#// just looking at them lil critters stumble about >>>>

[magic-mouse-blues]

To any zombiekins that interact with this post.

*pats your head and shows you some walking pieces of fresh meat (humans)*

Go. Do a crime.

[c0zy-fluff]

Uhhhhhh- new StarStudent hc if (based off the new PPT book that literally released a day ago I think-)

Sooo, y'all probably heard abt all the boys in the Smiling Critters group (mostly CatNap and DogDay) being thrown shade at, right? Wellllll, stumbled across these two bios according to the book regarding Kickin n Bubba

Apparently Bubba's getting ignored for his explanation (probably being thought as annoying/boring?) and ofc, Kickin having a 'tough guy' facade to cover up his scared lil mind (I feel so bad for all of the boys- /gen)

Sooooo, hc time! This time, split into two! (for both sides to be comforted 🥹)

Bubba telling ppl knowledgeable stuff, but no one wants to hear it :(

Whenever Bubba is telling someone some new information and they're ignoring him, he feels like he's only just annoying them at that point cuz they don't seem to care about what Bubba's 'nerdy facts' have to say. Bubba would most definitely feel bad about this, so he'd cut himself off in the middle of an explanation, when he notices the person he's talking looks like not listening at all and they feel like they're being tortured by a lecture, apologize for wasting their time, and then walk off. Bubba would probably then sit in a corner and his face would be buried within the pages of a book as a way to try and distract himself.

Kickin, who's walking around aimlessly, would notice that Bubba is all alone, sitting in the corner, and face buried within his book. He'd then question Bubba why he's sitting all alone and in a corner and Bubba would look up from his book and tell him that he was just 'annoying people again for the umpteenth time with 'boring' facts no wants to listen to' and that he'd just want to take his mind off what happened. Kickin realizing that Bubba feels ignored and like he's annoying, he wants to make Bubba feel better, but he doesn't know how to.

Then an idea strikes him. He then turns to Bubba and then asks him something trivial like "Why is the sky blue?", "Why do people's hands feel cold when the weather/season isn't even near cold?", etc. and Bubba would then look at Kickin for reassurance that it's okay if he can go off on his explanations and facts and then Kickin nodded. For every word that Bubba said, Kickin listened; he never looked annoyed, he never told Bubba to stop mid-sentence, and he didn't feel like he was being tortured by Bubba's fact lectures. He just wanted to listen to Bubba. And that nod was all that Bubba needed to reassure himself that he's not as annoying as he thinks he is.

Kickin feeling like his 'cool guy' facade is starting to fade/crumble to his feet (basically he scared :( )

Kickin was most likely bullied as a small chick before he met anyone in the group, which is most likely the cause of why he's doing this facade. Kickin would feel like that if he doesn't have any confidence or even self control in himself, he'll have to go through being bullied all over again, hence why he'd act like he was one of the coolest members of the group. Bubba saw through this facade of Kickin's, but never publicly spoke out about it due to not wanting to start a fight w/ Kickin or potentially shatter Kickin's ego, in front of everyone.

Until one day, Kickin was running away from his own fears and those fears unfortunately engulfed him in a storm of thoughts such as "You're not as cool as you think", "This is all fake", "None of this is real", "Get over yourself", etc. This was starting to make the chicken reach his breaking point and his facade slowly started to crack open and tears start to break out from the brink of his eyes. So, Kickin ran into a forest filled with plenty of fresh air from the trees and tried to look at anything to keep his thoughts down.

Bubba noticed Kickin running into the forest and wondered what he was up to this time. Unfortunately, he noticed that the chicken was in distress and up against a tree. Although he knew it was a facade to keep his cool, he didn't expect this side of Kickin to be THAT bad. Bubba then spoke out to Kickin and then Kickin flinched at the sudden noise and looked in the direction of Bubba. But Kickin then looked in the opposite direction before Bubba could properly take in the stressful look on the chicken's face and attempted to scoot away in hopes that Bubba didn't see him like how he looks now. Bubba took a seat on the grass next to Kickin and asked him what was wrong, but Kickin refused to answer; not like this. After a few moments, Bubba spoke up again and said that he can't help Kickin if he doesn't explain himself first.

So, Kickin took a deep breath and then went on about how he feels like he has to wear this mask while being known as the 'cool kid' cuz if he doesn't, then he assumes that if he lets out his true colors, he's going to experience the same pain that he felt as a chick. Bubba takes note of this and tells Kickin that he and the others would never do that to him, no matter what he acts like; cool kid or not.

Bubba then tells Kickin that he and everyone else in the group like him the way he is and that they genuinely care for him, whether it be under his cool guy facade or if it's Kickin actually being soft w/ others. Kickin understands Bubba and gives him a big smile and puts his arms out to wrap Bubba in a nice, comforting hug. Kickin thanks Bubba cuz he really needed to hear that due to the overwhelming thoughts he had a few moments ago, before Bubba came in to help him out.

Bubba returns the hug and welcomes Kickin, saying that he's great the way he is and he tells Kickin that doesn't need to change a single thing or worry about his cool guys facade cracking, just as long as he's being himself. Just as long as Kickin's being Kickin.

------------------------------------------------------------

WOOO!! THIS TOOK LONG,, I LOVE THEM SMMM ALONG W/ A BIT OF HURT/COMFORT- 💙💛

(im almost done w/ the tiny wip i just released a few hours ago btw)

[jellycatstuffies]

I recently stumbled onto this page and holy shit dude thanks for posting about these lil critters, i love plushies but im so picky with them when it comes to animal designs, now i know that these lil guys exist and am 100% getting my first one soon. those floppy dragons look VERY soft, i just hope that they add a boar plush in the future!!

This made me happy. You sound exactly like me when I first discovered Jellycats! I have always loved plushies but like you, I was extremely picky with them and then I stumbled across Jellycat. It became a special interest of mine in no time and I haven't gotten a stuffed animal from another brand since. In fact, even established brands such as Steiff started copying their designs. Now, more than 5 years later, I have a blog, an instagram and most importantly a BIG cuddly family of Jellycats at home!

I am excited to see which one will be your first! If you choose one of the dragons and you want the softest one, go for Dexter! He's coming back this year in a larger size again, too. I cannot say when or if they will make a boar plush, but you could always bring it up with Jellycat. They have really been listening to the customers lately.

Dexter Dragon

[starletdust]

Swibbyyyy!! :3 wha if..plwy datwe wthi snow leopawrd regressor haithwam adn and lil nari!!!

snow leopard hayi + little nari hcs >3<

hi dolly!!!! sorry this took a little while, hope you’re doing a lil better rn ^^ this one turned a lil bit shippy oops

𐦍 — tighnari likes practicing his vet skills on haitham :3 pretending to take his temperature and all

— alhaitham is perfectly okay with all of the attention, and he likes how tighnari will talk a lot but not ask him too many questions .. easy to zone out to

𐦍 — alhaitham likes to hold nari’s hand to mimic touching paws together ( ◜𖥦◝ ) along with trying to help brush his hair / clean his tail

𐦍 — some days they’ll spend most of their time cuddling together while tighnari happily yaps about random things he knows about the forest ; he stumbles over his words nd doesn’t quite remember everything but alhaitham doesn’t mind !

— on days where hayi’s a lil more overwhelmed tighnari will take initiative to let him be the one cuddled (if that makes sense) for once nd let the kitty choose how he wants to spend his day c:

𐦍 — alhaitham doesn’t like going out because he hates getting dirty … but definitely doesn’t mind taking a bath afterwards

𐦍 — tighnari loves to be outside and look at all the pretty things!! he has more interactive toys for himself though if the other wants to stay home

— i can see him w some calico critters as well :3 but maybe he makes them act a little more like how the actual animal would heehee

𐦍 — while texture like sherpa nd actual fur is a nightmare for alhaitham, he loves wearin fuzzy socks when regressed !!!!! maybe even some ears too ^w^

𐦍 — tighnari just prefers less layers and bigger fitting clothes !! maybe one of his friend’s if they let him

[“DNI with this post if your blog is: NSFW, transandrophobic, anti-xeno, pro-israel, proship, basic DNI”]

eeee i lawv the sumeru sillies !!!!!!! snow leopard albaitham will always make me happy

[skwtches]

30, 17, and 25 for Maverick; 10, 7, and 2 for Nancy!

WOOOO YESS

Starting off with the worst man you've ever met Maverick here:

30. Do they smell like anything notable?

For him, I'd figure he'd smell a bit like the cigarettes/cigars he's typically seen smoking; musty with a hint of cedar. Although, I imagine him using some kind of cologne semi-regularly, perhaps one that smells of leather? Nothing that smells much like wood, he doesn't like the association most wooden-based scents have with his early life.

17. How did they spend their summers/free time as a child?

I imagine that during vacations within the long, arduous summer months, his parents never thought too much about ensuring he socialized with other kids his age, and so they'd drag him along with them to the lakeside vacation home where his father liked to spend those months away hunting for sport while his mother tried to make the most of her time away from the bustling city and her husband being occupied with matters that didn't concern her for the most part. Maverick would usually just entertain himself along the lakeshore, poking around with a stick at the various flora and fauna—usually skewering whatever he found of the latter when his mother wasn't watching.

Something Maverick also did frequently was bring a mason jar out with him to the lake, scanning around for bugs or any other creepy crawly he could pick up and encase to examine. Sometimes he'd let them go afterwards, other times he'd attempt some pseudo dissection of whatever insect he caught in his little glass prison. In some instances, he'd put two live animals in at the same time to see what would happen. Most of the time, one would end up killing and eating the other, yet it fascinated him all the same. When he wasn't terrorizing whatever small critters he stumbled upon, he'd reside to reading on his own, feeding into his ever-growing love for literature that would continue to follow into adulthood.

25. How good/bad is their hearing? What about their eyesight?

His hearing is generally okay, though probably has deteriorated a bit with age. Same deal with eyesight, and I imagine he employs the use of reading glasses from time to time.

AND NOW Nancy, everyone's fav sad girl muppet moth xoxo

10. If they wear jewelry, what kind? Do they prefer silver or gold? Do they have a favorite gem?

Nancy isn't the type to accessorize a bunch, though I'd like to think she'll sometimes wear jewelry whenever she's gifted with any. For instance, during college, Felicity gave her a gold necklace for her birthday that had a lil ruby pendant—Nancy's birthstone. In turn, Nancy ended up wearing it almost everyday up until around the time she and Felicity started to gradually drift apart and Nancy's initial insecurities surrounding her own future and success in comparison to her friend's shifted towards envy.

7. Favorite Animal? Why?

Had the sudden thought of Nancy really, really liking opossums for whatever reason and I just think that's very characteristic of her to love what would be considered an unorthodox animal to find cute by most. Like when she was really little, she’d look around her father’s old shed, and once came across this full grown opossum that she then proceeded to take and bring inside, much to Elena’s eventual horror.

Little Nancy when her mother comes home and, completely astonished, asks her why on God’s EARTH she thought to bring in a possibly rabies-infested animal as the latter stumbles upon her running a bath for it:

2. What sort of music would they like? Have you thought about what genres or bands do they lean towards? Do they have a favorite song?

In canon, Nancy would have a preference for softer, orchestral music—a record she can put on while she's on her own, either writing or even during a lowkey read if she's feeling particularly antsy. I can see her really liking music by Leo Reisman and his orchestra, particularly stuff ranging from the late 1920s to the early 40s. In terms of singers, she'd probably be a fan of Elizabeth Welch, especially for her song "The Girl I Knew" (1935).

If this were the 21st century, Nancy would 1000% be a Mitski and even Crane Wives fan for Reasons.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Relative Dating Part Twenty Three

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part

Pairing: Indiana Jones x Reader

Rating: M

Notes: Welcome back to the latest garbage fire! Hope y’all are doing well.

I love that gif so much the lil :(

Warnings: Cursing; period-typical sexism; canon-typical violence; angst; friendly reminder that the artifact mentioned is a fake one

Summary: The opening of the shaft’s entrance is a terrifying sound. It’s like the moans and rattles of a thousand lost voices, all calling for help at once.

Despite the calmness of the scene and the heat of the day, something in the air feels chilling. It makes your stomach twist as you shakily stepped down from the back of the truck. Your head is spinning, and your gut gives a nauseous churn as you steady yourself on the side of the truck. You aren’t sure what's making it worse: the speed and roughness of the car trip, the lack of food and water over the last day or so, or the fact that once, for just a moment, the cloth had slipped from the orb.

The truck had hit a bump, jolting the item in its crate. The bellhop had hurried to cover it, but that brief flash had been enough to give you a blinding headache. Now, the bellhop slides from the truck behind you, wincing against the sun. You look around the barren landscape, frowning a touch. You turn to catch side of the reedy man climbing down from the cab of the truck. He waves you toward the landscape with one hand, and rests his hand on his gun holster with the other. 

You clutch your papers nervously, raising them to the landscape. From Indiana’s notes, you’ve created a tentative map. The horizon sits at the center, represented by a single thin line. From there, you’ve plotted a few markers along the ground, and a number of identifying landmarks. 

You take a few steps forward, looking around the map, and back onto the landscape. There are a number of things that aren’t where they’re meant to be. Perhaps you’ve come to this site from the wrong angle? You hadn’t had a real key, and some of Jones’ notes had been incredibly vague. If you ever see him again—hell, if you make it out of this alive—you plan on having a little discussion on with him about clarity and concision. 

You let out a scream as you feel a hand wrap around your ankle. You stumble back, and yank desperately from it, toppling over in the process. Your back hits the ground, and a pained gasp is knocked from you. You scramble back from the hand, even as the reedy man cackles a cruel laugh—even as another man rises from the ground. He’s clad in clothing light enough to protect him from the sun, hued in light browns and beiges to cloak him within the sand. 

