#though not a lot :^

[deathontheroad]

The Insanity of One's Mind

Episode Title: Treehouse Rules

Staring: . . .

> Characters mentioned/appear in the episode, that don't star in it, will be properly introduced in their respective episode.

______ . . . ______ . . . ______ . . . ______ . . . ______

In the windy day of January, a rickety treehouse, perched precariously on the town's biggest oak tree, groans against the wind. It told tales of numerous storms and winds survived, despite the obvious scorched spots in its walls. It suspiciously smells of burnt marshmallows and rubber tires. Upbeat, slightly off-key whistling can be heard from within the treehouse. Its inside is somewhat more polished than its exterior, but just as disorganized. Though, 'disorganized' couldn't be the word these two could use.

A wall is decorated by tacked-up posters of various fires and shoplifting targets and another is decorated by stolen road signs nailed with rusty nails. An crate, overflowing with a stack of flammable objects, sits on the left corner that has seen better days. A wooden table, its green paint fading away, is covered with newspapers dating back to 1970 and a collection of half-eaten candy bars organized by colors. Next to the table is a box closed by a monstrous amount of duct tape, labeled 'Fireworks (Do Not Touch, Seriously Tap)'.

In the center, a chess board stands on the edge of a whimsically carved stool, with odd mishmash pieces meticulously arranged, threaning to fall. Two figures sit in front of each on the sides of the chessboard, their dark and light brown fur and striped tails brighten by the morning sunlight. Tap is chewing on a matchstick perched on his mouth, his eyes squinted in concentration. His tail swings calmly from side to side, a habit he had since a young age. Tup is absentmindedly twirling one of the stolen road signs around, displaying a defaced 'STOP' sign that now reads 'WAVE!'. A plate of almost finished strawberry pastries laid on the floor, its sweet aroma twirling in the air, grabbing Tup's attention more than the game.

A blue, chipped bottle cap, carefully held by Tap's claws, intended to be his paw, hovered over the chessboard, ultimately landing on a square. Tap smirks, a small chuckle of victory escapes his lips, his eyes shining with stars. "Haha! Checkmake, brother!" He declares, his voice raspy from years of inhaling smoke. He plucks the matchstick from his mouth, pressed and dragged it along the wooden floor, lighting it. He plucks it back to his mouth. "Looks like your reign as champion is over."

Tup rolls his eyes, the defaced road sign slowing to a stop. "Beginner's luck. That's all it was. Your paw was clearly out of bounds. Rule 73, paragraph B, subsection 4; 'All paw movements must originate from within the player's designated sone'."

He knew it's a lie. He wrote the rule book himself, he knows what's inside it. He memorized every single line he put on the pages. "There's no rule like that!" Tap scoffs, moving a clawed finger to point at the chessboard. "You made that up!"

"Did not!" Tup retorts, slamming the road sign against the table, the pieces wobbling. "It's right here in the official Treehouse Rules of Chess!" He gestures vaguely towards a stack of papers balanced on a pile of stolen hubcaps.

"Those are instructions for my Rube Goldberg machine!" Tap exclaims, grabbing the papers and tossing them aside. A hubcap rolls off the pile, narrowly missing the crate labeled 'Fireworks'. "Seriously, Tup, get your facts straight for once!"

"Okay, maybe I misremembered the exact location of the rule." Tup concedes, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "But the spirit of the rule remains! Your move was illegal!"

"The only thing illegal around here is your obsession with bending the rules to your advantage." Tap retorts, leaning back in his stool with arms crossed, eyes narrowed. "You're just jealous because I finally beat you."

Tup stands up, knocking over his stool with a clang, hand on his chest. "Jealous? Please! I let you win. I was feeling generous." He moves towards to strawberry pastries.

"You? Generous? You're about as generous as a swarm of locusts!" Tap scoffs, snatching the last pastry from the plate before Tup can reach it. He shoves the whole thing into his mouth at once, crumbs scattering across his parka.

Tup's eyes narrow. "That was mine! I had my eye on that one!"

"Finders keepers." Tap mumbles through a mouthful of strawberry filling.

That was the last straw. Tup lunges for Tap, aiming for the pastry-filled mouth. A scuffle ensues, sending the table rocking back and forth. The chess pieces tumble to the floor, scattering across the room. The chessboard slides off the stool, crashing onto the floorboards with a loud thud. The defaced road sign clatters to the ground, the 'WAVE!' mocking their childish squabble.

"Get off me, you kleptomaniac!" Tap yells, trying to pry Tup off and shove him away.

"Give me back my pastry, you pyro!" Tup retorts, pulling and clawing at Tap's parka.

Their wrestling match careens through the treehouse, a chaotic dance of flailing limbs and angry snarls. They stumble against the pile of stolen hubcaps, sending them rolling across the floor like metallic tumbleweeds. Lost in their little fight, the twins don't notice the approaching footsteps — or rather stomping — from outside of the treehouse. They're jolted out of their argument when a harsh voice yells out.

"Hey! Keep it down up there, you jackasses!"

