lexiepiper

Mouse

lexiepiper submitted:

I’m supposed to be working on two other pieces right now and I also have uni work to do but I figured I could take a few minutes to scribble out something so at least I feel a little better about that post. Sorry, it’s messy and whatnot, but I just had to get it out of my system so here you go.
—————
The floor was smooth under Maddie’s bare feet, chilling her toes and sending pangs of pain brought on by the cold through her ankles. She had once fallen into a lake during the last weeks of winter, and the water had been so cold that she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. The feeling in her feet was exactly the same, and Maddie knew that if she didn’t hurry, the cold would seep through her flannelette pyjamas and sink into her bones.

The smooth tunnel drilled itself into the bedrock that surrounded the lab. Almost perfectly cylindrical beyond its entrance, the diameter was an exact two metres, and the metal tube itself reached six metres into the earth. Maddie knew every inch of the thing - it was her crowning invention, after all.

There was a button on the wall, about halfway in. All she had to do was push it.

A mouse, white with eyes that visibly glowed, was perched on top of the portal’s frame. He watched Maddie with that unwavering green gaze, and she watched him right back.

“Who are you?” she asked, shifting from foot to foot in an effort to dispel that numbing pain.

The phantom mouse broke eye contact in favour of cleaning his whiskers, and Maddie eventually realised that he wasn’t going to answer her.
She took a step towards the portal.

“Are you really going to do that?” the mouse asked, staring at her again.
“If I don’t, then you will, right?”

A tattered white ear flicked in annoyance. “What do you mean?” he said. “I’m your mouse, remember? I’ve already done it.”

Keep reading

The Mistletoe Debate

Merry Christmas, Laura! Surprise, I’m your Christmas Truce!

I’m not exactly good at fluff, but here’s some Amethyst Ocean for you. Turns out that we share an OTP!

Enjoy your story!

-Lexie

—————

Somewhere between saving the world and completing high school, Danny had developed an unlikely relationship with Pamela and Jeremy Manson.

They pulled some rather impressive strings to clear the kid’s arrest record (it turns out that being arrested for busting Dash Baxter’s jaw could be rather detrimental to Danny’s future career options when the kid’s main goals were either space or the police force), and in return Danny was more than happy to help out whenever they needed.

Shivering in his knitted Christmas sweater, Danny shifted from foot to foot on the Mansons’ doorstep. “Where did she even get a flamethrower?” he breathed, staring at a flaming tree that lit up the frigid darkness.

“Uh, the shed?”

Danny shot a glare at the young man. “So, why is she torching the blasted tree?” he grumbled. “For your information, Sam loves nature. What in the Ghost Zone did you do?

The sleek stranger raised a singed eyebrow. “You even talk like a ghost,” he remarked with a sneer that made Danny want to blast him in the face.

Jeremy Manson chose that moment to intervene. “Daniel, this is Kyle. He’s-“

“The son of your business partner, right? Sam mentioned you were having them over for dinner.”

The blond nodded, straightening his back and tugging at a glinting cufflink. “Yes, that is correct.”

“So what’s with the fire?” Danny asked, holding up a hand when Kyle opened his mouth. “Jeremy called me here, so I’ll have it from him, thanks.”

“Samantha was fairly well-behaved, and even agreed to wear something that wasn’t black. But Kyle here asked to see the greenhouse after our meal, and ran back inside with chunks burned out of his suit, screaming that our daughter lost the plot.”

“Well, it’s not the ghost hunting,” Danny observed, pointing towards a figure beside the flaming foliage. “Look, that’s a human weapon.”

Turning to the man in the gently smoking suit, Danny crossed his arms over his chest with a frown. “Right, what’d you do?”

“Nothing!” Kyle exclaimed, holding up hands that were blistered and a lovely shade of cherry-red. “We were going to the greenhouse, and walked under a tree with mistletoe, so I tried to kiss her and she got really mad.”

Closing his eyes, Danny took a deep breath before glaring at the man with newfound venom. “Did she say no?”

“Well, yeah, but there was mistletoe-

Danny grabbed Kyle’s shoulders, shoving him against the side of the house. “When a girl says no, she means no!” he growled. “What’d you do when she got upset?”

