#coolcatwhitby

[wilt-the-horticulturalist-b-blog]

The creepy horror stories on campfire around friends, except that it is indeed true and part of a horticultural practice. Lessons learned! It is a very useful method of producing newer and better individuals!

[12:06:11 AM] Vanya (wetwilson): whitby would tap that except he's slowly becoming kind of terrified of wilt [12:06:57 AM] Trips: that T grafting is worse than you think it is CB //puts an arm around Whit [12:07:51 AM] Trips: You see, when that happens, you slice open one specimen, and stick a body part of another live one onto it. [12:07:53 AM] Sephielya: did u t-graft that duchess [12:08:08 AM] Vanya (wetwilson): 8c [12:08:10 AM] Trips: And that becomes a variant of the particular specimen you grafted CB [12:08:10 AM] rearadmiralPercy: Did you stick a body part into the duchess [12:08:18 AM] Vanya (wetwilson): //black guy dies first you stay the frick away fromme [12:08:19 AM] Trips: OMG NO [12:08:36 AM] rearadmiralPercy: PURSES LIPS AND HIDES FACE IN PILLOW

[waywardwinters-blog]

((movie night))

[oneeyedtwohornedwhitewilson-blog]

What? I just felt like doodling them, okay? Not like I ship them or anything. 

[starvingonaprayer]

"Hey Father West, Warrick and I tried to get some of that silk you needed... Sorry we couldn't get more, I hope this is enough?" He laughs nervously, holding out the small bundle of silk threads.

"Do you get really hot in the summer? ....B-because Summer is hot, and-- why would I even ask that? Of course everyone gets hot in the summer. THANK YOU VERY MUCH FOR THE SILK! This is splendid, absolutely lovely, you're just great!!" West laughs nervously as well, cracked, high pitched, and full of suicidal consideration. 

Okay maybe not that far.

[warrick-the-medic-blog]

❈ - ideal birthday ☂ - sadness ❣ - hands

To spend it with loved ones, meaning his new family! Just to sit around and tell stories, and talk about anything but the island and survival.

Sadness; Warrick is prone to a quiet sadness. He doesn't sulk, but he will sigh often when sad.

Hands; Warricks hands are calloused from working with them from a young age.

[a-dynamite-digger]

☁ - ideal holiday ☂ - sadness ❈ - ideal birthday

☁ - ideal holiday

I’m going to take ‘holiday’ in meaning vacation because I can. I think Westcott would like to go to the beach, hot sun, warm breeze, cool water. Not to mention all the fine men and women walking about in their bathing suits.

☂ - sadness

He is not graceful when he is sad, especially not when he cries. All the things he’s bottled up spills out and he’s a bubbling mess. He doesn’t get upset(only annoyed) by little things but when it’s that kind of sadness that eats away at your soul is when he is the most destroyed.

❈ - ideal birthday

Getting drunk with friends and getting laid, not necessaryily in that order.

[waywardwinters-blog]

Hounds?...HOUNDS! (closed RP with coolcatwhitby)

Lightning strikes the ground as rain pours, turning even the most serene meadows into terrifying marshlands. A body appears from the lightning strike, a tall, bulky man with horns like a devil. As the roaring sounds of thunder fade, this man is forced to come to terms with his current situation; he had just died.

Growling and snarling of wind and creatures could be heard in the distance, but in a state of panic, Winters found himself unable to move. Was this hell? Just a few hours ago, he had been resting in a beautiful meadow before that thing appeared and tore him limb from limb. Looking at his hands, the confused man moved them slowly. Frostbite was begining to set in. He had to move, now.

Winters limped towards the nearest tree and took shelter under its foliage. He had no camp, no supplies, and no idea where he was. His backpack must be back with that monster, but lord knows he wasn't eager to head back.

The sounds grew louder. Winters pressed a hand to his forehead, it felt like he was going mad. Maybe he was going mad! Maybe this was all a dream! The barking among the cacophony of sounds hit his ears, and at that moment he didnt really care if this was a dream because now it was time to leave.

He started walking, then jogging, then sprinting as one of those nasty furballs came into his field of view. "No, nonono, not again! Not again!!!"

And so, Winters ran. He had no idea where he was going, who did this to him, or what the hell was even going on.

[starvingrunaway-blog]

Playing By Ear

Whelen was gathering supplies when he started humming. All it took was for him to pause, and hear the melody continue without him to make him realize he was not alone. That someone was playing music nearby. Quickly gathering his things up he ran towards the noise, the song. And saw the first human he had seen for days playing a harmonica. He stopped at the edge of the clearing almost not believing his. Dumbfounded he stood there gawking with a grin on his face, praying he wasn't dreaming.