They pause their scuffle. The twins freeze, momentarily forgetting their pastry-fueled rage, they exchange nervous glances. Reluctantly, Tap moves over to the treehouse's entrance, only consisting of a trapdoor. He pries it open and look outside. Below on the ground, stands a tall figure dressed in his jammies. Skittles, the ever grumpy honey badger, his black and white fur ruffled and his eyes redder than they were yesterday. A rooster is held under his arm like a football. "Some of us are trying to sleep, you overgrown trash pandas!" Skittles continues to yell, his face turning an even deeper shade of crimson, a vein throbbing in his forehead. The rooster lets out a nervous cluck, flapping its wings weakly. "Dude, it's 11 AM. Why are you still in your pajamas?" Tap retorts, immediately regretting his smart-mouth remark. Skittles' glare intensifies.

"That's none of your fucking business! And it's because of you two that I can't get any sleep! The whole damn town can hear you fighting like a pair of rabid dogs!"

"We weren't fighting! We were... strategizing!" Tup yells from behind Tap, trying to salvage the situation.

Skittles raises a skeptical eyebrow. "Really? That sounded a lot like someone was about to lose a few layers of fur."

Tap sighs, running a paw through his fur. "Look, Skittles, we're sorry. We didn't mean to wake you up. We were just having a... spirited debate about the rules of chess."

Skittles scoffs, rolling his eyes. "I highly doubt that. Last time I checked, chess didn't involve throwing hands and yelling about pastries."

"Details, details." Tup mutters under his breath.

Skittles pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to calm himself down. "Just... keep it down, okay? I swear, if I hear another peep out of you two, I'm coming up there and make you regret the day you were born."

Tap and Tup exchange horrified glances. That was a threat they took very seriously. "Understood." Tap says quickly, giving Skittles a strained smile. "We'll be quiet as mice."

Skittles glares at them one last time before turning around and stomping back towards his house, muttering about inconsiderate neighbors and the eternal struggle for a decent night's sleep. His rooster lets out a relieved squawk as they disappear from view. Tap closes the trapdoor, leaning against it with a sigh. "Well, that was close."

Tup nods in agreement, a sheepish look on his face. "Maybe we should try to keep it down a little next time."

"Yeah." Tap says, surveying the chaotic scene around him. "And maybe we should clean up this mess before Skittles decides to pay us another visit."

______ . . . ______ . . . ______ . . . ______ . . . ______

[maidenvault]

Not “Only my reading of canon is correct” or “Interpretations are subjective and all valid” but a secret third thing, “More than one interpretation can be valid but there’s a reason your English teacher had you cite quotes and examples in your papers, you have to have a strong argument that your interpretation is actually supported by the text or it is just wrong and I’m fine with telling you it’s wrong, actually.”

[icewindandboringhorror]

(also feel free in the tags to clarify Why you made the choice you made!! :0c)

[coleopterabyte]

Part of the reason I'm so adamant about encouraging people to get comfortable with bugs, my own interests aside, is because we cannot have a bright, solarpunk future without them.

A green future is not a bugless future. It is, in fact, a fairly bugful future. If you care about ecological stability, then you need to start with bugs, because they're the most at risk with our current use of pesticides.

[butchfalin]

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

License to Kitty.

[wanologic]

sorry danny, sam will never think you’re cool

[lesmiserablol]

tramell tillman is the kind of actor that you expect to look up and find years of theatre experience with at least half a dozen shakespeare credits to his name but then on the severance podcast he’s like “yeah i didn’t realize i wanted to be an actor until a few years ago 🤗” as if his role as milchick isn’t the craziest/coolest/scariest performance you’ve seen

[homoqueerjewhobbit]

Another reason I want more Addams Family with the 90s cast is I think it would be so nice to see Morticia uncorseted and aging gracefully. I don't think she'd go full Grandmama but do you really think an Addams is afraid of wrinkles and cellulite?

Look me in the eye and tell me Anjelica Huston doesn't still have it.

[blahlahblash]

Look who's finally back. Happy Late Freaking Pride Month everyone

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

you dont mean that

[whenthewallfell]

Sometimes love is finally getting the courage to give flowers to the girl you like, because you found them growing in the meadows and they reminded you of her, wild and beautiful and free

Sometimes love is choosing to smell oniony for the day rather than telling the boy you like that you recognise the flowers he's picked for you

[akanemnon]

Clearing the weeds

FIRST - PREVIOUS - NEXT

MASTERPOST (for the full series / FAQ / reference sheets)

[starp00k]

And in case I don't see you; Good afternoon, Good evening, and Good night.

(click the img for better quality)

[squarecloud73]

*I worship you Tumblr please don’t remove it

傳達不到的一些東西

Dumb school girl crush

[eggbem]

Post Villain-of-the-Week-Scuffle Nap.

Good morning everyone! (Welcome to my seminar!) Here's some Portal Duo snuggling to start off your day! What's the point of having the ability to draw turtles if you don't indulge in the softest of fluff once in a while?

Just ignore the fact that, with Leo's canon bed setup, there's really no room for Raph to be standing on the other side. How's he doing that? Magic ig.

(I feel like this goes without saying, but you never know: T-cest, do NOT interact; I will punt you to the moon.)