“Nothing!”

“She wouldn’t be burning the tree if you backed off when you should have!”

“Gee,” Kyle muttered, shoving Danny off him. “Keep your mitts to yourself, Phantom, I’m not a ghost or anything. I told her that so long as there was mistletoe, I wouldn’t give up, no matter how hard to get she played. That’s when she fetched the weapon!”

Clenching his hands into fists, Danny shoved them into his pockets and reminded himself that the only bad guys he was qualified to hit were already dead.

“My name’s Danny,” he spat, “and maybe if you treated her less like an object and more like a person, I wouldn’t have to clean up your mess!”

As he stomped towards the fire, Danny’s mouth curved into a smile as he heard Jeremy say “By the way, my daughter already has a boyfriend. Now, I believe that your parents are ready to go home.”

Following the footprints in the snow, Danny wound his way towards the tree whilst successfully avoiding Pamela’s various garden beds. As he neared the tree, the ghost boy grinned. “You know, when I asked if we could roast marshmallows and chestnuts over the fire tomorrow, I didn’t quite mean like this.”

Sam started before glaring at her boyfriend. “Well, you didn’t factor in a pompous prat, either.”

"No,” the halfa agreed, slinging one arm around her shoulder while using his other hand to pry the flamethrower from her grasp.

Sam let go without a fight. “Why does every guy have to be a jerk as soon as they come by a bit of money?” she sighed. “They think the whole world belongs to them!”

Danny shrugged as best he could. “The poor ones can be real jerks as well,” he reminded her.

Sniffing, Sam pressed her face into his shoulder. “Did I overdo it?”

“Nah. The only reason I didn’t shoot him was because you’d already singed his stupid hair and ruined his stupid suit.”

“I also burned his stupid, roaming hands,” the goth giggled. “But now I get why you blasted Dash in the face last year.”

“Mmm,” Danny murmured, angling his head so that Sam’s skull fitted in the hollow of his neck. “Well, he’s going home now, so can I put out the tree before it spreads?”

Sniffing again, Sam wiped her nose on the sleeve of her jacket before nodding. “Did my dad seem angry?”

Tugging off his gloves, Danny held out his bare hands. With a whump, the tree was suddenly buried in a massive mound of snow. “Not at you,” he assured her, “but I should probably apologise for being rude to his business partner’s snooty son.”

“Probably,” Sam agreed as Danny replaced his gloves. “We wouldn’t want my parents thinking that you’re a delinquent now, would we?”

“What, like that’s worse than being half ghost?”

“You’re an idiot.”

Danny grinned, pulling the girl close again as steam from the doused inferno rose beneath a gibbous moon. “Yeah, but I’m your idiot.” Tilting his head forwards, the halfa pressed his mouth against hers for a handful of heartbeats. “Now, let’s get you inside so I can go home. Dad’ll be having a fit right about now because Santa won’t come until we’re all asleep.”

Sam gasped in mock horror. “Oh, no! We wouldn’t want that, now, would we?”

Chuckling, the teen took his girlfriend’s hand. “He’d suck me into the thermos for sure,” he joked, pressing another kiss to her cheek before starting back in the direction of the house, “but I think I can spare a few more minutes to spend in your company…”

Smirking, Sam pulled her hand away, shoving Danny into a snowdrift. “Go home, you dork.”

The halfa shook his head with a grin, pulling her leg so that the girl fell beside him with a squeal.

“Merry Christmas, Sam,” he whispered, lips barely brushing her forehead.

Smirking, she grabbed him by the hair and kissed him hard on the mouth. They pulled away, breathing hard and sending little puffs of steam into the freezing air. “Merry Christmas, Ghost Boy.”

 this is beautiful  I love it ! Idiot Kyle :l  and the danny and sam parts waaaaa :3

   *high fives because we share otp* thank you so much and merry christmas Lexie!

youtube

medicine [danny phantom]

for lexiepiper/ghostdirectlyahead

Merry Christmas from your Secret Santa!  :)

Oops I angst-ed.

Dramatic Irony

lexiepiper submitted

“Drive,” Arthur gasped as the door slammed shut behind him.

