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askthegoofygang · 2 years

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do any of you know more than 1 language? (for Medic change that to more than 2 cus German and English)

Jack Walten: mi primer idioma es el español, en realidad!

Mirror Man: ... huh???

Tony: *evil chuckle* งง อดัม?

Mirror Man: What are you saying???

Medic: ich spreche nur Deutsch und Englisch

Mirror Man: Come on, this isn't funny!! Uhm- Spamton!!

Spamton: ... ACTUALLY, I G0T ALL [Select your language] IN MY [HEART ATTACK!!]

#ask blog #ask box #ask the goofy gang #goofy gang #answer #dhmis #jack stauber's opal #deltarune #tf2 #twf #text post #but also art post

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rasavychilling127 · 2 years

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Goofygang fanart

So here is the link for it just find the ask blog funny and liked it so I made fanart but like draw the squad not very good but yeah

#ask the goofy gang #mirror man #jack stauber opal #jack stauber #jack stauber fanart #deltarune #spamton #walten files #dhmis tony #Also credits to the draw the squad artist who made the base

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cage-cat-yt · 2 years

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Drawing for my @askthegoofygang blog

Ngl, the whole ask took 3-4 hours, but I got time on my hands since most of today I'm gonna be om q drive back home from a trip to one of the gulf of Mexico Beaches. But on the way back is 12 hours, and I Haye sitting down and not getting to stretch my legs since dance has made me flexible and I wanna feel not stiff lol

Anyway, thanks for reading! Remember to hydrate and I hope you have a good day :)

#ask the goofy gang #jack stauber's opal #dhmis #jack stauber's opal mirror man #opal mirror man #mirror man opal #jack stauber mirror man #tony the clock #tony the talking clock #dhmis tony #not a ship #platonic #cage-cat

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allastoredeer · 2 months

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Omg I can't choose between young Alastor pretending to be gay to dodge the draft or him going "You banned broadcasting so now I'm joining and making you pay to give me practical experience"

Right? Both concepts have been bouncing around in my brain. On the one hand, I love Alastor pretending to be gay to avoid going to war. It just - its so good. It's 🤌

But on the other hand, Alastor joining the army and developing skills in radio and broadcasts from there is just so RAHHHHHHHH. I'm chewing on it. Yummy yummy yummy, it's so delicious. It also means he's a war veteran and I just

This guy

This guy is a war veteran

He fought in World War 1

Is that not the greatest thing ever?

#i love it #i really do #its amazing #silly goofy ass bob wearing motherfucker on the front lines #well in the boats where he's doing his radio thang #I can just imagine him bringing it up with the Hazbin gang and they just O.O #its so much fun to think about #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #radio demon #asks #anon #anonymous

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somegrumpynerd · 2 months

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They're so lovely, your Honour. Dadmare is king, his boys forever goofy. I refuse to stop complimenting your art-

The one where Nightmare, he HIGHLIGHTED concerning lyrics that he PRINTED OUT to show CROSS. It's so wholesome- he's such a dad and I love it. I love your art, it's so sweet. I love it.

Asdbkjbfjk STOP I'M GOING TO DIE hello 911 somebody's being nice to me on the internet help

Thank you!! <3 You are FAR too kind, I am sending 1 million good vibes directly to your home as revenge >:3c

He just worries! He wants his sons- I mean boys- I MEAN UNDERLINGS to be happy and when he hears one of them absolutely wailing about feeling numb and disappointed he wants to check in. Also he finally learned to use the printer without help and he's taking advantage of it.

It's also important to note this is all Pigeon's fault for having such amazing cool ideas and going feral with me about them, which is how we get things like this

Smooth.

