in lieu of the once meaningless sentiment. He would steal a chaste kiss from Rin whose cheeks flushed to match his own as he made that familiar adjustment between his legs.  In the future, Rin would come to him without a bra but reluctant to take her shirt off when Jack kept on never minding.

Jerry became an ally of sorts. He always had been on Rin's side after she read him her second section. It wasn't difficult to get him to believe in Jack's abilities. Staff has whispered down the corridors that Jack had suddenly found himself aware of a suicide attempt.  That dead reporter Emma mentioned, his fiancé had taken more pills than Rin ever fathomed any number of her attempts. (She had a flare for dramatics: slit wrists) Jerry mentioned Jack had a tantrum the likes of a toddler screaming the name Sarah whatever over and over, pounding his fists into his head to make whatever haunted him. Sure enough, this Sarah was found nearly having bled out and foaming at the mouth. 

“How would he even fucking know, poppet? Not unless Jack really was chatting up her dead fiancé “ As if that was all he needed, Jerry turned his back and caused distractions all the nights the Empath and her Beautiful Broken Man longed to be together.

It was stunning the way Jack learned to manipulate the system.  Only Rin, and reluctantly Jerry, knew he pocketed his meds.  Safely tucked away in those ugly arachnid globes in the pockets or purse of Billy and Emma.  He started talking more in group therapy and far less in private sessions.  Engaged in conversations with his sister and nephew, true ones that resulted in a simple smile or a laugh free from a facetious tone.  To the staff and doctors those fucking psychopharmeceuticals worked.  To Jack’s sister and nephew and whatever Rin was to him, there was a slowly lifting weight making the air around him lighter. Yet Rin kept her hands to herself.

More trial and error.  In the midst of fervent kisses, Rin took Jack in her hand.  A stroke or two was all she got in before he spasmed and came.  The mortification that flashed in his eyes as he curled in a fetal position between her and the wall while she whispered reassurances in his ear.  Touching him, caressing him and eventually taking him into her mouth became easier and longer with practice and patience.  

They laughed into each other’s mouths before Rin let her tongue trail down over his stomach. Anxiously Jack took off his pants and boxers, lying backwards.  He held the back of her head, moaned and twisted as she licked and sucked on him. His hips bucked and thrust upwards.  

-------------------

Present Day, Again

“Would it be so bad? I just want to feel you under me without fuckin clothes.” Jack took a chance and kissed Rin. Tongue pushed inside of her, but she stiffened. “Sweetheart,” now he whispered,  just his fingertips brushed her cheek. “Please, love, just touch me?”

Rin took a moment to think.  He wasn’t drowning anymore.  She could push that old feeling out of her third eye and bury herself in new ones.  She took a hold of her shirt and tossed it on the floor.  She took the erection that twiced against her thigh and held it just outside of her pulsating and ready sex.  With hands that sunk into her vunerable skin, Jack buried himself inside of her. 

That fire from Emma all that time ago poured from Jack’s body into hers.  It pushed back the water as he pumped rhythmically into Rin.  Building into a frenzy quickly, his pelvis crashed into hers before she could really come around to what was happening.  It briefly conquered the fears from before; caused hot tears to spring to her eyes that flowed uncontrolled down her cheeks.

In his fervor, Jack noticed and bent to kiss them away.  The gesture she had made that first time, a thumb brushed across her cheek and lower lip as he slowed his pace. Wren,” he took to calling her that tentatively.  “What is it?”

Before she could answer, Jack became distracted by something in the corner of the room.  Eyes passed between Rin and whatever it was that she couldn’t fathom or see.  She took his chin and focused it on her as they crashed together and apart again in another wave of building friction. It was too late though, he had abruptly pulled out and away from her. 

“NO!  STOP!  LEAVE ME ALONE!  CAN’T I HAVE ONE MOMENT OF FUCKING HAPPINESS WITHOUT ONE OF YOU LOOMING OVER ME LIKE A FUCKING PERV.”  He used fists to beat out a rhythm on his temples as he scurried to the corner of his bed with knees up to his chest.  

