#punzooo

[cancnfcdder]

"when's the last time you tasted blood?"

Punz to Sapnap

“the fucking—what?” sapnap’s voice pitches with his words, eyebrows raising up and off his damn forehead from how high they seem to stretch. he sputters, too, blinking several times as magma pockets fool in his irises—smoothing back into the polished blackstone of how his eyes looked when he isn’t startled out of his mind. the fire demon snorts, thankful he’s tucked somewhere near the wall of punz’s house and not sitting on one of the couches. he’d learned that lesson well enough at this point. “what the fuck did you just ask me?”

it isn’t an angry question—no is he particularly bothered by it. it isn’t uncommon for punz to inquire weird things about his demon blood, and how it works for him in particular. they’d once had a two hour conversation on if he could eat melted metal before, stopped only by the proven fact that he could, in fact, eat metal. not that he’d tell anyone that. last thing he wanted was to be called a fucking goat or something. did they even eat metal?

“dude,” sapnap continues, scratching at the base of his forehead beneath a tall, curved horn. “I don’t think I’ve ever even tasted blood? like, I don’t know. da—bad, bad says I should avoid shit like that. in case I get all weird about it.”

[cancnfcdder]

"Do you think we can throw her out the window?" Punz to Eret

💫 ... she doesn’t know what’s worse. simply… watching whatever is happening happen, or the horrendous snort that escapes her when punz leans in and mumbles the words in a way that only they can hear. hell, the king has to lean practically behind their shoulder to continue the snicker that bubbles up into a fit of silly giggles, a hand reaching to pat punz’s arm several times while dipped out of view.

“you cannot simply say things like that!” the woman remarks, mumbled harshly yet still giggling. “I’m supposed to be presentable!”

though this is a curious incident, standing amongst the group in a more official capacity gathered at the face of the museum, eret doesn’t make very many notions to hide the fit of giggles and amusement. people will give the monarch the right to act as she pleases, because these people—much to her chagrin—respect her. now, that is.

[cancnfcdder]

your  hair's  a  mess.  let  me  brush  it.

Phantunz to Eris

👑 morning's were, quite frankly, quite hard for the royal. he hated them - never felt completely rested no matter how much effort he put in the night before to soothe and relax his nerves. warm chamomile, a book both fascinating and enticing, baths that melted the king into a deluded puddle against the fine porcelain. no matter what eris tried, sleep refused to greet him with nothing more than the lackluster want of a brooding hen - and by the goddess, he was no more ready for morning than the cock that yelled and cried from the coop near the edge of his castle. confined on one side of the tower bordering the entry gates themselves.

he wandered through his routine with squinted eyes and sluggish hatred of the same brooding hen, dressing himself and fussing over the awful tangles of messy locks atop his head, before opting on coffee in the drawing room, where he currently sat and was found by the haunting spirit of late. phantunz was a perplexing creature, both coming and going as if they were friends and, perhaps, in another life, they very well might be. he doesn't stop the other when the produce the brush they'd been fussing with before coming here - opting to carry it down the hall from his bedchambers and into the room than putting the damned thing back.

"mmm," the king muses, tilting his head. "I suppose there's no harm, but I must warn you that it's as ruthless as a horse's mane that's knotted beyond help. I'd sooner cut the mess off than deal with it." true, really, though he hadn't had the time or energy to call the barber yet. he remembers a time when punz might have offered, with a look that gave little room for reason. fondly, the king worries his fingers - pressing and curling them against the mug in his lap. "try not to hurt yourself, hm? we can't have more of that."

[cancnfcdder]

continued from here. [ ... ] @punzooo

⚒️ ... he means nothing in his asking. nothing as harsh and as cruel as this young boy has seemed to experience. it's about the same kind of harshness as his own lack of talking—a quiet pig, who grunts and sighs more times a day than words he utters. the clattering china shattering on the floor gives him some words, though. a sharp set of swears that set more like harsh squeals, as he launches up from his spot on the opposite end of the table. "it was just a statement," technoblade scoffs, grunting as he kneels down onto the ground and bends to pick up the stray shards of fine porcelain. "didn't need to go breakin' phil's fine china. he's gon' be mad as hell when he finds out."

not that the avian would necessarily say much before waving his hands and assuring the kid it was fine. it made the piglin feel guilty still, as he had been the one to offer the cup in the first place. "you can't go around breakin' things just cause you're upset. if I've said something that made you feel like you gotta break something I'd much rather ya tell me."

though he has to admit maybe mentioning how little the boy talks was a bit... rude of him. he didn't always appreciate when people said things like that to him. "I don't talk much either," techno mentions, trying to ease out some sort of peace between the startled dog and his own splayed nostrils—huffing as he stands back up with the broken shards in hand. "I wasn't making light of it. Just conversation. I'm not—" a sigh. "I ain't very good at it to begin with. most folk are scared of me because I'm a piglin in the overworld, so they steer clear."

