3(65)

Three words chosen randomly, inspiring 3 paragraphs of (65) words that tell a  single story. Done daily, for 365 days.

[abovetherow]

Professor Lupin went to his new home today. I made sure he had plenty of chocolate in his bag before heading out. I had so much fun with this commission. The art was provided, but it’s always fun making someone’s vision become reality. • • • • • #plush #plushartist #spoonie #halifaxartists #handmade #madeincanada #commission #lupin #remuslupin #professorlupin #potterhead #harrypotter #chibi #kawaii #cute #etsy #etsyshop #etsyseller #chocolate #book #goodreads #potter #bestfriendgoals (at Halifax, Nova Scotia)

[abovetherow]

Uraraka is ready to take on the world!

Sweet Ochako stands roughly 18 inches tall & is fully posable down to her powerful fingertips. Hair has been custom made out of super soft acrylic. Clothing made from cotton, bamboo, & wool felt. She even has needle sculpted details including clavicle, wrists, navel, elbows, knees, & toes!

Accepting offers through DMs. Feel free to inquire. 💖

[abovetherow]

Mercy-Pup, Totoro’s Helper, Pachimari, & more have been added to the shop. Can’t find what you’re looking for? DM me and I’ll add it/talk commissions! 💖

[abovetherow]

Look who’s back! Teensy Spoons will be up in the shop later today. I’ve changed their faces from safety eyes to being fully embroidered so they’re cozier to cuddle. There’s also the option for custom colours & eventually custom embroidery on the larger spoons.

[jpechacek]

The sequence grows.

I just have to finish the two remaining Lunar Interludes (Reunion Tour and The Calm Before the Storm) and this whirlwind is over.

[rabdoidal]

TAZ amnesty, or as I like to call it, My Two Dads Are Bears

[abovetherow]

Find Pygmy Puffs at http://www.abovetherow.com along with a few other magical creatures who’ve wandered in.

[abovetherow]

Moving chaos/the heat & my POTS have me with my feet up sewing on the sofa.

Ottoman had to be moved to keep the displeased one from coming near the fabric.

[abovetherow]

Sneak peek of some of the many magical and mythical adoptables coming to Once Upon A Fairytale (June 24-25 @ the Halifax Forum).

[abovetherow]

Surprise! Someone forgot they ordered two new colours.

I couldn’t be bothered to get the full lighting set up tonight, so y'all will have to wait until daylight for some better photos. These ones have some odd shadows, but pygmy puffs are flipping adorable day & night.

Limited puffs will be available with the shop update at the end of the month.

[3-sixtyfive]

047: Mustache Ghoul

He went by the office every single day, at twelve thirty five. Steven watched him from the window in the break room. He noticed the man in the first week of training with the company, during a lackluster "welcome to the team" pizza party. Any party at work seemed a to just be a fallacy by nature to Steven, but it is what it is. 

Distracted from the pain of the awkward "party" Steven first saw the man he knew as the Mustache Ghoul. He'd jokingly named the figure this after his first sighting. Out the window, under the sun, the mans handlebar mustache and bushy brows made him appear to have a twisted, contorted grimace like a dime store monster mask. The brows were black pits, turned down grimly.

Every day the man walked by the intersection outside while carrying a small, shaking wooden trunk. Steven saw no features, only the shapes he was convinced were facial hair. That is, until he had a rare weekday off, and found himself at that intersection. Twelve thirty five came, and so did the man with no lips, or eyes, his wooden trunk muffling a scream inside.

[3-sixtyfive]

046: A Country of Little Consequence

There exists a kingdom, it's far away you've likely not heard of it, named Rubble. It was forgotten a long time ago, and unanimously agreed upon to be a place not worth mentioning in any history textbooks, on any maps, or on any satellite images. There was never any revising of texts to include this kingdom, for it was agreed to be a nonsense topic.

Rubble had been a synthesis of several kingdoms. Each ruled by families obsessed with power, acquisition of land, and architecture. However, were not concerned with becoming learned in architecture, they merely wanted castles more impressive than their rivals'. So the castles designed were foolhardy things. They hardly ever stayed standing for long,  but that hardly mattered, as each family would already be building the next. 

What resulted was a sort of stone, crumbling wave of decrepit, abandoned palaces, which spread from the epicenter of the three capitals until they consumed the entirety of the land. With no agriculture, industry, or usable land of any kind the kingdom collapsed. Later, after centuries, all that is left is the name. Rubble, something left when all has crumbled to useless chunks of rock.

[3-sixtyfive]

045: Chorus Everlasting

There is a place in the mountains where they sing. The song has never been heard by few mortal ears, nor recorded by means digital or analogue. It has been sung since the first song, and it will be the last song. They sing the song that brings harmony, the greatest song ever sung. The melody of the stars, made whole and incarnate on Earth. 

