#quack!

[duckstars]

can we see ur laptop stickers 🥺

BEETLE

Grabs and shakes you!!!

And of course you can! Don't mind the mess, i just shoved things around enough to get a non doxxy picture, back at college and my desk is already a mess

These are all the ones on my laptop and accessories + sone extra i haven't figured out what to do with yet. My phone's charger also has some, but its further away and I don't have the will right now lol

[duckstars]

Happy Blorbo Blursday, Duck. (～￣▽￣)～ For any OC you intend on developing: how does they handle preparing for and initiating a difficult conversation? How does the conversation itself go? Sending you grand vibes, loads of creative energy, and luck your way. ~~ 🍀🍀🍀 - ✨️ Enc (@enchanted-lightning-aes)

Hello hello! I hope you're having a great day. Sending loads of vibes and energy back.

To answer your question, I'll pick Syria, and a conversation that would have happened in canon if things didn't change halfway through. For context, one of her 'friends' (who she hates, but he doesn't leave her alone, and personally she believes he deserved it for all his behaviour) ended up getting burnt to death, and she had to tell his mother (an unfortunately nice, considerate woman). Of course, the answer will be slightly different depending on the specific scenario, but in general:

She would overthink the whole way through, probably get snappy if theres someone else there trying to talk to her. After all, if you need to tell someone her son died, you gotta have the right words and tone of voice. Once there she'd go through all the social formalities and small talk first, get a guage of the other, things like that. And then she'd just say the words. Just tell the other what the news is, how it happened, and its probably without tact. I mean, isnot like you can break heavy news in a way that won't break the other person's heart.

...who knows how the conversation goes, though. It never happened. But the poor woman probably ends up crying.

[duckstars]

I forgot i can actually advertise stuff here.

Anyway, I'm writing a griffia fanfic at the idea of my friend, Rose, about the royals having a bunch of children to take care of. Unfortunately all of them arent nearly as skilled in taking care of kids as one would expect.

New chapter dropping as soon as i go through with edits, but while thats in the works, feel free to read it from the beginning here! A lot of work is going into it, and I'm excited for the upcoming arcs.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Of course, if you like it, please leave kudos and comments! You can also check out my other griffia works, they're public on my profile. Ive also written for other fandoms but they're currently locked to registered users only, sorry.

[duckstars]

"that's how (festival name) started, actually."

"huh?"

"yeah, we killed them, and everyone was so happy at their death they just started celebrating immediately. And over time it went from a death anniversary to a whole festival."

"... interesting."

"you know they were bad when that's how your murder is received."

[duckstars]

Maybe I could be a better person if I wasn't convinced of my own evilness

I need to stop taking everything as proof I'm a fundamentally irredeemable person, man

[duckstars]

(and somewhere beyond the horizon theres a shrine long abandoned by its worshippers but remembered by its gods)

(they ask each other, what happened to the people who lived here?)

A concept, maybe

[duckstars]

you should burn the supernova out now a brilliant flash to outshine the star that once glowed a pinprick the galaxy a cloud burn it out, brighter than a dream a radiance to scorch sterile worlds that could harbour life you should burn it out soulblazing starlight let it rip through your core let jets of power tear through the cosmos candlelight of death that will shine longer as your corpse than it ever did while you were alive and the universe will shudder a memory etched upon its eternal fabric of an event more violent than birth more powerful than weapons dreamt of fall short only to the cataclysms that created you and when all is silent it will remain that which survives from the past with no creation of its own until it fades quietly violently destructively quietly into darkness

Or: Maybe the universe is a poem. maybe that's all it is