This Is Cool, Thanks For The Tag

This is cool, thanks for the tag 😁

aye aye - ancient study - water avens Verrill (Model Hunger) - winter - anything with yarn (string) purple - black obsidian - potatoes

i've participated in so many tag games, i think it's about time i make my own

use this order and insert images according to how you view yourself!

1. Animal

2. Place

3. Plant

4. Character

5. Season

6. Hobby

7. Colour

8. Crystal

9. Food

here's mine:

cat, bookstore, blue forget-me-nots (idk, i just picked a random image with blue flowers), angel devil (csm), winter, reading + listening to music, blue, moonstone, sushi

tags: @rosees3ray @starr-theoriginal @doing-ur-mum-pt2 @thelovelyvie @urlocalsadkid-l @sad-trash-pigeon @carbonbasedmatter @toxictidepod241 @robinheaney12 @believeinavocado @just-sarah-xx @ali-da-demon @koi0boi @ch1ckpeapancake @rosetintedgreyspaces @dramaticwriter @butterfliesareamyth @bluewrite + anyone who wants to join /np

You can’t scare the locals if you try in NYC! The tourists generally want a photo. The locals don’t even notice. Lol!

(x)

Sir, no! That is NOT edible!!

Why do I get the feeling that living with him is like having a giant puppy??? "My love! Stop gnawing at the cabinet, you just painted it! We'll take your walk in a minute!" "ARF!!" 😝😝

The Court of Creek Cottage is intriguing me 👀

The Court of Creek Cottage, or alternatively The Curse of Creek Cottage, is my only vampire story. Which is kind of strange, considering how much I like vampires, but anyway...

Kaia Tesser lives in a big mansion under the thumb of her father. In fact, the whole family does. She isn't the smartest of them but the only one who feels compelled to object to her fathers tyranny against the family and, in deed, anyone who he has dealings with. When she meets a strange man in the park on her way home from the job she took in town pretty much just to spite her father she spies another opportunity to rebel. However, she soon realises that maybe she has gotten herself into something that she won't get out of that easily.

It was already dark when Kaia got to the park. She stopped and contemplated whether she should take her usual shortcut. In the distance, on the bench where the lamp post was broken, she thought she saw someone sitting. Or maybe it was just a shadow. It would take her almost half an hour more to walk if she didn’t take the short cut. Then again, what was half an hour to staying alive? “Oh come on,” she said to herself. “You’re being stupid.” She jogged down the steps and walked briskly along the path. When she got closer to the bench under the broken lamp she saw that there was indeed someone sitting there. Hunched over with their face in their hands. Her stomach started screaming “Abort! Abort!” and scenarios of horror films started playing in her head. She could see her mother in her head, crying over her coffin “I told her to use the car!”. She hated that car. Well, she couldn’t really hate the car, it was just a car that her father had bought her when she’d insisted to get a job in town. There was nothing really wrong with the car, apart from it being huge and massively expensive. It was just the way people looked at her when she drove it. Now she could see that the person sitting on the bench was a man. He was wearing a dark green army style jacket and track pants, but the black boots he was wearing seemed ancient. They looked like they had buttons in them or something. She’d never seen boots like that. He looked distraught. “Trap! Trap!” her stomach screamed and she automatically slowed down a little. She stopped. “What if he needs help?” she asked herself. He didn’t seem to have noticed her yet. There was still time to turn back. “Run away! Run away!” her stomach screeched. “No,” she thought. “If I am to die trying to do good then I will accept it.” So she took the remaining steps towards the bench as confidently as she could and sat down. “Hey, are you okay?” she asked, doing her best to not sound like she expected the next thing to happen being someone jumping out of the trees behind her with an axe and splitting her head in half. The man had clearly not noticed her at all because when she spoke he jumped up with an unearthly shriek. She jumped to him where he crouched on the sandy walkway, shaking like a terrified animal. “I am so sorry,” she gushed. “I was just trying to be, you know, neighborly, or you know, like, friendly, like, cause you looked like you were sad, and, and, I am so so so sorry…” He let out a deep sigh and let himself fall backwards onto the walkway and lay there flat, like he was about to make a sand angel. “I’m sorry,” she tried again. “Yeah, it’s fine,” he replied. His voice was hoarse so he cleared his throat. It resulted in a coughing fit. “Are you okay?” As she inspected him lying there she noticed that he was missing the index and middle finger of his right hand completely. Her brain immediately started concocting up stories. “Hmh, that is a good question.” “I mean, sitting on park benches at night with your face in your hands is very not okay looking, you know?” He chuckled. “I suppose.” “So, are you?” He sat up. “Do you really care that much?” “I don’t know. I kind of worked myself into a panic thinking you were a serial killer and then I convinced myself you might need help and then I scared the life out of you and I’m kind of invested now.” He smiled. “Yes, I’m fine. Everything considered. Just very tired. When I get home and rest a little I’ll be right as rain.” She decided that the everything that he’d considered was none of her business. “I’m sorry I startled you.” “Thank you for having compassion.” The knot that had been in her stomach since she stepped into the park melted away at that word. Compassion. How many times had she thrown it at her father just to see his face screw up in contempt. It was right down there at the bottom of the contempt pit, along with charity, equality, socialism, and anything else that implied he’d have to give any regard to other people or let go off his precious money.