In the frenzy, Rin had been knocked to the floor.  Jerry had rushed in, he was never too far away just in case.  In a whirlwind, he picked Rin up with one hand and with the other attempted to intervene between Jack's fists and his head.  What could either of them do?  If attention was drawn to the room, surely the doctors would realize Jack had gone unmedicated for weeks.  Jerry’s eyes wide gestured towards Rin’s hands.  She shook her head, but Jack carried on.  

“Go on Jenny Wren, there has to be something your hands can do.  I’ll lose my job and you’ll be separated.  They’ll put him back in the Zoo.”  He was already yanking her arms forward and trying to remove her gloves before she could consent.

Rin knew The Zoo. It being rooms that could be monitored with two way mirrors.  You got a bed and a blanket.  They controlled when the lights came on and when they turned them off.  No privilege, no real structure.  They fed you, bathed you, and gave you “playtime” when they said.  No matter how you suffered from mental illness no one deserved that. She would never forgive herself.

“JERRY LET ME DO IT MYSELF!”  Rin bellowed if only to out yell Jack and his fit.  “Make her go away!  LEAVE ME ALONE” he cried underneath her.  Her hands free, she flexed them a few times before joining Jack on the bed.  She clutched his forearms and struggled to get a grip enough to pull them away from self-harm.  “JACK!  YOU HAVE GOT TO FUCKING STOP, MY DARLING.”  She slid her hands over his temples before he could punch them anymore.  She used the heels of her palms and pressed.  

It was immediate, the way her mind opened to him.  This time he was floating along the tide in a boat surrounded by what Rin could only guess were dead people.  They grabbed and tugged on Jack’s clothes.   Rin sat on the other side from him between two oars; she used one to swat at the ghosts who tried to pull them back in.  But there, walking along the surface, was a beautiful young woman.  Blonde hair flowed in waves down her back.  Sarah.

“You said we would be together, Jack.”  She was angry.  “That’s what you told him when he warned you I overdosed.  I survived that attempt, but not the second one.  Where is he Jack?  Why isn’t he here waiting for me?”

Jack stood up and the boat began to dangerously rock. Rin took his hand and he squeezed it in return.  He bellowed at the dead woman, “YOU SURVIVED AND HE MOVED ON.  I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR YOU BEING FUCKING STUPID, SARAH.  WHAT I TOLD YOU WAS MEANT TO EASE YOUR GUILT.  HE LOVED YOU.  YOU WERE SO LOVED.  HE DIDN’T CARE ABOUT YOUR MISTAKES.  YOU HAVE TO LEAVE ME ALONE.  ALL OF YOU.  I’M FUCKING DONE.  MOVE ON.  GO SOMEWHERE ELSE.  I CAN’T BE THE ONLY ONE OF MY KIND.  AND FUCK OFF BILLY TOO, MATE.”

“Jack?”  Rin spoke softly.  The hands gripped her tight in place of him.  They started to pull her in with him because he was useless now.  He stood up to them for possibly the first time in twenty years.  They would take her instead then.  

Jack seized Rin’s body before she could go over in his place.  He held her fast and tight and shielded her from them.  “NO.  You don’t fucking get ANYONE I love.  Not Billy.  Not Emma.  Not Martin.  No Wren or Rin.  AND YOU DON’T FUCKING GET ME ANYMORE.”  He took the oar up in his free hand and swung it around the bodies in the water.  He jabbed it forward like a sword at Sarah still pacing the side of the boat.  “GO, SARAH.  HE’S WAITING FOR YOU.  I PROMISE THIS TIME”  Jack insisted and pleaded.

Then it was so silent it deafened both Jack and Rin as they clung to one another in the boat.  In a flash and explosion, they separated and landed back on the bed in the room in an institution.  Jerry panted and pawed at the two of them dazed and uncertain.  Jack blinked a handful of times with no recollection of what just took place in his head and Rin’s.  They never knew or remembered Rin had learned.