He stands fully and turns to the reedy man. The two grin and laugh and exchange words in Arabic. You glance back toward the bellhop as his hands close around your arm, drawing you up. You rise shakily, pain wracking your back and head. 

“You move too slowly,” The reedy man turns to you again, his mirth melting. “We must find the path to the point of Second Rising before sundown.” 

“What happens at sundown?” You ask nervously. 

“If you’ve failed, we’ll kill you.” 

— 

“I don’t think I’ll fit—” 

“Just take a deep breath and hold it,” Indy orders. He pauses in his step to glance back at Sallah, and finds his friend squeezing nervously through the opening to the temple. “See?” 

Sallah grunts in irritated concession, then nods him forward as he raises his torch. Indiana grins and turns, raising his own torch to light the narrow passageway. It’s dark and cool inside, with a dry, musty smell. Critters skitter along the path as he swipes the torch toward the ground, wary of more vicious inhabitants, or booby traps. 

“How many chambers are there?” 

“From the accounts I’ve read, at least four. But Pembrooke, the archaeologist to first find this site, was unable to find any more than that before he died.” 

“What killed him?” 

“No one knows...Though it’s been theorized that he crossed the wrong man in refusing to pay a gambling debt.” 

“And you believe that the orb will be found here?” 

“Somewhere. That’s the idea.” 

“Why here?” 

“Somewhere in here is the Point of Second Rising.” Jones glances back toward Sallah to ensure he’s following closely before facing forward again. “They want to restore the orb to its rightful cradle. They think it’ll resurrect Akhenaten.” 

“Why would they want to do that?”

“They want to bring their King and God back to what they deem a godless land.” 

“All they need is the orb?” 

“The orb...In the right place, at the right time.” 

“When is the right time?” 

“Dawn, tomorrow morning.” 

“...Does she know that?” 

Indiana grimaces a touch. “I doubt it. I didn’t tell her—That is, I didn’t have time.” 

“Perhaps she’ll find it before we do, regardless.” 

The thought of her makes Jones’ chest swirl with nerves, but he can’t help but smile a little bit. 

“She probably will,” He agrees softly. 

— 

You think, of course, that your captor’s threat may be a futile one to scare you into submission and action. If you get them near wherever the Point of Second Rising is, but not to the Point itself, they would do far worse than they would without you. Still, you can’t shake the way the men trail you over the sand, or the memory of the reedy man’s hand on his gun. Every few moments, the fear that a wise person may’ve disposed of you surges through your nervous, empty stomach. 

You come to a stop, peering down at one the ground. One of the markers that you’ve pointed to should be nearby. You look around the sand, sweeping your foot through it a little. You move back and forth, and back again—nothing. 

“If you don’t work faster—“ The man begins to warn behind you. You hardly heed him as your foot knocks against something. You kneel down, swiping at the sand. Your hands whack against it, now—you have the feeling of a ridge rising from the sand. You begin to swipe at the sound around it, trying to shift it away. 

You glance up as the bellhop slows beside you. You think, for one piteous moment, that the poor boy looks as tired as you feel. He’s been dragging the orb in that crate along behind the group of you, with little rest, and no chance for water. You give a small, encouraging nod as he kneels down beside you, swiping at the sand. The two of you manage to clear it away, unearthing a small, golden plaque. You lean down, blowing the sand from the hieroglyphs to get a better look at it. 

“What is it?” The reedy man asks. 

“...A cartouche,” You detemerine after a moment. “A cartouche of the god Aten.” 

— 

“Which way do we go?” 

It’s a fair question, if an annoying one. But in Sallah’s defense, Jones has been staring at the fork in the halls for the last few minutes.

“If I knew, I would’ve gone by now,” Jones mutters. He shines his torch to the left, then the right. Any could lead to the orb; any could lead them down a disastrous path, meant to deter and punish grave robbers. 

“Right,” Indiana finally says, nodding toward it. “Definitely right.” 

Mercifully, Sallah doesn’t ask Indiana if he’s sure. He just steps back to let him lead the way. Indiana takes certain, steady steps down the dark path. He’s confident—it’s a hunch, but it feels like a great one. 

In his haste, Indiana has raised his torch to eye the hieroglyphs along the hall, unconcerned with the path ahead. Now, Indiana takes a step, then another—and then his foot sinks into a tumbling stone. Indiana wobbles, takes too hard a step forward, and drops his torch as another stone plunges beneath his feet. He catches hold of himself, using his arms to stay upright. 

Sallah lets out a panicked yell shout him, catching Indiana by the belt and yanking him back to the firmer path. The ground doesn’t hold out long—Indiana and Sallah scramble to return to the fork as the stones fall beneath their feet. They finally stop at the mouth of the entrance, peering down into the canverous, disastrous darkness. Indiana thinks that maybe he hears another yell—but surely it’s an echo of his own. Besides his panicked breathing and pounding heart, Jones hears the cracking and echoing of stones plunging to a distant ground. 

Sallah and Indiana nervously eye the safe ground of the fork. Jones draws in a greedy, heaving breath, swallowing roughly. He and Sallah look down the lost path, to one another, and then to the remaining fork. 

“Left,” Indiana nods. “Definitely left.” 

— 

The opening of the shaft’s entrance is a terrifying sound. It’s like the moans and rattles of a thousand lost voices, all calling for help at once. Your hands flex at your sides, nervous and sweaty. You hesitate in your steps, and wobble once the reedy man pushes you on. You glance toward the bellhop as he lifts the orb from its crate, gripping it carefully as he follows you down the steep steps. 

You don’t want to go. There’s something about this place, this temple, that’s been giving you the creeps ever since you arrived. But it’s either the temple, or death. You glance from side to side, taking in the high, painted walls as you descend What you find there stops you in your tracks. 

Perhaps it’s your shock, or your stillness, but the men on either side of you go still in turn. 

You’ve never seen it intact, not once. Every other instance of Akhenaten’s name that you’ve ever encountered has been desecrated, scratched out from records and temple walls to ensure that he never finds a place in the afterlife. 

You turn your stunned gaze to the grinning assailants. The reedy man nods slowly, allowing you to revel in the fullness of the implication. 

“That’s right, my girl,” He says. “He lives.” 

--

You’ve seen the path to the exit. You have no weapons, and you’re a little weak, but if you could lure the Althaani down a wrong turn, perhaps you could get a head start. You’re certain they won’t leave you alone, so whatever you do will have to be trickery. But how? 

“Well?” One of the men asks impatiently. You grimace. You’ve been staring at these hieroglyphs for the last ten minutes, as if they were a map and not a passage from a hymn. If you were a touch less panicked and in better company, you’d be able to appreciate the hymn a touch more, for its sentimentality and poetic merits. 

No, you lean back, rubbing your hands together.

“It says that the Point of Second Rising can only be completed from the deepest recesses of the temple,” You fib. “We should, um…” You look back toward the way you came, then turn to look forward, nodding deeper inside. “There must be some way—“ 

You urging is cut off as you hear crumbling from above you. The four of you look up, squinting into the darkness. And then—

Your mouth opens in a scream as a stone lands directly on the head of the man that had grabbed your ankle. You take a stumbling step back, squinting wildly into the darkness as the stones continue to rain down. The reedy man is yelling, ordering you and the bellhop forward, but you see your chance. You turn tail and run into the darkness, out of the reach of the torch’s light, and away from the rain of the rocks. You push your hands out to either side of you, tracking them along the walls. 

“Get back here!” You hear. You turn your head, and your heart leaps into your throat as you see the reedy man chasing you, torch in hand. Your hand scrapes against the walls, and drops away when you feel an opening. It’s just wide enough for you to squeeze through, but it’s nowhere near the path that you’d taken before. Veering off path now could be fatal—but as the man’s footsteps grow nearer, you turn toward the opening and dart down it. You’re nearly halfway through the walkway when you hear a click. You look down, squinting into the dark and frowning. What on earth was—

The answer comes in the worst of ways. You hear a cranking sound, feel the walls shake on either side of you, and begin to squeeze in tighter. You push yourself through the passage, running up the mounting incline with all of your might, and fighting not to turn and look behind you. You can hear the man in hot pursuit—his panting, irritated swears, his warnings that the consequences will only be more dire if you don’t slow— 

The opening in the opposite wall is a boon, and you draw in a greedy breath. You whirl around just in time to see the walls push together, and hear the man’s final yell before the horrifying crunch of his body. You cover your mouth to silence your own scream. You look around, and spot a flame in the distance. Your mouth drops open in a nervous gasp, and you take a couple of slow steps back from the flash of light. You whirl around, ready to run, and slam into something. That something grabs you, and you yelp, beginning to slap at them, putting up a fight. 

“Hey, whoa whoa!” You hear. The voice is familiar and warm, and you go still as you recognize it. 

“Indy?” You ask, stunned, catching sight of his shock as your eyes adjust to the light. “Indy—” 

“Sweetheart? Oh, thank god—” 

Your panic shifts to relief, and your hands rest on his shoulders, gripping at his sleeves, as if you can’t believe it’s him. 

“Indy, how on earth—“ You stop yourself as his face becomes clearer, the light growing closer. You turn hurriedly, arms spreading to keep Indiana from harm. But—

“Sallah!” You sigh, relieved, smiling as his face comes into view. 

“That’s one treasure recovered,” Sallah grins, patting your shoulder. “Now all we need is the orb.” 

“The orb—The orb!” You turn back to Indiana quickly, hands tapping on his chest, unable to keep still. “Indy, they have it, they already have it. I’ve seen it.” Indiana’s face shifts to intrigue, eyes wandering your face. 

“What? Where is it?” 

“It’s here, it’s in the temple. They were trying to bring it to the Point of Second Rising—“

“If they replace that orb in its proper cradle at dawn, it could be powerful enough to level the city,” Indiana reports grimly, looking between you and Sallah. 

“Well—Well what do we do, do we go after the orb or the cradle?”

“...The cradle,” Indiana decides. “It’s a long shot that they’ll even find the chamber. If they do, we can stop them there.” He looks over Sallah’s shoulder, then back over his own. “That is, of course, as long as we can find the right chamber.”

Tag list: @missredherring​ ; @massivecolorspygiant​ ; @blueeyesatnight​ ; @amneris21​ ; @ew-erin​ ; @youngkenobilove​ ; @carbonated-beverage​ ;  @lorecraft​ ; @moonlightburned​ ; @milf-trinity​ ;  @millllenniawrites​ ; @chattychell​ ; @dihra-vesa​ ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices​​ ; @missswriter​ ​ ; @thembosapphicclown​​ ; @brandyllyn​ ; @wildmoonflower​​ ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink​ ; @flameshadowwolf​​ ; @saritanotserena​​ ; @the-feckless-wonder​​ ; @queenofthefetchlands​​ ; @v0id-sp1rit​​ ; @yellowbubblewrap​​ ; @acceptedbyace​​ ;  @themartiansdaughter​​ ; @foxilayde​​ ; @introvertreader20​​  ; @nessamc​​  ; @galaxyfxcs​​ ; @romanarose​

[gardenofdelight]

✨OC Questionnaire: Peaseblossom✨

a.k.a. Pixie Reader from Fairies May Cry

Full name

???????????????

Preferred name/nickname

Lil Pea, Lil Blossom, Sweet Pea

Generally referred to as

Peaseblossom

Appearance

FACECLAIM: Here’s a portrait I made using Artbreeder:

SEX: Female

HEIGHT: Just barely 5 inches in pixie form, 5 feet in human form.

WEIGHT: Light as a feather in pixie form, lightweight in human form.

BUILD: Lithe and slender.

HAIR: long, soft, and platinum blond. Usually braided with tiny flowers, but it comes down past her bottom when loose. 

SKIN: White. Smooth and sunkissed from daily naps under the sun. 

EYES: Purple like lilac flowers.They’re a bit wide and always seem to sparkle with mirth and mischief. Long eyelashes.

MOUTH: Small mouth with plump lips. Perfectly straight teeth and pure white. 

NOSE: Small and rounded with a cute point at the tip and small nostrils.

HANDS: Small with short fingernails.

FEET: Small and dainty with short nails. 

SCARS: None.

CLOTHES: Colorful dresses handmade from real flowers, but she prefers to be nude with a sprinkling of her fairy dust on her body most of the time

OTHER FEATURES: She has 2 pairs of iridescent wings much like a dragonfly.

OTHER NOTABLE FEATURES: She has a “fairy light” that changes color depending on her current mood.

Speech

VOICECLAIM: To be determined.

ACCENT: Fairly neutral.

VERBAL TICS: She has a tendency to repeat words when she’s overly excited about something. And she stumbles over her words when taken by surprise. 

LANGUAGE: She can speak all known languages so long as she can hear it verbally first thanks to a little fairy magic.

ARTICULATION: She can be a little clumsy with words while explaining things but she does so on purpose sometimes if she’s hoping to get the upper hand in a deal. 

EDUCATION: She prefers to use short and simple words but she’s learned a few big words that are hard for her to pronounce correctly.

LAUGHTER: Sounds like the tinkling of tiny bells in the wind, and she laughs and giggles a lot everyday.

GRUMP: She pouts, grumbles, and sneers whenever she’s annoyed or angry.

BREATHING: She gasps, humphs, and sighs a lot.

Mannerisms

FACE: She has a very expressive face and has a hard time hiding emotions on her face unless she’s working out a deal...then she has the best damn poker face in existence. 

HANDS: She makes a lot of hand gestures whenever she’s excited or mad. Lots of arm crossing, finger wagging, curious poking, and happy clapping.

LEGS/FEET: She kicks her feet sometimes while flying and stomps her foot down when she’s angry.

EMOTIONAL OUTBURSTS: Her capricious nature makes her very prone to emotional outbursts. Crying and yelling when she’s upset and laughing and bouncing around when she’s happy.

HABITS: She likes to hum sometimes while hunting for lost trinkets and sing lullabies while making flower dresses. 

