#lastpetal
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Here's what Last Petal Tord looks and acts like.
He has like a missing tooth and scar due to a failed invention.
I took inspiration from OG Tord, Dipper from gravity falls, and that purple hair girl that I can't remember the name to whose in the She-ra series.
To summarize, he is really smart and gets excited when someone takes interest in anything he likes. Usually Tom would be the only one to sorta listen to Tord. Edd is too busy with his own stuff and Matt would lecture Tord on how dangerous this stuff can get.
#eddsworld#eddsworld fanart#fanart#eddsworld art#art#eddsworld tord#eddsworld au#lastpetalau#lastpetal
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Your blog is one of the only ones I still read and you seem like a rad human thank you for posting !
This message is so sweet, thank you so much💕💝💖💗💞
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“you.. you came here with sig ??” really, it shouldn’t have surprised him that much. he didn’t really.. talk to sigma, in fact, apricot had been rather keen on avoiding him still at any opportunity given. and he didn’t talk to clementine all that much either, if only as a misguided notion on how to best approach her, like he’d unlearned ten years of living in the same house as her. but apricot had heard sigma and clem had been.. working together, or something, and had promptly sunken even further into whatever avoidance he could find. but now they’d shown up in matching outfits with a characteristic clementine flair to them. apricot had quirked a brow, and finally given into curiosity. “where’s my matching outfit ??”
@lastpetals
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“you’re small and in the way,” forty said. he held up his nose enough that it would’ve almost been unclear who he was speaking to, if it wasn’t for the fact that there was a glimmer of annoyance in his eyes that was very clearly aimed at honey bellerose. he’d heard of her at some point, must’ve done, because he unwittingly managed to put the name to the face. vaguely knew her parents for the parties they’d throw and attend. she was blocking the door, whether it was deliberate or accidental didn’t matter to forty’s inconvenience. “are all the bellerose kids just out to annoy me or something ?? how many of you are there ??” he lamented, as though her presence in the same space was a personal offense.
@lastpetals
#lastpetals#in which forty somehow knows theres a million bellerose kids but also doesnt know that this is clem and not honey
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“hey, i brought you this --” so maybe yuri had gone out of his way to find the young girl he’d sort-of-accidentally kidnapped at the ball, so what ?? the girl had seemed like she could use a friend, and yuri -- despite his ever-optimistic attitude -- could also use someone to talk to. so he’d sought her out, at least, he thought he had ( his memories from the ball night were a bit blurry, but he recognised the girl and he thought that was enough reason to stroll up to her with some unearned confidence ). he reached out, showed her the fruit he held in his hand.
“a clementine for clementine !!” he said, rather proud of himself for coming up with that one.
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@apricottie @honeybellerose @lastpetals
Twenty-seven was daunting to Moxie. It was another year she had survived without furthering any of her life plans and the feeling of her own mortality was catching up to her. The ever-so-lovely Mr. and Mrs. Pitlock made sure to instill this dread even further; hounding her through a phone call of all things to settle down, give them grandchildren, and be the perfect little homemaker they raised her to be. She wanted to gag – that sounded like a death sentence to Moxie. She would rather have volunteered for the games back when she was eligible than settle. It was her life, she was the one who got to make the decisions, right? Right.
Moxie lounged across her couch, staring at the ceiling, trying to pull herself from the internal spiral she was trapped in after talking to her parents. She just needed to snap out of it. She had lunch plans anyway, or at the very least she was told she had lunch plans with the Bellerose family. Well, the twins and Apricot at the very least. She sighed as she sat up, rubbing the heels of her palms into her eyes. It was fine she was fine. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to find any of that stuff, but she wanted to find it for herself. A knock on her door pulled her out of her internal monologue and she sprang to her feet and pulled the door open, putting a bright, albeit forced smile on her face, “Hey, um, where are we going?”
#give it up for the most stressed out birthday girl#bday 127#'it's my party and i'll cry if i want to'#apricot#apricot 127#honey#honey 127#clementine#clementine 127#at home 127
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This was Carol’s first time in such cold. He brought what he thought to be warm clothes, but all his sweaters seemed to have holes in them. Or a way in for the cold air, either way. “How the fuck do you live here for more than a week?” For the time being, he found a blanket to hide under, ready to serve his discourse to the first Capitolite in reach. “I swear I’ve felt more comfortable in the arena, at night.”