Jack scoured the room for any sign of Sarah or anyone else.  He rubbed his eyes a few times then sighed heavily.  “I.. I want to go back to my room now.”  It was matter of fact.  

Jerry nodded and helped him back into his clothes.  Jack stumbled a bit but managed to kiss Rin sweetly before being led away and down the hall.  Rin knew Jerry would probably give him something to help him sleep at least for the night and probably into tomorrow.  She was afraid Jack had woken up a second time.  Not just from his nightmare of the last twenty years, but whatever happened between them.  It was a price she had to pay sometimes when she helped.  There was something Rin longed to say earlier.  What made her cry was an ember somewhere deep inside of Jack that he had never experienced before.  For the first time in his life, he had hope.

[ducktracy]

187. daffy duck & egghead (1938)

release date: january 1st, 1938

series: merrie melodies

director: tex avery

starring: mel blanc (daffy, turtle, duck), danny webb (egghead)

starting off the new year with a bang—the first cartoon of 1938 is one of my favorites! two tex avery creations, daffy and egghead, make their second appearances paired together.

both characters have gotten a makeover, though egghead’s is more drastic: he now has hair and talks in a dopey drawl courtesy of danny webb. daffy, on the other hand, now has blue irises and a matching ring around his neck—this design would be exclusive to this short only. but, it IS the first cartoon to pen him as daffy duck! he’d appear in a number of looney tunes shorts with porky as the year would go on.

like so many other “hunter vs prey” shorts, egghead is determined to hunt daffy. daffy, however, is prepared to do everything in his power to make egghead miserable.

ben hardaway, who would have been directing his own cartoons at the time of this cartoon’s release, is the writer, and it shows throughout. ben is notable for his more hayseed sense of humor, relying on puns so corny you’ll be flossing your teeth for a week to remove the kernels. his punny touch is noticeable right at the start, with daffy and egghead bursting out of literal nutshells in an odd little introductory sequence. irv spence does some nice animation here: daffy shakes his fists in the glory, soon to be interrupted by the fire of egghead’s gun. egghead chases after a HOOHOOing daffy, the smoke from the gun spelling out to the audience “DUCK SEASON STARTS TODAY”.

the scene is odd, but more so out of uniqueness rather than perplexity. one wonders how tex really would have prefaced the cartoon if he were paired with another writer instead.

in a tradition that would carry out into tex’s MGM days, one of our first impressions of the short is a facetious disclaimer:

a sense of tranquility is established through a soft, sweeping rendition of “morning song” from the william tell overture. various gorgeously painted backgrounds fade into each other to convey the passage of time and rise of the sun, each background absolutely stunning in its own right. in a tex avery cartoon, such peace and harmony can only mean one thing: chaos is soon to follow.

our eponymous hunter creeps onto the screen, remarking aloud on the eerie stillness of his surroundings. “i wonder if there are any more hunters out here this morning.” right on cue, a swarm of hunters pop out of the reeds, reciting a popular catchphrase from the ken murray show reused in many a ‘30s WB cartoon: “whoooooooooa, yeaaaaah!”

the sound of quacks ring out from the recesses of the reeds, turning egghead on the alert. just as he prepares to hunt his prey, a signature avery gag of epic proportions interrupts the scene... literally. 

tedd pierce’s silhouette darkens the screen as he makes his way to his movie seat--a latecomer. egghead spots him and urges him to sit down and not scare away his prey. the latecomer does so, only to rise up again and change seats. our frustrated sportsman urges the silhouette to sit down again, which he does so. the silhouette never utters a word, and that’s the best part. the matter of fact delivery of the gag, the control of it all is what makes the gag so funny. such even temperament from the silhouette juxtaposes starkly with the wild nature of avery cartoons. the normal is now the ridiculous. 