“But that was-”

“Just drive!” he shouted, wriggling so that she could slip past him into the drivers’ seat.

“That was Lew-”

“Vivi,” Arthur whimpered, “we can come back later.”

He clamped his good hand, his flesh hand, over the spot where metal met skin. Blood discoloured the sleeve of his shirt, and Arthur took a shuddering breath. “I think my port’s damaged,” he explained.

Vivi didn’t move to take the keys from where Arthur had dropped them on the floor. “We’ll come back, right?”

Arthur nodded, breathing as deeply and evenly as possible as the pain in his arm throbbed and spiked with every heartbeat, and why had he ever wanted to connect his nerves to this metal monstrosity because damn, it hurt!

As Vivi retrieved the keys and the engine spluttered to life, Arthur fancied that through the tears that were slipping down his cheeks, he could see somebody standing in one of the mansion’s dimly-lit windows.

The corner traffic lights reflected on the windscreen of the van as Vivi waited to pull into the little B&B half an hour down the road. It wasn’t the spot they’d originally planned to spend the first night of their celebratory road trip, but so long as there was a hot bath, Arthur didn’t really care.

“I thought you said that your arm was fine for exertion.”

Arthur flinched. It was the first thing that she’d said since they pulled away from the mansion - Lewis' mansion, he reminded himself - and the accusation was like she’d slapped him. In fact, he’d have preferred it if she’d slapped him.

It took a moment to find his voice. “It’s fine for small things,” Arthur responded, finally peeling his hand away from the bloodied sleeve. His fingers were tacky with drying blood. “I didn’t exactly think that I’d get dropped down a trapdoor, or chased around a massive building, or a-attacked…”

Vivi’s shoulders stiffened, and Arthur shrank back in his seat. The movement pressed Mystery against his side, and the mechanic jumped, shying away from the dog automatically.

The light turned green, and Vivi pulled the van into a parking space directly outside the motel’s office doors. She turned off the vehicle and unclasped her seat belt before twisting to fully face the trembling man.

“What am I going to do with you,” she sighed.

Arthur found his gaze drawn towards his friend’s face, and was surprised to notice sagging shadows beneath her eyes that matched his own.

“I thought you don’t remember what happened in the cave,” he blurted.

Her face twisted into something that he couldn’t place before smoothing back into exhaustion.

“I don’t.” Vivi settled back into her seat with a shrug, and Arthur clamped his hand around the hem of his shirt in an attempt to quell its shaking.

His other, artificial arm hung useless and unmoving at his side.

Vivi’s gaze traced that false limb, and she reached for Arthur’s sleeve. “Let me disconnect that,” she offered.

Arthur shook his head. “Let’s go inside first, and then we can get this thing off me where there’s more room to move.”

She stared at him for a moment, and Arthur swallowed thickly and tried his best to smile.

Vivi grimaced back at him. “We’re seriously a mess,” she sighed.

Arthur chuckled, leaning back against the headrest and closing his eyes. “Yeah, we are.”

With a rustle of cloth, the girl beside him opened the door and slipped from her seat.

“Arthur?”

He opened his eyes again, meeting her gaze. “Yeah?”

“Was the cave really as horrible as my nightmares?”

She stood just outside the van, leaning one hand against the open door. She looked so sad, like a balloon that had once floated proudly overhead but now rested on the floor, its surface sagging and wrinkled.

He opened his mouth to reassure her that that wasn’t the case, that everything was fine, but nothing came to mind. He couldn’t lie anymore.

Something in his face must have betrayed him because Vivi sighed. “Yeah, I thought so,” she whispered before shutting the door with a gentle thump.

The stars glimmered through the open rear doors of the van, and Arthur sighed as he stared at them. His port still throbbed steadily, but the gut-wrenching, nauseating agony had subsided somewhat now that the nerves had been disconnected. Vivi had even managed to force him to take his prescription painkillers, although they hadn’t begun to work yet.

The offending metallic limb was draped over his lap, and Arthur grumbled as he fiddled with one of the wires. The job was difficult one-handed, and almost impossible without a workbench, but after a hot bath and wrapping up his stump-port in thick white bandages, he needed to sit outside for a while.