#UTDR #UTMV #Ask #Thelunarsystemwrites #Pigeonstab #Tagging you because you're responsible for this motivation!!#But for reals alhdgdkks thank you so much!! This was way too nice it made me squeak when I read it <3 #Also these are so messy I'm sorry #I just really badly wanted to draw something for this #And with tonight's thoughts I was inspired #Don't notice that I forgot my own tattoos in that first drawing #Genuinely hearing that I make the boys goofy is such a high compliment to me #I am always striving for goofy so thank you very much <3 #Okay now I need to sleep for reals goodnight gang!!

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nocentis · 6 days

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Black Arum ┆ Siegrain

Content warning: main character death, cannibalism, gore, toxic/unreliable narrator, highly canon divergent character portrayal. Read at your own risk. You will probably take psychic damage from this.

╳┆A lure was stuck in the soot between his lungs. Many times he'd felt the tug — enough that the wire fray had worn a rut where his ribs met — and many times he'd found her on the other end, reeling for remnants of him that no longer existed. She would aim to break him open, sift around in the cinders for those specks of him she wanted to confiscate, keep for herself, so that she could finally be rid of him. Once those flecks were washed and panned, the remains would reek like plough mud closure. For that reason he would come to her whole, every whit of ash accounted for.

A cherry little game they'd play. Her with flint and steel, eager to reignite that paltry spark of "good" that flickered freely for a lapse before he remembered himself. Him with tinder and kindling, letting it light only to call on the rain again. Her with just enough hope. Him with just enough time.

That resolve was so very compelling. More than her beauty, her candor, and even that glow he so loved to bask in — that luster he wanted to hold between his teeth and bury under his nails — more than that, her tenacity was a toothsome temptation, and he wasn't keen to deny himself anything.

So when he felt the pull, he caved to the beck and spooled the lisle. That day, the line seemed lighter, thinner, than it ever had. It should've been strong. Tensile. Instead it felt gossamer fine and just as frail, poised to tear at an ill touch, and he wasn’t exactly renowned for his gentle hands. Still, he gathered it with both palms and wrapped it proudly around himself like a ceremonial sash, grin scrawled across his face something devilish.

╳┆He found her lying in the shade beneath a long-lived magnolia, still and silent as she never was, with the color of her namesake spread around her head in halo streaks. Battle-torn, as she so often was, and yet uncannily... passive.

Anything he'd planned to say went out the airlock. Instead, he stood there with an anchor in his stomach, reaping the benefit of doubt.

Not a frown nor a sigh when he darkened her sanctum, only heavenward eyes tearless and unblinking and a resigned breath just short of peaceful. That worn tether waned phantom thin, light as helium, and the tension in his chest went slack.

There was no definite snap. No dramatic severing or ear-popping moment of clarity. Only the vague sense of loss so fresh a wound that denial was a numbing salve.

“Get up,” his voice a command, sandgrit against whetstone, thickened by an unnamed antigen.

The silence felt like mockery. A placid scene void of chittering fauna, clouds' drum, or even the most timid breeze. It wanted him to hear the absence of her breath and the stillness of her chest. It wanted him to hear the hollow. The empty. The nothing. Wanted it to resonate; to find the furthest reaches of his mind and clean them out until all that was left was this icy, clarifying silence.

He knew the end when he saw it. This was something much worse. It was robbery.

Her life wasn’t for the world to take. It was for him to hold in his hands.

Something wet and pathetic slicked his tongue — some whiny, pleading thing — and it was stubborn as oil. The authority slid to the back of his throat and left him choking, “You are the indomitable Titania. You’ve laced fingers with Death time and again only to rise and slay and conquer, so get up.”

Her warmth was set to a slow drip, spilling from her in tired beads and seeping soundlessly into her chosen ground. Little whispers of her lost to greedy loam, sullied, never to be returned.

A waste of precious love. The sod won’t drink of her as he will. It will take of her and give back what? New “life” so fragile and fleeting? A feeble weed will take root, bloom its days few, and curl itself inside out? Pathetic. An insult to her legacy. An insult to the diamond-split sharp of her bladesoul.

