forever & always.

HEADCANON :: Poppy is an avid collector of well, just about anything that catches her eye really: particularly vibrant maple leaves, runaway coins, a misplaced button, the rare intact glass pop bottle, and so on. Every knick-knack has its own story whether it’s of her own travels or those of somebody else written on their surface which may or not be a bit more remarkable in her head than in reality. 

Ok well, it’s more appropriate to say she would collect these things if she had an actual means of, well... collecting them. An extensive amount of mementos and souvenirs don’t exactly lend themselves to being very mobile especially when your life consists of nothing but constant moving from one place to the next.

b-bnuuy?

the hills are livelier at night  than one may think, functioning less on the hustle of busy people and more on the thoughts left behind with the day’s last breath. silence speaks louder than words at times, and no other moment does it feel as fitting as when the moon hangs serenely over the planet. it is then when the whispered wishes, pleas, and platitudes towards the stars are sensed and understood by quiet celestial bodies, responses always given, albeit never directly. divine presence communicates with the earthly in such enigmatic ways, yet for geno, it’s all in a day’s work. grant wishes, listen to their cries, twist the arm of fate a little —— and just like that, he can so easily brighten one’s life as well as he can crush their dreams in one swoop. he would be remiss to ignore the latter, but nothing is better than watching hopeful peoples’ dreams coming to life in front of their eyes.

sometimes, however, all they need is an ear. surely, it must be fate that he’s sharing the same space, unbeknownst to the apparent forest creature. she is clearly no rabbit he’s ever seen in his life, but she has the very features of one. what creature she is, he does not know. she could be anything. maybe she is one of those pokemon, much like those he’s seen about the smash manor. she seems to speak as though she is one, but much like most of the ones he’s met (albeit not all), he can manage to understand her. another work of the divine, he supposes. the stars are meant to listen to all. he won’t question it.

what he does wonder, of course, is what exactly woes her. she is being listened to and given comforting celestial light, as all should be, and yet… what can he do, a star closer to mortal folk than most of his kind? is there something more to her plight? would it be uncouth of him to approach her? what kind of methodology is that? “hey, i’m a star, even though i don’t look like one. you can talk to me!” how weird would that sound? is it even that weird?

he hasn’t much more time to think. it all happens quickly, from him being fascinated by the pebble lit into crackling flame to that very spectacle… hurdling right towards him.

❝ wh—!! ❞ it’s a pretty last-ditch effort, but all he can really do is try to shield himself. the power of the stars can be a fine enough shield, and while it does well to protect the doll’s body from completely going alight, the rock still singes his left shoulder. the seared wood is an ugly, ashy sight, but it honestly looks worse than it feels. his pain tolerance is quite high. the fact that the doll is damaged is, frankly, more hurtful than anything. it isn’t as though it can’t be repaired, just as it has been many times before, but he knows how upset gaz gets whenever it happens.

the next thing he knows, the bunny is doting over him. his own hand holding the injured area, he peers over his shoulder —— wincing, but never once spiteful. accidents happen. ❝ ugh—— it’s fine. don’t worry about it. i’ve been through a lot worse, so… ❞

❝ … uh… ❞ oh, fiddlesticks and french fries, he’s been caught red-handed. she’s been opening her heart to the stars, and now she knows that he’s been here for who knows how long, listening in. his prior idea no longer seems nearly as off-putting as what’s going on right now. maybe he should make like his shoulder and dissipate harmlessly into stardust, flying the heck away. he’s so embarrassed!!

❝ rough… night, i take it? ❞ okay, maybe directly acknowledging it is only going to make it worse. quick, emergency reparations! ❝ i mean—— ha! the… the stars sure are vibrant tonight, aren’t they? haha… ❞ he’s dying, squirtle. rather, he’s becoming like a squirtle, sinking his head into the collar of his cape as if an actual turtle. save him.

    — “What are you-? Oh! Uh... I suppose..?” 

    That also wasn’t the response she was expecting to get. Something more along the lines of ‘get away from me!’ or ‘look what you did you stupid bunny!’ and less focusing on a couple of twinkling lights in the sky and certainly not how her night was going. And on that matter, what was he so flustered over? Sure, he may have caught a stray word of her ramblings here and there but she could have set him ablaze if he was any less capable! No matter how she looked at it, his shoes were hers to fill.

    Yet here he was, shriveling into himself with like a dying leaf in her place. She must have hit him harder than she thought, the pain jumbled his head up good - stripped him of all of his senses. Her accidental cruelty knew know bounds. Or he was just an odd fellow taking it all on the chin. She’d have to flip a coin to decide which. 

    Still, let it never be said she didn’t try to make the best out of a bad situation. A smile hesitantly crawls onto her face, her paw heartily yet gently smacking the shoulder of the star sprite she had left unburnt. Though she could do little in the way of fixing the marks of her mistake, perhaps she she could try to spare him from his awkward predicament.

    “But come on, what are we doing talking about those o-or me! What about you? That’s some thick hide ya’ got! Normally if somebody got hit with that they would have had a hole right through ‘em and be mewling like they just hatched. N-Not to say you’re thick or that I make a habit of this to know or anything like that! It’s just- well you’re still alive and not burning... which is neat! I’m saying you’re neat!”

