#righty-o

[babmaos-blog]

HE SAID THE THING !!

[reilliane]

hello! i absolutely love your writing, but if it's alright, can you properly label your fics as female reader? or put that the reader gets referred to with she/her pronouns? (or that the reader is implied to be a female) some people may not feel comfortable with being referred to with she/her pronouns and a little warning could help prevent them from feeling dysphoric ^^ /g

Thanks, dear! And sure, sure. By label, I'll be adding it in the tags and as a tiny bit just before the ficlet.

If anything else unsettles someone, don't hesitate to say it ( ﾟ▽ﾟ)/

[sweeping-the-clouds-away]

Eh here’s a Felix I drew two years ago

[animationproclamations]

RIGHTY-O, RUSHMORE! Magnificent trade ad for Trans-Lux Television featuring Felix the Cat as the fifth head. “Broadcasting,” 8-26-63

[junior-has-a-blog]

((The Dapper Feline is back this time digital telling you it’s a righty-o day!!! for an art trade with @ask-felix-the-cat ))

[track-three]

TWO MONTHS LATER: i’m gonna finally reward myself for finishing half a med degree!

with my newfound clinical experience, i am going to REWATCH SMITH AND JONES. and enjoy every #tooaccurate and #notaccurateenough moment.

[ftfthetoonist]

Felix The Cat says “Righty-O!” (February 2013)

(c)2013-16 Felix The Cat Productions Inc. and DreamWorks.

[apromisetoeveryone]

Prompt: Walden visits the graves of his parents.

The grass rustled in the pleasantly warm breeze, accompanied only by the soft crunch of leaves beneath heavy boots. Buds were starting on a single large oak which hung over the graveyard. It made for an oddly cheery scene, the headstones looking well polished and bright in under the afternoon sun.

Walden made his way past the oak with his hands hanging casually in his pockets as he hummed a soft tune to himself. As most graveyards went this one was relatively empty other than the bones he knew lay six feet beneath his feet. He didn’t even bother glancing at the names on the gravestones, tracing a familiar path through the rows.

This graveyard in particular always helped put his mind at ease. It was on the outskirts of an old Muggle village, so it was unlikely he would ever meet anyone he knew here. The familiarity of it was comforting as well - though it wasn’t something he’d readily admit to - and the sweet song of death rang louder in his ears here.

It became particularly loud as he spotted a figure not far ahead of him, kneeling in front of a freshly dug grave. The grave itself was smaller than most, barely stretching three feet. Immediately Walden found his interest peaked, the song in his head swelling in anticipation.

Straying from his usual path he made his way over to the man, pausing a few feet away so as not to startle him. His gaze fell upon the small grave, a sleeping stone lamb was perched atop it, the numbers 1976-1979 standing out boldly amongst the cursive lettering.

“Yes?” A gruff voice made him turn his head to glance down at the scruffy looking man.

Walden studied him for a moment. He looked to be fairly young, though there were dark circles under his eyes and his beard worked to make deciding a definite age difficult. He was looking up at him, not even putting energy into making his gaze a glare. Though he had nothing on him at the moment to indicate it Walden would guess that he had been drinking and it didn’t look as though he had bathed or even changed in quite some time. Overall he looked crushed. Defeated by the world and the terrible cards he had been dealt.

The soft breeze turned into a harsher gust of wind and Walden heard It whisper It’s blessing softly in his ear.

“Sorry for your loss, mate,” he said stiffly, shaking his head sadly at the small grave.

The man huffed a humourless laugh. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“...You alright?”

“The fuck do you think?” There was a little more venom in his voice, but there was still very little energy behind it, and a moment later the anger had melted away again. “Just leave me alone … please.”

Nodding solemnly Walden turned and started to make his way back to his path. When he was a little farther away he paused and called back, “Do you want to die?”

The distance made it a little difficult to hear, but he still caught the muttered, “What?”

A smile crept across his face and without warning he disapparated, appearing inches before the man an instant later. It took a second for the man to register what had happened, and when he did he let out a cry and fell back, scrambling until his back hit another headstone. “What are you---”

“Do you want to die?” Walden crouched down so they were on the same level, the soft smile still colouring his features.

“I --- I --- Are you the reaper? Satan? God? --- Fuck, I must be mad.”

Merlin, but it was fun to screw around with Muggles. They were just so easy to spook.

“You’re not mad,” he replied calmly, shuffling forward and reaching out a hand. The man flinched away, but seemed too afraid or confused to lash out or try to escape - his obvious exhaustion likely playing a part in this. “All I need is an answer. Do you want to die?” His hand touched the man’s cheek, caressing him gently.

The gesture only seemed to confuse the man further as he relaxed the arm he had raised to defend himself. Eyes moving from the hand on his face to the face of the odd being before him, the man finally met his gaze. Walden waited patiently, hoping he hadn’t completely addled the man’s brains with the quick show of magic. Luckily the man got over his shock quickly enough and finally gave a small nod.

“You want to die?”

There was a pause, and then he let out a breath and hung his head. “Yes.”

The smile became a cruel grin and Walden pulled the man towards him, dragging him into a hug. A crack like a gunshot rang out in the graveyard and once again it was left empty, only the old oak around to see the two men disappear without a trace.

Half an hour passed and very little changed but the sun’s position in the sky, shifting ever so slightly to make the shadows stretch just a little farther. Finally another crack could be heard if there were ears around to hear it and a single man returned, no longer standing by the small grave but now staring down at a large gravestone with two names written side-by-side.

Walden turned as sat against the gravestone, lifting his gaze up at the cloudless blue sky. “Tell that kid he’ll see his useless father soon enough, would you? For now I think I’ll take a break. Man’s got to have some downtime, right?” His soft laugh was carried away by another fierce gust of wind, and he began to hum the sweet song echoing in his mind once more.