His heart boiled over — popping, sticking, simmering sicksweet saccharine. It colored him cloying, flooded his mouth, and forced him to kneel at her altar.

"Please," he keened, hollow and morose, and his own pleading sickened him, “Say something.”

The sun trickled through the leaves like ichor, lighting up her black-blown eyes and the thin ring of honey surrounding them. Dim, distant, and dead as the moon.

His hand carved a path to her face, fingers featherlight against her fading flush. He brushed her bangs from her eyes and forced an unbroken breath through his quavering mouth. He traced each scar too faint to see and the parts of her skin their star kissed. Memorized the map of her face — each curve and crease, each fine hair, and every eyelash. He would carve out a space in his mind in her shape and fill it with the thousand sweet nothings he kept in his pockets.

He gathered her hand and threaded it with his own. When he opened his mouth, a rickety twine escaped from the deepest point of his chest, so he forced his jaws shut to keep the grief corked. He uncurled her fingers and pressed his cheek into her palm, trapping her there against his own scarred skin. His eyes fell shut as he breathed in this borrowed touch — this moment fated, stolen from him by this world's insatiable avarice.

He kissed her palm directly in the center; held it against his mouth and felt his own ruined breath echo back to him from the deepest grooves of her skin. Again, he begged, “Please, Erza.”

Of the armors innumerable now haunting this hallowed ground, this one least befit her.

He revered Death. If there was a god, surely it was Death, he thought, for Death asks for nothing but life. The dead don’t know that they’re dead. They know a split second of euphoria and then a sharp, definite end. Isn’t that the work of a gracious god? One last stroke of color whether in peace or peril, and then eternal rest. Back to the dust you sprouted from.

But now he couldn’t see any of that beauty he often waxed poetic about. All he could see was change yet to come. All he could see was her, and he wanted her back.

He wanted her back, yet he knew better than anyone that there was no such thing as resurrection. While Death might be gracious, it was not generous, and it was not to be reasoned with.

The thought of her buried deep, bathed by the dark and abandoned to rot — it washed his mouth acid sour. It ate straight through his tongue and lingered in the roots of his teeth, burning, raging redhot in his jaws’ marrow. A grave didn't suit her anymore than a pyre.

Soon she would be cold. Stiff. A feast for flies and their insatiable young. In the days to come, she would bubble and bloat and sallow. Her skin would loosen and slough off. The sun would bleach her bones. The meat of her would melt into oil and fat and bogspit. She would mix in with the soil, the groundwater, and this thankless magnolia would thrive.

It was tall, thick, with branches spread in all directions. The lowest of its limbs showed off the varied deep greens of its large waxy leaves, their undersides a chalky brown. A few white flowers bloomed, palm-shaped petals open in praise like they'd come to witness and worship. There was no question why she'd chosen to crawl here. It must've reminded her of home.

Despite its beauty, it was hardly worthy of her. Nothing in this ravenous world was. Her grave should be carved within his chest. There, he could keep her warm. He could host her in his veins. One day, they would wade the waters of woe together. Until then she could live under his skin.

He wouldn’t allow her to spoil. Wouldn’t place her gently into time’s whittlesome hands only to lose her peel by peel by rotting peel.

This world has taken much from you. Do not allow it to take her too.

A carnal ache etched itself into bone, a depth of passion he hadn't felt since he wrought for a false Heaven.

She is a fruit, ripe as a plum and twice the taste. Peel her open. There is a seed at her core. Plant it in your soot-field chest and watch her bloom anew.

What are these hands for if not this?

Flesh like sheets of silk. Muscle like rope. Blood like honey. Bone like an ivory trove. The splitting, the squelching, the straining, ripping, snapping; it burrowed marrow-deep and lingered there. Her chest peeled apart like jagged teeth, jaws croaking their rusted tune, and inside that redslick maw was the center of the universe.