They really shouldn’t have gone on this trip.

Arthur had been against it, but Vivi had been her usual excited self, and how could he not give in to her enthusiasm after the horrible months that they’d just had?

Sure, his arm hadn’t been quite as ready as he’d inferred.

Sure, he still jumped and jolted whenever Mystery bumped against him, even if the dog-that-Arthur-knew-was-some-sort-of-monster was after nothing more than a scratch behind the ears.

Sure, Arthur himself barely slept, barely ate, barely lived with the shadow that had cast itself over him.

But why couldn’t they just once have nothing bad happen?

The warm night air chilled around him, and Arthur shuddered as his fragile soul trembled with the ripples in the spectral plane.

Something appeared in the darkness before him, glowing purple and radiating grief and fury that sang in twin beats to the pain that constantly ran through Arthur’s own soul.

The mechanic scuttled backwards with a cry, but he only had one arm, and even though it’d been ten months since he’d had two of the things, rehab really isn’t enough to sort out those reflexes that rely on limbs that aren’t there anymore.

He fell onto his damaged side with a yelp, immediately curling around a port that screamed with pain at the impact. Tears sprang to his eyes for the second time that evening, and a sob slipped involuntarily through his lips.

The arm clattered to the ground outside the van.

Arthur lay on the floor, his hand once again clasped around his port and tears streaming down his cheeks. This was bad. He’d need more rehab, more stitches, more damned hospitals. They’d remove the port. He’d have to start again.

The shadows danced around him, cast by a source of purple light just outside the van.

Arthur gritted his teeth, forcing himself to sit up. He kept his gaze away from the ghost that he knew waited there for him, busying himself instead by checking the fresh bandages on his stump. A dark spot the size of a pinhead had seeped through the fabric, and was growing steadily larger.

The shadows moved with the figure in his peripheral vision, and Arthur flinched back, this time leaning on his good arm. This was it - he was going to die here, in the back of the van, with nothing to defend himself except for a toolbox, a box of trail mix, and a bag full of books. Panic stuck in his throat, and Arthur’s heart beat wildly, like a bird fluttering frantically about its cage.

The ghost straightened up, and Arthur found himself staring not into the bone-white skull from the mansion, but something else entirely.

Lewis’ mouth and eyebrows turned down in a frown, and in his large, gentle hands, he held a shiny metal limb.

“Artie,” he whispered, and the mechanic shuddered at the echoes of the void that shadowed the spectre’s every syllable, “what on earth happened to your arm?”

submitted by lexiepiper

*wriggles into your submit box because it’s late but I’m not tired yet*

You asked to be fed. I hope this suffices.

—–

“I didn’t think that dogs were allowed in here.”

Arthur lay still, deliberately keeping his fingers loose as his hand rested on top of the blanket. With only one arm instead of the far more common two, there had only been half the space to work with that the doctors usually had - thus, Arthur’s forearm was swathed in plastic patches, adhering tubes and needles to his skin.

It itched.

Mystery simply flicked his tail, bounding onto the chair beside Arthur’s bed and seating himself as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Soft light filtered through the frosted glass pane in the door, backlighting the creature with a gentle glow.

Arthur stared at his uninvited guest. “What are you doing here?”

The dog-that-wasn’t-a-dog offered no reply, and seemed to be studying the little screen that monitored Arthur’s heart rate.

“I know you can talk,” Arthur spat when he gave no indication that he was going to answer.

Mystery scratched behind his collar briefly before switching his gaze to the various intravenous bags attached to the unfortunate patient’s single wrist.

Arthur shifted in irritation as the needles in his arm continued to itch, unable to alleviate the sensation. He regretted the movement instantly - despite the constant drip of morphine, his stump still throbbed at the movement. “If you’re not gunna talk, then get outta here,” he grumbled. “It’s probably two in the morning by now.”

Mystery’s ears twitched. “Actually, it’s almost three.”

A shiver rippled through Arthur’s body at that strange, powerful voice. A voice that came directly from the throat of Vivi’s dog. “The nurse’ll be in here soon,” he squeaked once his own voice had returned to him. “He usually drops in just after three, when the shift changes.”

