SkeankySnack

[Monster Cafe]

I volunteer to be a father who adopted a human!

It might even play into my fluffy cuthulu mythos. Kid was a sacrifice unto me and I was like. "Oh hey little guy. Ill take you home."

@ShwiggityShwah

Instantly thought of this



Edit: skip to about 1:35

[Monster Cafe]

I want to write as a Cambion cashier, who flirts with EVERY customers that come through.

@Wistful Dreams

I can already imagine a 'spirited' competition between your character and mine.

[Monster Cafe]

Just PM'd my character, should've specified that they are fireproof unless they don't want to be...

[Monster Cafe]

Speaking of which, what sort of monster is everyone thinking of? I am thinking of going with Cambion if that isn't pushing it. 👀😮

@Wistful Dreams

Fire Elemental

[Monster Cafe]

<Snipped quote by BeastofDestiny>

I don't think any of whoever we choose will have any or many gifs.

@Wistful Dreams

We don't know! Geeeez!

[Monster Cafe]

That's what I figured, cause not that there aren't gifs of the character I have in mind, there aren't a lot of them XD

[Monster Cafe]

I'm interested, but confused on one of the rules. Did you actually mean like an animated non-still image or anime images?

REBOOT COMING SOON. INVITE ONLY.

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Location | Red Rock
Interacting with | Everyone Present
Mentions | AJ @TootsiePop, Emilia @NeoAJ, Yessi @Hoekage
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Despite the young man’s remark about his day being ‘shitty’ Hugo maintained his positive attitude and optimistic smile. Everyone has a story to tell, one of pain, one of pleasure, one of hope and one of travesty, it held both the merit and meaning of everyone’s existence after all. Considering the state of the group around him, it seemed they had a rough time of it, what choices that lead them to this point, Hugo himself did not know, but if there’s one thing that he’s learned throughout his life is this...

‘Bad choices, make Good stories’

At the mention of food and drink from the young man though, Hugo’s stomach realized how empty it was as it made it a low growl. Even though he had plenty of food, mostly in the form of oats, jerky, and preserved fruits, the rasta had been travelling in the hot Nevada desert for nearly two days now, basking in the cold of the night sky as he dreamed. Unable to deny such an offer, he put his guitar down, made his way over, and clapped the man’s arm, “Merci beaucoup, mon ami,” nodding his head rather vigorously he repeated, “Merci!” As the young gentleman left he started rifling through the cooler, taking note of the ice cold water in it, and just as quickly as he spotted it, he went right for it. Grabbing it from the container, lone mostly melted ice cubes sliding down the side of the bottle he proceeded to open and chug it. Some men may have passionately caressed a woman, some may have listened to the greatest of symphonies, but right now, in this moment, nothing was more pleasurable to this simple man than the cold liquid running down his throat. Pure bliss and a great relief to his hot, tired and aching body, it was like silk caressing the very soul of his being.

About two-thirds of the way through he stopped, sighed in relief, then proceeded to dump the rest of the bottles contents onto his hair and face, careful to remove his hat first. It was a cold and refreshing relief as the water washed away the sweat and sand that had been gradually covering his face for the last two days. Letting the water run down, some getting on his clothing, some falling to the dirt below, he returned back to his duffel, producing a towel to dry and wipe his face. Sighing in relief he turned back to the group as he acquired a granola bar from his bag, “Merci again, mes amies, I’m glad to be in the presence of such good and welcoming companions as yourselves.” Plopping once again on his bag, a bite of the bar in his mouth, and without missing a beat, he continued to strum his guitar to the music. He closed his eyes, feeling the strings beneath his fingers, their melodious beat in near synchronization to the music playing from the radio

"HI KIM!"

Somewhat startled, but unfazed, he noticed a new one had joined the group, a rather pretty blonde who looked rather...out of place. His eyes curiously fixated on her, she seemed to be the one person in the group who wasn’t downtrodden, instead she seemed to be the exact opposite with her loud voice and boisterous announcements. Though he couldn’t remember, these sensations the young woman exuded were somewhat familiar… “Ah-hah!” He remembered from his journal, this young lady was clearly high! Whatever it was, he wasn’t too sure, but clearly this group had a use for drugs, again something he remembered he regularly dealt with.

"I'm so lucky you're all here! It's so great to, like, just be here and not thinking about that fucking asshole Brandon! She had even turned to Hugo’s attention, a big grin on her face, “Even you! Man, Brandon would flip if I took a selfie hanging off you, wouldn't he? Damn straight he would, the fucker."

