#(So no need to match length at all!.)

[fisheito]

this is what i was cookin up while on nu:vacation [avoiding event spoilers] my dream.....my hopes....... EVERYONE PUT ON THE PRINCESS GOWN🗡

[aletheialed]

Right now, wine glass in hand and staring vacantly into the dark corners of the room in which he dwells - Barok can't help but think about his brother. To think about Klint during hard times, the man who he's always admired so much, has always come naturally to him - but it can't bring him any comfort now.

The truth is, Barok doesn't know what he should feel more betrayed about. The fact that the brother he'd wanted to emulate all his life was nothing but a killer, who's actions resulted in the ending and ruining of so many lives, including Barok's own? Or... is it that, until the very end, Klint was too afraid to share that horrible truth with him, even when that fear allowed him to be controlled into committing the most heinous acts imaginable?

It makes him want to laugh with a bitterness he hasn't felt in years. It makes him feel ill; desperate and angry and like a fraying rope about to snap. Perhaps it's sinful, and a sign of Barok's own weak character, that Klint's lack of trust in him might be what hurts the most. Had he thought Barok would break under the weight of the truth, and sought to protect him from that fate? What's worse is that Barok doesn't know how he would've reacted deep down. What's the scarier thought - that Barok would've turned away in despair and been unable to carry on just as his brother feared, or that he would stand with Klint, perhaps even turning a blind eye to his crimes...?

...There's no point in thinking about it now. But if he doesn't think about Klint, then there's no shortage of other things to take his place at the forefront of his mind. Such as the true identity of the Reaper, and how Barok had been complicit in his crimes for the longest time - allowing himself to be used and manipulated like a puppet on a string, even when he didn't see the full extent of it all.

His whole life, these past ten years in which he thought he'd endured so much, all for the sake of the people of London... what were they all for?

When he hears the knock on the door, it's tempting to ignore it entirely - he barely has the energy to stand, anyway. He doesn't know who it could possibly be, considering everything, but... in the end, he rises like a man possessed, and finds himself walking to open the door as if in a trance. What he sees when the door opens is the last thing he expects.

"Mr... Naruhodo...? You... pray tell, what are you doing here at this hour?"

@tenacquity ( starter! )

[outoftheirdifferences]

@spirits-of-nature16 liked (x) for guest muse Margo!

"...And I think. That's. Everything!"

The girl grunted as she tried to force the last few items into her already-bulging backpack. Maybe she was over-prepared, the brunette was aware; but all the same. For her very first official AVL mission? Even if she was just tagging along with Gru and Lucy, even if her role was just to find a safe corner and provide support for them by hacking into the security system of the lair they were infiltrating?

Margo wanted to make sure that she had all she needed.

Finally forcing the zip to close over the last few supplies she'd just purchased, the bespectacled girl let out a breath of satisfaction, slung the heavy bag over her shoulder--

And almost clobbered the girl who was exiting the shop behind her with it. Margo's hand flew to her mouth with a gasp.

"Oh, I'm so sorry--! Are you alright?"

As much as she was sure that Gru, in this position, would have just laughed and moved on... Margo didn't have it in herself not to care about the fellow kid who she'd almost knocked down.

[pumpkinhcad]

@merwyn-muses || Starter.

February 14th. Every year, that day had the same strange feeling to it, and Pump could never put a finger as to why.

The town had been painted red for such a day. Every shop with a window or a showcase was bloodily-stained in the form of paper and glittery heart shapes stuck to the glass, and the culprit was always some flying, fat baby with a bow and arrow in his hands. Entrances and storefronts alike would be given a spark of shiny crimson with the help of (Christmas? He believed those were Christmas) lights. And the local flower shop, especially, would change from colorful and green to red and pink all around, turning its part of the street into a crime scene straight out a spooky movie.

But, get this, it was NOT Spooky Month! People were not going out in spooky costumes, neither were going to see spooky movies at the local theater. During that season they always had icky, sappy titles like "Together At Last" or "Just the Two of Us" instead, which always caused him to stick his tongue out and rolls his eyes with slight contempt.

As he was by himself that day, such a walk around town had left him with the same exact questions he had every year... (And he knew who could clear up his doubts!)

