Best Wishes Everyone!

Best wishes everyone!

and a very pleasant lughnasadh for those living in the southern hemisphere 😘

Saw a post about Mexican Dream being a horrific cryptid under his mask and that got me thinking. Also saw another post about Quackity shapeshifting via masks.

Quackity is a shapeshifter, but can only take on the forms of people he has a mask of or can see at the moment, be they right in front of him, or a picture of them. He can make slight changes, like hair length and color, for example. So hidden away somewhere is the room of masks in everyone’s likenesses. He doesn’t have one for everyone but he can make them if he wanted to. The only one that’s ever been a problem is Dream.

Since Dream always wears his mask Quackity has never seen his face, so without a proper reference for Dream’s face, under the mask is always some kind of horrific Lovecraftian monster. The odd part is Quackity has tried to make the face something else but it never works for what’s under the mask, only the mask itself, Quackity brushes this off as not having seen Dream’s face and his brain is filling in the gaps, but he has a sinking feeling of dread that it’s more than that.

In short Lovecraft style monsters are my jam and it’d be absolutely terrifing if someone like Mexican Dream walks up to you, pulling their mask off to reveal a mess of snapping teeth and eyes.

Kids, come get your juice!

This is a first draft blurb of the story I’m writing based of my recent SMP post and it’s very late where I live so sorry if this is bad. Also this is the first time I’ll be posting my writing publicly anywhere so please don’t kill me.

Puffy quickly drew her sword and wiped around, as if second nature, she shifted into a defensive stance. Her eyes were locked onto the nearby underbrush.

“I know you’re there, come out!”

Slowly the forms of George, Sapnap, and Skeppy exited the dense brush. They were geared up, their armor and weapons clanking quietly, the enchantments making them shimmer. Puffy’s grip on her sword grew tighter, she wasn’t going to let anyone stop her from saving her son

“If you’re here to stop me, you’ve got another thing coming.”

This is important and completely true, a quick google check will tell you everything if you want to see. It took me, no sh*t, 5 seconds to fact check

White supremacy and colonization really forced that male/female binary onto so many communities, lands, and cultures, huh?

Reblog Part 2: Electric Boogaloo.

I don’t have any fic recs about this idea but I’m very tempted to write one myself. Stay tuned cause it might be very soon, I’ve been backhanded by the inspiration faerie.

Y’all remember when everyone called Puffy Dream’s mom? Yeah let me elaborate on that.

Could you imagine Puffy in denial that her little baby, her little duckling, is a monster? Could you imagine her finally coming to terms with it, her taking up a sword against him? Her joining the rebellion to dethrone the son she loves so dearly.

But then the gang discovers Dream has been possessed for a very long time, a Dreamon and its host, now they set out to find out a way to separate them. After finding a way to do so a huge battle ensues and Puffy is the one to separate the Dreamon from Dream.

Imagine her, battered and bruised, stumbling to the center of a huge crater where her little duckling lays. She calls out “Son?” As she gets closer, Dream looks up, mask cracked, “Mom?”. Puffy runs to him, gathering her son in her arms, “I’m here, I’m here.” “You’re okay, you’re okay.”

Is this my desperate need for positive physical affection? Is this my touch-starved state speaking? Maybe. I was just chilling in my room thinking bout Mama Puffy than B O O M angst.

I didn’t expect anyone to like my angsty rambles. I’ve got more where that came from if y’all want?

Y’all remember when everyone called Puffy Dream’s mom? Yeah let me elaborate on that.

Could you imagine Puffy in denial that her little baby, her little duckling, is a monster? Could you imagine her finally coming to terms with it, her taking up a sword against him? Her joining the rebellion to dethrone the son she loves so dearly.

But then the gang discovers Dream has been possessed for a very long time, a Dreamon and its host, now they set out to find out a way to separate them. After finding a way to do so a huge battle ensues and Puffy is the one to separate the Dreamon from Dream.

Imagine her, battered and bruised, stumbling to the center of a huge crater where her little duckling lays. She calls out “Son?” As she gets closer, Dream looks up, mask cracked, “Mom?”. Puffy runs to him, gathering her son in her arms, “I’m here, I’m here.” “You’re okay, you’re okay.”

Is this my desperate need for positive physical affection? Is this my touch-starved state speaking? Maybe. I was just chilling in my room thinking bout Mama Puffy than B O O M angst.