POSTURE: She tends to slump a little while standing or sitting, but her posture straightens out whenever she’s very happy, angry, or taken by surprise.

WALKING POSTURE: She skips around gleefully when she’s in good, but she tends to stomp around when she’s in a bad mood. 

SITTING POSTURE: She likes to sit with her legs crossed beneath her with a slouched posture. 

PERSONAL SPACE: She doesn't have much of a personal bubble and tends to encroach on others’ personal space without realizing it.

SPACIAL AWARENESS: She’s really good at noticing what’s around her thanks to her constant hunt for the next best trinket.

OTHER: Her fairy light changes color depending on her mood. And her fairy wings tend to snap out when she’s surprised, droop when she’s feeling down, and flutter faster when they're buzzing with rage.

Health

DIET: Two words: liqueur and sweets! She loves fruity wines and sugary treats...it’s not really healthy and definitely not a well-balanced diet but pixies have an extremely high metabolism. She rarely eats vegetables and scoffs at anything boring and bitter.

SLEEP: She takes a lot of short naps throughout the day. Pixies don’t sleep for very long unless they’re completely exhausted. Many of her dreams consist of brave adventures with her trusty steed (a rat named Sir Hawthrone) and romantic dances with Pretty Boy (Vergil). 

EXERCISE: Not very much but flying around and searching through all the nooks and crannies for lost trinkets is a bit of an exercise! 

ACTIVITY: She works hard when she wants to, especially if she’s really excited about something...that’s usually when she pushes herself to exhaustion. But she can be pretty lazy some days...it all just depends on her mood at the moment.

CLEANLINESS: She bathes in the morning dew she creates every morning for her flowers. But sometimes she takes a shower with Pretty Boy when he’s not looking…!

ODOUR: Like a meadow of sweet flowers by a tranquil pond.

MEDICINAL DRUGS: No.

NARCOTICS: No.

ADDICTIONS: No...unless you count the obsessive need to make deals and having a sweet tooth as an addiction. 

ILLNESS: No.

INJURIES: No.

PARASITES: No.

OTHER: To be determined.

Personal

INTROVERT/EXTROVERT?: She’s an exuberant extrovert. Lil Pea doesn’t let her small size get in the way of being social and outgoing, especially when it comes to things that pique her curiosity.

OPTIMIST/PESSIMIST: Definitely an optimist. 

GENDER: Female.

SEXUALITY: She has no set preference in regards to sex and/or gender. So long as they’re a very nice person with a kind soul. Any display of intentional cruelty or just general “meanie-ness” will make her look the other way.

ROMANTIC: Absolutely loves all the romance! 

MEMORY: She has a very chaotic memory, usually wavering between highly accurate to absurdly silly.

PLANNING: She’s a terrible planner and just leaps right into things with a wide grin.

PENSIVE: She doesn’t spend a lot of time pondering about life...she’d much rather live in the now and not then or yet to come.

INTUITION: She has really good intuition so long as she isn’t figuring things out on an empty stomach.

PROBLEM SOLVING: She’s very good at solving puzzles and problems so long as it's very clever or in rhyming form.

GOALS: To find the greatest lost trinket in the world! 

INSECURITIES: She thinks her wings aren’t as pretty as some of the other fairies with their beautiful butterfly wings. But she hides her insecurities well behind her cute and bubbly personality.

ACHIEVEMENTS: She’s very proud of her trinket collection and her ability to make Pretty Boy blush!

ANXIETY: Being trapped like a bug in a jar and Pretty Boy being in danger makes her super anxious.

OVERWHELMED: She only feels like things are too much when she’s stressed out.

SELF-HELP: She simply ignores her problems and moves on with life.

COMFORTS: Liquor, sweet treats, naps among the flowers, and Pretty Boy kisses.

BAD HABITS: She tends to exaggerate a lot which sometimes leads to more problems.

PHILOSOPHY: Not religious but does follow the creed of all fairies: always seek to make clever deals through trickery and under no circumstances are you to break a deal.  

TRIGGERS: Glass jars and bird cages.

The Past

PARENTS/GUARDIANS: She doesn’t have parents per se...more like a mysterious guardian who brought her into existence with powerful magic. And they get along very well but haven’t seen each other in over a millennium.

SCHOOL: She never went to school...unless you count causing mischief a few times during some classes to make children laugh at the teacher’s expense.  

ADOLESCENCE: She was never an adolescent. 

LEAVING HOME: It was very exciting for her the first time since she’s always heard how much the mortal realm can be! But then she became a permanent resident when she escaped from the mages holding her captive. 

FURTHER EDUCATION: She never went to college but wouldn’t mind causing some mischief there too.

FIRST JOB: She helped her guardian with his garden by tending to the flowers. She enjoyed putting dew on the blooms every morning and healing to sickly buds with her bell-like singing. 

LIFE EVENTS: Making a deal with one of the Princes of the Seelie Court definitely brought more cheer into her life. But having that same Prince fail to protect her when she got captured by mages and enduring captivity brought pain and sorrow. And now finding a new protector has renewed her hope and continues to bring her joy every day.

WORST DAY OF THEIR LIFE: She was captured by mage and held prisoner for various vile experiments.

BEST DAY OF THEIR LIFE: Pretty Boy kissed her back.

LESSONS: Never trust someone solely on their looks...you must peer into their soul and judge them by their spirit. Never hide in the dark alone. Don’t eat too much strawberry ice cream or else you’ll suffer from the worst stomach EVER! And it only takes one fairy’s sugar to make Pretty Boy smile and sometimes blush!

LOOKING BACK: If Lil Pea could re-play her life and do something differently, she would’ve not joined the Prince’s revelry in the mortal world that fateful day.

Relationships

FAMILY: The crew at Devil May Cry are pretty much her family now.

FRIENDSHIPS: She has a lot of friends! Most of them are critters living in and around the shop...but they’re very loyal and love to go on adventures with her.

FRIENDS IN NEED: She will always be there for her friends with fairy dust to cheer them up...she’ll also offer to even the score if someone is the source of her friend’s troubles. This usually involves some elaborate pranks and tiny raspberries right in their face.

NEEDING A FRIEND: She usually seeks the comfort of her flowers and critter friends first...but sometimes she’ll go to her human friends when she needs help or advice. It just depends on her mood at the time. 

ANNOYANCES: She gets annoyed very easily but reciprocates with swift pranks and raspberries right in the face when really irked.

ROMANCE: She’s a bit overt with her advances and has no problem giving her romantic interest pretty gifts. She’s attracted to people with a good and just soul...and being tall and strong doesn’t hurt either.

MARITAL PROBLEMS: She’s not married but she’d probably ignore the problem until forced to deal with it...and then her capriciousness would take over and it’ll either turn out very good or very bad but confusing nonetheless.

ADVERSARIES: She doesn’t like big meanies who ruin all the fun! 

ENEMIES: Anyone who would hurt Pretty Boy or defenseless animals and children is an enemy to her. She also gets VERY angry when flowers are needlessly destroyed. 

STRANGERS: She tends to hide from strangers since you never know if they’re real nice or a big meanie!

FUN STUFF: She loves to sing, dance, pull pranks, hunt for lost trinkets, make pretty dresses, and feast on all the sweets and booze!

DATING: She loves to dance with her romantic partner and will always be ready for a feast with good booze. But she finds a stroll among the flowers and fireflies at night very romantic.

BEST FRIEND: Her trusty rat steed, Sir Hawthorne...but Scruffy Boy and Sweet Lady have become close friends too!

LOVE: Her devilish protector will always have her tiny heart.

WORST ENEMY: Anyone who has terrible manners and harms flowers or Pretty Boy.

Interactions

MINGLING: She gets along with others so long as they have good manners and aren’t big meanies!

COMFORT LEVELS: She’s comfortable talking to people but will steer the conversation by any means necessary if they stumble upon a touchy subject. The only time she’s uncomfortable is when people ask too many questions or focus too much on the past and future.

PHYSICAL: She’s very touchy-feely! Loves to give hugs and poke noses no matter her size at the moment.

GROUPS: She’s comfortable in a big group so long as she knows everybody, but even that doesn’t stop her since she’s very good at hanging around while not being noticed. But sometimes she wants to spend time alone with one or two people who’ll give her plenty of attention. 

OPENNESS: She opens up very easily up to a certain extent. It’ll take some patience and gentle prying to get her to talk openly up about her past.

GENEROSITY: She likes to give gifts to those who prove a friend to the Fae. She’d gladly lend money to a friend...so long as they make a deal with her in return. And it makes her very happy to receive gifts from others. 

JEALOUSY: Anyone that takes her Pretty Boy’s attention away from her makes her feel incredibly jealous! But pulling a few pranks on the offender always makes her feel better.

TEMPER: She’s easily worked up thanks to the capricious nature of pixies.

EMPATHY: She can empathize but sometimes she doesn’t understand the reasons behind some mortal’s feelings, which leads to a misunderstanding if no one explains.

AFFECTION: Lots of hugs and “fairy’s sugar” with the occasional gift or helping hand with her fairy dust.

DISTASTE: Her fairy light will flash red as she blows many raspberries right in their face...and a few pranks if she REALLY dislikes someone.

ETIQUETTE: She has very good manners just like any fairy worth their salt! But most mortals don’t know the proper etiquette of the Fae...which may look very rude and inappropriate to them.

RESPONSIBILITY: She doesn’t like to admit when she’s wrong but will face the music when it all falls apart. Then, she’ll try to make up for her mistakes by any means possible.

SELF ESTEEM: She’s always had to stick up for herself until meeting the Prince since many of the Fae treat fairies born through non-fairy magic like her very poorly.

CONFIDENCE: She’s very confident in herself and her abilities despite being treated differently from her own kind.

HONESTY: She always speaks her mind unless she’s up to some mischief or feels that it might upset someone.

LEADER OR FOLLOWER: She’s a little of both. She usually follows but can take the lead if needed.

PARTY TRICKS: She’s an expert trinket finder, flower dressmaker, and can put dew on all the flowers in a meadow before the first ray of sunrise! And she also knows how to make pretty half devils blush.

PRAISE: Compliments and praise make her fairy light turn pink with joy.

FAILURES: Her capricious attitude can be irritating to some but her constant need to pull pranks is highly annoying.

CRITICISM: She doesn’t take criticism very well...she’d either burst into tears or swear pretty pixie vengeance on the unfortunate critic!

INSULTS: It depends on who’s insulting her. She’ll fire back with one of her inventive insults at some, but then get teary eyed at others.

EMBARRASSMENT: She’s not easily embarrassed but it still happens whenever she’s taken by surprise. Her fairy light turns pink and red as she scurries away to hide whenever she’s embarrassed.

FLIRTING: She’s VERY flirty...absolutely adores the way people light up and blush at her cute compliments.

ATTENTION SPAN: She has a very short attention span and tends to get  easily distracted.

SITUATIONS: She’s very good at breaking up difficult situations but has a hard time dealing with them through patient conversation.

Life

CAREER: Expert trinket finder and very pretty pixie for Pretty Boy! It’s a very fulfilling career for a fairy.

PROMOTION: She’s eyeing the promotion known as “girlfriend” at the moment.

BOSS: She has a great relationship with her boss so long as she doesn’t tease him too much.

DUTY: She assists Pretty Boy with her unique talents and magical fairy dust.

TECH: She has no idea how to use modern technology but would find it very fascinating if she ever gave it a try!

POLITICS: Not political at all.

COMBAT SKILLS: She’s very good at blinding people with her fairy dust and is proficient in mounted combat on her ratty stead with her needle sword.

HOME: She keeps her personal space very tidy and filled with many different flowers.

DAILY LIFE: She goes through her day-to-day tasks with an eager wonder of unknown adventures that might happen along the way.

INDEPENDENCE: Very independent since escaping the mages to live in the human world.

COOKING: She can’t really cook but loves to help from time to time by sprinkling her fairy dust over food.

BUILDING: She can’t do basic DIY but she tries to help with her fairy magic!

CLEANING: She always tries to keep her personal space clean but her fairy dust remains always present all over her pile of flowers where she usually sleeps.

SHOPPING: She doesn’t really shop due to her small stature and shyness around a group of strangers, but she likes to accompany her friends on shopping trips. But if she ever got her hands on some funds while in her bigger form...Ooh she’d be the most impulsive buyer in the human world!

DRIVING: She doesn’t know how to drive but it always looked like so much fun whenever she rode in the van with Crazy Lady and Baby Boy!

FINANCES: She has the biggest trinket hoard in all the shop! But she doesn’t quite understand why mortals value pieces of paper with pictures of old people.

MARRIAGE: Not married. She doesn’t know why mortals need a huge ceremony to spend eternity together, but she loves all the pretty dresses and flowers at weddings!

KIDS: No kids. And she has no plans to have kids herself, but she loves to make children smile and laugh with her mischievous antics.

PETS: No pets. 

DEPENDANTS: No.

LAW: To human standards? Definitely. But to fairy standards? No.

COURT: She’s never been to court. 

PRISON: No.

TRAVELLING: She’s been to many places around various worlds and different realities.

MEDICAL: She doesn’t trust doctors and always makes sure to have an apple on hand whenever someone needs to keep them away.

ILLNESS: No.

WORRIES: She worries for Pretty Boy whenever nightmares plague his dreams at night.

PEACE: She doesn’t mind peace and quiet but there’s music in the air around her thanks to her own whimsical singing.

PARTYING: She LOVES to go out partying whenever possible! There’s nothing like a good revel with lively music and vast feasts!

HOBBIES: She collects lost trinkets, makes dresses out of flowers, and finds mischief in the unlikeliest places!

[hunter-the-sad-skeleton]

@new-account-sam-christy-456

Chapter two “Red Dahlias mean love~!”

“WHO IS HE, WHERE DOES HE LIVE, DOES HE HAVE A CRIMINAL RECORD-” Blitzø ranted.

“DAD, CALM DOWN.” Skip sighed.