    Oh sweet Mew, that was terrible. A shade of red begins to burn through her white fur, her toes then curling into the dirt. She had made this mess and now she couldn’t even properly string together the words to clean it up. Frankly, she’d say she made it even worse somehow. At least now he had company in this ever drowning boat of shame they had unfortunately built. The question is: would they sink or swim? For both of their sakes, she’d attempt the latter. Whatever they had done, neither of them deserved this cruel and unusual punishment of reddened cheeks and constant stammering.

anonymous — Tell us about your muse's sleeping habits! Are they a light or heavy sleeper? Do they prefer beds, couches, or something else? How long do they sleep, and do they dream? Do they roll around? Those are some questions to start, but detail anything you'd like!

HEADCANON :: Poppy is far from a symbol of healthy sleeping habits. At least, not to the common eye anyway. 

Her very nature of being a cinderace in the wild means that she could be awoken by the faintest of unfamiliar noises, be it a snapping branch or a rustling bush, resulting in rest that’s as light as a blade of grass. Sometimes her eyes don’t close and her legs never bend even if she herself is deep in sleep, standing tall and creating the illusion of an ever vigilant sentry prepared for any dangers that might sneak up her. Other times, she’ll curl up into a ball on the ground, perfectly still and silent, a convincing mimicry of large stone when everything is shrouded under the cover of night. It’s also pretty useful for not waking any others nearby also looking for some shut eye.

Despite such survival based patterns seeming exhausting to some however, it does nothing to slow her when greeting the rising sun. While she may be a little groggy and need to do a stretch or two if it’s particularly bad, it’s pleasant enough for an eager early bird like herself!

Truly her worst enemy when trying to sleep is herself, her active mind being both a blessing and a curse. While it can make the waking world a place of beauty and constant discovery, when the sun falls from the sky and her lids shut, it can turn her dreams into a twisted landscape filled with the most harrowing of locations and bizarre of creatures. None of them tend to bother her much though. After all, they’re just whispers without mouths and she has nothing to fear. Some may even make her laugh at their absurdity when she’s out of their clutches.

 Except for one. Rare but nevertheless unnerving. 

    — “It’s been a while hasn’t it? How are all of you?”

    Silence. Perfect. The moon and her children are as stalwart as ever, carrying on their duty of lighting the way home for tired travelers like her with the same quiet grace they always had. Tonight, however, she had no interest of returning at least not just yet anyway. For such old friends of hers, she hadn’t spoken to them in quite some time and while they weren’t much for conversation they were excellent at listening. 

    She rests in the shifting grass, paws folded over one another on her chest and eyes starring at the clear heavens above. A familiar pose, one she had made since she was just a scorbunny by the lake. Now where to start, she had lots to discuss. “Oh me? Ah, I can’t complain. At least, I don’t think I can...” A huff. “I don’t know. I just can’t get rid off this feeling that I’m doing something wrong. Should I be going behind her back like this? I know she only means well but I just- I feel like can’t breathe sometimes.” She sits up, feet that were once bobbing with the now alight and burning footprints into the ground. 

    “But what else am I supposed to do?! The way she is... I-I can’t tell her about this! She’ll hang my ears over the mantle! And it’s always take this and take that and I’m so tired of taking but she never stops and-” She gazes down, where there was once fire there is only a pitiful smoke. “I’m sorry, I never was good with explaining things. I suppose what I’m trying to ask is... am I a bad sister?” And, like they always did, the moon and stars didn’t answer. Silence. She collapses back onto the ground, any feelings of familiarity she had being cast to the chilling autumn winds. “But why am I asking you? Of course you don’t know, why would you? You’re not even here...”

    Now that she was properly done wasting time, it was time to go home. Still despite what she said, she couldn’t help but feel that she had traded a weight in her chest for a hole. How else was she supposed to feel after losing a friend? No, she couldn’t go back like this. She had to do something even if it was a little- that’s it! Tiny paws scoop up a pebble from the ground and juggle it from her toe to her knee, keeping the rhythm until the simple stone was now a burning coal. Her target? That shrub in the distance. A straight shot. That’ll make her feel better. 

    Tap. Tap. Tap.

    CLONK!

    Uh oh. That was not the sound she was expecting...

  The growl of her stomach joins the distant Politoed’s croaks, the soft buzzing of Yanma wings whizzing over the treetops before coming to a rest in a bundle of reeds. Oh how she wished she could do the same. Her eyelids grew heavier and heavier by the second, her legs pleading for a break after hours spent traveling the countryside and still she would work. She had no choice. Whether it would be the bunny’s hunger to crack the whip or her, she’d have to venture out to the riverbank in the dead of night to search for food one way or another. What a lucky rabbit she was.

  She steadies herself, reeling back a burning foot before- CRACK!!

  The fruit drops from the trees rustling branches all at once, landing on the ground with a chorus of thuds and eventually ending up in her arms. All except one, a wayard berry rolling up to a nearby shrub. It’s only after leaning to pick it up that it finally comes to her attention.

  She wasn’t the only one looking for a meal tonight.

  Her red eyes stare into the shrub and two bright yellow eyes stare back, unmoving and unblinking. The rest of it remains hidden, cloaked in a cover of darkness she had no hopes of seeing past. A flurry of thoughts runs through her mind. What was it? How long had it been watching? Did it want the fruit... or her? The final thought forms a lump in her throat. No, she was just being ridiculous. It was low to the ground, it must have have been too short to reach the branches, that had to be it right? Right? After a couple more seconds of gazing, she eventually finds the nerve to speak.