Oh Vessaline, why are you so mean?

This is Vessaline.

 

She was abused as a child and then kidnapped by faeries, whereupon she developed a taste for human flesh. That's the story, anyway.

When I started the plush Vess creation process, I was afraid I wouldn't be able to provide her with an authentic childhood mistreatment experience. What if her tiny, fluffy heart failed to wither and grow cold? The whole project would be ruined.
Luckily, I've got the right kind of friends to help me out.

My cat gnawed on her innards.
My girlfriend juggled her limbs.
She had to watch my boyfriend play Magic: The Gathering for four hours.
And now I'm eating some cereal and making CRUNCH CRUNCH SLURP noises right next to her ear.

I'll bundle Plush Vess off to meet her new faerie keeper next month. I'm sure she'll be bloodthirsty enough to please him by then.

At least I never lost a fork in my bra

MARA: My girlfriend thinks your coffee tastes like Satan's asshole, you know. She asks in the morning whenever she sleeps over, “Are we going to have good coffee, or are we drinking Satan's Asshole Roast again?”
LEX: Satan's Asshole Roast is a misnomer. We drink the same roast of coffee, it's just that you guys add more water and sugar and whipped cream and, like, vodka to it.  
MARA: The vodka is part of the whipped cream!  
LEX: I know, but it makes me sound more sane when I point out that I'm not the one who drinks vodka in the morning. And anyway, isn't Satan a master of temptation? I bet his asshole tastes really good.

Mara couldn't refute that, which is a little disappointing because I'd hoped the conversation would go on long enough for me to mention that one time when she lost a fork in her bra.
Because nothing supports your taste in coffee like not losing forks in your bra.

 In completely unrelated news, this is S'anna.



She drew my character in the Changeling LARP and I basically can't stop vibrating in joy over how awesome it is. Look! Look at this thing!

 

Peat's costume is a little different than it was in the pre-LARP pictures Mara took last week because I added this mask my friend Sarah made. (You can find her etsy shop here: Dark Monday)



Sometimes I get jealous because I know so many awesome artists and I couldn't art to save my life, but then I decide that rolling around in pretty things sounds like a lot more fun than being jealous, so I do that instead.

It's Tough Being Faerie President

Gulp brand bait worms certainly have a flavor. I'm not quite sure it's the “natural live bait taste!” they advertise, but when you're holding them in your mouth, waiting to spit them all over the Winter King's suit, your tongue really knows there's something going on.

I guess I could chew some actual worms to test Gulp's flavor claims, but I doubt I'll bother. It's a failure of scientific curiosity on my part. Do they stone you for that these days? I like science! Really! I just like laziness and not chewing worms slightly better.

 Anyway, Mara took some pictures of my Changeling character before I left for game yesterday. This is Peat Bog. She accidentally became Autumn King and she hates it a lot so she spits worms at people instead of making cogent political arguments.



Mostly she just wants everyone to leave her alone so she can concentrate on making mortals believe in fictional undead fish people. Is that so much to ask?



Piña Colada came home just as Mara and I were about to head back inside. I stopped to say hi because I'm polite like that.

Precious Mermaid Oil

My new roommate isn't named Piña Colada. His parents named him after a completely different fruity alcoholic beverage, but I'd like to show a token of respect for his privacy so I'm not going to tell you which one.

If there's a story in this house, I'm pretty sure it's Piña Colada's and the rest of us are just supporting characters on his journey. Most of the people around here roleplay and Piña Colada doesn't, but he understands real adventure.

Like, he got to Wisconsin by hitchhiking from Florida with a backpack and a guitar. Piña Colada keeps his guitar wrapped in white lace like a bride but I'm pretty sure he doesn't actually want to marry his guitar. (Is that even a thing? Can you be sexually attracted to guitars? I want to say “no” because most of the words used to describe attraction have Latin roots and guitars didn't exist in Ancient Rome. Lyres were pretty popular though, so I guess you can be sexually attracted to lyres if you want.)

Piña Colada didn't have much of a plan for his arrival in Wisconsin, so it's a good thing he's extra charming. He met my girlfriend, and within a few days we'd offered him a room in our house. It was a pretty good investment. Not just because of the guitar, but because sometimes he says things.

Piña Colada walked through the room when I was telling people that one of my friends looked like a mermaid.

“My father used to hunt mermaids,” he said, “but not just for sport. He'd heat the house using their precious mermaid oil.”

So there's that.

My girlfriend is much better at coming up with roommates than I am. The last person I invited into the house was this guy:

I built him out of fleece and evil and then he tried to steal my soul so I had to kick him out. I hope he learns to play the guitar. Then he can win souls legitimately in guitar playing contests instead of just stealing them for no reason.