He continued ranting. Skip sighed, pulling out his last resort. “He has a horse.”

“Oh! He’s fine then!” Blitzø smiled. Skip sighed, shoulders dropping slightly.

He never got his dad’s priorities.

“Horses are fine!” Blitzø waved off. “...Wait…” Blitzø trailed off.

“Yeah?”

“Horse...When did you meet him?” Blitzø asked.

“Uh...A few hours ago, why?” Skip asked.

“Wait...is it the FARMHAND?” Blitzø asked.

Skip broke eye contact, looking around the room.

“...so it is.” Blitzø narrowed his eyes.

Skip fell over, face consumed by a bright crimson.

“For goodness sake, Skip! I thought you’d’ve told me!” Blitzø sighed, disappointment evident in his voice.

“...Wait what?” Skip asked.

“I’m still gonna be protective of ya because I love you, but go ahead. I don’t care.” Blitzø shrugged.

“Oh, oka-” Skip started.

Blitzø got in Skip’s face. “BUT IF HE HURTS YOU IN ANY WAY, SHAPE, OR FORM, LET ME KNOW, I CAN TAKE HIM OUT AND MAKE IT LOOK LIKE AN ACCIDENT.”

“Dad!!!” Skip objected.

“I’m serious, Skip! If he hurts ya, I won’t hesitate to commit war crimes.” Blitzø warned.

Skip groaned, hiding in his hoodie. “Dad, I can take care of myseeeelf!” Skip groaned.

Blitzø sighed, crossing his arms and frowning. “Skip, I say this because I care about you. I’m not trying to be overly-possessive-” Blitzø started.

Skip, despite not having been provoked, burst out of his hoodie and, fueled by frustration, snapped. “WELL IT SURE FEELS LIKE YOU ARE!!!”

The room fell dead silent and Skip processed what he said and rushed out, getting as far away from everyone as possible.

“SKIP!!!!” Blitzø called, hurrying after him.

Skip reached outside, vaulting over a picnic table and gasping for breath but continuing to run away. He couldn’t face his dad. He couldn’t.

He didn’t deserve to.

Skip kept running despite the fact that night was falling and everyone was calling for him to come back.

He may be afraid of the dark, but he was scared of Blitzø when he was angry more.

Skip stopped at the edge of a forest somewhere away from the ranch, wheezing and leaning on a tree as he gasped for breath.

When he regained his breath, he looked around to see where he was.

The ranch was nowhere to be found. He wasn’t sure where he was. He wasn’t anywhere familiar.

He was lost. His panic only rose as he realized he was lost, alone, without his way of contacting ANYBODY, at night, in an UNFAMILIAR place.

He continued looking around, trying to see if he could find his footprints.

Too dark. He could barely see his hand in front of his face.

He was as good as dead.

Well, uh, he could make do until morning, sticks can work for food, right? Pretend it’s like, breadsticks or something?

He was hopeless.

Grass? Uh, greens are good! Healthy for ya!...or something.

He was an adult, HOW IS HE THIS HOPELESS?

He heard some sounds in the distance, but chalked them up to being the sounds of the woodland critters.

Woodland critters means meat means food!...Aaaand he left his handgun in the van. Welp. His fate was sealed.

He searched around for a large leaf of sorts that could function as a scrap of “paper”. He could write his final will and testament.

After a while of searching(and a lot of escaping hordes of bees), he found a place to hide out for the night.

He relaxed slightly. At least he could go in peace. No boars, bears, deer, boarbears, beardeer, or anything would get to him.

He did admit, it was kinda cold, but hey! Freezing wasn’t too bad of a way to go! Not the most painful!

As he drifted off, he reflected on his life. It wasn’t too bad, not the best, but not the worst either.

It was a little too short though. He wished he had longer. But, all Imps must move on at some point.

He jolted upright. What was he thinking?! He didn’t wanna die yet! He curled inside his hoodie, conserving body heat so that he could hopefully survive to the morning.

He would try to go back by morning. Blitzø would be calmed down by then.

He sat still, listening to the sounds of the night. They were, honestly, quite relaxing.

The sounds of crickets, woodland critters fighting for dominance, twigs snapping, bugs buzzing, hoofsteps approaching at breakneck speeds.

Skip perked up at the sound, confused. Wasn’t it the middle of the night?

Skip hid further in the shadows, he was unsure of if the stranger could be trusted. He looked around, grabbing a stick, ready to attack if needed.

The rider jumped off his mount and Skip was ready to fight. If he was going down, he was going down fighting.

Skip jumped slightly as the rider walked in front of him. He gulped hard. He couldn’t fight. He was dead.

Skip moved back slightly, rustling a branch in the bush he was hiding in. Freezing, Skip saw them step back a bit. Oh crumbs.

Skip backed away, backing out of the bushes, tail poking out. “GOTCHA!!” The stranger grinned.

Skip shrieked, kicking them in the face and hiding when he was dropped.

“OW!!! WHERE’D YOU GO?!?” They called out angrily, tail rattling like a rattlesnake. It didn’t sound calm. It was a violent shake. It shook Skip to his CORE.

Skip hid behind a rock, hands over his mouth to keep noise down.

He whimpered quietly as they walked close to the rock. Skip prepped to run, but he was grabbed by the hood of his hoodie. “PUT ME DOWN!!!” Skip growled. Skip squeaked as their hands moved to his throat, holding it in a tight squeeze, almost like they were trying to get his eyes to pop out of their sockets like some screwed up toaster.

The shadowy figure looked menacing, and yet...Familiar. “Wh-Who are you!?” Skip choked.

“Wait…” The shadowy look melted away. Literally. It fell off like water when stepping out of a pool. And he seemed...shorter.

“LEMME GO!!!” Skip panicked.

He put Skip down, sighing disappointedly. “Where have you been? Your friends and family’ve been worried sick about ya.” He lectured.

Skip coughed, rubbing where his neck had been held. “What the Hell was that…?!” Skip choked. “You could’ve KILLED me! Why would you try to CHOKE me?!?” Skip stumbled.

Striker chuffed. “Nah. Not worth it.”

“What?” Skip asked, concerned.

Striker collected himself quickly, smirking smuggly. “You’d like that, huh~?” He purred.

“NOPE! SETTING UP BOUNDARIES!” Skip objected, red in the face.

Striker chuckled. “Come on, Tiny~! Can’t ya take a joke~?” Striker purred.

Skip shook off the weird feeling he was getting. “I-I don’t like that.” Skip peeped.

Striker slinked over, patting Skip on the head. “Sorry for the scare, Tiny~! I thought ya were an intruder is all~!” Striker hummed.

Skip purred contentedly. Why did head pats always feel good…?

“It’s fine…” Skip sighed.

Striker slowly moved his hand up Skip’s head, rubbing his horns, Skip’s face heating up and him trying to stifle an...unwanted sound. “Striker…..~!” Skip groaned.

“What~? It’s just a simple horn rub~!” Striker hummed, going at a teasingly slow pace.

Skip whined, tail flicking to stim out the extra pleasure. “Striker….~!” Skip whined, trying to pull away.

“Come on, hon~! I’m just testin’ the waters~!” Striker purred, rubbing Skip‘s horns slower and rougher every few minutes.

Skip whined, eyes shutting tightly. “Striker, please….~! St-Stop….~!” Skip whined, trying to keep it down.

Striker leaned closer to Skip. “Go on ahead, hon~! We’re all alone out here~! We’re miles away from anyone bein’ able to hear anything~!” Striker whispered, Skip shuddering.

“Striker, please…~! St….Stop….~!” Skip whined, half meaning it, half begging him to keep going. He knew his dad wouldn’t like the idea of this, but FUCK did it feel good.

Striker sighed, nodding. “Gotcha.” Striker got up, helping Skip up. “Can I at least do one little thing for ya, Tiny?” Striker asked.

“What’s tha-” Skip started before getting pulled into a kiss. Skip squeaked in surprise, eventually melting into it.

Skip’s face heated up as the kiss was deepened, but he didn’t object. Eventually, Striker broke the kiss, slowly moving down Skip’s neck, Skip whining as he did so.

“Striker…!” Skip whined, melting at the affection he was receiving.

Striker smirked, intertwining his tail with Skip’s, Skip shuddering at the wave of pleasure washing over him.

“We could do more than just smooches, if ya catch my drift…~!” Striker hummed.

“N-No, D-Dad wouldn’t like that.” Skip declined.

“Spoilsport.” Striker scoffed. Skip gently smacked Striker with his tail, heavily annoyed.

“Hey!! I’m not a spoilsport!” Skip objected.

Striker chuckled. “Suuure. Go ahead, let your father dictate your life even though you’re an adult.” Striker sighed.

“Th-That’s not true!!” Skip snapped.

Striker shook his head. “No, no, it’s fine. I get it. Ya don’t wanna hurt your old man’s feelings.” Striker lamented. “I guess you’ll just hafta be a good lil boy from here on out, huh?” Striker sighed.

“Why do you care?” Skip rebutted.

“I dunno. I have a thing for bad boys~!” Striker hummed.

Skip shuddered. “Can we go back…? I’m kinda cold…” Skip shivered.

Striker nodded, picking Skip up and helping him onto Bombproof, riding back to the ranch.

(Elsewhere.)

“Boss, calm down! I’m sure Skip is fine!” Millie assured.

“What if he’s not, Mills?! What if he got hurt and died in a trench somewhere?! What if he got used for some sick fuck’s desires?!” Blitzø ranted, pacing back and forth.

Blitzø continued pacing, freezing in place as a knock came on the door.

Blitzø rushed over, pulling the door open to find Striker standing there with Skip clinging to him. “Howdy.” Striker greeted.

“MY BABY!!!” Blitzø cried out, pulling Skip into a hug. “Are you okay?! What did he do to you?!” He asked, panic lacing his voice.

“N-Nothing dad!” Skip assured.

Striker nodded. “I wouldn’t never hurt him, sir.” Striker assured.

Blitzø narrowed his eyes. “Good. Let’s keep it that way.”

“He warmed up a little bit on the way back thanks to Bombproof, but he's probably still mighty cold.” Striker sighed.

“Yeah…” Skip shivered.

“Okay. I trust ya with my son more now. Just watch your back.” Blitzø warned.

“Don’t worry, sir,” Striker said, sighing in relief. “I only gave him a little gift of a little pin is all. A little Red Dahlia flower~!” Striker smiled.

[t-tyrants]

FRIENDS NOW :)

Wrote a lil creepypasta based on the two pictures I drew of Zipper.  I haven’t written any pastas in a while so I hope u enjoy!

Like almost everyone on twitter, I too have spent my quarantine time playing the new animal crossing. It has been a really good distraction from the chaos of the panicking world. It was probably the only thing keeping my mental health from jumping off a cliff. While I am only 24, I still was part of the at risk group. Having a weak heart, I have had to be very careful of my own health fo my whole life. I didn’t really want to die right now, so I’ve been mulled up in my flat, getting paranoid over every cough. The only thing that had been keeping me from overthinking is animal crossing.

Making friends with the animals visiting my island had been my main focus. No critter was allowed to leave my humble abode without having all their dreams and hopes fulfilled. Some of my favorites were Mischka, Raymond and Lolly. What can I say, I like cats? Of course, I visited some of my real friends’ islands too. But while I could do most of my work home office style in a few hours, many of them didn’t have that privilege. Lizzy was out there, saving lifes, Matt was getting yelled at by customers and I was just sitting on my ass, playing video games. Sometimes I felt bad about it. Sometimes I was simply thankful. They were all very tired but they still took some time out of their life to check in with me. After all this would be over, I would try to make it up to them. 

Still, all I could do now was talk to animals, get some peaches, catch some fishes and draw new clothes. Day in, day out. It started to feel like routine. So when the easter special event started, I was hyped. Sure, those were pretty much the same game mechanics as before but i was way more interested in the elusive Zipper T. Bunny himself. I have had never played an animal crossing game before so I wasn’t aware that he was a part of the game. I had spent hours finding eggs all around the island just to get a few dialog lines from that weird bunny. Of course, I was pretty sure that this wasn’t a bunny. The big zipper, the unmoving eyes, the forced happiness - whoever was under this suit was doing a job and would prefer to be at home. 

But that wouldn't stop me. I tried talking to him again and again in hopes of getting a new line of dialog. Still, I knew it was a game. I knew that Zipper wouldn't just get out of his head and show me his real self. But I was convinced that there had to be some sort of easter egg for the curious players. There had to be. I had spend so much time working for the easter event, I didn’t even notice that the real deal was getting closer too. 

I woke up gasping for air from a nightmare I forgot just as quickly. Looking at the alarm clock, I could see it was 2:54 AM, Sunday. It was easter. I got out of bed, there was no use trying to fall asleep now. Instead, I walked to my couch and turned the switch on. Getting comfy between the couch cushions, I walked up to Zipper. “Happy Easter,” I chimed into the darkness of my flat. I didn’t talk to Zipper, I just stood next to him, as all of a sudden, I could feel tears in the corners of my eyes. The game had been a great distraction but now, at 3 am, it all came crashing down on me. 

I was lonely, I was stressed, I was afraid. 

And all I could do is play a game and run after a rabbit. 

“Aren’t you tired?” A dialog prompt. I rubbed the tears from my eyes and looked up. “Not really,” I sighed as I answered with ‘No’. “Why?” Zipper asked. Now this was something different. “You are very persistent. Don’t you have anything else to do?” I leaned closer to the TV as I pressed ‘No’ again. Zipper was finally talking. This was what I had hoped for all this time. “You aren’t going to stop bothering me?” Ha, you wish. I pressed ‘No’. Zipper T. Bunny turned towards me. Not my character. But me, behind the TV screen. He grabbed my character’s hand. They just stood there, quietly looking towards me, swaying a tiny bit with the wind. They looked so cute. What a cute thing to include in the game. Now if I only could get to photo-mode… 

“What do you want from me?” The dialog field was unexpected. Instead of three options, a keyboard popped up. This was my chance. I started typing frantically. “Who are you? Why do you wear a suit? What do you do when you aren’t working for this easter event? Who are you really? Can we be friends?” The keyboard disappeared. I hadn’t even pressed ‘send’. How strange. The game stopped. Nothing moved. No more music. Did I break it? Mashing all buttons, nothing happened. Before I could get up, a dialog field popped up. “Do you really want to know who I am?” I pressed my back into the couch. ‘Yes.’ “Do you really want to be friends?” Holy shit. “Of course,” I called out while pressing ‘Yes’ again. 