Which was exactly why his little journey had taken him to the doors of the Candy Club that afternoon. The building looked almost the same as always, pink and blue, and very welcoming... that is, except for the very unwelcomed presence of red hearts and those dumb, fat, flying babies all over the windows.

In his mind, if the candy shop had not been spared either, then nothing was sacred that day. As if things could not get any more dire already!

The silence was broken when the automatic doors let him into the store, his dressing shoes click-clacking aaaaaaall the way to the glass counter in the back. The place seemed to be missing a lot of candy and chocolates as well, but that concern was not at the top of his list (yet).

Just as he was hoping... ❝ Hiiiiiiiii, Kevin! ❞ ...he was at work that day!

[morphemeta]

dracula's coffin club, early october / @anchoragestarters

October. Halloween. Harvest time for the owners of businesses dealing with occult, the spooky, the dark and dreary and whatever other haunting things of which you might think. For Dracula's Coffin Club, this was peak season (and, indeed, Halloween may as well have been Christmas) and, almost as soon as the sun had first dawned on the tenth month, Kaz had set to work on getting the place decorated. Some of this would have been done by hand, other parts handled by the kinds of professionals who specialised in dressing shop windows. There was little doubt he likely had more important work to be doing with regards to the City Council but he would always carve time out at this time of year to focus on the Coffin Club. If there had been any objections to this early on, they had fallen on death ears. Kaz was the sort of man who followed through with his plans.

For now, he was stood just outside the shop itself, clad in a thick black furry coat and frowning at its facade; although he'd spend twenty-odd years in Anchorage, he'd never quite acclimated to the weather. By now, the people of Rabbit Creek had likely gotten used to the shop's annual makeover but Kaz was never quite satisfied with his work. It wasn't quite perfect, it needed to be better. Yet he was at a loss. As loathe as he was to admit, nothing new was coming to him but the simple relief was that it would be easy enough to find outside help. After all, it only took a few short minutes of waiting before someone stopped in their tracks to take in the store's Halloween display.

"You," said Kaz with a snap of his fingers, addressing the passerby without a hint of hesitation or self-reservation. When you were very good at commanding attention, those were not the kind of worries you had to nurture. "This display. It feels incomplete somehow." He crossed his arms over his chest and pressed a finger against pursed lips. "What's missing?" Although it was not directly said, it was clear that this was his way of opening the floor to suggestions.

[mindful-mateo]

This was possibly the worst timing Mateo could have managed. He'd basically just started his job as librarian at Krovs Castle, had barely had a few days to just get moved in and situated and now it was heat week. He was normally very aware of when it was coming but he honestly hadn't expected to be hired so quickly. He'd assumed he wouldn't start until after and now he was here and it was...a lot. The collar was comforting, he could feel it keeping most of his magic at bay, though unfortunately it didn't seem to do anything for him going through heat. Normally, he was in London for this and he could just go out and hook up with random people. He supposed the same was true here but there were slaves who it seemed unfair to rent at all let alone for that, other staff members who were basically his coworkers, and masters who were mostly vampires. It didn't seem wise to mess with any of them or approach them or...whatever, though he was clearly the only one who thought that way. The sheer amount of concentrated pheromones and hormones and everyone seeming to not care where or with who they were doing anything...it was overwhelming. He was on edge and needy from his own heat, dressed in some nicer, bolder prints and taking a little more care with his appearance and yet he was also trying to avoid most people because he'd just gotten here. It was one thing to hook up randomly with someone in London when the likelihood of seeing them again was low. It was something else entirely when seeing them again, and frequently, was pretty much a guarantee.

As much as he was trying to, Mateo couldn't just hide in the library and actually had to venture out occasionally to get food or get things and he was so preoccupied by everything that he ran right into someone else. "Oh, I'm sorry." He apologized immediately even if the sudden physical contact was both jarring and immediately welcomed. He didn't pull back as fast as he should have, his hands lingering on the other's chest and leaning in before he even realised it. Once he did realise he jerked away, snatching his hands back. "I didn't mean to...that was uncalled for...sorry." God, he was making such a fool of himself. So much for making a good first impression with anyone.