when the silhouette snoops around for a better seat once more, egghead loses all patience and fires his gun straight at the silhouette. tedd pierce’s theatrics are hilarious--he twirls around, clutching his heart, hamming up his injury to the last drop. the anticipatory drum-roll as egghead looks on brings the entire act together. finally, pierce collapses, much to the contentment of egghead. he merely rubs the dust off his hands in a job well done and continues where he left off.

cartoon characters shooting audience members isn’t an alien move in warner bros. cartoons (bugs in rhapsody rabbit, daffy in the ducksters), yet the inclusion of the silhouette and its subsequent dramatics brings a new level of inclusion with the audience. imagine what an uproar this would get in a packed house! it’s a great way to break the barrier between cartoon characters and the audience. WB did a great job of making the audience feel included. hell, a majority of daffy’s character throughout the ‘40s hinges on this! but that’s an analysis for another time.

speaking of daffy, he’s the perpetrator of those quacking sounds in the reeds. egghead parts the plants to see if his prey is still there. he is—daffy gives him a viscious bite on egghead’s bulbous nose before going back into hiding.

“that duck’s craaaa-zy!” daffy pops his head out of the reeds again, shrieking a reply of “you tellin’ me? WOO WOO WOOHOO!”

daffy’s voice is significantly more shrill than his dopey guffaws in porky’s duck hunt. in fact, it’s so shrill that this could easily be considered one of his most annoying cartoons. though his 100% screwy, totally out of his mind personality isn’t my favorite personality for him, it’s still pretty damn great! so if you like obnoxious daffy (like me), this is a short for you. if you can’t stand him being a lunatic, stay away!

with that, daffy takes an exit, whooping and shrieking all the way in a direct throwback to his ecstatic exit in porky’s duck hunt. this is a game-changer for the merrie melodies series—the screwy, lunatic antics were typically reserved for the black and white looney tunes shorts. and here we have daffy, splitting the ears of his patrons and being a royal nuisance in the more expensive, esteemed merrie melodies, typically reserved for song and dance numbers! this ain’t your mother’s merry melody.

when daffy takes refuge within a cluster of reeds positioned in the middle of the lake, egghead uses this as an opportunity to lure out his prey with a decoy. specifically, ONE LOVE-LURE DUCK DECOY.

egghead sends the obnoxiously feminine duck decoy out into the water, quacking in time to the beat of stalling’s “the lady in red” underscore. the decoy disappears into the reeds, and there’s a pause.

a flurry of aggravated, warbled quacking cues us in that daffy is pissed off. the action is all hidden behind the plants, leaving details of their altercation is up to the audience’s interpretation. what we do see is daffy’s physical anger: he pops out of the water at the bank of the lake, throwing the decoy down at egghead’s feet. a makeshift sign cleverly held up by a cattail echoes a beloved catchphrase from the radio show fibber mcgee and molly:

bubbles rippling on the surface indicate daffy’s presence. he pokes his head out to heave a teasing quack at the befuddled hunter before dipping back down again, prompting egghead to stick his rifle in the lake. cue a tried and true gag that was likely much funnier then than now: the ol’ tie-the-gun-into-a-bow trick. 

the next gag is one that tex avery would refurbish in his MGM debut, the early bird dood it!: egghead physically lifts the lake up like a blanket, where daffy appears just in time to give his nose another honk for good measure. cue crazed laughter and intricate water aerobics. daffy halts, addressing the audience directly with a flimsy reassurance: “i’m not crazy, i just don’t give a darn!”

irv spence takes the next showdown between hunter and duck. look at how much more appealing egghead is in his hands! egghead leans down to retrieve his gun he tosses aside, when daffy zooms into frame and fights him for it. daffy’s consistent smile as he and egghead battle for dominance, both trying to reach higher and higher on the gun, is hysterical—he’s absolutely getting a kick out of egghead’s frustration. though it was clear he was reveling in porky’s own anger in porky’s duck hunt, here his enjoyment is much more blatant. he loves being a pest.

daffy slides the rifle beneath his legs and out of sight, bopping egghead on the fist and causing him to slug a haymaker against his own head. signature irv spence grawlixes add a nice level of two dimensional graphic design, like something straight from a comic.