The dialog disappeared again and all was quiet. All but a weird buzzing. As it grew louder, suddenly the TV started to flicker. Was it breaking right now? I was uncovering the most interesting, literal easter egg and my TV wanted to destroy it all for me? 

The screen turned red. The green, lively island was gone, replaced by some weird, red mush. But Zipper T. Bunny and my character were still standing there. Still, they too had changed. I stared, mesmerized. His head was gone. The bunny suit head. But beneath it… was nothing. Just empty air. At the neck, red liquid left the suit, dirtying the otherwise radiant yellow. I was so intrigued by this change which was entirely inappropriate for a children's game, I hadn’t even looked at my character. It’s pupils were gone and blood had started pouring out of her eyes, nose and mouth. 

Now, I was searching for some sort of easter egg but this was too much. Who would even put something like this into animal crossing? What if a small child stumbled across this? This would traumatize them and ruin a whole video game franchise and pobably stuffed animals for them. Maybe even the whole concept of eastern. 

As I wanted to get up and take my phone to document this mess, I could feel it all of a sudden. Cold breath hit my neck. Cold breath, followed by even colder hands that crawled over my shoulders. I froze, unable to even move my eyes from the display. I could feel the icy nails scrap over my skin, seemingly carefully not to draw blood. My whole back was covered in goosebumps. “So….” The voice was raspy and deep. “Do you really wanna be friends?” I had to suppress the urge to laugh nervously. This was really happening. The bunny suit on TV was twitching. The hands slowly wandered up to my neck. “Of course,” the words left my mouth all of a sudden. The hands stopped. “Are you sure?” Relieved that my neck was still untouched, I decided to go all in. “Absolutely. That’s why I tried talking so much to you before.”

Silence. The whole room seemed frozen. It felt like hours had passed when the voice returned. “So you really had fun with the easter event?” The voice sounded softer and quieter. “Yes,” my voice was quivering too. “Would you mind… if I stick around even when easter is over?” There was a lot of sadness in his voice. For a split second, I felt like the two of us were just the same. Lonely, stressed, afraid. 

“You can stay as long as you want to,” I said, driven by this realisation, only to regret it right away. I didn’t know what I just agreed to. I should have asked questions. But as soon as the words had left my mouth, the hands were lifted from my shoulders and the cold breathe disappeared. I was still stuck in place, frozen. 

I didn’t know how much time had passed but it felt like I was woken up again when the music started playing from the TV again. I looked up, it was all back to normal. My island was back, my character looked as always and Zipper T. Bunny, head and all, was turned towards them. There was a dialog box open. As I read it, I didn’t know what to feel at all. Was I scared? Happy? Confused? All I knew was that I should get back to bed. I quickly shut off the switch and walked up to my bed. As i hid beneath the covers, pressing my eyes closed, trying to fall asleep, Zipper’s last words just wouldn’t leave my head. “FRIENDS NOW :)” 

When I woke up a few hours later, the flat seemed to be frozen. Absentmindedly I ran up to my heater, trying to get some warmth into these rooms. It was already put on the highest setting. I walked up to my kitchen window and opened it. I was expecting to see snow with this temperature but outside, it was warm. I kept the window open as I turned around to look for clues. Not sure what to do, I decided to check up on animal crossing again. Starting the game, there was nothing pointing towards last night's weird occurrence. Talking to Zipper, he was back to his old tunes and none of the villagers seemed to be changed either. I was nearly convinced that this was a bad dream, when i opened up the album and saw a new pictures. 

Staring back at me from the TV was Zipper T. Bunny holding my hand, head missing with a crude smile drawn over the empty space.

With tired eyes, I smiled back the picture. It was comforting in a strange way. Somehow, the flat felt less empty now. 

Just a little colder. 

[dodiejinx]

DoodleDump 7

Bubblegum Sweetz loved going outside, finding new creatures and finding a new adventure around every corner. Sometimes she brings home a new animal and begs her parents to let her keep it. Of course they said no to each one since they keep destroying their home the minute it's brought in. However, that didn't stop her from traveling the woods and finding new areas to find something new. One day she took a new unfamiliar path, more dense underbrush and oozing fog. Her head kept saying, 'Turn back now, I don't have a good feeling about this.' But her gut and her heart told her to to keep going, this was a new adventure just waiting for her. The further she travelled, the more lost she got. Sweetz tried to back track home, but the vines and thorns started to move and cover the path she came through. They threaten to surround,trap and swallow her up, but before they could she ran in the opposite direction.

Bubblegum became more lost than ever, all of a sudden she heard a horrifying howl. She frantically turned in all directions to try and see what was making that sound. Sweetz looked over head and saw a pack of Timber Wolves on an overpassing cliff. Sweetz legs locked up and shook, her face was pale and her eyes were filled with terror. She couldn't move, not even cry out for somepony to help her. *growl* Sweetz turned around to find an Alfa Timber Wolf, towering over her like the tress surrounding them. Sweetz snapped out of her paralyzed state and started to run, faster than she ever ran before. She cried out for help, for anyone to help, but it only attracted more Timber Wolves. All of them following the Alpha Tiber Wolf. Sweetz was nearly surrounded by Timber Wolves and they kept nipping at her legs and trying to get a bite at her flank, by any means to trip her up and catch her. Sweetz saw an opening on her left side and leapt towards a clearing within the thicket, but stumbled over a tree root growing from the ground. Rolling, and tossing herself towards a magical spring, with beautiful colors surrounding it and bright reflective fish swimming within its cool waters. She didn't have enough time to admire the view, she had to find a place to hide before the Timber Wolves found her. Too late. She turned to see a Timber Wolf growling and gazing it's bright green eyes at her, their snouts just about touching. Sweetz screamed as she ran toward the forest. More Timber Wolves emerges from the thicket of bristles and thorns. Before she could even attempt to make her quick escape, she realized she was surrounded by them, with the Alpha leading the charge. Sweetz coward backward until her hooves were ankle deep in the magical spring. She almost accepted her fate to these fowl creatures. As they leaped in for the kill, something larged started to emerge from the spring, larger than the Alpha even. It lowered itself and stared down the pack of Timber wolves, with a low growl, baring ots large gnarled teeth. The wolves whimpered and ran away, all but the Alpha stood it's ground and barked to try and scare off the larger creature. Without a second waring it grew even larger and roared an ear piercing shriek that shook the ground. The Alpha cowered and ran away into the darkness.

Bubblegum looked over her to see an enormous pink sea monster looking down at a tiny little pony. She jumped away staring up at the large pink creature. The monster laid its head down, and for some reason started coo and purr. Sweetz felt happy, in a weird way. She started to pet the large creature, it's little lantern started to glow and the creature started to hum and churr a harmonic tune. The monster glowed and beamed a pink light all over its body. It turned into a tiny version of itself. Sweetz absolutely loved how it looked. The little creature helped Sweetz find her way home. She was so glad to be in her parents arms, and even told them how this little guy save her from Timber Wolves. She begged and begged and begged her parents to let her keep Lil' Pinky. They gave in and let her keep the little slimy critter and since then they've gone on many adventures and planned many part.

Cute widdle baby gurl being the sweetest baby in da world.

CC Swirl has a lot of part time jobs. But her favorite is being a maid waitress at a local cafe in Ponyville. She loves to act as another person and wearing such cute, sexy outfits. It teases some of the customer s and makes her boyfriend extremely jealous. Still, she loves all the attention she gets from her admirers.

Mlp maid outfit inspired link

www.deviantart.com/goldenfoxda…

[langdvnshepherd]

Dad Jim having his twins puke on him, one after the other, while he was carrying them. Dad Michael getting peed on all over his face and hair by his baby boy while changing him. Dad Duncan getting dog food thrown at his face. His boy was running with the dog, a chihuaha of all things his boy had fallen in love with him.

This reminds me of the time when I was like 6 or 7 and my brother was an infant and I leaned down to kiss him and he spit up formula into my mouth LMAO

     With twins, shit like this is bound to happen. You can barely control one newborn, let alone two. It’s 2x the crying, 2x the attention, and 2x the pee, poop, and puke. Jim probably thought he was on a roll that morning. He’d gotten them up, fed, changed, and into their day clothes without so much as a struggle. It was tummy time, and just as he sat one baby down on the blanket, the other spit up on the sweater he was wearing. No biggie, he thought to himself. If that was the worst thing that had happened to him this entire morning, he’d be just fine. When the bubs were on their blanket, their little heads bobbing up and down trying to keep their balance, Jim thought they were just too cute and he laid down with them. Just as he went to kiss the other twin on the nose, they threw up directly into his mouth. Let’s just say he may or may not have been legitimately angry at a 4-month-old for a solid 20 minutes.

     Everyone knows babies are squirmers, and as they get older it just gets worse. So when Michael is changing his baby and they just won’t sit still, he’s already frustrated. But it gets even worse when they decide they have to pee again before Michael and get the diaper fastened onto their tiny lil butt. It was like a fire hydrant, spraying everywhere. The walls, the changing mat, Michael’s hair, some even got on his chin. Michael was able to cover them with their half-fastened diaper before things got too crazy, but the damage had already been done. His precious offspring that he once thought could do no wrong in his eyes, had just pissed in his fucking hair. You definitely walked in on Michael giving his 8-month-old a serious, stern scolding about keeping your bodily fluids inside of the diaper, as if they had any fucking clue what Michael was saying anyway.

     When Duncan has kids, it’s impossible for him to say no to them. He absolutely hated animals, despised them even. They were smelly and all they did was eat and shit in his yard. But when his bub had fallen in love with a puppy for adoption at a local festival they went to in the park, he couldn’t deny them of something that made them so happy. Of course, he made them promise that the dog was their responsibility and that they had to feed him and walk him, but he was still perturbed that a critter would be sharing the same living space as him. It was early one morning, way too early to be running around the house and screaming like a madman, but Duncan’s child could not be contained. They were chasing the dog around the living room and kitchen, squealing in delight every time they got close to catching them. When the pup took a wide turn around the kitchen island and accidentally stumbled over their food bowl, the kibble went flying. Duncan didn’t even know how it was possible, but the food bits went so high up and that one pellet magically plopped right into his steaming, once-comforting cup of coffee. Duncan momentarily contemplated posting on social media to see if anyone was looking to adopt a hyperactive, little shit of a puppy. 

[boris-bowlingforfood-blog]

Ink-credible Encounters of the Mom Kind

// This is a little short I thought of, inspired by @xdreamer45x‘s Ink Mama AU. Based off of how Mama and Baby are on civil to friendly terms with another Boris, I figure if my Boris, Mr. Cut-Myself-Off-From-Everyone-After-Fit-Hits-The-Shan, is the one to find a missing adorable terror bean, he’ll be a bit more trusted than whatever else is out in the studio, and may get more of a pass than other ink beings once he is caught by mama. (Also, he’s out of the loop, so he isn’t going to realize the full gravity of the “bean is on his own” situation...) I’m gonna throw in one of my own personal headcanon’s with concept Bendy too, so, enjoy it when you see it... I hope...

~ Mars

. . .

Boris stared at the little creature he had just come face to face with... in his vents. It looked like a smaller Bendy but... without a mouth? And it looked to be crying silently. Boris cocked his head. Was this creature a danger? It didn’t seem like one, and that was saying a lot for him. He’d turn tail and run at nearly anything, especially when encountering it in places he was not prepared for. But, still, this creature was new, not like anything he’d seen slip out of the tainted puddles of ink before. Were his vents no longer safe?

The intruder glanced towards the ink covered vent grate in a way that seemed to be fearfully. That’s when Boris heard it, the choked semi-mechanical sounds of an Edgar v2.0.

Boris, just get out of here. Don't get involved.

Tail tucked between his legs, Boris began shuffling backwards, so as to keep an eye on the new creature.

Maybe the ink machine has been used again? Does that mean humans are back, and not dead yet? Did the humans bring more food? Maybe that is worth invest-

“Squeak.”

Boris jumped, hitting his head against the strong aluminum. They both froze, the pain from hitting his head not nearly enough to overcome his fear, neither of them even thinking as the sound reverberated through the vent shaft. After a long minute and no change in the light being sent through the vent, they both shared a sigh of relief.

So, this creature has a mouth. Boris wished he hadn't stuck around long enough to see it. It was a split down his face, full of teeth. But... it also sounds cute and innocent. He gritted his teeth. Boris, don’t do it. You're going to get yourself killed one of these days.

He motioned for the little critter to follow him, and it seemed to understand. He slowly turned around, glancing back often to make sure it wasn’t going to turn on him, and led the thing to his little hovel, a bigger section in the vent system. He turned on his dim little electric lantern so that the critter could see better, and so that he could better keep an eye on it. There were blankets that clearly were being used as a sleeping spot spread on one side that went out about half way in the tight quarters. Against the other side of the vent wall was a stockpile of bacon soup and and a can opener. The little critter stood up, having better room to do so than Boris, and went over to the blankets and began fiddling with them.

Boris frowned, holding back the urge to stop the little Bendy thing from touching stuff. After who knows how many years, he had really grown use to not having anyone in here. With a little snuff, he allowed himself to look away. He grabbed a can of soup and opened it up. Turning back towards the visitor, he froze. It was chewing on one of his blankets.

