#viollsstart

[avgvstinc-blog]

> | OPEN

Augustine has always had a hard time saying no to his mom. The two have always been close. She’s raised him on her own as far as they’re concerned. Not in a bitter way, but the means that they’ve grown together. Every year she sets up shop at the Violl’s Cove Fall Festival. She sets up her charms and her potions and all the little plants that she’s gifted with healthy growing. She makes her happy cookies and her love brownies and people eat it up every year. Every year Augustine helps out. Every year when her bones get a bit weaker, he’s carrying more boxes from his car and spending less time looking cute for the locals.

He’s got the stack of crates beside one of the tables. She’s out in front of the stand greeting familiar faces. He’s placing things out in the display she likes, seeing as someone’s coming to gaze on the goods. He watches them pick on up. “That stuff’s a little too helpful.” He chuckles to himself, “I took it once when my sleeping was real out of sorts... slept for like three days straight.” He whistles. “Really pay attention to the serving size on that one.”

[not-shiloh]

When Shiloh was little, like little as in she can't really remember how old she was, her dad told her and Macy this joke - Or, really, it was a riddle. Regardless, it always made her laugh, at the time, and still now whenever she thinks of it. When is a door not a door? When it's a jar. She knows that it's something that's supposed to be clever, a little trick, but she's always thought it was funny. She's looking at Thor, who is running in circles around her, wrapping his leash around her legs, and looking generally ridiculous. When is a dog not a dog? She's still not entirely convinced Thor is a dog. He flops over on his back, he's always hated the leash, and she sighs, and leans down to unclip it. 

It's instaneous, really, how he jumps up and runs down the sidewalk. She doesn't bother to call after him, because he always comes back. He isn't trained, but he's not dumb either, so she's not worried about it. At least, she's not worried until she sees Thor launch all of his six pounds of body weight at an unsuspecting passerby. This is when she intervenes, rushing over to scoop him up. 

Flustered, she looks at the person as apologetically as she can. "I'm so sorry, he's really just.. He's very friendly, I promise." Thor, however, is growling and yapping, like he's trying to prove her wrong. "He just wants to say hello."

[nicholscn-blog]

;: open

“You want this?” he asks. Between the two he slides something over, a postcard sized sticker showing a cartoon Mothman with #MOTHHEAD  written across it in large bold lettering. 

“Some kid downtown gave it to me after I told him I didn’t want it.” He didn’t mind the festivals. He used to enjoy them a lot, actually. It was only when they built up the budget to start inviting pseudo-celebrity cryptids that would draw large crowds that the annual Fall festival began to get on his nerves. The island seemed small enough as it was. “I’d feel bad throwing it away.”

[blakeconnolly-blog]

Hometown Monsters | Open

The world could be ending and her work would still expect her to come in. Blake was significantly drenched by the time she pushed by the door to the diner, hair plastered to her fair, and the hoodie she tossed on hung heavily on her frame, dripping all over the floor from the downpour. Her umbrella all but useless after being turned inside out by the wind and rain during her travels. All she wanted was a smoke but there was no way should would be able to light it even if she were to try to hide under the awning at the back door.

“Blake! There’s hungry people, get changed!”

Taking a deep breathe in while the customers all took note of who her boss was erratically shouting at, she hurried to the dingy break room bathroom to change into her uniform that was only damp in comparison. Haphazardly tying her hair into a bun, looking as presentable as should could given the circumstances. A customer service smile spreading across her face, baring her teeth, she dared someone to test her today. Honestly she would just think really mean things since she really needed her job, but having somewhat of an attitude gave her confidence to get through her a shift she was dreading.

It appeared like someone had just sat down, Blake approached notepad and pencil  poised, in hand. “Hi there! My name is Blake, and I’ll be your server. Is there anything I can start you with?”

[nicholscn-blog]

;: open

Far enough from the festivities to not be part of the crowd, and close enough to still hear the music and smell the kettle corn, Andy sits on a park bench and watches from afar. Somewhere over there he lost his mom, no doubt to some kind of market stall selling beaded jewelry. He figures he’ll let her walk for a while. She would know where to find him later.

The booth housing this year’s guest of honor catches his eye.

“Do you think he would be as famous if someone ripped his wings off?” He would never do such a thing, but one has to wonder. “Would he even be Mothman at that point? Or, like, Caterpillar-man?”