Totters-Lane

totters-lane  asked:

Non-binary Gryffindors needing to relax in safe spaces set up by Hufflepuffs because it's tiring being out there and brave all day when everyone's misgendering and insult you all day (whether they mean it or not) especially when those people are your own housemates. Depressed Gryffindors confusing their housemates because the other Gryffindor students don't release that just waking up in the morning is so brave for someone who's depressed.

Wonderful

Raccoon Niece

I sat in the apartment, eagerly waiting by the door. Patty emerged from her room, asking why I had been up since the wee hours of the night. I told her that my niece, Chloe, is coming over to visit, and I plan to show her the ropes on how a raccoon must act. She is getting to that age. 

Patty wasn’t too interested in the details, but I explained that all raccoons experience something we call, “The Scurry Year.” It’s a phase when all young raccoons wish to learn the tricks of the trade. Often times, these kits learn that being a raccoon isn’t easy, and that the first thing they learn is how to escape very angry ponies, foxes, wolves, and other animals.

I remember my first time. I tried to steal something from an old tinkerer living in a big blue box at I.M. Foreman’s junkyard on 76 Totter’s Lane, I think it was a pair of anti-radiation gloves. But that crazy Irish unicorn shot at me! Blew the tip of my fluffy little tail off.  

But that was in the past. All I wanted to do was teach Chloe everything I had learned over the years; how to pick a lock, how to pick a pocket, how to fake one’s death, what trash is safe to eat, and that one can always trust a changeling. 

When I heard a little knock at my door, I swung the door wide open, greeting my precious little cousin. But instead, I was greeted by a pizza delivery pony standing in the hallway. Disappointed, I shut the door. A few minutes later, I heard another knock at the door. This time, my little niece stood in the hallway. She was a wee little kit with an adorable green bow around her left ear. That’s the funny thing with us raccoons, you can’t really tell us apart. Just don’t let us catch you saying we all look the same. 

She seemed excited to see me, having not seen her since I moved to Ponyville. Found out that she recently solved a Rubik’s Cube by herself. I was impressed, to say the least. I can’t even figure out how to solve one side of those things. 

The first thing I did was take her to a nearby farm, where I would teach her the fundamentals of stealing from a very dangerous pony. We donned a bush disguise, that being an uprooted bush, slowly made our way to our quarry; dream corn. From the farmhouse, we watched the dream corn’s guardian, Scary Crows, a living scarecrow pony. I told Chloe to observe the scarecrow; how she wields the bananarang, and what sounds draw her attention. She was surrounded by a murder of crows, plus a crow hippogriff. The hippogriff was squawking on and on about something, but I couldn’t understand her through her accent and very odd vernacular. I asked Chloe what she would do. She told me that, since scarecrows are mostly hay and potato sack, she would set something on fire, drawing Scary Crows’ attention to the danger, and then use the ensuing chaos to her advantage. I admonished her for the very idea, it was foolish, dangerous, and, most importantly, a terrible idea. A raccoon does not hurt anyone, we simply wish to steal. We only hurt others when cornered. But while I was distracted scolding her, she had already prepared a torch. So I dragged her away from the farm and flammable objects to prepare her for the next lesson; picking pockets. 

We stood in the middle of a marketplace, ponies gathering around the many stalls, looking for the next deal. We lurked by Snew Pea’s pea stand, looking for a suitable target. We spotted a pair of ponies, a sky blue pony with a dual colored mane wearing a hoodie and a collar with a bell, and a dark greyish blue pony with a pink mane. The two of them were constantly nuzzling against one another. Blinded by love, perfect. I signaled to the kit to grab something from one of them. She gave me a little salute before slinking away into the crowd. A moment later, she reappeared with a big grin on her face. I asked her about how it went, and she showed me what she was able to grab; a riding crop, multiple lengths of rope tied together with intricate knots, and a ball gag. Terrified and confused, I asked my niece which pony did she take them from. She told me that she got them from the dark blue pony with the pretty pink mane. Here’s the problem; she didn’t have pockets, she wasn’t carrying a bag, and she wasn’t wearing them. A single question ran through my mind. 

“Where did she keep them?!” 

@ask-doctor-dimension @ask-scarycrows @sugarwings-art @juicy-honey @ask-snewpea