I don’t think being a pickle or anything of the sort would make me interested, elsewise.
Tag: random
Kitty says that she can’t completely eat herself anyway.
She’d get stuck at some point and be just a ‘head’ part of the cucumber. *has absolutely no problems with appendage eating, apparently* She wouldn’t be able to write, though, so she still needs to be stopped…
Kitty has to join this randomness and wonder if an octopus tuning into a pickle would make a pickle with extensions.
Because… conservation of mass or something. Random thought for the random stuff going on…
“Hmm… Gab never did get where they came from… so I think I’ll put these out to the public. Think of it as a continuation of the guessing game~ But also, if anyone wants to use these icons, they’re up for grab as well.”
“I wonder if anyone knows…~”
(…Is it just me, or does this look cute? I mean… this scene shouldn’t have anything cute, so… why you here, random frame? :V )
(…)
Hssss!
(It had to be done)
(We interrupt the random screenshot fest to give random appreciation
Because this looks adorable for something that lasts less than half a second.)
(Yo, peoples. If you’re wondering why I’m not doing any drafts right now… well, I decided to go through all of Kid’s appearances in DC for screenshots tonight. Because I have the time and I’ve been meaning to for a while. And so… random observations happen.
Like me going:
‘Huh, I wonder if we can actually see Conan from here… Nah, probably n-’
‘Wait.’ *rewinds, pauses, fullscreens, and captures*
’…Nope. Pretty sure that blue glow around this random figure with something sticking out of the back of its head means nothing.’
’…Absolutely nothing…’
In other words, I do believe I’ve found the tiniest possible Conan…)
“Hmm…. I wonder if anyone would be able to figure out why the mun has the number 081127 memorised…..”
“O Captain… my Captain… our fearful trip is done.
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won.
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring.
But O heart. Heart… Heart…
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead…
O Captain… my Captain… rise up and hear the bells.
Rise up, for you the flag is flung, for you the bugle trills.
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths; for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning.
Here Captain… dear father…
This arm beneath your head.
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer… his lips are pale and still..
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will.
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done.
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won.
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells…
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead…..”
Moonlight Archive 