Mystery chuckled, and Arthur forced himself to stay still instead of shying away as those intelligent eyes burned momentarily red. “For some reason, I don’t think that he’ll see me.”

The blond swallowed thickly, the fingers on his hand automatically clenching. The straining of tendons shifted a needle in his wrist, and Arthur relaxed again as the itch became more pronounced.

Mystery watched this small, automatic display of fear until the young man had managed to uncurl his fingers again. “You’re not sleeping,” he observed.

Arthur’s mouth thinned into a tight line. “No,” he admitted.

“It’s natural,” the kitsune murmured.

Arthur snorted through his nose, the sound loud in the quiet room. “Nothing about this situation is natural. You’re talking, for crying out loud! And I… I killed…”

“Stop,” Mystery commanded, leaning forward so that his nose gently bumped Arthur’s open palm. The mechanic flinched away from the contact with an involuntary yelp and Mystery drew back, hurt clear despite his inhuman face.

“Arthur…”

The blond quivered beneath his blanket, face grey with blood loss and fear. “Mystery, I-”

“I’m sorry, Arthur.”

The mechanic frowned at his early-morning guest. “What?” he breathed.

Mystery took the opportunity to leap onto the bed, nestling against Arthur’s left side despite the man’s trembling. They lay together in silence, and eventually, gentle fingers tangled themselves in Mystery’s soft fur. “I’m sorry for hurting you,” he whispered once Arthur’s breathing had settled. “I didn’t want to, but if I hadn’t, you would have been completely overruled.”

Arthur’s fingers began to move, softly carding through fur halfway down the kitsune’s back. “I know,” he whispered in response. “I just… I’m sorry if I jump around you a bit. I’ll try not to.”

Mystery hummed assent, closing his eyes as he was petted. “Things will work out,” he promised.

Arthur’s breath hitched in the moment between two heartbeats before smoothing out again into a steady rhythm. He didn’t speak again until footsteps began to echo down the hallway. “Are you sure the nurse won’t see you?”

Mystery wagged his tail so that it beat gently against Arthur’s leg through the blankets. “Who knows?” he responded. “Maybe I’ll give them the fright of their life.”

Arthur chuckled weakly, his hand stilling in its movements in favour of simply resting in place on Mystery’s back. “Will you stay with me?” he asked. “I think I’ll be able to sleep if I know you’re guarding me.”

The strange little visitor shifted, wedging himself even firmer against his friend’s side. “I’ll always protect you,” he whispered, and Arthur’s breathing grew slow and heavy as the machines beeped and whirred around them.

Lexiepiper:

Here’s something I was working on about a year ago what are your thoughts on it?

“Mum, could half-ghosts be possible?” Danny blurted out as he helped her with the dishes.

Maddie started, staring at her son. “Of course not, Danny. Ghosts are creatures in limbo, halfway to heaven and halfway to hell.”

The halfa flinched. “Yeah, um… What would someone have to do to be a ghost instead of going straight to heaven?”

Maddie shrugged, scrubbing vigorously at a saucepan stained with ectoplasmic residue. “Nobody really knows that.”

The teen sighed, seating himself at the table. “Have you ever seen a ghost… you know… change?”

The huntress inclined her head. “Plenty of times.”

Danny straightened in his seat. “Really? Any angels?”

At this the woman shook her head. “Ghosts always do bad deeds, Sweetie. We hunt them so that they don’t have the chance to become bad enough to turn into a demon.”

The halfa slumped his shoulders again. “Oh.”

(There, feeling a bit better now?)

I WAS UNTIL I REALIZED YOU SENT THIS LAST NIGHT AND I DIDN’T SEE IT I AM SO SORRY

Sounds like the power quandary–a being who is nigh unstoppable can’t be controlled if they become “bad”. The question is whether to destroy them before they can reach their full potential or trust they will make the right decisions and pursue a “good” path. Kinda like the choice Clockwork was forced to make with Danny.

