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BaalBuddy

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white trash bitch cut me in line at Walmart so i swiftly un-sheathed my nodachi (traditional Japanese greatsword) and effortlessly severed her head from her torso in one smooth motion, showering hapless bystanders and her now-screaming (likely inbred) children with blood. i tried to explain what happened to the manager, but he refused to acknowledge the woman's shameful and dishonorable conduct and instead forced me to leave without even paying for my Monster Energy and pre-packaged salad kit. just another day in the life of the Grocery Store Rōnin

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Rubberhose toons from the past and present, my beloved and adored. I'd give my life to have them be real

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a scooby doo series set in community college where the gang is in a criminology class and end up in a huge debate on the first day of class that leads to them starting a podcast talking about local urban legends, only to realize things aren’t quite adding up and they go to investigate for ~journalistic authenticity~ and end up solving a real-life crime disguised as supernatural occurrences. this happens every week and they’re frequently featured on the school newspaper. they only have twenty listeners

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oh my god he would LOVE managing an animal crossing island

maybe even stardew valley. He would make spreadsheets

Yknow ehat

Gamer Huey is so real

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[Okay so I got a prompt request for "Because you love me, duh!" and then, in all my genius, deleted it completely by accident. To the person who sent it, my sincerest apologies; here is the response nonetheless. It is probably way longer than these things are supposed to be, but who's complaining?]

⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ:

"Try manipulating him," Louie suggested.

"I'm not going to do that, dude." Huey adjusted the phone where he was holding it above his face in his bed. His arms were getting tired, on top of the usual flu-aches. "Anyway, he's so busy, he'll probably just get mad at me for bothering him."

"No, it's fine. Just tell him you're still feeling pretty awful and want a distraction." That wouldn't be a lie. "Then make your eyes all big and do The Stare."

"Don't do The Stare," Dewey said, shoving his face over Louie's shoulder and twisting around his seatbelt to get onscreen. "The Stare is scary. It'll have the opposite effect."

"It's not always scary," Louie contradicted him. "Huey, show me your eyes."

"I'm not gonna-"

"Make your eyes all big and sad. Do it. Puss in Boots style. You're the one with the biggest, saddest, scariest eyes, and if you don't use your powers you're wasting them."

"Can you guys shut up-"

Dewey leaned further into Louie's personal space. "If you use The Stare he'll probably get freaked and think you're a rabid raccoon that accidentally wandered in and he'll call the exterminator." Webby giggled heartily at this offscreen.

"Knock it off," Huey could hear Donald saying. Dewey and Webby ceased their chortling.

"Tell him you don't want to be alone," Louie said again, "then bat your eyelashes at him. Then say something like, 'Yeah, I get it if you don't want to play with me. It's just something I think Mom would have helped me with, if she were still here with us....'"

"Dude," Huey chided, rolling onto his side and leaning the phone against the wall.

"That should do the trick. He'll be in sitting in front of Legends of Legendquest with a controller in his hands before you can say 'Bless me bagpipes'."

"Louie, I don't think that kinda thing's going to work anymore, now that your mom's back from the moon," Webby said from somewhere in the car. Louie looked up.

"No, Huey, go ahead and try it, baby," Della shouted back from the front seat.

"Both hands on the wheel, Mom," Dewey said.

"Feel free to try any means necessary to get him to help you," Della continued, shouting to be heard from across the car, "because you're not going to get that crate by yourself, and if you don't get it for us before the event ends tonight, I might have to disinherit you."

"Mom!" Huey laughed.

"Eyes on the road, Mom," Louie said at the same time.

So, somehow, Huey found himself in front of his uncle's office door, his scarlet-patched denim quilt wrapped around him, feeling rather cartoonishly like a robed roman senator, if said senator were wearing footed pajamas, had a doozy of an influenza case, and were about to probably get executed on the spot. The exodus to get here had been exhausting; he probably shouldn't have been out of bed, but oh well.

His foot hit a loose floorboard, squeaking violently, and he winced, expecting a sharp "What is it?" to ring out from behind the door, but there was nothing. He lifted his hand to the door and knocked a polite shave-and-a-haircut before he could talk himself out of it.