The keeper of the song sings alone, in a crowd of singers. They match the keepers tune as best they can, but their efforts are fleeting, while the keeper sings ever vigilant. Parts are sorrowful, mournful, aching deep within the soul of the singers. Parts are joyous, cheering into the sky with the endless exaltation of every happiness ever felt resounding together all at once. 

Few people have sung the song. Those few, in the meantime, often swear to silence when their singing is done. There are those among us chosen to join, as I myself once was. I remember little, but I do remember a few words, how one part rang in my ears "...this is the song that never ends, it goes on and on my friends..."

[3-sixtyfive]

044: Migratory Crashing

You've got to have a strong constitution to do what I do. You're going to be eating a lot of weird shit, drinking a lot of weird shit, smelling, seeing, hearing, inhaling, injecting, and really it's all going to involve weird shit. Involve. That's a good way of putting it. Get ready to involve weird shit with your life. After that, it's all about communication.

You're going to be relying on your ability to talk yourself into any group to get by. My standard repertoire focuses on camp sites. People always share when camping. Go out in the real wilderness, supplies are tight, nobody shares, but camp sites? Nobody needs that fifth hot dog bun. Might as well put a dog in that bun, though, right? That's just being polite.

Keep moving, never stay anywhere too long, migrate with the warm season, and keep up to date on shots at free clinics when you can. I haven't stopped partying for six years. You won't buy a single meal, bed, drink, or date. Everywhere you go, there'll be someone high on life. Find them, be their best friend for a night, and you'll never stop living.

[3-sixtyfive]

043: Blue Fins

Jason's great quest would be but a footnote, in the annals of history. Even were a text written about his small town, he'd likely be nothing more than an anecdote as part of some larger story. He didn't have any delusions that his endeavor was anything more than a deeply personal one, worth little to anyone but himself. But he'd catch that damn, cursed fish.

The little town of Oak Bay, British Columbia, on Vancouver Island, had grown in recent years. "Little town" no longer aptly described it. The charge of development had barreled right through the town, up from Victoria. Jason was a relic of the town, a stubborn old man, a fisherman, determined to snare his prey no matter the cost. A blue finned creature, and radiant pink.

Every biologist he'd met denied it was any known species. It wasn't large, it wasn't fast and it's belly wasn't fully of precious oils. But that horrid fish still haunted him endlessly. The fish with the eyes of a madman. He tossed another oar into his boat, and readied to push off. Another day, another hunt. He'd hunt till it was dead, or he was.

[3-sixtyfive]

042: Figures in Windows

The cemetery had been at capacity for the better part of a century. Every family plot had their final member join them, every tombstone had collected moss and lichen that had been removed to varying degrees of success over the decades. Not one marker of a body beneath shone with the polish they'd undoubtedly once boasted. Only a smattering had legible text beyond faded names.

It was a quiet, largely ignored plot sitting behind a church in the city, forgotten behind high walls and neatly trimmed hedges. Nevertheless, Denise watched them every day. She watched the rows and rows of dead from her office window. No other office in her building had the view she did. She could see down through the circular window of the church, into the graveyard. 

She worked away, coding some compiler or registry software, hating her job but returning every day for the view. Only her office had this vantage point, this ordering of windows like a telescope, peering beyond her world. For whatever reason, from this vantage alone, the graves shone and the dearly departed danced among them; each day a private audience to the dance of the dead.

[3-sixtyfive]

035: Midnight in Th#e;jda;sd....

It was midnight in The City. Carlos had left the living room of his penthouse apartment, coming to stand silently looking over the metropolis around him. The sky was dark, save for a few indistinct twinkles that disturbed the inky void. Carlos tumbled the ice in his.... gj;agjfasdhfpzh63h3yw24grge75ik....Don't trust Von. He's hiding the...asdfah42390thpgeapa...tried to catch me, tell Jenkins! Tell him I'm....hpq3i-4thgsdghpasg... had granted Carlos a boon, as of late, for his contributions. 

The City had been good to him, and he had, in return, been good to The City. Carlos tightened his robe around himself, fighting the cool night winds that blew through The City at all times...131a14hl&*a... this message out...asasd;f... might be delayed, but you have to know..1941y8535143ahsdf...It had been like that, for years now. He'd have forgotten what the sunlit world looked like. Were it not for his Sim Sun Centers throughout The City, he'd have forgotten.

Carlos glanced at the folder in his other hand, and flicked it open with a motion of his wrist....432h4;hglsd...Jason and Steven, they're in dan...345hp14hds...we're all in...-3149hgpharg... and he flipped through it until he landed on the latest threat to his sunshine empire. Denise Chalmers. She knew too much. She knew how to bring the sun back. "Well, we can't have that," said Carlos, sipping his drink. He snapped the folder shut, and took note to make some calls.