Except Maddie’s choosing to believe it’s impossible for ghosts to “be angels,” thus removing the moral dilemma and allowing her to act without reservation aaaahnnnnnnnnngh~

Didn’t Armin score like the highest on the written portion?
I haven’t found a favorite character yet. (I’m scared I’ll pick one and now they’ll die, because as I’ve seen from Tumblr spoilers, AOT likes to kill their characters off…) and if/when I do, it’s gotta be one with a big ego. I learned over the years of watching anime, I somehow favorite the characters with the big ego…

lexiepiper  asked:

The majority of us will have one or two movies that have left us in lasting terror. I work at a DVD rental store, and the only movies that my coworkers can't ever convince me to watch are the shark ones. Not after Jaws and Deep Blue Sea back when I was little. Dad loves surfing, but he can NEVER get me in the water, so yeah, I understand you with the doll thing.

Yeah, I get that. I hate the ocean too, though for a different reason. But yeah, I get it. :C

lexiepiper replied to your post: lexiepiper replied to your post: 1. Target (100)……

Yes, very true. I think that’s one reason I love drabbles and oneshots so much - I’m left guessing, and often come up with so many ideas about the aftermath. Anyway, I love you, you’re fantastic, and now I’m going to bed because it’s 2am.

I know a lot of people complain about the cliffhangers inherent to a oneshot, but I do love the freedom it gives you to just come up with a scene from the middle of a plot and explore what would happen just then without needing to justify a back story or figure out which one of the many outcomes would actually occur. And then it leaves you free to decide that whatever you want to happen is actually happening. XD It’s like a choose your own adventure! Or something. Anyway. Love you too! And now get some sleep. <3

Rule 1: Post the rules.

Rule 2: Answer the questions the tagger set for you in their post and then make eleven new ones.

Rule 3: Tag 11 people and link them to your post.

Rule 4: Let them know they’ve been tagged.

Questions I answered:

1. What is your favourite book?
You probably know how hard it is for me to answer this question and you’re probably laughing it up right now.
Anyways, favourite book at this point in time would probably have to be… Skulduggery Pleasant. Always good for a read and a laugh and I just KEEP READING IT

2. Do you still sleep with stuffed animals?
Occasionally, but they generally don’t sleep with me. (Meaning that in the midst of our sleepy relations they fall off of the bed. SEVERAL TIMES)

3. Potterhead or Twihard?
Potterhead. Hands down. Love that stuff. (Is this even a question for me?)

4. Are you still in high school?
Nope. I almost wish I was some days, but then I’m like: MY NEW FRIENDS THAT I MADE AT UNIVERSITY I LURVE YOU!

5. What is your favourite holiday custom?
I don’t know, I really don’t follow traditional customs very well. Uh, I like my family’s christmas lunch where everyone (that’s within a reasonable distance) gathers at one of the rellies’ house and we have this massive lunch of cold meats (ham, turkey etc.) and salads and then awesomesauce desserty goodness (except that nasty christmas pudding. They can keep that as far away from me as possible)

6. Can you dance?
Yes. Can I dance well, not in the slightest however I am extremely proficient at both the “crippy” dance and the penguin dance. (They were dances me and friends made up to look like complete morons. It’s so much fun)

7. What song did you have in your head last?
The Peter Panda Dance. Not even joking. My two friends were looking at me weirdly cause I walked out of a lecture going all"When you’re down and low, lower than the floor, and you feel like you ain’t got a chance BOM BOM BOM (etc.)“

8. Hot chocolate or lemonade?
Hot chocolate. Always. 5ever.

9. How many books do you own?
A fair amount. Nowhere near as many as I SHOULD have, but when you move around a bit your parents tend to tell you to throw away stuff and then they rip away half of your books and your stuffed toys and you sit there heart-broken and then you start to build up your collection again. But yeah, I have a reasonable amount of books.