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@lastpetals
Emilia was sure, not matter how unlikely, that she was larger than she’d been even with the twins. Maybe it was being a day past her due date, but she was done with being pregnant and the inability to breathe that came with a full sized infant living partially beneath her ribs. She’d been eating tamales, made extra spicy with extra chipotle in the red sauce that covered them in an attempt to evict the kid, when her phone pinged. She reached for the phone as she sat her fork down, but the notification went momentarily ignored when she heard the sound of metal clattering on the floor. A sigh, as heavy as was possible when one’s lungs were at half capacity, was emitted as her eyes fell to the utensil on the ground. The thought to leave it be was dashed away though by the arrival of Clementine. She glanced up, ignoring the lost fork for a moment and wondering what the girl was doing on her floor.
“Are you lost, Clementine?” Why else would the kid be here? “I didn’t steal your shake this time, promise.”
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Nowhere was safe.
No place was safe from the heat, from the smoke, the dust and dirt. Nowhere seemed to be an adequate place for rest, to calm down from an oncoming panic attack only fortified by trembles and shivers and bouts of fatigue brought on by withdrawal. Honey felt stupid. Entirely foolish for the things she did out of impulse. Only time would tell if impulse could carry her skipping stone further than the Arena.
Honey gained momentary shelter in a building. Panic took a hold of her now, as she whirled around and whirled around, trying to find a camera. There must've been one around, there always was. This was her stage and people would have their eyes on her, whether they wanted to or not.
I’ll become the monster.
“Clem,” she croaked out, throat scarcely letting her form the word. “Clementine- Clem-” Her calls were futile, but they bought her time while she was still looking for the camera. She just wanted her sister to hear her. If this was the last time she could talk to her, she needed to be heard by the right person.
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“Why is this fabric so fucking hard?!” he demanded, smacking the side of the sewing machine as it ate the dress for what felt like the hundredth time. This was fucking difficult. He felt like he’d poured hours and hours and hours into this dress for Harley, and it still looked like little more than a few cuts of fabric strung together. “Clem, help? Please?”
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@lastpetals
Allard was pleased to see that he’d placed his eggs in the right basket, so far. Naturally, he’d made a few smaller bets on sillier aspects of the arena - who would cry first, who would get caught out while relieving themselves, etc. “Your sister is the Capitol girl, right?” Allard asked. The face was familiar after having seen the identical one on TV just minutes before. “Are you two close?”
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“How is the new district treating you? I suppose it must be lovely, always being able to brainstorm ideas for different themes.” She wasn’t envious. Granted, a promotion didn’t sound half bad, and she did feel like she was missing out in a way, because she wasn’t moving up in ranks. But at the end of the day, her position for Seven was more than entertaining. The team was certainly one of the more interesting.
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“i like your outfit,” apricot said, wasn’t sure what else there was to say. maybe an apology of sorts, for something, anything, most things. fresh in his mind sat the notion that clementine had met his husband now, apricot’s husband who hadn’t even a clue she existed ( and somehow that was still easier to think about than all the rebel stuff, especially now ). so he’d simply approached her, if the way he dragged his feet could’ve been called simple, two glasses of ice water in his hands, because maybe he shouldn’t be drinking right now. “you designed that yourself, didn’t you ??”
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Honey. It wasn’t Honey though, just a face that matched hers. Fuck. She’d forgotten about Clem, forgotten how fucking identical they were, forgotten how much it would hurt just to see her in the flesh only to know it wasn’t her in there, just a sweeter version, a version she didn’t fall for.
She wanted to run, turn and head for the exit because she knew she wasn’t ready for this, but when she tried, a creepy sponsor blocked her way and she had no choice but to face her. “What are you drinking?” She asked, because she needed one herself, and it was the least she could do, wasn’t it? Get Honey’s sister a drink after she’d failed to show at the funeral.
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@lastpetals
“Clementine, there you are!” Surya exclaimed, hiking up her dress as she approached. “The line to the bathroom was awful. Did I miss anything?”
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“How are you holding up?” Moxie asked, she wanted more than anything to keep Clementine as far away from the new victor as possible. She had seen what Holland had done to Honey in the arena and now...Honey was gone and Holland stood alive, out of prison. “Sorry, I feel like I’m probably the millionth person to ask you that,” She said, arms coming to almost compulsively cross in front of her midsection, wanting to feel smaller, less noticable.
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