[cancnfcdder]

continued from here. [ ... ] @punzooo

🛸 ... the spider watches punz go, tugging the jacket further around their body with a short noise that sounds halfway between sleep and curiosity. the idea of being a 'aliensicle' does make the younger wrinkle his nose—however, it drops as quickly as it had come. "yeah, then you'll have to clean up the puddle I become. I'm sure I'd make pretty shit plant juice." the words are slurred, a dull drone of aimlessness that matches punz's own tone perfectly. of course that was the case though, punz had been their model for everything for as long as they could remember.

another set of arms extends out from underneath his hoodie, which does jack shit for the chill, and tugs the bottom half of the jacket closer to their body. a slow shiver has started to take over the spider's body, and he leans over until he's flopped out across the couch—still somehow coiled up like a spring. "of all the things to get stuck with being a spider, you'd think that they'd find something more fun than freezing to death at any coldfront that hits."

purpled shrugs his shoulders, wiggling himself onto the arm of the couch—shifting instead to be lazily sprawled. "of all the shit, I'm gonna get taken out by the cold."

[cancnfcdder]

[ jacket ] sender takes their jacket off and hangs it on receiver's shoulders

Punz to Purpled

🛸 ... purpled jolts. he doesn't mean to, doesn't intend to jump like he does. it comes in a rush as his eyelids snaps open, fluttering several times against the sleepy chill that settled in his bones. the spider-hybrid blinks blurrily up at punz, who's half leaned over the blond with some... sort of face. they breathe a little harder, shuffling against the fabric laid over their shoulders. "did I fall asleep?"

it's a trick question. the room is colder than it should have been, enough to pull the spider into a sleepy stupor that punz would have known to look for. he lifts a hand and rubs it at his face, fixing the front of his rumpled bangs of tawny-blond. "it's too cold," he complains, voice flat and barely audible. "I'm gonna die."

[cancnfcdder]

continued from here. [ ... ] @punzooo

🐍 ... it's easy enough to find the words that seem to be stumping the hybrid, what with the messy congealed method of techno’s hand and the far heavier use of words that sound and look very similar, but all read differently. “it’s a homophone.” dakota chimes in, her ears perking several flicks higher than they had been previously. “the use of two or more words that sound the same,” he says, and hovers over punz’s shoulder so that he can lean and point. “but it’s also a homonym. he’s using a lot of similar words to make them confusing.”

the rabbit-hybrid taps his toes against the chair, brows furrowing at the notion. when he’d asked techno to write him out a couple sheets of paper to help someone learning to read bigger, more complicated sentence structures, with no indication and no means of telling that it was punz, somehow the damn pig still found ways to get on his nerves. a soft puff of air leaves him as he slides a page of empty parchment over, and leans over it to scribble barely legible words.

“he’s using the word ‘read’ here, like ‘I’m reading a book.’ but there’s several uses. ‘read’ for example? ‘I read this book.’ sounds way different than it did the first pass.” carefully, the blonde dips back to show punz the scribbling. his handwriting is not nearly as eloquent as the piglin's.

“I think he wrote a bunch of bullshit on paper to confuse you, well, confuse someone. I didn’t tell him it was for you.” dakota shakes his head, frowning as one silver and one green eye settle on the side of punz’s face. carefully, with a little hesitancy, the hybrid dips his fingers into the fluffy locks of his companion’s hair and pets his fingers through the tresses. “you’re doing better than you think, I promise. reading is hard, and you’re trying to hone a skill you didn’t have before. it’s like your knives, yeah? You’re going to be total trash at it until you get it right, and even that’s slow progress after.”

[mcskedprisoner]

𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐬 : where does your muse feel most safe, what does that look like? 𝐚𝐬𝐡 : what has your muse lost that still haunts them?

𝐧𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 : 𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎-𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚜. | Accepting

𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐬 : where does your muse feel most safe, what does that look like?

Depending on the verse, Dream feels most safe amongst his friends. People he trusts. But the constant place he feels the safest is with his family even if he's pushed them away. He knows he could depend on Puffy and Foolish if need be.

𝐚𝐬𝐡 : what has your muse lost that still haunts them?

His wings. All he has left are stubs that he's binded and hid from everyone he could. There's a possibility that Puffy might know about his wings being forcibly torn from him, something that is against the rules of Minecraft itself. Hybrid traits should be off limits but some servers (Like anarchy ones such as 2B2T) ignore that rule. He doesn't remember how he lost them. Just that one day he just didn't have them. It's why he is envious of other avians.