#apocalopalyptic

[royalreef]

GRABBY GRABBY GRABBY GRABBY GRABBY GRABBY—

[pxppinmolly-archived]

@apocalopalyptic​ spun:

“people think i’m weird.” *hands u a mae*

* Misc // Accepting 

Molly gives a low hum, crossing her legs as her hands rest up on the railing she sat upon casually. “Yeah, people try ta’ use that word as an insult a lot ... Ain’t nothin’ wrong with ‘weird’. All tha’ best people are weird, in my opinion.”

Molly gives a tilt of her head as she looks down at the young feline. “Why do people like ta’ think you’re weird?”

[royalreef]

       “Amira, do not listen to her. That is advice for a regular Prom, it is not applicable to Monster Proms!”

[pxppinmolly-archived]

@apocalopalyptic​ spun:

“One minute you’re talking about nutting the next you’re talking about when you were 6 year olds and first learned the feeling of betrayal.” //could I have made my own thing? maybe. Does this scream 'in need of counselling' at me? very much yes

* I’m Vain Sorry // Accepting

Molly gave a rather sage nod, keeping her eyes low as she still looks over Amira’s file rather lazily. Not that she didn’t care, but, merely, she feels she already has a good idea about the student before her.

Closing the folder, Molly returns her eyes back to the young woman as she gives a smile. “It’s good ta’ have a close set’a friends you can talk ta’ ‘bout that, ya’ know? But, nothin’ wrong with talkin’ ta’ someone else, who don’t hold any personal biases and has experience dealin’ with this sorta thing, eitha’, ya’ know?”

[13xwishes]

" Excuse me. As I recall this was not my fault. " Toralei for Gigi! ~@apocalopalyptic

Monster High Webisodes || { Accepting }

For @apocalopalyptic || Main Verse

Needless to say, the look on Gigi's face would say otherwise. Staring at the mess in the creepeteria and the fact someone threw something AT the werecat which the genie barely dodged.

The question was what happened and how?

[royalreef]

@apocalopalyptic inquired: "Do I really look that bad..?" (btw... <3)

"Oh yes, very much so! Quite terrible, really." Truly, of all the times for Miranda to decide to prove that she, surely, was capable of speaking something other than a complete and total lie, fabrication, or misleading comment, now was the single best time of all. She doesn't provide the relief of judgement either, picking her way through the smouldering wreckage with nothing but her usual smile and bright demeanor. Worse yet, while she watches her step, she doesn't hurry or rush, stepping through with the same care that's been witnessed before for puddles of rainwater on the ground. It all comes with the vague sense that she still expects Amira to throw down her jacket for Miri to step on.

It takes her a moment. There's quite a lot of mess left behind, and even with Amira at its epicenter there's a long wait for Miranda's navigation through it. Her tail winds behind her, cutting a path back out to follow through the dirt and debris, something clear to follow back to safety. Her hands are clutched delicately to her chest, only reaching out briefly to steady herself. A moment or two passes where Miranda slips out of sight, looking like she might have to climb over what's in her way, before she pokes her head out from the other direction and continues onwards.

Worse yet, even by the time she reaches Amira, head tilting curiously from one side to the next, she's still spotless. Miranda, princess and royalty and terrible little blueblood, still can't be touched by all the dirt and all the dust around her, even when she's standing in the middle of what used to be a plume of the stuff.

"Are you alright?" she asks, and she sounds like she means it, which could make it better or worse. Miranda's still smiling though, her fins flicked upwards, as she offers a hand down, to help Amira up. "That was quite an impact! I am surprised that there is no crater!"

[royalreef]

@apocalopalyptic || Continued from here.

The fins flatten back with the sudden movement, head following as if to double check that Miranda was fully out of the arc of the launch. The excitement all at once made her eyes open wider — simple reaction — and one that she must have immediately regretted for how quickly she pulled her nictitating membranes over her eyes and kept them there. It gave her a haunting appearance, the lack of clarity and detail over her vision for the same frosted membrane appearing as though someone had stuck marbles into her sockets. But it didn't impair her vision, as difficult as it might have been to see through them from a distance, and it felt better than wholly keeping her eyes open.

Even as she lifted her head back up more normally, settling down, she kept her third eyelids closed. It did feel better now — less of a feeling on her gills, in her nose, in her eyes, less of the irritation of feeling it on and in her gills, of the hyper-awareness it brought to the sensation, the unbearable and unavoidable awareness of her skin and all the wrinkles within it, an awareness that was leaning from uncomfortable towards the painful. Better, though, was comparative. Still Miri kept shaking her hands, kept pulling her lips back until the corners of her mouth were nearly touching the actual corners of her jaw, waiting for the feeling to dissipate.

"Right, right, I-" Her voice was still doing things she wouldn't allow it to do. It was wandering back to the shrill, the frayed, making the vowels pop out hard against her teeth.

None of this was proper, none of this was becoming of who she allowed herself to be, who she was supposed to be, who she had any right to be. It wasn't right. She was supposed to remain calm and proper and denote her words with crystal perfection, leave nothing out of place, become as a living testimony of the crown. More and more, even as she flexed her gills and splayed them as wide as possible, wide enough that if Amira looked hard enough she would be able to see light coming in through the other side of Miranda's throat — she couldn't tell what she hated more, the lingering irritation or the fact that she couldn't put herself back on her leash.

She clenched her eyes shut again, pressed them down into pennies beneath the bone of her brow, tried to breathe. The sensation was dying still, easing enough that Miranda's arms began to still, her hands pulling tight to her chest instead. Again she tried to think of something else to say, someplace else to point herself, and again and again she failed.

All she ended up managing for all this work was a soft, tiny, ashamed, "Sorry."

[chaosmultiverse-a]

“Oz, you know what? You’re a twink. I’m going to go smoke some weed now.” Amira for Oz! ~@apocalopalyptic

Oz blinks for a few moments unsure what to say, before awkwardly laughing.

"I mean, yeah I am a twink, you're right. I just... Uh, you weren't asking about why I have my form look like this were you..." he was thumv wasling himself while he spoke, well more two phobias were.

"Can I come with you to smoke weed?" Not that he could uh, get high but he liked spending time with his friends.