There was a small dominoing of crashing sounds, followed by some quiet, muffled exclamations that sounded suspiciously like cut-off swear words. Huey took this as invitation enough and cracked the door open, adjusting the blanket where it had fallen off his shoulder. Inside, Scrooge was rearranging the knick-knacks, papers, and glasses he'd knocked over.

"Sorry," Huey said quietly. "Were you asleep?"

"No," Scrooge said, quickly enough that Huey knew he had, in fact, dozed off.

Huey shuffled into the room, blanket dragging on the ground, and helped his uncle scoop assorted pens and highlighters back into a handpainted World's Richest Uncle mug (courtesy of Dewey).

"You should take a break," Huey told him. "You've been working too hard this week."

"I can't stop, the launch is in three days." Scrooge rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. "I've got to get this polished out before then."

Huey peered at the papers on the desk and pretended he understood what any of it meant. "It looks pretty done to me."

"Well, aye, but-"

"If it's finished, why are you still working on it?" Huey sneezed.

"Because- well- a mean, only a version of it is finished. I'd like to put my best foot forward on this project, which means I've got to comb through and make sure everything's perfect."

"Are you sure you're not doing what I usually do?"

Scrooge eyed him from across the desk. "And what would that be?"

"Getting obsessed over everything being just right to the point that your view of reality is distorted until your obsession is all you can think about?"

Scrooge's gaze would have been sharp were it not for the fatigue of mind and body. "You're getting ahead of yourself, lad. I invented that move. I've been doing it since before you were born."

Huey shrugged.

Scrooge blinked at the disorganization on his desk. He adjusted his glasses. He looked at Huey as though just now seeing him for the first time. "Did you need something from me?"

Huey felt very small wrapped in his big heavy blanket in the middle of his uncle's big, pristine office. He still felt pretty awful. The blanket felt thicker than normal and hard to keep up; it was practically weighted, and in fact Huey suspected that Donald had snuck weighted beads into the lining when he'd made it for him all those years ago. The effect was that the thing was exhausting to move around, and his arms ached, and he felt shaky and was probably a little bit feverish, and his head and chest felt unfathomably swollen, and it was kind of a miracle that he'd made it this far into the conversation without Scrooge getting frustrated about his work being interrupted.

So Huey just managed to squeak out some stuttered declinations.

"Are you sure?" Scrooge pushed away from the desk and in a second was taking a knee in front of Huey. "You look terrible."

"Thanks," Huey muttered. Scrooge put a hand to his forehead. Huey wanted to disappear inside his blanket. When he'd embarked on the journey to the office, he'd been confident in his mission to seek help with Legendquest, but now he was worn out and cowardly and mostly afraid of when Scrooge would ask why he was here and he'd have to admit the humiliatingly silly truth.

"Do you want some Tylenol?" Scrooge asked him.

"I have to wait two more hours at least."

"Water?"

"I'm probably overhydrated by this point."

"Have you eaten?"

"I'm not hungry."

"That wasn't what I asked," Scrooge said, raising an eyebrow, and Huey sighed.

"I had lunch."

Scrooge glanced at his watch. "It's not quite time for dinner- Gods above, how did it get to be four o'clock already?- so we'll get something into you the same time you get your Tylenol. Sound good?"

"Spectacular." Huey might have been swaying a little.

"Why are you up, anyway? You ought to stay in bed. Come on."

Huey was thankful that Scrooge spun around to give him an opportunity to climb on his back, because it meant he didn't have to make eye contact with him. "I was just hoping- well, it was silly, but I was thinking maybe-"

"Spit it out," Scrooge said, not unkindly, as he hoisted his nephew up onto his back and pushed to his feet. Huey wrapped the blanket around his torso and his arms around his uncle's neck.

"Well, I was feeling really gross, and I couldn't sleep because of it, and I was trying to think of things to do to distract myself. And I thought maybe I could play the game that Mom and I always play, Legends of Legendquest? Because there's an event going on...."