@krovscastlestarters

[akechi-stole-my-heart]

goro got his hair cut but they chopped it off way too short and he was absolutely inconsolable about it. then sumi went out and got her hair cut to match his in an act of solidarity. he's pissed at her for cutting off her long hair for him, it's idiotically sentimental and ill advised and reckless and......also kinda cute ..... ?

[avanii]

I adore how you made typhlosion, it's so cute! I am curious though what your stylisting take would be on the more "anthro" looking pokemon, like Meowscarada or Lucario

Hey thanks! I'm glad you like him :D

Ohh yeah for those I would of course keep their anthro body plan, but probably make the heads a little more animal and less toony (as I tend to do with all Pokemon I draw/plush). And in the specific case of Lucario, for instance, make the poofy pants look with different fur lengths and make the transition between the long blue and the short grey a little more smooth. In short, I'd play with different fur lengths to make it all look a little more natural, but they'd still be bipedal creatures :) Hope that makes sense haha

[m-entities]

@finch-farran

Oxford had never been so glad to see the sun. The third day passed without much interest - perhaps there were other fights or actions happening across the Arena. Oxford had done his best to stay hidden, feeling more confident now that his shield from Enna provided him with a bit of a buffer between whatever might come at him. He tried not to think of the previous night, but it was no use: all throughout the day, he could see the face of 2 and Al as they fell to his machete.

He walked gingerly forward, the bruises from his fight with 2 growing deeper by the minute. There was no rhyme or reason to his exploration; he simply wanted to find someplace new that would allow him to hide out from the sun for a while. He found it in the way of an abandoned popcorn stand - the food was inedible, but at least the roof kept the sun off of his back.

Evening fell faster than he would have guessed, and Ox felt the need to hide from the guards. But after the faces flashed across the sky (including Al from Seven, and apparently Quarry Pitts from Two, but notably excluding Farina), the announcement about security that had rang out the past two nights didn't repeat. Instead there was a dull, electronic hiss, and many of the residual lights went out. Darkness - again.

Oxford fell into a fitful sleep. He was cramped in the small stall, and it seemed like movements were everywhere outside. But he couldn't fight his own exhaustion, and he eventually did pass out. The morning sun woke him all too soon, though, and he knew he had to strike out again.

The dull morning sun lit his way forward as he crept from shadow to shadow as best he could. That's when he saw it: the water park. With a short bark of relief, he rushed forward towards the tidal pool.

His approach was halted, though, by the overwhelming chemical smell of the water. It was clearly unfit to drink. That was a disappointment, to be sure, but that wasn't all water was good for. He approached cautiously and dipped a toe in. The water was lukewarm, and he didn't immediately feel any pain. He sunk his whole foot in, and was relieved to find it overwhelmingly welcoming. With a choked sob of gratitude, he dropped his gear, including his shield and bag, at the shallow end of the pool, and waded in up to his knees. He dunked his machete into the water, and watched in fascinated horror as days of blood washed away into the pool. Satisfied that it was clean, he gently tossed the blade back to rest with the rest of his stuff.

He waded out a bit deeper into the water and gently peeled his shirt off over his head. Dried blood cracked and popped as it failed to glue the fabric to his skin, and his bruises screamed at him with the effort, but he was glad to find very little of the blood was his. His arm was still scraped from his fight with Mack, and he could feel his face also bearing the battle wounds, but otherwise he was in pretty good shape.

He dunked the shirt under the water and it, too, created trails of red in the artificial blue. He gently dabbed at his body, cleaning viscera from his arms, his face, his torso. It was such a relief. He took a moment and sat on the bottom of the pool, allowing the water to reach about up to his shoulders, and briefly submerged his head, taking a moment to scrub the past few days out of his hair. The chemicals gently bit into Mack's scratches, but it was almost nice. It felt like healing, in a way.

It was odd, he realized, that the water was so stagnant. He could see from the blue tiling that the pool was meant to have much more water than it currently did. He scanned out over the pool and saw the culprit. A miniscule whirlpool could be seen, slowly turning a massive amount of refuse and greenery. There was a drain there, nearly fully clogged by debris. The pool must have been draining all night, but with the blockage could only drain so much. Oxford wasn't complaining, though. As long as there was water here, he would relish in it.