No. Don't. Ew. What?

He gently knocked on the floor, snagging the creature's attention. He wagged his finger in the universal language of ‘no’ and offered up the can of soup.

Lil’ Bendy spit out the blanket and came over to Boris. He gingerly took the soup can and looked in it, squeaking in surprise as some soup spilled out.

Boris mimicked drinking and Lil’ Bendy finally seemed to get it. He looked up and dumped the soup into his mouth, can and all. Boris stared in horror as he listened to the grinding of tin can between sharp teeth.

I screwed up. I screwed up. I have let this THING into my home!

The creature spit out the chewed up can, squeaked and clapped its hands together happily. It hopped over to his stash and grabbed another can and popped it in.

Boris threw a hand over his mouth, watching as another destroyed hunk of tin and label was spit oat and another can disappeared into that... maw of indestructibility. Wait... my soup! Unable to contain himself he grabbed the shoulder of the Bendy monstrosity and yanked it away.

Lil’ Bendy’s eyes filled with inky tears and he began to whimper, instantly pulling at Boris’s heartstrings. How... Why... Why am I feeling guilty all of a sudden?

Boris snatched up his smallest blanket and kind of toss-shoved it into the ink being’s mouth, not trusting placing his hand too close. Lil’ Bendy began sucking on the old cloth, crying suddenly gone due to confusion? joy? the power of blanket sucking? and Boris released a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. He would have to figure out where this thing belonged and get it back there, it was definitely not something he could... take care of... not with it downing soup cans whole without a second thought of food conservation. He glanced down the vent they had come from. The baddie should be gone by now... maybe... Boris, this is why you don’t get involved. Just, stick to yourself, find food, and survive. That’s it. There are no friends here. Th-

Boris looked down at a tug on his overalls. Lil’ Bendy, still sucking on the blanket, looked up at him with cute blank pied eyes. Bendy rubbed his head, feeling a toonish lump that had sprung up from the incident with the first squeak. He carefully pushed it back in before carefully picking up the little guy.

Ok, we’ll go find out where you came from.

Boris smiled, something that looked a little off since he hadn’t done so in a long time, but the cute bean didn’t seem to mind as he wrapped his arms around Boris’s neck... and he didn’t seem willing to let go. Carefully, Boris pushed him around so that he was hanging over Boris’s back, the blanket rubbing against his tail. He turned off the lantern and slowly made his way back through the vents, keeping himself lower than usual so as to keep the Bendy from bumping his head.

They reached the vent grate covered in ink and Boris paused, listening. Once he decided the coast was clear he began rolling the vent up and crawled out, flinching at the bright light of the dimly lit studio hall. Years of vent dwelling had made his eyesight adapt, and it didn’t make for good outter travel, but if this was where he found the lil’ critter, there was a good chance this was where he’d find its owner.

He stretched to get the hunch out of his back and began quietly walking along, his ears alert, taking in the groans of the pipes and the distant sounds of music playing somewhere not too far away. Swallowing, he headed towards the music. It was as good of a shot than any.

He began having second thoughts pretty quickly. Humans weren’t exactly the greatest of creatures, that he could remember. Besides having brought in good food pretty regularly, they weren’t exactly good ol’ friends and had been pretty crummy to some of the toons before. Some had been nice, but he’d have to be careful, just in case.

Boris gingerly opened a door and found that someone had just left a radio on in the little office space. He scoffed and turned around. Then he heard it. That choking semi-mechanical sound. Boris looked around frantically for a vent, but none was to be found! He dashed out of the room and looked left and right down the hallway. There!

Crash! Splat! “ROAAR!”

“Squeak!”

Boris would have shushed the gremlin’s little outburst if he weren’t so busy running for the vent. Just as he was getting there, he heard deep thunderous thumping behind him, the thumping of something very large and not at all good. He froze mid-step, and risked a glance backwards at what was about to kill him and Lil’ Bendy.

“SQUEAK!”

Shove.

Boris stumbled forward as Lil’ Bendy jumped off his back for the hulking black monstrosity. Boris shakily looked around, knowing he wouldn’t like what he’d see. Lil’ Bendy was nuzzling a creature that would definitely haunt his nightmares, and that creature was nuzzling back. Slowly melting down, Boris came to a realization that made things only worse. That hulking monstrosity was turning into The Ink Demon.

Lil’ Bendy looked back at Boris before pulling the blanket out of his mouth and offering it back.

Boris held up his hands in the universal sign of surrender. Keep it. With that, he turned tail and ran like a bat outta hell.

That’s the last time I’m ever giving to charity!

[metinthehallway]

Heatwave Chapter 1:

Don’t Look Too Long At Something That Doesn’t Look Right

Hello! I wrote a lil sumn sumn and decided to share. I’m hoping to actually follow thru on this story as I’m feeling pretty inspired so fingers crossed it doesn’t float away. Anyway, if you decide to read I hope you enjoy! It’s 3.2k words and chapter numero uno of a kind of...supernatural...harry fic I’m starting. (Let’s hope this copies correctly and the format isn’t fucked up)(omg it’s so fucked up)

Summer arrived in full force that year, sweeping into Ferris Point on an oppressive heatwave that made your whole body sweat just by looking out the window and into the harsh sunlight splintering through the still, humid air. The only refuge Lila had was her dingy apartment, if you could even call it that. The converted attic of an old rickety church was advertised as a “studio apartment” and it was two rooms scarcely bigger than a shoebox. She guesses she shouldn’t complain as it was a roof over her head...no matter how often that roof leaked. And hey. It was dirt cheap.

Lila’s humble abode includes a small kitchen area and three pretty big circular windows all intricately stained glass and one square window that’s not. A full-size mattress resides on the floor next to a mug of lukewarm lemonade on top of a stack of books from the very minuscule town library, and a lamp behind the stack of books that looks suspiciously like the lamps at said library. A large and impressive peace lily sits treasured in one corner and a somewhat dusty dresser adorned with a plethora of trinkets and things in the other corner.

And of course; the air conditioner.

Lila’s beautiful and most prized possession during these hot, hot summer months in the state of New York. She found it off on the side of the road in May along with a small table balancing precipitously on three good legs and a loveseat with a multitude of mysterious stains on the seat cushion, back cushion and armrests. They sat behind a cardboard sign scrawled with one glorious, godsent word. Free. So Lila, only equipped with her dear and trusty bicycle, Lorraine, looked at her wicker basket nestled between the handlebars and back to the shining air conditioner beaming in the high afternoon sun. She then made a very important decision before her mile trek back to the run down church.

She clicked her tongue and heaved the air conditioner into her tan arms and staggered all the way home, leaving poor Lorraine to fend for herself before she came back for her at sundown and rode all the way home with a smile on her face. Lila had no reason to believe that this beautiful object, circa the late 70’s from the looks of it, would actually work. But the stiflingly hot nights that were already happening at the tail end of just spring was something she didn’t even want to entertain anymore. She needed this to work. And work it did. For two months.

On July 14th, the warmest day thus far, reaching 115 degrees, it had ceased to function. Her teeny tiny home was no longer a refuge from the heat but rather a prison to it. The heat rose so quickly and relentlessly through the top floor of the church that Lila barely had time to collect her things before going outside to seek some shade under a cool canopy of trees and hopefully not keel over from heatstroke.

With her bag on her back and the soles of her shoes melting on the gravel driveway, Lila set off into the mouth of the woods near her house. Every time she walked into the forest she found herself increasingly more comfortable navigating its slopes and turns. The forest was a safe place for her now.

One early afternoon in April when she found herself relieved of her desk duty at the local library two hours before her shift was to end, she looked out her clear square window into the budding willow trees. They seemed to open their arms to her, inviting her in.

Growing up, Lila would have to be dragged inside by her feet, kicking and screaming and throwing mud and clumps of grass at her mother who did most of the dragging. She would play outside in the sun until her skin was peeling and rolling around in the snow until her fingers were blue. The comfort and curiosity she felt amongst the wide open world of the outdoors was unparalleled and played a key role of who she was today.

That early afternoon in April when her shadow was only a sliver of her being, she wandered into the yawning forest. The bugs and little creatures were just coming out to bask in the moderate spring temperatures, waking up from their winter sleep and rubbing the crust out of their eyes. Snowdrop flowers littered the ground and patches of sunlight bounced off the damp tree trunks and onto the forest floor, not unlike the way water from a swimming pool looks, illuminated from its depths.

On her walk, she was careful not to get lost. There wasn’t really a distinct trail to follow as not many people from her small town ventured into the decently sized forest. She mentally marked trees and formations of rocks that stood out along the way, tripping over the majority of them. Before long, she stumbled upon a small clearing with long tendrils of deadened grass coming back to life and a steep drop off into a body of water. The small spring looked like it had just recently started moving again after winters ice with the water clogged with globs of grass and silt that rose to the top to make a murky appearance.

Lila, however, was in awe. The natural spring was relatively untouched and it seemed worlds away from her dingy church and monotonous job that didn’t pay nearly enough for a liveable wage. Her worries about rent and groceries floated away and disappeared into the sunbeams shining down on the water. The sweat on the back of her neck trickled down through her shirt as Lila worked to discard her sneakers and take off her clothes. She carefully made her way down short cliff on a small kind of natural stairway made of boulders and stood before the slow moving water.

Lila dipped her foot in the pleasantly warm water and swirled the silt around. She waded further out, cautious of sharp shale and any living critters, and found that the spring only really got about 6 feet deep at the center. She could touch the bottom if she submerged herself a few inches and popped back up to the surface, smiling wide. Lila spent the whole day soaking up the sun's rays like a lazy fat cat. She indulged in her own little accomplishment at finding a place so serene right before the thick of summer and fantasized about all the days she’d spend here.

Or so she thought.

With the heat wave and blue skies came a small drought. Nothing detrimental, just a few weeks where the dark, rich soil turned to dust and flowers began to scorch in the wretched path of the sun. It made everything ugly and surrounded by an orange hue. The trees even seemed defeated by gravity, panting like a dog and drooping towards the ground in hopes of extending their roots further to find any drop of water hiding in the earth.

This also meant that Lila’s dear spring had completely evaporated from the last time she visited, just yesterday. Given, the water was a bit low then, only coming up to her chest. But she didn’t think it could happen so fast.

As she walks under the shade of the forest in the pathway of trampled grass she drew out herself, she comes out the other side to the clearing full of wildflowers and sharp miscanthus grass. Lila peers over the cliff, expecting to see the sparkling gleam from the reflection of the water but discovering only a pit of rust colored dust gazing back at her.

There’s a strange haze that settles over her mind suddenly and she can’t seem to remember the last time she visited the spring, even though it was certainly less than 24 hours ago. There’s no way a body of water this big could disappear overnight. Lila shakes her head and chalks her confusion up to dehydration. She hasn’t been drinking nearly enough water as she should.

Heaving a deep sigh and wiping an exasperated hand down her face, Lila stands there for a couple of minutes feeling mildly defeated. She turns on her heel, accidentally kicking up an grotesque amount of dust that sticks to the obscene amount of moisture on her.

Coming out from beneath the lovely shade of willows and oaks, Lila walks straight past her church-home-hell and continues on the uneven gravel towards the heart of Ferris Point.

Ferris Point, population 1,559, is a small town in upstate New York. It consists of two gas stations, one movie theater, four competing bars, a handful of overflowing consignment shops and a 24 hour diner called Sandy’s Gateway Getaway but everybody calls it Sandy’s, for short. Sandy’s dabbles in a bit of everything, from inventive food specials of the day to questionable live “entertainment” to the ever-changing paint on its walls.

The owner, Beau, a bit of an eccentric, stout old man in his 60’s with an almost full head of hair and a matching full face of beard, inherited the diner when his father passed. Sandy’s is named after Beau’s late mother and stays as lively and indecisive as she was. Beau has a habit of painting the diners walls to whatever color suits his mood that month, and when he paints it’s the only time Sandy’s is closed.

This month, the walls are a light lilac color and a beautiful respite to the burning orange haze that’s covered the town. Lila heaves a sigh and this time it’s in relief as a blast of ice cold air envelops her body. The diner is relatively empty and she walks towards the first booth in front of the wall of windows to the left, taking it all for herself.

She dumps her bag on the glossy enamel surface of the table, accidentally knocking over the ketchup bottle and cursing under her breath as a few books coming flying out of the broken zipper. A group of elderly women sitting at a table in the corner shoot her somewhat of an annoyed glance as Lila interrupts their riveting book club discussion about whether or not Ms. Bennett really deserved Mr. Darcy’s undivided love and attention. She smiles sheepishly and ducks her head to look at the contents of her bag for her copy of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. She’s been on a reread of the series, her fifth one, and she never fails to get those gleeful goosebumps.

Beau, wiping down the long oval bar that takes up the entire back wall of the diner, looks at Lila and smiles.

“What can I getcha today, Ms. Lila? The usual?”

Lila nods and grins while Beau shouts her order out to the cook. Two pancakes with warm blueberry jam and syrup, a side of scrambled eggs and a cup of orange juice, with the pulp.

“Yes, and can I get your biggest glass of water? If you have a very big bucket then that’s fine too. Fill her up,” she says with a wink.

Beau shakes his head. “Is it still a fire hazard out there? I don’t even want to step outside to drive home. I think my engine might blow up just by going a few blocks over,” he chuckles.

“Yes sir,” Lila says. “And your car might just combust. My air conditioner finally kicked the bucket so I’m thinking of catching a bus into Harrisburg to find a cheap fan at the Walmart or something.”

Beau purses his lips, an action barely noticeable through the nest of grey hair surrounding his mouth. He makes a funny squelching noise behind his teeth and begins to talk.

“You know,” he says, “I think I might have somethin’ in the back for ya. It’s been there since the dawn of time practically. You’re gonna have to clean the dust offa it if by some miracle it works.”