10. Can you drive a car yet?
Yes. Have I driven one? Nope. If you saw my parents’ driving, you’d understand.

11. What tags do you track?
Black Butler
Fullmetal Alchemist (And also Roy Mustang :D )
Angel Beats!
Harry Potter
Marauders
No. 6
Rooster Teeth
Sherlock
Skulduggery Pleasant
TeamFourStar

Now 11 questions for you people:
1. What’s your favourite anime/movie/tv/book series ever?
2. Who are your top ten favourite characters (from anything including abridged serieses and such)?
3. What’s your favourite school subject?
4. Favourite flavour of milkshake?
5. Do you also get pissed when your spell-check tells you that you’re spelling words wrong when you know you’re not?
6. What’s your greatest fear?
7. If you thought the world was gonna end, what would you do?
8. Flowers or chocolates?
9. What’s your Hogwarts house? (If you have one that you affiliate yourself with that is)
10. Do you ever spell or pronounce words weird for the hell of it? (Care to share any such words?)
11. What is the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?

lexiepiper  asked:

SCREAM

*screams back in confusing manor* 

H…i?

Edit : It occurs to me this is from the question thing I reblogged. Sorry. It’s half past four and my dad is snoring and I am tired and irritated. Right. 

  • scream:if you and your friends had a sleepover and a serial killer was inside, who would most likely be the first to die?
  • Okay, I don’t have many friends so it would probably be Ecto, Hollow, Que, and Habato… Who would die first? Uumm… Proooobably me. I would do something very stupid and heroic trying to save the others. Cause I’m stupid like that. 
  • Either that or the serial killer would die first. Because Hollow, Habato, and me are psychics to a rather well extent and then Que is a fucking BAMF. She would take a serial killer down and in seconds. And then Ecto is a badass cutie who, though small, will tear your throat out if you threaten her friends and loved ones. 
  • And then I would go feral and start biting and kicking and wouldn’t stop until the body stopped twitching. So…yeah…
  • Serial killer would die first. I love my friends. 
chocolatesloth replied to your postwell, it’s 12:02 and I’m… officially 20?  At…

Happy birthday!

emmalyn replied to your postwell, it’s 12:02 and I’m… officially 20?  At…

Yay, congrats on making it this far! ;D Happy birthday darling~

Thank you very muchly!

lexiepiper replied to your postwell, it’s 12:02 and I’m… officially 20?  At…

Happy Birthday! (I turn 20 on Monday, no kidding)

Woohoo, birthday buddies!  

abalidoth replied to your postwell, it’s 12:02 and I’m… officially 20?  At…

Happy birthday! Glad things are coming together well for you. Your present isn’t *quite* ready yet, but I should have some time to work on it tomorrow!

Gaaaaah you are really great, thank you!  I will respond to your message probably tomorrow, by the way; sorry about the delay.

lexiepiper replied to your post: swaqdanny replied to your post: lexiepiper…

iT’S FOUR THIRTY-FIVE IN THE MORNING HERE i’M GOING TO BED i’LL PROBABLY BE UP IN ABOUT SIX HOURS DON’T BREAK THE INTERNET WHILE i’M GONE aND i TURN TWENTY IN sEPTEMBER SO IS IT REALLY A YEAR’S GAP?

SLEEP TIGHT THEN I’LL JUST BE WRITING UP RESPONSES FOR THE PROMPTS ANY EXPLOSIONS WILL BE THE FAULT OF SWABBIE AND POLT JUST SAYING and yes yes it is because I turn 21 on the 15th! mwahahaha *continues to hold the elder ground*

lexiepiper  asked:

(I swear I'm not one of those anons) How about, if they really don't want everyone to know who they are, they each send you a PM (if they're following you). Then, you can simply message them back with the URL for the other anon. There! They can meet and maybe become friends, and we aren't there as an audience to make it really awkward!

It’s okay!! thanks!

I am talking to the girl now, I don’t public anything!

Now we are gonna wait for the boy haha!! and if not I am gonne be maybe friends with her who knoows! ;D

So I got asked these questions….

Rule 1: Post the rules.

Rule 2: Answer the questions the tagger set for you in their post and then make eleven new ones.

Rule 3: Tag 11 people and link them to your post.

Rule 4: Let them know they’ve been tagged.


1. Truth or dare? Which one do or would you usually choose?
DARE! I honestly hate truths, I’d rather be doing something completely random rather than struggling to come up with some made up answer for a crappy question.

2. What is your favourite TV show/film/video game/book (feel free to list multiple)?
I’m completely and totally in love with game of thrones at the minute. Can’t wait till exams are done so I can finish watching it. Also Sherlock