The heart upon its throne, still as she, shielded by her precious lungs. It slid into his palm like it was always meant to be there. Raw, rich, and so very scarlet. Its sinews strained against his pull — those hollow vines that fed even the furthest parts of her — so he wrenched them free and draped himself in them like matchless finery.

Eat. Eat ‘til you’re sick. There’s a hole the size of her in the pit of your stomach. Eat until you fill it.

What are these teeth for if not this?

Tough as leather; smooth as rubber. His teeth slid right off the rind and clicked together with nothing but metallic sheen between them. He gnashed at that ink-dripping muscle until he found a spot weak enough to tear apart. It tasted of rare meat and iron; a heady gore thick enough to drown in. He swallowed, gasped, and that first new breath felt like a blade.

The child inside him saw her split-open ribs as his cradle. He wanted to crawl inside, curl up, and die. He wanted to paint himself her color.

He lost his vision to the hot, angry wash. His own sobs were a distant sound, muffled by meat and blood and his own desperate fingers. He was numb in the mouth and in the shake of his hands, but he forced himself to eat, eat despite the choking, the gagging, the wet, weeping remorse.

Don’t you dare throw her up. Be grateful. Swallow and say thank you and finish what you’ve started.

He bit into his own palm, indistinguishable from her core, and he cried out in sour relief. His hands spread raw grief over his face, through his hair, and down his neck.

You’re no better than this starving world.

He curled into himself, hands clutching his own aching chest, and despite the cloudless sky, he called upon the rain.

#v: ✗ ┆ siegrain ┆ ◜ canon divergent ◞#⚶ ┆ ◜ drabbles ◞#I was in a silly goofy mood #reader beware #this one was an exorcism.#needed to purge this depravity.#hey guys what if I bare my soul and it's a festering wound.#did I provide context? no. am I sorry? also no.#this only works in darkverse.#this is very obviously not inline with canon Jellal's personality but with a mutated version of him I created to balance ->#the healing arc I'm putting him through in mainverse.#not love but a secret other thing (obsession. possession.)(...take my money... I don't need that shit...)#& now she haunts the narrative. in my mind. and his too.#In my defense I've never claimed not to be a degenerate #yeah actually I am kind of embarrassed about this thank you for asking #never thought I’d have to say this but I do not endorse or condone cannibalism.#hey Sieg have you ever thought about chilling. calming down perhaps. I say as if I did not put him in this situation.#I fear this is one of those things I’m going to look back on in a few months & say: that should've stayed in the drafts.#me personally I love posting cringe. it's what I deserve.#if god exists I will have to answer for this. catch me in the river Acheron sipping on straight up anguish.#can you tell I have been confronted by the fleeting nature of mortality more often than usual lately. be honest.#actually I decided to not to go too into depth with the gore this time. I feel like keeping it vague lends more to the fugue state #also because it was giving me REALLY weird dreams. so like. yeah. I could've made this worse. but should I have?#tags bout damn long as the drabble. sorry gang.#cannibalism tw #gore tw #main character death tw #body horror tw #dayne’s depravity #daynedepravity

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harp-bo-barp · 3 months

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boing (fun fact, my laugh sounds like a cartoon run sound effect.. like the one that sounds like slipping i guess)

HAGSHAGSJAH WHAT I LOVE THAT

fun fact, my laugh sounds like goddamn goofy from mickey mouse 😭

#harper talks 🌅#asks #the goofy giggle gang stands together

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oh-mydarling · 4 months

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me, listening to back to the basics on repeat for five days <3

YOU ARE SO ICONIC FOR FINDING IT AND SHARING IT 💘💘💘🤭🤭🤭🤭

#Melissa!#the angel of the aboc gang #silly and goofy #asks

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askthegoofygang · 1 year

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Since there are probably six of you in the gang now I have to legally compare you to the mane six (I do this to every friend group with six members btw), Who would be who? (I already thought about who would be who but I would like to know what you guys would think).