Lila perks up and nods enthusiastically. “What is it? Is it a fan? An air conditioner? Please say air conditioner, Beau, please. I think I might suffocate in my sleep because of this humidity,” she groans out.

“It’s a big industrial fan,” Beau says with a chuckle. “If it turns on, you can call it yours. If you need me to, I can drop it off at your house when I leave. I take it you’re gonna stay here for a while?” he says, raising his eyebrows and pointedly looking at her already cozy set up. Her book is open face up in front of her and her feet are propped up on the cushion in front of her. Her phone is plugged into an outlet hiding just underneath the table behind the napkin dispenser and her bag has been turned into a makeshift armrest.

Lila laughs, a quick light sound, and she can feel the sweat already cooling her neck as she nods. She’s never felt comfier. She could sleep here, she thinks.

“Thank you so much Beau. How much do you want for it?”

“Don’t be silly,” the owner says, waving away her question. “It only collects dust back there anyway. I mean it.”

“At least let me pay you for bringing it to my house. But please don’t try bringing it up to my hallway. No offense, but you might break your back. I fear for the safety of my spine just carrying my groceries up those flights of stairs. It’s ridiculously steep so leave that to me,” Lila says with a grimace.

“Deal,” he laughs. He walks through the swinging doors to the back to plug the fan in. He walks back out and gives a quick thumbs up signaling that it works. Lila tilts her head back onto the plush seat, smiling, and closes her eyes. It’s something, she thinks. She thanks her lucky stars and hears someone make a shushing sound and the volume on the TV increase. The screen shows a weatherman standing in front of a map of the region and gesturing to the temperatures at each city on the map, reporting on this next weeks forecast.

“Well, folks, it looks like there’s no break in this heatwave anytime soon,” the man says with a click of his tongue. He points to the dot on the map saying Ferris Point as well as Harrisburg and Troy and all the towns around it.

“It seems this region in particular has been hit the worst with temperatures rising up to almost 120 degrees and with little refuge during the night as it drops down to 92 with the humidity at 81 percent. This week's forecast stays at a steady 110 degrees and above with little temperature fluctuation. Mostly sunny with little chance of rain until next Friday where hopefully, fingers crossed, a mean looking storm cloud heading in from the Midwest will break the wave and end the drought. This has been your local weather forecast with Bob Kadinsky, thank you for tuning in.”

The old-lady-book-club in the corner all visibly deflate at once while slowly fanning themselves with their paperbacks of Pride and Prejudice. As does Lila. She’s sick of the heat and sick of constantly being in a near dehydrated state for the past week.

Lila slumps back into her seat, diving into the greatest literary creation of all time, until her food is brought out. She practically inhales the warm and fluffy pancakes and is pretty sure she beat some kind of record for taking the fastest drink of water ever. She asks for a second mason jar of the icy cold goodness and gets comfortable again.

An hour in the women have left and the only people in the diner are Lila, the cook and one waitress typing something into the register with one hand on her hip. Beau left some ten or so minutes ago reminding Lila about the fan.

The sun is setting and a reddish glow enters the room, washing over the checkerboard tile and the vibrancy catches the fresh lilac paint on fire, it seems.

Just then, the bell above the front door calls out, signaling a new arrival. Lila pays no attention, mindlessly shrinking away from the hot air blowing into the back of her hair, entirely engrossed in the world of Harry Potter. She registers the sound of heavy footsteps that kind of drag across the ground walk up to the register and the sound of a throat being cleared.

“Hello, I’m sorry,” a male voice begins, deep and raspy and slow, like smoke curling up. “Was wondering if you could point me in the direction of the nearest store. I left my phone at home and the roads get a bit confusing here,” he says with a slight laugh.

“No problem sweetie. Turn left on Clark and Mallow, another left at the stop sign on Broad Street and continue onto Route 9 for about 5 miles. There’s a Walmart in Harrisburg, it’s the biggest building there, ya can’t miss it,” the waitress says with a steady click of her nails on the screen in front of her.

“Thank you ma’am, you’re a lifesaver,” the voice says, audibly relieved. Lila looks up just as he turns around and meets his eye. She’s never seen him before, which is strange, because everyone here knows everyone else here.

He’s about Lila’s age, if not a bit older, with dirt brown hair curling around his face and glowing red in the sunset, a couple strands around his ears wet with sweat. He’s got a bit of a flushed complexion and a permanent furrow to his nicely shaped brow that creates an indent just above the bridge of his nose, which is a bit of a pointy thing, but not overly. She’s almost jealous of how deep his Cupid’s bow is and how pink his lips are. Does he have lipstick on? she wonders for a split second. She can’t make out the color of his eyes behind his glasses but she can see the fiery sunset behind her in their reflection. It looks like the apocalypse has already happened in his eyes. He reaches up to push back a damp curl and an assortment of rings glint in the light.

He smiles at her with closed lips and nods as a brief greeting before walking out into the offensive air, the bell above the door yelling at him to keep the heat out. Lila stares at his figure retreating into a small, old looking car but kept in a clean condition. He looks a little funny, folding his legs up and crouching down into his seat. She watches his silhouette flip the visor down and pull out of the parking lot, going the complete wrong way the lady at the register told him.

She scoffs and turns back to the words illuminated on blood red pages. As the light dies down and dips below the horizon, setting the moon on fire, Lila finds herself stuck in the back of her mind, replaying the image of this man she’s never seen before, walking straight into the sun.

[amicuscordis]

The Blue Trash Floof

With both hands spent keeping their occupant from flying down the castle corridor, Pidge was unable to properly knock and instead beat the door with her foot. A moment later, the door slid aside, and it took Lance all of half a tick to realize who it was and for his face to sour accordingly. “Coming back for round two?”

She released her hands. The blue caterpillar sprung from his prison, bursting against Lance’s face fast enough to make him yelp and stumble back. The corner of Pidge’s mouth twisted up. “He’s pretty good at sensing heartbreak.” The caterpillar moved slower now, rubbing his fluffy body against Lance’s cheek as Lance could only watch with trepidation out of the corner of his eye. “And comforting for it. I’m sorry if we took the teasing earlier too far.” Although she would be lying if she said it hadn’t been a little cathartic.

Lance gave an uncertain pat, and at last relaxed as the critter continued to nuzzle his face. “Thanks.” He lifted a hand to make a platform with his palm. The caterpillar landed there, allowing Lance to stroke it. “I guess I’m just not used to this whole seeing someone I like go so hard for someone else thing. I just, I want her to be happy, and if she’s happy with someone else, fine I guess, I’m just not sure what I’m supposed to do with all these feelings.”

“Yeah.” What was he telling her for? Pidge didn’t know how to comfort him, especially about this, that was the entire point of bringing the caterpillar to do it for her. “I need to get back to helping Hunk with the particle barrier, but he can stay with you, if you want.”

Lance rubbed a finger on the caterpillar’s belly, and upon receiving a high-pitched, almost purr-like trilling, grinned for the first time Pidge had seen in days. “I think this lil guy’ll come find some space juice with me.”

She started for the lab. “You better be a better influence on him than you are on Kaltenecker.”

Only Allura and Lotor were going into the rift, yet Shiro insisted that all of them be in their armor to watch the event from the castle bridge. For Lotor’s sake, she reckoned. He was their ally and they needed to maintain an image of professionalism, Shiro would reason. As if Lotor had any notions of their professionalism after he learned they blasted a reprogrammed sentry into space on a robeast coffin.

Pidge had attached all of the upper pieces of armor and was working on her legs when the armory door opened. Jeaned legs stopped in front of her bench. Lance, not even in his undersuit yet, with his arms behind his back and a lip gnawed between his teeth as he watched her. He still had not spoken by the time she finished, so she propped her hands behind her, leaned back, and quirked an eyebrow at him. “Yes?”

He took in a deep breath, easing forward onto his toes so that he seemed to be lifting into the air, then let it out just as slowly, coming down once more. “Okay. So, Azure and I have been bonding, right?”

“The Blue Lion took you back?”

“What—No, Azure, your trash floof! So we’ve been bonding, exploring the ship together and junk.” With his hands trapped behind his back, he could not talk with his arms, and instead rocked back and forth on his heels. “And we were, y’know, messing around with this Altean tech that we kind of broke, but before we broke it, we, uh—” He brought his hands forward. “It’s a hair dyeing thingyjig so.”

Pidge stared at the dazed critter laying in his palms, then up to Lance. “You turned him yellow?”

“On accident. I’m really sorry, but he’s still okay!”

She lifted her own palms to receive the caterpillar, then delicately set him on her lap. His eyes flit around, uncomprehending, and the tiny marks on his cheeks blinked rapidly in his distress. She stroked his back until the flashing slowed. “If you bring the dyeing thingyjig to the lab, I’ll fix it next chance and we’ll change him back.”

“So, you’re not mad?”

“No. It’s not like it actually hurt him, even if he’s a little stunned.” When she looked up, Lance looked surprisingly relieved, and she tried not to think about how he expected her to go off on him. “I’m going to take him back to his green pal right now so he can recover while we do this rift thing, but you can have him back after if you want.”

The relief turned into something almost too bright to look at, yet too beautiful to look away from, and then without warning he had enveloped her shoulders with his arms and was pressing a sloppy kiss to her cheek with an emphatic and unnecessary Mwa! when he released her. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

She shoved him back and wiped traces of saliva off with her arm. “And you’re gross.”

His beaming smile was short-lived, as the door opened and Allura strode to her own armor. Lotor following her. Pidge’s chest hollowed with the fall of Lance’s face. She stood, cupping the yellowed caterpillar in her hands as she shuffled to the door. With it closed behind her, she rubbed two fingers against her cheek.

Azure flew up from her hand to nuzzle against her face.

[survivorreelsmagicwithin]

Episode 5- “Good thing I bought a box of wine the other day.. I'm gonna need it.”-Jess

After Gryffindors tribal Raffy was voted out. This is either just bad news for Raffy specifically or for the Gryffindor tribe. I don't know how much what he's said and done as his tribe speaks to him, but I'm going to be stepping up my social game now to try and avoid a similar fate. https://am24.mediaite.com/tms/cnt/uploads/2015/07/Harry-Potter-Disgusted-Gif.gif 

 We are playing Mastermind this round and... I dunno what a good score is on this game ever. I always think I did well at it and then people blow me out of the water. I hope I did well enough that we avoid another tribal, but I have my own personal doubts. I explored the castle today. I went behind some barrels. I guess since I'm technically sorted into Gryffindor that I didn't know what the barrels are - I went behind them and found the Hufflepuff common room where I talked to Professor Sprout's flowers... They told me that Hagrid has a new dog. Either Hagrid is in the Forbidden Forest or these flowers are liars. I've been to Hagrid's Hut and interacted with each thing he owns. I saw no dog. https://dontyoushushme.files.wordpress.com/2015/11/tumblr_lp98471uss1qa8ir9o1_r1_500.gif

Mastermind is one of my very favorite comps so if someone causes us to go to tribal during this challenge I'm going to be VERY upset!! 

37 minutes later

If these people really think I'm going to rocks they have lost their minds. 

So I flopped the challenge and will probably have my name thrown out as an option so... PARTY! However, I decided to play the "omg I fucked up feel bad for me" card so maybe that'll either make people feel bad for me...or they'll make me a target. I kind of want people to feel bad for me? but also like I think people know I'm going through a rough time right now so if they vote me out they are going to hell xoxoxox But I'm gonna try and put in the werk to make sure I DON'T GET VOTES.. How may you ask? I think the key is Owen? I know Owen is a VERY social player and on a tribe like this I think having great social skills really can propel you into the top ranks. So I've decided to give Owen some "spell guesses" to help build some sort of trust moving forward.... will this help? probably not.... BUT right now.........the only kind of currency I have in this game is information (which I have none of because.. well new tribe...) and my guesses. Hopefully he feeds into my bullshit and sees that I do actually want to work with him (for now). So the goal is simple, I want people to think I'm NOT DISPOSABLE. People in games are selfish, they want to know what you CAN DO FOR THEM and I plan on doing just that. I also fucked around and shared guesses with Juls. She gave me a clue and I for the LOVE OF ME CAN NOT FIND THIS CRITTER. I thought it was that stupid Harry Potter spider but he told me to fuck off.. idk I'M SO STRESSED. Good thing I bought a box of wine the other day.. I'm gonna need it.

3 minutes later

PS: Landen is either playing too hard too fast or... he has my back? IDK. He's basically naming me as 1 of 4 people he doesn't want to go.. and we... we've spoken like twice. No game talk, nothing. We talked about MILK. How the fuck does he want me safe and not to go? IDK it seems fishy but I'll take it. Maybe he's just promising everyone safety right now and that's his game? I literally don't care. I will take whatever I get at this point. I want Max out. I've decided he really annoys me and I can't work with someone who thinks "penis" is a funny joke. I have nothing in common with him and... from the sounds of it something was "off" with him on his old tribe so... maybe just maybe..  that's something I can WORK WITH. Fucking weebz.

Oh my god, thank god we won! I do not want to have to deal with another tribal. For a unanimous vote, our tribal sure was messy. I think my position so far in this game is super solid, I'm in a great position with Nick and Kevin because we talk a lot and I have formed really strong relationships with both of them. My postion with Dan is honestly fantastic, I know he trusts me because he told me about his advantage in the game (a vote steal). Jules and I are good, we honestly just like each other and she was the first person to tell me that Miguel was throwing my name around. She also knows about Dan's advantage. I'm a little worried about her though because each tribal we have gone to she has gotten a vote, plus she started drama with Raffy before she left. I still think she is super sweet, but I'm worried that her confrontational personality is going to get her voted out and I'm not sure that there is much I can do about it. 