about the WIP game, I'm curious about Oh My Goth! (I'm a very predictable man, I know) and Shitshow

Well, you pretty much know most of what is in OMG! anyway 😝 (my asks, some bits from the comic and other added bits that you've already seen and some that I'll probably send you when they're ready) so I'm going to answer about Shitshow.

In his mind Poeleirus Pariseau is a most important person. Well, he is mage to the king, there are hardly more important people in the land. He would also argue that there isn't much that would faze him but when he wakes up in a cage, stripped of his magic, after having vivid memories of dying he is quite shaken. And what's more, there isn't only one of him, but six! Who has worked this infernal magic and for what purpose? Is it a curse to punish him for his arrogance? Or a second chance to live a better life?

He opened his eyes. Slowly the light seeped into his mind. He blinked. Dead? No. Alive. Breathing. Strange. Sleeping? No. Awake. Lying down on a hard surface covered with cloth. Metal bars. Metal bars? He rose. Inspected his hands. Moved. His last recollection of this body was different. More strained. Right now he felt… Younger? How was he younger? He remembered dying. He touched the bars. They were cold. Steel. He gripped them with his hands and pulled. They were immovable. When he looked around for a door. There was one in the ceiling of the cage but he could not reach it. As he looked around he saw them. Other cages. Just like his. Five of them. And in them, lying on the ground on a green cloth… He had to grip the bars of his cage so he wouldn’t fall over. For a moment or two he thought he might die again. They were all the same. The same as he. Who was he? Did he remember? Yes. He did remember. He was Poeleirus Pariseau. Mage to the king. But which king? Was there still the same king? He remembered dying. For all he knew he could have been dead for decades. Another stirred. And the third. He closed his eyes, still gripping the metal bars, trying to summon his magic but nothing happened. He remembered the words, the incantations. He even remembered where he’d learned them, where he’d read them again and again and seared them into his mind. But they would not do his bidding. They seemed to be just words. How was this possible? “What in tarnation is this trickery?!” one of the others shouted and tried to shake the bars. He opened his eyes again and surreptitiously inspected the others. Did they also wake as Poeleirus Pariseau? Were they all the same? He decided not to speak. Some of the others shouted some more, at the cage and each other. Two of them began to argue which one of them was the real Poeleirus Pariseau. So that is it then, he thought to himself. We are all the same. And then he saw another face. Hiding in the shadow of the corner of the room. It was a familiar face. It looked older, but he recognised it. “Reangene…” he whispered. Reangene smiled in the shadow but didn’t move. “Why?” he whispered. Reangene didn’t speak but his face said ‘You know why’.

he looks absolutely ready to rumble though 😆

this thing is so itty bitty I thought it'd be bigger