out of nowhere, a random turtle disrupts the altercation. the turtle is a parody of parkykarkus from the chase & sanborn hour, speaking in a thick accent and slightly butchered grammar. he opts to settle daffy and egghead’s fight once and for all, posing as a referee. “just a minute, chums. just a minute!” he supplies the two with pistols, both fitted for their respective sizes. to daffy, “turn around.” to egghead: “now you turn around.”

i love how daffy’s curiosity with the turtle’s interruption is noticeable. so noticeable, in fact, that the turtle grows hostile, getting up in his face and shouting “KEEP YOUR NOSE OUT OF OTHER PEOPLES BUSINESS, AIN’T IT!” it’s rare to see daffy lacking control of the situation, even this early on. 

the two put their backs together per the turtle’s command, walking ten paces backwards in time to the turtle’s countdown. just as the turtle reaches ten, daffy jumps behind egghead, who fires. a potentially gruesome conclusion is avoided as the bullet hits the turtle’s chest instead, causing his head to rocket upward, hit a branch, and shrink back into his shell. in a hardawayian touch, daffy hands egghead a cigar, walking off screen, satisfied.

random as the scene is (hardaway’s influence seems to be particularly strong throughout this whole middle section), irv spence’s timing and appealing animation makes up for it. the switch to another animator entails an inevitable downgrade in draftsmanship.

after egghead realizes he’s been duped, he retrieves his rifle and prepares to shoot daffy. though initially startled, daffy thinks on his feet, and eagerly places an apple on his head for egghead to aim at instead. stalling’s fitting accompaniment of “william tell overture” raises in key each time egghead fires (and subsequently misses), a pattern that sounds almost identical to scott bradley’s scores under the direction of tex at MGM. 

egghead shoots a tree, the lake, a barn, and even straight past daffy, who grows increasingly irritated at the hunter’s incompetence, moving closer to him with each effort. hardaway’s influence is strong with the next gag, matched with tex’s fast pace to prevent it from overstaying its welcome: daffy thrusts pencils, sunglasses, and a sign that says BLIND on it before turning to the audience and tssking. “too bad. too bad!” harsh indeed. i imagine this gag would have been prolonged had hardaway directed this cartoon or wrote it under another director.

if anything, this cartoon certainly displays the importance of the relationship between director and writer. writers have a much bigger influence on the cartoon than one might believe! there’s a reason as to why chuck jones and mike maltese are touted around as a dynamic duo. i wouldn’t call hardaway a bad writer by any means, but his influence is certainly potent. tex is a strong director, and thankfully he could cushion the blows of hardaway’s corniness as much as he could, but it’s also evident that certain decisions were made that tex wouldn’t have made in other circumstances.

decisions such as daffy singing an entire ode to his lunacy as the cartoon’s song number. this is definitely a hardawayian insert--a prototype, hayseed, screwball bugs bunny sings his own nutty anthem in hardaway’s hare-um scare-um just a year later. full song numbers have been making their way out the door in avery’s cartoons, and by either this year or next they’d be absent in total from the merrie melodies series. it’s unlike avery to write a whole song about characters explaining their nuttiness.

that is why i have qualms with the scene. at his zenith, daffy never attempts to explain or justify his screwiness. even in the mid-’40s, when he’s able to think and speak coherently and isn’t a mere caricature of his name, he showed no self awareness for his condition. the “look at me, ain’t i a crazy one?” jokes with him were out the door by 1939. half the fun with him is how unaware he is of his daffiness--he lives in it constantly, always zipping from emotional extremes, but never stops to tell the audience just how crazy and fun he is. here, his self-awareness seems ingenuine and prideful. daffy is my favorite character for his humanity and relatability (even--if not more so--when he’s a total loon). here, he lacks that dynamism. he’s merely a stock reflection of his namesake.