I'm going to mess around and get voted out, I have such a big mouth, y'all.  SO FAR TODAY, I have told Chips I didn't hear his name... then fifteen minutes later I DID hear his name.  Next I told Jess I heard Chips's name thinking she came up with it and she said it was news to her LSJFLDSJF.  Then I told Juls that I didn't hear anything... to which her and Jess are probably comparing notes.  I showed Lily all the places I've looked for the idol and last but not least I TOLD OWEN ABOUT THE OG HUFFLEPUFF ALLIANCE.  I AM GOING TO GET VOTED OUT, WHY DO I HAVE SUCH A BIG MOUTH????? SOMEONE HELP ME. 

hufflepuffle LOST immunity! that is so not the marshmallow move i was trying to make :/ over the course of the game, i've really bonded with lily, so i think that is going to be my close alliance here, obviously aside from juls, who i knew pre-game and we are just good friends. i do think juls would backstab me if she had to, so i'll keep my eye out for her, even tho id most likely die for her. *bleeds out* well when we got to this lil ol tribe, max made the bold move to instantly create a hufflepuffle group chat and declare how we are #HUFFSTRONG. i made the stupid decision to not trust my gut instinct on ruthie's distant responses, and now i am paying the price for that, because as far as i've heard ruthie is telling people hufflepuff is tight and is trying to blindside max, leaving me in the dark. i'm honestly less upset at the target on max, and more upset that she is trying to leave me (and pooossibly lily? cant be sure.) in the dark. I'm a little bit annoyed with it. like, we openly discussed voting about max on the original hufflepuff. i get that circumstances change, but there's no reason to leave me blind. i understand it from owen, jess, chips, but... why from ruthie lol? we've talked about it before and it's just like. bleh. that's my bad, for not talking to ruthie more on a personal level before and after the swap. i can be slow to make official alliances and cement my bonds in survivor, it's a strategy that's risky in the short term but pays off dividends in the long term when people really like AND trust you. that emotion is somethin necessary! it works its own kind of ~Magic~ so to speak. but right now it's definitely showing its weaknesses with ruthie trying to play me and my quietness with chips/owen/jess biting me in the butt a bit because they don't trust me. T_T i will have to work to prove i am a trustworthy ally for them, but in the meantime, as long as i can survive this vote (lol that means i am going home) then i'm fine and it's whatever. i want to try to think of a better wham line to close out this confessional, but i can't, so it's just going to kind of wither off and die here, as this sentence stumbles along on its meager way to find SOME version of sufficient punctuation to the topic, punctuated by actual punctuation.

this vote is gonna be.. como se dice.. interesting. working with max and landen while now being added to an alliance with owen, jess and chips um. smiles. it’s gonna be smth! but it seems like max is the target for this round which sucks but, i’d rather go with majority and help push that than make myself a target for wanting go against the odds.. idk if that made sense LMAO. but i’m just stressed! i love max so much but.. i wanna keep the people who weren’t on the og hufflepuff tribe close as opposed to letting them go so easily. 

THE WAY I HAD ONE OF THE LOWEST SCORES IN MASTERMIND https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f_Maspo1z34

Well here we are forced to actually play the game. And well.......this vote is crazy. I should have honestly anticipated this craziness but the craziness has been thrust upon us. Sincerely really enjoy everyone on this tribe. This meant that whatever decision I made on who to vote out would be strictly strategic. I know I can't vote out anyone from original hufflepuff because that inherently puts all of the original hufflepuff in danger of being easy targets in any future votes. I can't even in my brain consider voting out one of them at this vote because of this. I feel great about my social game rn. Several people are interested in working with me to my face and apparently in passing to others. This means that I'm unlikely to be a target for a vote but this could honestly all change after this. I feel the most trust and loyalty to Ruthie and Landen and I also feel like Max really has my back even though we haven't explicitly said this to each other. I also feel good about Jess. She told me today that she doesn't care too much as long as it isn't me or her and that semed honest to me? This leaves Juls, Owen, and Chips. Juls seems wishy-washy but I can tell she wants to vote Max but is nervous to say that to me. She is a newer player so this makes sense. I can tell that Landen doesn't want to vote Juls but no one really does so she doesn't make sense as the target. Chips has always been a good ally to me in the past but the past few games we have played together we have trouble being honest on what we want to happen.I want to work with Chips and don't want to see him go on this vote. I don't think he is as big of a threat at this stage of the game as Owen. Owen is one of the smartest people I've played with he has one of the best social games I've seen. He has a way of getting people on his side. I know he is thinking about a lot and knows that Max going right now is what is best for him. I want to trust owen and work with owen but my gut says that isn't what is going to work this time. Ruthie told us (Landen and I) about how they made a final 2 before the game even started (before we were told not to talk in the Great Hall chat in PMs) and now she is clearly backing out of that. Right now OG huffs are planning to vote Owen out. I think this is the best strategic play for us but will anyone else see it? Or will people be hyper focused on voting an OG huff that they would prefer to go to a rock draw than vote Owen. I'm not sure and I don't think I'm mentally prepared for what is about to go down. I'm hoping Jess, Chips, or Juls would be willing. But I'm also nervous not telling any of them about the vote could be the actual mistake we are making. Should I put my trust in Jess or Chips and see if they would vote Owen? I DON'T KNOW. Do I sound like I know what I'm doing??? NO. Am I attemping to make money moves??? YES. Is it the right decision????? PROBABLY NOT. But....we shall see. We shall see. 

Kind of happy we lost because this will be an interesting one for sure... As I said before, we have 4 hufflepuff and 4 non-hufflepuff on our tribe, and I wanted to jump on that IMMEDIATELY, so the second I heard Hufflepuff had a group chat (thanks ruthie hehe) I made one with Chips, Juls, and Jess. Jess and Juls are my gorls in this game, and I'm glad I finally get to make stuff happen with them. I want Ruthie to trust me (she messaged me for a final 2 literally night one before we found out we couldnt pm each other in the great hall), and I do really love her - but since we're on different "sides" of the tribe, I wanted to play smart. I originally threw out both Chips AND Max names, to make it seem like old tribal lines mean nothing to me, but then today I've been telling Ruthie and Landen I'm leaning way more towards Max beacuse he hasnt talked to me and Chips has, which is true. Ruthie seems to agree that Max should go - she told me he did some qweird stuff like pranks and things on their old tribe, and Landen said that Max would've been first boot. So it seems easy enough?? But then.... here comes Lily, with her own brain and stuff. Why can't people stop having opinions and just do what  I say??? I can tell Lily wants to keep Max, which makes sense. She probably wants to keep the Hufflepuff security in numbers. But I'm not writing Chips down, period, and they all know it. No matter what happens, as long as it is Max or Chips I'm fine. I'm just using this vote to have as many conversations with Lily, Ruthie, Landen, Jess, and Juls about game as possible to further myself, and I don't much care who leaves as long as it isn't me Jess or Juls. But I do think for the hell of it I'd go to rocks if I had to - bc if they're going to ROCKS for Max?? I sure as hell don't want to be outnumbered. Hopefully ruthie is being honest in wanting max gone and can change lily's mind.

https://youtu.be/TBrNjh2DnU4

SO my big mouth strikes again.   Landen came to me earlier and OWEN SPILLED ABOUT ME SPILLING ABOUT THE HUFFLEPUFF ALLIANCE.  I WAS SO MAD.  Mad enough to agree to voting him out and now I just feel guilty.  Jess, Juls, Owen and Chips don't know that there is going to be a tie tonight after all.  We feel like if we vote Owen that we can get Chips to vote with us in the revote and I hope that is the case because I REALLY don't want to go to rocks. Part of me thinks I should call Owen out on him spilling the alliance secret to him and try to fix things but I'm still very salty about it. I'm so sad and I feel so guilty but...  HE COMPLETELY MESSED MY GAME UP AND I TRUSTED HIM! 

So it has been a day. That's for sure. Got in my first alliance of people who didnt start Hufflepuff. Found out from two out of three Hufflepuffs my name was thrown out. May be leaving or at the very least the subject of a tie vote. If the target Max has an idol I leave guaranteed. I hope not. 

I am a horrible person. My heart is pounding so hard, this move is either going to make or break my game. :(

I would like to publicly thank Hufflepuff for extending my life in the game by another round- much obliged. Not sure how much of a difference it’ll make in the end lmao but nonetheless I’m still technically alive. Either this is the quietest game I’ve ever been apart of or everyone is definitely working together and I’m on the bottom. I know Kevin isn’t in on it but that Raffy vote was suspicious and you can’t tell me otherwise. Because how am I talking to everyone all day long but I don’t find out the vote is Raffy until 2 hours before the vote and that’s “what everyone is doing”? Not to mention it came from Jules, not Dan or Nicholas aka the people I thought I had a halfway decent relationship with. So the only way you can explain how I’m the last to know even though they were several opportunities for like 5 different people to tell me is that those 5 are working together. So basically I’m praying Hufflepuff can take one more L after tonight because if not, there’s a high chance I’m gonna have to beg for my life. And I’m not above it! But I also can do the math and I don’t know if Slytherin is smart enough to realize they’re handing the game over to Ravenclaw. Who knows though- maybe Jess or Juls will go home on the other side and that will strengthen my plea of attack Ravenclaw while we still can. Cause there’s 9 Huffleclaw left and 6 of Slytherdor so I’m like... we can’t all be the cute swing vote at merge that gets picked up to be a number but hey what do I know 

[catboyrights]

have a bit of the tartuffe circus fic

Whispers going around battle’s coming, so he runs outta Freeside with his tail between his legs. Ain’t damn fool enough to stay and ain't like he had something tying him down. Knows the NCR far too well to bank on those dumb fucks--cain't barely tell the gun in their hand from the one ‘tween their legs--and he ain't look too good in red so he cuts his losses. No shame in knowing when to fold.

That's what he tells himself as he huddles up in a fucking nightstalker pit trying to figure just what the hell he was going to up and do with himself now. The problem with running through life on a whim, more often than not left him high and dry in the middle of nowhere when the frantic urge finally let him loose. Once a dumb sonuvabitch always a dumb sonuvabitch, and well if this wasn't leaning straight into that.

He shifts through a pocket carefully, doesn’t want to disturb the pup resting peacefully on his knee, grabbing up a crumpled pack of smokes. Curses to himself when it turns out he’s only got three to his fucking name. Not gonna stop him from lighting up, taking in the way the burning hot cherry tries to fight the dark swallowing it up. Guess he’s gonna have to learn to make do like he ain't been at three packs a day fer twenty years. Chalk the whole mess up to one shitshow of a learning experience.

Smoke curls up into night sky, clouds the twinkling lights he ain't seen in years. Almost nostalgic, laying here covered in critters like there ain't nothing more to the world. Back at home, not fucking Vegas but the wide expanses the rodeo covered looking for caps and a place to rest their heads. Kind of shit that makes him wish he’d had the brain to not burn that particular bridge, though was bound to happen any way he cut it.

Tartuffe Allen Smith, goddamn king of the show. People lining up to even catch a glimpse of the type of things his ass could do. Ain't been like that for a while, but he still holds onto the memory fondly, pulls it over himself and settles in it like it never left. Some folks just cain't handle knowing there’s someone what got ‘em beat and that's why he here. Prove those limp dick motherfuckers wrong, only thing he really has to keep him going on.

Mama pokes a curious snout to his arm, playful little thing jealous of the attention her baby in his lap is getting, and he absent-mindedly strokes at slick scales. Wonders if he should let ‘em follow when he packs up in the morning, get ‘em tame and trade ‘em for another couple'a cartons of smokes, a stiff drink. Ain't no different than a damn dog and twice as clever, good bargain. Hell maybe keep Mama for himself, ain’t no sense not breedin’ her and keep the caps coming.

“Just the prettiest lil' thing, now ain't you,” he coos, scratching beneath her chin, “Had me a pup like you before, probably love the attention same as him too don't ya’ girl?” She bumps her head against him once more, settles to wrap herself around him with a small yawn. He’ll take her with like that, breed her like he planned. Maybe teach ‘er a trick or two to keep people off his back. Clarabelle Smith, the dancing dog like she’s some sideshow stop. Ain’t much, but the thought makes him giddy as he crushes his dead butt into the soft sand.

Shit, get him some geckos an’ bighorner he’s already halfway there. Not hard to do, had him a certain way about him that leant itself to training. Raise the fuckers up well enough, he jokes to himself, trade those bastards in fer brahmin bull. The saddest one man show t’ever pull up into to town. Still’d be better than ol' Caliente Clint’s, least he'd have him a damn rider what knows his shit. Knows what the hell people came an’ seen ‘em for.

Now was the time more than ever fer his particular trade to flourish. People too afraid of what’s happening up north to not trade fists fulla caps for an hour of distraction. Somebody was smart they’d set up straight near the borders, runners passing through daily trying to forget what they was runnin' from. Just good business sense, tragedy breeds sales better than anything else. Maybe try an’ find himself some group once he got down closer to Mexico, work his way back into the scene.

Suits him fine enough, gives him something to with himself other than shove his fingers up his ass and hope somebody somewhere needs a guard desperately. Even willing to settle slinging shit, broke more animals in his day than most folks seen in their whole damn life, not a problem. Valuable fucking asset he was, sliding up and flashing a worn-out flier with his face smiling all pretty on it. A rodeo legend and on the cheap, just to get that goddamn feeling back.

No harm in imagining it, though he knew it would never come to be. Didn't have luck like that to stumble into something so good--maybe if he’d packed back to California, went deeper past the border, but not here. Show them backstabbing pricks what for when word got ‘round he was riding again. Like word fuckin’ spread at all. Being a damn riot tonight now ain’t he?

Another smoke lit. Jokes to himself about this being his last like he ain't gonna burn it down quick and light up immediately. Waste to not, that or let it get stale as he sets and tells himself he’s gotta save it until he gets more on hand. Why not get whatever satisfaction he can as he struggles to decide on what he’s going to do with himself when his gum and shoelace dreams quickly tumble on down before they even had a chance. Flights of fancy mixed between boring reality same as it ever was.