![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
- dear evan hansen: connor murphy,
- fragile dreams: ren,
- marble hornets: tim wright,
- mushi-shi: ginko,
- original: chip abaroa,
- original: erika fisher,
- undertale: asgore dreemurr,
- undertale: chara dreemurr,
- ✖ camp camp: max,
- ✖ disney: mickey mouse,
- ✖ ensemble stars: kanata shinkai,
- ✖ ffxiv: tataru taru,
- ✖ fragile dreams: seto,
- ✖ little witch academia: atsuko kagari,
- ✖ no.6: shion,
- ✖ one piece: monkey d. luffy,
- ✖ original: kyouko kougami,
- ✖ original: yuka ichijou,
- ✖ the adventure zone: lup,
- ✖ the adventure zone: taako,
- ✖ undertale: muffet
i know it's just a number but you're the eighth wonder [ OPEN MINGLE ]
Who: Tim and EVERYBODY WHO WANTS IN ON THIS CAUSE IT A MINGLE
What: Nail-painting. Destressing. We have earned something Nice for ourselves.
When: February 12th
Where: Just outside the Storyteller's Temple
Warnings: Probably nothing of note? Will add if needed.
There's a man sitting cross-legged outside the Storyteller's Temple, general hub of interaction that it seems to be turning into. He still looks like shit, granted, his face a colorful patchwork of bruising and a fresh bandage slapped around his middle, but that hasn't stopped him from making the best of things. A few vials of some various colorful fluids might not be familiar to everyone here, but after everything? Screw it, thinks Tim. They've deserved a break. He deserves a break. The kids here, especially, deserve a break. It's time to celebrate the fact that they are no longer in danger of freezing in the dark and living out the remainder of their days in a bleak, sunless existence.
And he liked colors, as a kid. In the blank white walls of a hospital, where everything was drained of variation and bleached white and left bone-blank, the occasional bursts of color allowed in packages of crayons and colored pencils at art time were treasures. They stopped giving him crayons after he drew the man in his room one too many times, a tall black shadow in the back of every drawing that had the doctors exchanging looks with tightened jaws and the clearing of throats that too clearly spoke to their disapproval.
It dogged him, even once he stepped out of those empty walls, his wardrobe as consistently drab and dull and monochrome as his life. It dogged him with featureless rooms and
Fuck that.
Fuck that especially, because it means that kids like Ren grew up without colors in their lives, and it means that they've had precious few simple little pleasures in the past month, and it means that they are all owed a goddamn break. And if he's bound to be a freak no matter what he does, he may as well be one with a spot of color or two.
So today, to celebrate? We're painting nails.
Fuck it. We're painting nails.
It's safe to say that Tim's new at this, particularly when he only has one good hand at the moment, but he'll still seem quite open to sharing with whoever happens along - especially if you're a kid.
What: Nail-painting. Destressing. We have earned something Nice for ourselves.
When: February 12th
Where: Just outside the Storyteller's Temple
Warnings: Probably nothing of note? Will add if needed.
There's a man sitting cross-legged outside the Storyteller's Temple, general hub of interaction that it seems to be turning into. He still looks like shit, granted, his face a colorful patchwork of bruising and a fresh bandage slapped around his middle, but that hasn't stopped him from making the best of things. A few vials of some various colorful fluids might not be familiar to everyone here, but after everything? Screw it, thinks Tim. They've deserved a break. He deserves a break. The kids here, especially, deserve a break. It's time to celebrate the fact that they are no longer in danger of freezing in the dark and living out the remainder of their days in a bleak, sunless existence.
And he liked colors, as a kid. In the blank white walls of a hospital, where everything was drained of variation and bleached white and left bone-blank, the occasional bursts of color allowed in packages of crayons and colored pencils at art time were treasures. They stopped giving him crayons after he drew the man in his room one too many times, a tall black shadow in the back of every drawing that had the doctors exchanging looks with tightened jaws and the clearing of throats that too clearly spoke to their disapproval.
It dogged him, even once he stepped out of those empty walls, his wardrobe as consistently drab and dull and monochrome as his life. It dogged him with featureless rooms and
Fuck that.
Fuck that especially, because it means that kids like Ren grew up without colors in their lives, and it means that they've had precious few simple little pleasures in the past month, and it means that they are all owed a goddamn break. And if he's bound to be a freak no matter what he does, he may as well be one with a spot of color or two.
So today, to celebrate? We're painting nails.
Fuck it. We're painting nails.
It's safe to say that Tim's new at this, particularly when he only has one good hand at the moment, but he'll still seem quite open to sharing with whoever happens along - especially if you're a kid.