Hugo couldn’t help but laugh, “Nothing wrong with spreading the love, Mi Amor! I would gladly accept your embrace!” Maybe he had been wrong about this group, maybe they weren’t such a downtrodden group after all, “You seem to know how to, as they say, party it up and ‘get lit’.” Laughing, he suddenly recalled his own form of stress relief and began rifling through his bag, grabbing a big ol’ bag of the green stuff. Setting the baggie down he looked for his other tools for the herbal relief. He did his research though, even wrote it down, 1 oz of the devil’s lettuce was allowed to be carried in the state of Nevada, though if one were to look deeper they’d find more; after all this was just part of his business. With deft hands he ground up the product, lined it in a paper and rolled it, and with a swift flick of his tongue to seal it. What was left in his hands, was a rather sizable joint, that he rather happily lit and took a long hit from. Allowing the smoke to fill and encase his lungs for several seconds, before he exhaled.

Like the sweet nectar it was, he took his time enjoying the sensation travelling down every nerve and vein in his body. As though he were like a pad of melting butter, a singular grape, its skin peeled to expose the flesh, a loaf of bread, freshly baked, squeezed and allowed to relax back to its natural shape; Hugo was in bliss. Sighing he took another long hit of the joint, a long burn to relax his body and mind as he let the negative smoke exit his body. Silently he stared up at the stars, “Ahhh~ such a beautiful night…” His gaze was locked with the glistening stars, a small smile on his face “Quel temps pour vivre” (What a time to be alive) It took a couple of minutes, but he realized he was being rather rude, there were guests among him, some of them were more than likely to partake if they were nomads themselves. Looking around the group, a wide grin on his face, he simply asked, “Would anyone else like a hit?” he held the smoking joint out, vying from side to side with no response. No? Unusual but, maybe it was just best to pass it around from person to person. Looking to the young, tan woman to his right he offered her the lit product, “Perhaps you would partake, Mi Amor?” His smile, inoffensive and full of joy at his current ‘high peak’, held the joint up towards her in offering.

Emerald City

Honestly, anytime I think of a vespa in anime, I'm immediately brought back to FLCL

Emerald City

Long, long ago, when this old world was in its tender infancy, there was a child named Epimetheus who never had either father or mother; and that he might not be lonely, another child, fatherless and motherless like himself, was sent by the gods to be his playfellow and helpmate. Her name was Pandora.
The first thing that Pandora saw when she entered the cottage where Epimetheus lived was a great box. And almost the first question that she put to him was this,
"Epimetheus, what have you in that box?"
"My dear little Pandora," answered Epimetheus, "that is a secret, and you must be kind enough not to ask any questions about it. The box was left here to be kept safely, and I do not myself know what it contains."

