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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]
no subject
[Connor's personal mental map of Enso is full of weirdly renamed landmarks, so he says that like it means something and doesn't elaborate. It's less a statement and more of a mental note, really, but it does make him realize he wasn't very specific about where in the monkey compound he lives, though.]
I live in the tree with torches out front. Don't walk straight up or you'll land in the stake pit.
[Unfortunately, the rest of the traps haven't really been built yet otherwise Connor would warn about those too. Whoops?]
no subject
He nods though at Connor's more detailed description, though he goes a little pale at the idea of a stake pit, his last death was not so long ago to not be a vivid memory. Why does Ceej have a stake pit? Does he even want to ask?]
Stake pit?
no subject
Stake pit goes across the front, just in front of the ladder. You can take a running jump at the ladder, or you can cut past the narcissus flowers to the left and climb up.
[. . . There's also a log, if someone wanted to haul fifty pounds of dead weight over and set it down like a bridge. That's actually what Connor does most of the time.]
no subject
Running jump or cut past the flowers to the left, stake pit is in front of the ladder. I won't fall in. [Hopefully]
Our hut has no stake pit, we do have a Dream Eater though, so you may be in danger of having your face licked.
no subject
[People who are absolutely out of their depth when it comes to bizarre fantasy shit: Connor. He tends to take it all in stride, because it doesn't matter to him, but it still makes him feel kind of adrift and confused whenever things he doesn't know come up. Which is a lot, because he has accrued a lot of weird fantasy CR.]
no subject
He's called Excalibur, he's very friendly and you are welcome to visit anytime.
no subject
no subject
A list that was so much bigger than it had been three years ago, but three years ago that list had one book on it, so that wasn't a surprise.]
You can sail? [And has a boat. That's pretty cool. Shion had not seen the real ocean until he got here (though the ocean floor in the Tower had been very realistic). He had never seen a boat before.]
no subject
[Well. He sometimes has a raft. Currently, the raft is a bunch of logs and some rope that he's carrying around but it's much faster to say he has a raft.]
The mana pools are great, but it's easier to transport stuff on the raft.
no subject