#tinygandalfarmy

You get...TREAT!

Graveyard from The Halloween Oracle

Don’t be afraid. It’s going to be alright. Lay to rest unnecessary fears. It’s okay to be hopeful and brave. You got this.

Some cats really just like chewing on things, and there might be something about that shape that feels good to him. Make sure to get his teeth looked at by the vet to rule out a gum infection or other tooth problems.

Thanks >.<; 

10. Talk about an oc who seeks redemption

Two come to mind, but since I’m on kind of a Medallion kick I’ll discuss Aora Kahn.

tinygandalfarmy

⇒ Inoxah: Object

It occurs to you, in the sopor-sluggish second where you see the blocky tealblood’s fist coming for your face and know that you won’t be able to get out of the way in time, that perhaps you should have checked to see if the asshole pale-harassing you had any clade with her before you slammed her into the bulkhead hard enough to crack one of her stupid, cutesy little curly horns. Turns out her matesprit was the saw-horned thresher you saw getting more drinks, go figure.

Well. Not like you were going to let the bitch go on thinking that trying to trigger a perfect stranger’s submission reflex in public was an appropriate method of pale-flirting. Or winning an argument, which you know damn well was what she was really up to.

Judicious application of telekinesis to the site of the problem (re: fist impacting your face) is exactly the remedy the mediculler ordered; force that would launch you by yourself backwards and reeling hits your (tiny but effective!) barrier, giving the extremely satisfying illusion that this pissed-off tealblood bruiser just hit you full in the face and you just soaked it. Okay, yeah, you’re not strong enough to bleed all of the momentum out of that strike, but you’re just sporting a bruise and what might turn into a bloody cartilage nub in a sec instead of a shattered thinkpancase, so hey.  

If you weren’t seated in the lowblood section of the ship’s recreation block (helpfully denoted by the ruddy lighting set into the ceiling), the low strobe of you flexing your psi might have given you away, but nope, he’s on your turf now. The threshecutioner hauls back like he’s about to try you again, so you flex your psi the other way and lower your horns, not letting your grin droop as you feel a trickle of warmth down your lip. Yep, the change in angle for your head was all it took to get your nose bleeding. Oh well. “Try me again, fucker,” you dare him. “Bring your handsy friend, if she wants a matched set.”

⇒ Girzym: Swoon

You hadn’t really been paying attention when Igualt and his matesprit had wandered over into the lowblood section, except to follow the movement as a matter of course, and appreciate a few of the finer specimens of trollhood hanging out under the ruddy lights. You did, however, see one of them grab Igualt’s matesprit by the wrist (had she seriously been going for his horns?) and flip her spectacularly over that point of leverage into the bulkhead. You could hear the crack of horns from where you were sitting, but you keep sipping your soda and being your stone-cold badass self (while you keep a hand free to equip your sicklekind grief specibus, because you know how volatile a crowd of drunk young adult trolls can get).

You’re keeping an eye on the fight by now because it’s currently the best entertainment the communal recreation block has to offer, which means you have time to anticipate just how much splatter there will be when Igualt lands that punch he has wound up. The little lowblood brawler stops his momentum cold, though, and you don’t see any flashes that mean he’s a powerful psionic or anything, so you have to concede a few points from your Cool Detachment Meter to satisfy your curiosity, because with a lowblood constitution, the guy should be seeing stars if not outright dead. You’ve fought Igualt and have ample experience to know that he hits like a bulk goods wheeled transportation device; you have to see how the little guy’s still standing.

You shift positions, getting a sight line on him right as Igualt snarls. The harmonics are buzzing a warning note in your horns from across the block, but the little guy just lowers these wicked forward-curving hooked horns at him, looks up under his brow with a line of blood just starting from his cartilage nub, and grins.

you are superbly fantastic!

tinygandalfarmy replied to your post “would someone like to give me a wedding aesthetic palette to work on?...”

aaaaaa I never got back to you about mine! sorry >.<