Ollivander Clarke looked to the small audience gathered around him, a camaraderie of small children who had expectantly come to listen to the older gentleman’s monthly tales. He’d been doing this for some time now, more than a decade at least he’d bring himself to the local community center, bringing a new story to the table. To him, this was just another form of teaching and though he was used to the knowledgeable adolescents that had graced his lectures, there was something endearing about reading to children. They had wide, expectant eyes, a yearn for learning and an imagination of wonderment and fantasy. To anyone willing to learn, there was a pride in that for a teacher, to anyone willing to learn from the teacher themselves, that was an honor.
”hmm…” His brows furrowed together and the children seemed somewhat confused as he paused. As he mentioned, he was a teacher, and Ollivander always found new ways to implement a way to teach. “I must apologize my dear pupils, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to finish this story today…”, he spoke with a small, sad look in his eyes. Of course, as was expected they all protested him, whining and begging him to finish the story. Satisfied with the response he reassured them, “Alright, alright, I’ll finish the story,” he laughed as his audience clapped and cheered, “However...I am going to need a helper to get me through this story...are there any volunteers?”
Several hands shot up alongside exaggerated cries of ‘pick me’ were shouted from the small crowd. Scanning amongst the children, hands up, crying for attention, there was one who wasn’t. A small, pale, raven haired girl, eyes looking anywhere but at him, almost like she were trying to hide herself. “You there, young lady, would you care to join me?” He spoke, encouraging the girl to come up. She seemed startled that she of all people had been chosen, but reluctantly came, hands fidgeting with her dress as she made her way over to Ollivander; the other children groaned with disappointment at not having been picked.
“Hello my darling, what’s your name?” The girl spoke timidly and hesitantly “Um...L-Lily...sir.” “Lily, eh? I assume shorthand for Lillian, yes?” The girl remained quiet, but nodded. “You have a very pretty name, Lily. My name is Mr. Clarke, are you ready to read with me?” The girl shook her head, “No? Well, if you aren’t ready to help me,” he helped lift the girl into his lap and set the book in front of them, “Then I’ll help you, to help me and that means, we’re partners, okay?” Lillian was startled, but she just quietly whispered, “...okay” She was clearly in an uncomfortable situation, but this is the goal of a teacher, to break down the bad walls, to build up the support of a stable foundation. “Right! On we go! Now my dear, I’m going to read the parts of Epimetheus, and you are going to read the parts of Pandora.” pointing his finger onto a line of words he told her, “Now, here is where I left off, so this is where you start, alright? Just start reading the words and I’ll help guide you along as necessary.”
Clearly uncomfortable, but forced into this situation, she accepted her fate and started to read, “But Pandora was not altogether happy on account of Epi...Epee...Ep- Epeh….” The girl’s face started to flush more and more and she looked like she was almost about to cry. Knowing when to step in, Ollivander placed a calm hand on her shoulder and said, “It’s alright my dear, it’s a difficult word to pronounce, but that’s why I’m here to help.” She looked up to him, tears forming in her eyes, “B-b-but… they’re…” Ollivander shushed and cooed to comfort her, ”They are merely an audience to the tale my darling, they themselves are not a part of the book. Focus only on the story and nothing else but our voices as we say out the words, yes?” The girl, wiping her eyes nodded and returned back to the story.
“Now, just repeat after me, Eh-”“Eh-”
“Pih-”
“Phi-”
“Meh-”
“Meh-”
“Thee-”
“Thee-”
“Us-”
“Us-”
”Now, say the full word.”
In perfect tune she read out the word, “Eh-Pih-Meh-Thee-Us, Epimetheus!”
“Yes! That is exactly right! Good job my darling! A small round of applause for the young articulator!” The other children clapped and Lily seemed to calm down somewhat, almost seeming somewhat beaming as she smiled up at Ollivander. It was almost a complete 180 degree change, first she was quiet and unconfident, and now she was not only smiling with joy, but also with pride. Ready to continue the story, he asked his young pupil, “Now young Lillian, shall we continue on with the story? It’s still your part.” Lily returned back to the story, a newfound sense of courage within her.
“But Pandora was not altogether happy on account of Epimetheus' explanation about the box.
"Where can it have come from?" she continually asked herself, "and what on earth can be inside it?" At last she spoke to Epimetheus.
"You might open the box," Pandora said, "and then we could see its contents for ourselves..."

---

---

Ollivander checked his pocket watch before exiting his domicile, 10:24. Closing the wound watch and replacing it in his vest pocket he exited the building and locked it up, turning only to see if Angel would be visiting him today. As was the usual, her food and water bowls were full, a commonplace sighting for Ollivander, but given light to the recent events he worried about his feline companion. Sighing softly he walked towards his car, an old 1987 ford ltd crown victoria, got in, started the ignition and drove away. It would take him at least 30 minutes to reach the community center where the meeting was to be held. He had already emailed his students ahead of time, letting them know that class was cancelled due to the sudden announcement, one he hoped was of good news, but knowing full well that there would most likely be none.
Turning right out of his driveway he made his way down the road, and reflected on the recent events taking place in the city he called home. It had been less than a week, but he noticed that a long time friend and student, Elizabeth had been coming to class late and almost disheveled. Every time she entered she seemed like a broken husk, a shadow of her former self, and so being the concerned educator/friend he confronted her about it. It was during that particular confrontation that she broke down and told him everything, about Lillian missing, about the worry it was causing her and the mayor’s family; to say Ollivander was shocked was an understatement. Realizing the gravity of the situation after calming her down, he told her to take as much time as necessary to right herself, an emotionally unstable mind can heal itself before it has a chance to learn anything new. “Worry not my dear, I’ll deal with the rest of the administration myself, right now, you need to rest and have time to process these recent events.”
He sighed again, really Ollivander did hope for the best, but if it was the Mayor, Lillian’s father, giving the address he could only assume the worst. In that assumption, he’d try to help console the Baker family as best he could, after all they knew his family longer than he’d known them. Her parents were children when they knew of his parents, and Ollivander as a child knew Elizabeth’s parents long after they were born, the cycle has only repeated itself as she knew him in his old age. It was a bittersweet thought, knowing that only two generations of Bakers and Clarkes would know one another as a family, but it was a destiny he was willing to face. His time of reflection over, Ollivander pulled into a space in the street, exited his vehicle and began traipsing off towards the community center, his cane tapping ever so slightly into the soft grass. Knowing he was well within distance of the center, he decided to sit at one of the ever present benches nearby the river. Slowly he rubbed along the engravings in his cane, contemplating what would happen next, as an educator in history, he knew that if something bad were to be involved, it would only get worse until the culprit was caught. He could only pray for the best and that the slow march of time would continue onward for the community he had grown to love.