Scrooge listened quietly as Huey explained and he carried him down the hall. Huey rested his cheek on the back of his uncle's curly head and rambled. He might have gone off on a tangent. He might have hit all the points on the guidelines to victory that Louie had laid out over the phone. At some point he stopped paying attention to the words coming out of his mouth.

"-and Mom said she might be forced to disinherit me, so."

Scrooge harrumphed at this. He dropped Huey unceremoniously on the couch.

"This isn't my room," Huey said suddenly.

"I'm glad you've noticed," Scrooge said dryly. "I thought it might be too much work for you to climb up and down that bunk of yours, so you can sit in the family room awhile." He eyed the television. "If I were to.... help you with this.... video game," he said the phrase as though it were poison, "well, why would I be doing that?"

Huey burrowed into the couch. "Other than me running the risk of being disowned? Well, uh. Because you love me. Duh."

If he batted his eyelashes a little, he could hardly be blamed for that.

Scrooge studied him awhile. Then he sighed as though the weight of the world were falling on his shoulders and sat on the couch next to Huey.

"Fine. Teach me."

Scrooge was horrible at Legends of Legendquest. Spectacularly, terrifically, awesomely horrible. It was like teaching a toddler; Huey suspected Scrooge had never held a controller in his life. In some ways it was worse than playing with a toddler, because, generally speaking, three-year-olds were much less belligerent. He clearly had a lot of steam to blow off from work.

It got even worse when, fueled by pure spite and rage, Uncle Scrooge started to get the hang of it, and then to get actually good. Within a few short hours, he'd helped Huey get through the dungeon, the booty had been collected, Huey had been fed a quick dinner of macaroni, grapes, and cold medicine, and the boy had fallen asleep on the couch while, far into the night, Scrooge was consumed by the one thing he'd managed to hate without fail for forty years prior.

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some examples of Autism Enrichment (for ppl with special interests in media)

using dollmakers (picrew, meiker, neka.cc, etc.) to make canon characters

filling out character/ship/fandom ask memes, whether you get asks for it or not

character alignment/chart memes

making playlists for characters or ships

making pinterest boards for characters or ships

writing snippets of dialogue in the notes app and never doing anything else with that piece of writing

watching other movies/shows and being like “[favored character/ship/fandom] au”

watching vine/tik tok compilations and being like haha its [favored character/ship]

making sims households of your fav canon characters

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they're both my favorite characters so it's nice to know that they were friends once

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Average Daft Punk enthusiast. ★

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bunches of mumbles

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@blueberryjellous welcome to the LT / Dafpork train roomie!

Uhhh clip or something

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(voice of a girl who's already weird about it) can i be weird about this

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maybe it’s the bulbs who want miniature ottomans for themselves?

You know what I think it didn't make sense on Moonvasion?}

Why the hell the bulbs contacted Johnny and Randy?

See the sequence of the attack, they did nothing. Violet, a literal child, did more for the team.

They were just standing there, and not even menacingly…

You know what I think, the bulbs were looking for Hack and Slash Smashnikov, but the brothers were back in Furssia so the bulbs settled on the first pair of brothers they found.

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adding songs from musicals to character playlists is so stupid like yeah this works just ignore some of that really specific stuff

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Dodgers

Fruity ahh captain

(Working on chapter 2 of the new fic as well! This was just a lil quick side quest of doodles)

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DCRC Week #2

The road to catching up continues! Today’s read is PKNA #0.2: The Winds of Time.

He is so silly here. Also the pose work on these comics drives me nuts in the best way possible

In love with everything about this. The colors? The way his cape frames the car? GAH!

Donald “Diva” Duck propaganda part 2

First off, BEAUTIFUL COLORS. Also space-time shenanigans!!!!

I have a LOT of incomprehensible thoughts about his mindset …

GAH they bring me joy

More goofballposting !!!

I LOVE LYLA!!!! SHE IS SO COOL!!!!!!! Anyways as per usual I had a lot of fun with that one!! I am curious as to whether or not the mention of multiple androids being scattered about space and time is foreshadowing of another lurking around later on. We’ll see!