Ox knew it was stupid, perhaps, to spend the full day so exposed. Water was needed soon - he could feel the parching of the back of his throat. Hunger, too, was starting to gnaw at his belly. But there was something peaceful about this morning - at least as peaceful as the Games could ever get. So if he could grab a few hours, or even just a few minutes of reprieve, he was going to take it.

He spread his shirt out to dry in the sun, and then laid down next to his gear, tucking his hands behind his head and letting his feet dabble in the shallow water. The cool tiles were a balm on his back, and the sun wasn't yet blazing enough to be uncomfortable. Instead, it felt like a warm blanket against his bare chest.

Ox's eyes fluttered shut. Perhaps if they hadn't, he would have seen the only sign of danger: a small ripple on the surface of the water. But even if he had seen it, would he have known? Or would it have just been seen as his own doing? Either way, Oxford was fully unprepared for the attack.

He felt the fangs sink deep into his calf before any other sense had a chance to register. His sight was next: he looked down to see the snarling, smiling face of a giant snake emerging from the water. Even before the pain set in, the massive anaconda had begun wrapping itself around his leg.

Then the pain hit. It was worse than anything the had felt in the past days, and in fact, his life. An acidic gouge, deep into his leg. He tried to yank his leg away, but this snake was way too strong and way too heavy. It lashed out with its body, jerking Oxford to the side. He kicked at it's face, but its eyes retracted into its skull, and his attacks went useless.

His machete. Where was his machete? He grappled for his shield, his blade, anything. But the snake had pulled him towards the water, the tiles slick against his skin. He yelled in frustration and did the only thing his body could think to do: he grabbed the snake by the head. He dug his fingers under its mouth, hoping to pry it from his leg.

The snake lunged again, hissing. Ox wasn't fast enough, and it managed to reposition itself higher on his leg, wrapping more of its serpentine form around him. It pulled back, and Ox was yanked up to his waist in the water.

"NO!" he roared, trying to reach for his blade again - but it was no use. It was out of reach, and this snake was only getting stronger the deeper into the water it got. He hammered his fist on the snake's head, nose, eyes. No - this would not be how he went out.

[luvaera]

☆ ﹙ click ﹚ …　open starter　!　੭

a frustrated huff can be heard from the idol as her hair drips water onto her phone screen for the nth time. being soaked head to toe by the rain was not on her 2024 bingo card. yet, here she was, seeking shelter in a nearby convenience store. the idol would source a ride home or to the company building at least, but she didn’t feel comfortable getting someone to drive with how hard the rain was pouring down.

“i should have stayed home.” the twenty-five-year-old chides to herself under her breath, pushing her slick locks out of her face. hazel eyes watch the drops fall from the sky, ignoring her reflection that beckons for her to take a look. chloé knew that she looked a mess, akin to a wet poodle with how her hair stuck to her face and how her casual clothes clung to her frame. perhaps holing herself up in the practice room wasn’t her greatest choice tonight. obviously. her suspicions were confirmed when she had purchased ramyeon, the cashier sparing her a look of pity.

the idol would rather have messed up a lyric or missed her cue on stage than to be given that look ever again. well, it was an exaggeration. netizens would shred into her, looking for any minor thing to hate on her or her group members these days. sue her for her dramatics. aera had been too caught up in wallowing in how the universe hates her to have noticed the person, presumably also taking shelter from the torrent of rain, occupying the space of the dining counter next to her. glancing over, her hazel eyes catch them looking away — caught red-handed staring at her.

“do i look that bad ? you’re staring. that’s rude, you know.”

[lunaetis]

▸▸ [ @apocryphis ( alhaitham ) || wishlist. ]

─「エデン」─  ' are you straying from your path because of him ? ' the usually saccharine voice held an edge of disapproval as those MAGENTA HUES bore into her golden orbs. no words were uttered from her end, teeth gritting so tightly that her jaw began to hurt. the fire in those AMBER OPTICS burned so fiercely as though it'd consume the figure before her. that smile didn't reach her eyes, eden could tell.