with that said, daffy’s rendition of “the merry go round broke down” is my favorite merrie melody song number, period. i’m certainly biased due to my undying affinity with daffy, but irv spence’s animation is genuinely fun to watch, and mel blanc does a wonderful performance. i know all of the words by heart! essentially, daffy’s justification for his daffiness is because the dizzy pace of the merry go round went to his head and made him nuts. while this sense of bragging is relatively out of character for him, it makes for a contagiously fun song, and also, this is his second film ever. they still had much to explore. 

the scene concludes with daffy shaking hands with his reflection in the water and diving back in. fade out and in to egghead, still furiously attempting to pursue his prey. cue a fun little avery gag where our hunter nonchalantly opens the reeds he’s hiding behind like a pair of blinds. daffy’s carefree quacking and swimming in the lake almost seems to mock him. in a gag that would be reused in avery’s lucky ducky over at MGM to a greater extent, daffy puts on a mask to scare away the oncoming bullets. indeed, the bullets retreat into egghead’s gun, prompting befuddled stares at both the gun and the audience.

daffy engages in another round of spastic water aerobics, HOOHOOing all the way. he only pauses to cling to a cattail, echoing an averyian daffy catchphrase that he would also shriek in daffy duck in hollywood, “ain’t i some cutie? ahah! i think i’ll do it again! HAHAHA!”

a nice, jazzy score of “bob white (whatcha gonna swing tonight?)” accompanies yet another endeavor by egghead. he’s either stupidly bold or boldly stupid to keep up such a tiring charade--or both! egghead loads a pair of gloves tied to a string into the barrel of the rifle, cleverly using a cattail as a bore brush. and, despite the absurdity of his makeshift fishing pole, it works: one gloved hand grabs daffy by the neck, the other konking him on the head and knocking him unconscious. egghead reels in his prize, dumping daffy into a net and letting out a handful of gleeful “WHOOPEE!”s.

avery’s timing is succinct--immediately after egghead snags his duck, the sound of a siren drowns out his celebration. a duck nearly identical to daffy approaches the scene in an “asylum ambulance”. “gee, t’anks a lot for catchin’ dis goof!” duck confiscates his fellow duck comrade. the decision to turn the conversation confidential, complete with the lowering of the voice and shifty-eyed glances is great. “y’know, we been after dis guy for months!”

despite everything that egghead has endured, he seems genuinely shocked at the duck’s claim that daffy is “100% nuts”. “oh YEAH?” he echoes, daring to believe it. duck nods. “yeeeeah!” with that, he gives egghead a honk right on the nose.

daffy, completely unscathed, wastes little time in joining the festivities as both ducks beat the tar out of egghead from both ends, literally kicking him in the arse and honking him on the nose. both ducks head to the lake, HOOHOOing in shrill unison as they bound off into the horizon. egghead only has one more option... to join them. thus, we iris out on our brave hunter HOOHOOing into the horizon himself.

as i said at the beginning of this review, this cartoon is one of my favorites--for this era, anyway. despite its imperfections, it’s still a rather fun and rousing cartoon. it’s exciting to see daffy becoming more recognizable, in terms of voice,  demeanor, and appearance. the same can be said for egghead as well, though i doubt anyone has the same attachment to him as they do other characters. i certainly don’t.

admittedly, porky’s duck hunt is a more solid cartoon. this cartoon feels much more like a string of gags than anything, though i suppose that could be said for many a tex avery cartoon. he wasn’t known for his moving stories. hardaway’s corny, hayseed sense of humor serves as the biggest detriment to the cartoon, but luckily tex is a strong enough director to try and work around those weaknesses as best he could. and even though i disagree with the reasoning behind the song number, the song number will always be my favorite merry melody song. 

i didn’t mention the backgrounds very often, but they’re STELLAR. the colorful, whimsical palette brings a lot of energy and vitality to the table. if you were to describe the cartoon in one word, “energetic” would certainly be it.

so, with that said, go watch it! this is a really fun cartoon that serves as an interesting look into early daffy’s character, obnoxious as he may be.

link!