Medic: Well, I had gotten frau AppleJack, which I suppose could work due to her honesty and working hard.

Tony: ... I got Twilight Sparkle.. *the clock glares away and mumbles* Protaginist syndrome if I've ever watched one unfold, that season 4 finale...

Mirror Man: Well, I've been chosen to be paired with Rarity, and oh my gosh is that the best! We're like- long lost fashion sisters!!

Spamton: I GOT P!NKIE [Pies 50% off!]!!! I CAN MAKE YOU LAUGH HAHAHAHAHAHA-

DG: Guess that left me with Rainbow dash! I mean- somewhat, sure, I do say so myself I'm pretty good at what I do. *he turns his attention to Jack* What’s taking this guy so long though?

Jack Walten: I'm... not used to using eletronics... hmm.. what would I answer for my main friendship trait?

*This goes on for another 5 minutes and only with 2 questions out of 10.*

#ask blog #ask box #ask the goofy gang #goofy gang #answer #dhmis #jack stauber's opal #deltarune #tf2 #twf #tlt #art post #text post #a/n: Cammelia if you wanna say what your interp is please do so! I love hearing other perspectives!!

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rasavychilling127 · 2 years

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Idk what I made

So I saw this post https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/askthegoofygang/686533710497103872?source=share

so..

Dude fricking weirded out

#Mirror man #opal jack stauber #jack stauber's opal #claire opal #ask blog #ask the goofy gang #idk what im doing

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todayisafridaynight · 2 years

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VTuber Sonic getting an ask from Kiryu about how to run really fast

A birthday image of Sonic and Kiryu with a chili dog

Kiryu wearing a Sonic onesie for a Halloween pic

Sonic games canonically are a thing in Yakuza

SEGA let them meet each other... Kiryu would adopt him

in persona 5 makoto nijima talks about wanting to play a game called 'dragon: like a yakuza' so i just think every sega character ever should be put in a room together and should be let allowed to go crazy

#snap chats #morgana gets a sonic outfit and the whole P5 gang gets to dress up like yakuza characters #like cmon. Cmon.#are yakuza characters videogame characters in the persona universe ?#but sonic characters are just characters in the yakuza universe.... game within a game im gonna hurl #not me acting as though i havent had persona characters cameo in my goofy comics before lmao #i love how sega owns everything i love that shits bonkers #i have to confess i saw this ask hours ago and forgot to get to it but i remembered cause i watched the sega official tiktok's kiryu fancams

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movedtodykedvonte · 1 year

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What do you think about Minecraft, Minecraft smp, creating fictional worlds in Minecraft etc

Or just creating fictional worlds in general

I love fictional worlds and creating structures for them. Character creation is fun but creating environments ecosystems and dynamics on massive scale is something uniquely intriguing that I love to do.

Minecraft is super simple and fun for me cause it’s so open. You can create whole stories and world with characters and dynamics all by yourself. Yeah, you can just invite people to help add more complex stories but it’s a game that allows you to make an entire thing by yourself. I love it for that aspect. It is a single player sandbox first and a multiplayer experience second.

As for Minecraft smps I get scared joining them cause I have such a single player mindset. I like to be secluded and am not the best at inserting myself into preset dynamics. I usually am a nomad that trades good items for oddities like diamonds for sea pickles. I have no hate for them just a little shy. If you ask me about like big named smps most I don’t enjoy or like. Minecraft is such a fun game with its own lore and so many smps ignore that or completely discount it in their story telling so I prefer my own stories.

#though I’m a bit goofy in Minecraft #I’m a builder and miner and not a fighter so #all gold armor gang rise up #now I wanna play Minecraft #ask #anon #the one time I did something angsty it’s was by myself and I think I was delirious #Minecraft #but I wanna play on a roleplay server one day #when I #get a good pc setup #me and my Minecraft lore analysis need to stay locked up I am deranged

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