                ' he's an outlier. a distraction. ' it sounded like she was being LECTURED, like she was a child being scolded for misbehaving. eden refused to move, she refused to entertain this conversation. she was here for answers, and she had gotten none that was satisfying enough to accept. and THE STELLARON HUNTER could see it, how a mere mention of that man could bring out a sort of reaction never seen before from the TRAILBLAZER.

                ' is he that important to you ? ' silence. the golden tattoo upon her inner-wrist was pulsing quietly. that smile turned into a smirk. ' he is not a part of the script. '

                ' it'd be a shame if he were to be erased from existence — '

                " DO NOT TOUCH HIM. "

                eden had never felt such fury, she had never felt SO LIVID prior to this very moment. she had known anger, but not a seething wrath smoldering through her very veins like liquid gold that even THE STELLARON was roaring its might inside of her chest. it was responding to its vessel's emotion as she lunged at kafka, weapon immediately summoned into her gloved digits and she growled at the woman who had awakened her from deep slumber.

                for the first time, eden had attacked kafka with an intention to kill.

                she was, however, no match for the VERY WOMAN who taught her everything she knew even though she could not remember. pain seared into her mind as countless threads wrapped tightly around her very frame, digging deeper into her skin until ichor dripped onto the glowing strings themselves. a particularly sharp one pressed around the column of her neck. a choked gasp escaped her, fingers being forced to drop her weapon as gloved digits tilted up her chin. SCORCHING AURIC clashed against magenta. defiance. rebel. destruction.

                eyes that would burn the world for him.

                ' you're no match for me, eden. '

                ' if elio wanted him gone, he will be. '

                the TRAILBLAZER woke up with a throat-tearing scream.

[odairing]

starter for @crestazul

SOMETHING HAS GONE UNSAID between finnick and mags the past few weeks. the careers that train beneath finnick’s instruction are nameless— whether they live or die has never sunk teeth within his shipwreck heart. he cannot afford to care about much, and so he does not spend his reserves on the tributes from four. until this year.

he does not understand why he did it or what of her defenselessness screamed so loud he couldn’t ignore it and didn’t want to, but the fact remains that annie cresta’s win was expensive for finnick. he would have paid it again in a heartbeat, which is terrifying and confusing and he cannot bother to unravel the insanity that possessed him this year. so, mags hasn’t brought it up, not a why nor an acknowledgement of what finnick did, and he’s grateful for it.

what is more important is that annie cresta has been screaming. distant though it was, she woke him the night prior and he listened until she stopped and then long after, on the edge of showing up on her doorstep thwarted only by nervousness of interfering with her family.

that is why this morning, finnick finds himself breaking a window. just a small one next to a side door— easy to fix the one pane and it was so thin it was asking to be broken. hand gloved in his coat, he reaches in and unlatches the gold handle then swings open the door to a house he is now certain is empty of anyone except for annie.

he came with the most innocent intentions; just to introduce himself to her family and offer his and mags’ help should they need or want it, but nobody answered the door, and he detected no movement from inside. he has witnessed no comings and goings, and unnervingly he is beginning to think that as her screams went on and on, that she was alone then too.

“ annie? ” he calls out softly, clicking the door shut behind him. he scans over the dining room and quietly begins to search. “ annie? it’s finnick. I’m just here to check on you— sweetheart? ”

[iruludavare]

@indomiinus || Continued from X

     It is a nice change of pace, for both herself and the rest of her pokemon to not be solitary travellers setting up camp for the night in some remote part of Kalos. Even more so, when whoever they meet with just so happens to both have under their belt years of experience and not fuss over titles or recognition of a figure in the public's eye. For this reason, she has no qualms in joining him by the fire— in leaving preparation of food up to him when the offer was made, in lieu of gentle insistence that she should, just to be safe.

     Shoulders lowered, arms loosely embracing a certain Vivillon who had been quick to demand as much the moment she settled on the ground, the light teasing brings forth a short laugh. Oh, Serena has seen that look before. On her own Delphox, when the heroine has had to explain to the fire-type when indoors that keeping that stick alight would set off every alarm in the vicinity.