[ooc: yes this is a mingle for painting some nails feel free to top-level all over]
Muffet | OTA
[A closer look will reveal that she seems to be doing some kind of gradient, each of her three pairs of hands getting a different color: bright golden coin yellow on the top set of nails, a shimmering pale copper orange on the middle two, and richly dark blood-red on the bottom pair.]
[The overall effect is rather flame-like... which is a good match to the other recent addition to her usual look, courtesy of the Jormun- a pair of phoenix feathers carefully tied into her hair at her right ribbon. Even beyond the physical, Muffet looks calmer than she has in a while, finally allowing herself to relax for a little while instead of rushing off to handle whatever crisis is going on at the moment.]
no subject
Wow, you're a great artist too? Is there anything you can't do?
no subject
[Having three pairs of hands means never having to awkwardly try to use the brush with your left hand to paint your right when you're right-handed, or vice-versa.]
And while I'd like to say there's nothing, I can think of more than a few areas where I've little to no talent. For one thing, I still can't do fire magic. Or carpentry, much.
[Both of which have been very frustrating on this island, for the record. ...Well, she can sort of do carpentry, but it's pretty bad.]
no subject
[That sticks with him because, well, he can! And if someone like him can, surely anyone can!]
no subject
People tend to have an affinity for a particular element- fire or water or air, and so on- and might not have much of a knack for elemental magic in general. I can do a little bit of earth magic, but it was never much, and I've no skill with fire magic at all. Focusing on purple magic made more sense, since it came more naturally to me.
[Hence why she keeps using a flint and tinder set to make cooking fires, instead of starting them magically.]
no subject
Well... at the very least, purple does seem to suit you. I mean, gosh, you're purple from head to toe and everywhere in-between!
no subject
That was rather fortunate, wasn't it? Imagine if I'd been born with a talent for orange magic, instead- I'd clash terribly.
[Gotta keep up that aesthetic.]
no subject
[Rimshot. Also, my apologies.]
no subject
[She's trying to look stern, but she can't quite suppress the urge to laugh. It makes her feel vaguely nostalgic about Sans, honestly. She hopes he finally made it home, in the end.]
Yes, I suppose if I had to go around being mismatched all the time I'd feel quite blue.
no subject
You might even be red in the face!
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
Jesus, you must go through a lot of this stuff.
[You know, what with the extra hands and everything.]
no subject
Not as much as you'd think, really- I don't have the opportunity to wear it very often, since working in a bakery would just wear it all off too quickly for there to be any point.
[And she's basically always working, so yeah.]
no subject
[He's being such a rude boy, but then, that's Max for you.]
no subject
Oh, all sort of things- it's always nice to have the opportunity to try out new recipes. I have done a fair bit of work with insects, to suit my own tastes, but I find that when I'm baking for humans they often prefer to avoid those flavors. I always make certain to label my pastries very clearly, so no one accidentally bites into anything they don't care for.
no subject
no subject
no subject
Wait, do you eat that? Isn't that, like... cannibalism?
no subject
[Muffet shakes her head, and answers in the tone of one who has explained this many, many times:]
That is to say, cannibalism would be eating members of one's own species- or possibly just another sapient being in general- neither of which I do. Simply being another kind of arachnid doesn't make us the same. After all, you're a mammal and so is a sheep, but no one would call you a cannibal for eating lamb, yes?
[To be honest, it's kind of debatable whether she even counts as an animal in the biological sense, let alone an arachnid, but explaining that you're technically kind of a spider-shaped energy being usually gets sort of complicated.]
no subject
...Well, actually sometimes they've got a lot in common. [Cutting social commentary by Max.] But I mean, shit, that doesn't freak you out at all?
(no subject)
no subject
That looks so coooool! Did you do those all by yourself?! They must've taken forever!
no subject
[Muffet smiles cheerfully, always happy to take a compliment.]
I did, aside from Tim's much-appreciated contribution of getting us all this nail polish in the first place. To be fair, it doesn't take nearly as much time when you have so many spare hands to work with.
no subject
[ She's still peering admiringly at all those layers of colours as she says this ]
What'd he get all this nail polish for anyway?
no subject
[Spun sugar is fucking hard to work with, okay?]
I'm not sure why, but I'm certainly happy he did. Perhaps he just wanted everyone to have something nice, after how stressful recent events have been.
no subject
[ She gives the most dramatic of sighs. ]
It's not bad enough we got dragged here, we've gotta get involved in all the drama too. Don't get me wrong! If someone needs help, I wanna help them, for sure! But it's so much, all the time. It's like-- give us a break sometime, you know?
no subject
Or at least some kind of advance warning. A regular schedule for these things would work wonders, frankly.