          "Oh dear... But either stew or curry would be lovely, thank you. Whichever you have the ingredients for. All I can really contribute are berries,"

     She says, and in the back of her mind, Serena wishes that she had taken the time to stock up on more food than what was needed. Yet they should have been back home tonight, and plans clearly have changed.

          "My pokemon are not really picky eaters when away from home... But Oleander, my Dragalge, needs to liquify food before he can eat it. So, either of those I think is a happy middle ground."

     In truth, it is quite an easy undertaking. A ghost-type who does not need to eat. Two pokemon who could, if they turned up their noses to whatever is on offer, absorb energy from the sun. The rest, picky in their own rights, spoiled by homemade meals and ones specific to their needs, but willing to set it all aside when away from such luxuries. But that does not need to be said, and so it stays in the back of the champion's mind. Instead, she offers a shrug of her shoulders, amicable smile brightening just a tad.

          "Worst comes to worst, I do have some poffins left for the poor souls who, um... have very refined, particular and specific tastes, let's say."

[feranmut]

SHE'D THOUGHT LONG ABOUT THIS 一 where they could possibly go that both might at least take some semblance of pleasure in. the great library of xalphina had been considered, albeit briefly, before deciding it may be best elsewhere. from the small things she knows of alhaitham, she knows he isn't one who enjoys excess sound, much like a draken librarian reading several books aloud.

so, here they stand amidst a sea of planets and twinkling stars, a cosmos beckoning them with promise of the slightest glimpse of home. it was a quieter place, one he can read in were his attention to wane, not to mention some treats were any desired. though a brief thought passes her mind as they wind through some of the paths, one meant for their little display, as a hand shifts over slightly as if it were meant to take his own... until it freezes just beyond touch, immediately tucking itself away from view. no. maybe that wasn't a good idea.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀what made her think it was in the first place?

❝ Mm. I do not see Terra. At least I don't think. What of your world? ❞ it was idle chatter, one to push away that minuscule skip of her heart in hoping he hadn't noticed her pitiful attempt.

@hetuvidya

[charmwisp]

WHERE: DIY pop-up shoppe at rabbit creek; gingerbread house building table WHEN: 17th december, daytime WHO: anyone! ( @anchoragestarters ) CAP: FULLY CAPPED AS OF 14th JANUARY

On paper, this had seemed like the perfect opportunity for Rika. She'd been wanting to reach out more, to try and take part in the living breathing community of Anchorage instead of living as a shadow behind the beaded curtains of her room at the Raven House. The popup had a wonderfully festive atmosphere and the air seemed to Rika as though it hung thick with the excitement and curiosity of its guests and volunteers. As expected, the gingerbread station smelled pleasantly of sugar, spice and (of course) everything nice. This volunteering spot required a few things, of course; a hint of craftiness, a dash of creativity, a generous sprinkling of baking talent and a heaped spoonful of patience. These were standards Rika could meet easily enough, even if the patience required just the smallest stretch of extra effort. She'd known from the start that she would be a little out of her depths, lacking much experience with gingerbread houses due to their lack of a cultural presence during the holiday back home, but she'd gotten the hang of things quickly enough.

That wasn't exactly a good thing. Rika was good at getting carried away, at getting far too invested in the house she was putting together, and she may have gotten distracted from her role of guiding others through their own gingerbread creations. It was only her view of her work was darkened by the shadow of another person that she finally broke free from her spiced reverie. "I'll be with you in just a moment," she said by way of apology, whipping her head up with such abrupt speed that several locks of hair broke free from their loose ponytail binding. "I'm just trying to turn this...hmph, sugar glass into a window for my church." She grunted a little as she spoke. It was tricky work. Still, just as Rika said, there sat on the table before her an overly complicated little gingerbread chapel, still half-built. "Did you need any help? After all, that's what I'm here for!" A pause, and she tucked her hair back behind her ear. "Sorry, I guess I haven't made that very obvious so far, have I?"

[altruistic-meme]

2300 words!! yay!! now THATS more like it. i haven’t even quite reached the end of the opening scene, but i need to go do laundry so i’m going to have to set it down for now :( hopefully i can write more later ;;;;