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pinarworks · 1 year

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“Gerçek hip-hop bu değil!” : Autotune, trap ve “görgüsüzlüğün” politikası Teknoloji (her tür) müziğin en önemli bileşenlerinden biri. Sadece kayıt süreci değil, tüm enstrümanlar, şarkı yazmak ve hatta söylemek de teknolojik, teknolojiyle ilgili meselelerdir, zira örgütlenmiş bilgi gerektirirler, bilinçli bilinçsiz bir teknik sayesinde gerçekleştirirler. Bu, halk müziği için de, evde kaydedilen bir lo-fi albüm için de, acapella söylenen performanslar için de, kodlamayla üretilmiş elektronik müzik için de böyledir. Son birkaç yıldır anaakım pop müziğin en çok kullandığı teknolojilerden biri de Autotune. Pop müzikten rock’a, özellikle kayıt aşamasında çokça kullanılan bu efekt, vokal perdesinin Batı teorisine uygun şekilde uyumsuz frekanslardan arındırılarak mükemmel hale getirilmesini sağlıyor. Autotune, şarkıcının o an söylediği notayı dinleyerek sonrasında gelmesi gereken notayı tahmin ediyor ve sesi otomatik olarak o notaya atıyor. Böylece arada kayan, “hatalı” olduğu düşünülen frekanslar temizleniyor ve ‘mükemmel’ bir ton elde edilmiş oluyor. Yani aslında efektin asıl kullanım amacı “düzeltme” ve normalde bu düzeltmenin dinleyici tarafından fark edilmemesi gerekiyor. Ama bugün Autotune deyince aklımıza bambaşka bir şey geliyor. Autotune’un kendini belli ederek amacını aşacak şekilde ilk kez kullanıldığı şarkı Cher’in 1998 yılında yayınlanan “Believe” parçası. Öncesinde birçok albümde çaktırmadan kullanılan Autotune bu şarkıda insansı ne varsa (insan sesi saf tonları söyleyemez, araya birçok farklı frekans girer) ayıklamış, Cher’in vokalini bilinçli bir estetik tercihle sert bir şekilde eğip bükerek, androidimsi bir hava yakalamış ve böylece milenyuma az kala yeni bir müzikal çığırı da mimlemişti. Daha sonra R&B sanatçısı T-Pain ilk solo albümünün tamamında Autotune’u estetik bir tercih olarak kullanıldığında herkese şok geçirtti, ancak Kanye West’in 808 & Heartbreak albümüyle birlikte Autotune Siyah prodüktörlerin favori oyuncağı haline gelmişti. Şimdilerde neredeyse her müzik türünde kullanılıyor olmasına rağmen Autotune asıl ününü hip-hop’un güncel bir alt türü olan trap’teki kullanımına borçlu. Dub müziğin delay efektinin abartılı, hip-hop’un ise pikapların “yanlış” kullanımıyla ortaya çıktığını düşünürsek, Autotune’un asıl yerini Siyah müzikte bulması şaşırtıcı değil. Şaşırtıcı olan ise, akıl almaz bir nefret nesnesi haline gelmiş olması. Şu ana kadar alternatif rock prodüktörü Steve Albini’den indie grubu Death Cab for Cutie’ye ve hip-hop lordu Jay Z’ye uzanan skalada kendi kulvarlarında önemli addedilen birçok müzik insanı Autotune’dan nasıl tiksindiklerinin altını çizip durdu. Onlar istediği kadar ayıplayadursun, Autotune Türkçe rap’ten pop ve R&B’ye, anaakım müzik dünyasının gözbebeği olmayı sürdürüyor, zira şarkı söylemek artık sadece “şarkı söylemeyi bilenlerin,” ‘bu işin eğitimini almışların’ tekelinde değil; yetenek denen şeyin ne olduğu, neye yaradığı (çoğu zaman belirli habituslara herkesin girmesini engelleyen bir bekçi görevi görmesi) bir kez daha sorgulanıyor, müzik daha geniş demografiden kişilerin de yapabildiği bir şey haline geliyor. Üstelik bu insanlar milyonlarca kişiye ulaşıp ünlü oluyor, para da kazanıyor. Autotune’dan duyulan tiksintinin arkasında, tutulan alanları kaybetme korkusunun olduğu aşikâr. Zira bütün şarkılarını vocoder’la söyleyen Kraftwerk gibilerin deha olarak adlandırıldığı dünyamızda Autotune’lu trap müziklerine olan bu düşmanlığın arkasında, kökeni itibariyle beyaz ve niş elektronik müzik ve kültürünün, avam olarak algılanan dünyaya açılmasının etkisi büyük. Halbuki evde müzik yapan insanların ses eğitimi olmadan şarkı söylemesine izin vermesiyle, farklı estetik tercihlere kapı açmasıyla Autotune aslında özgürleştirici bir tarafa da sahip. Kendini ifade etmek için sahip olunması gerektiği düşünülen yetenek denen şeye dair kalıplaşmış yargıları rahatsız eder. Yeteneğin belki de yanlış yerde arandığına, belirli kişileri sistemden ayıklamak için kullanıldığına da ışık tutar. Yetenek nefes almadan ne kadar uzun süre rap yapıldığına indirgenemez artık, yarıştırılmaya direnir, saklanır; söylenmek istenen şey o ya da bu şekilde söylenecek, kulaklara ulaşmanın bir yolunu bulacaktır. Ben şehirli, ilk gençliğinden itibaren müzik takip etmiş, biriktirebilmiş, bunu bir sosyal sermaye olarak varlığının bir parçası haline getirmiş, müzik otoritesi olarak fikrine saygı duyulan insanların Autotune nefretinin ardında, statüye yapılan yatırımın ve bu statünün muhtemel kaybından dair duyulan bir endişenin yattığını düşünüyorum. Kapalı alanlarda kalması gereken şeylerin görgü, ölçü, kural ve ahlak bilmeyen kişilerce keşfedilmesiyle yaşanan bir iktidar paniği söz konusu olan. Tanınmaz haldeki Siyahlık Katherine McKittrick ve Alexander G. Weheliye, 808s & Heartbreak isimli makalelerinde, Roland’ın TR-808 olarak bilinen davul makinesinin Siyah müzisyenler tarafından nasıl bir dışavurum aracı olarak kullanıldığını inceler. Bunu yaparken Fanon ve Sylvia Wynter gibi Siyah düşünürlerin kavram setlerinden faydalanan yazarlar, Siyahlık deneyiminin müzikal anlamda bazı seslerle yoldaşlık yarattığını öne sürer. Édouard Glissant’ın “uçurumun deneyimi ve yaşayan hatırası” dediği şeyin kolektif olarak belirli müzikal araç, ses ve metotlarda dışa vurulduğunu, bu yüzden de bu araç, ses ve metotların Siyahlık saçtığını iddia ederken yazarlar, 808’in en akılda kalıcı şekilde Siyah müzisyenler tarafından (bu drum machine’in en çok kullanıldığı tür olan house ve techno elbette Siyah müziklerdir) kullanıldığını, bu yüzden benlik ve somutlaşmış bilginin de keşfi olarak aslında Siyah praksisinin bir parçası olduğunu söyler. Batının ruh ve beden ayrımı üzerine kurduğu ve bedeni kadınsı ve/ya hayvansı olarak kodlayıp dışarıda bırakarak inşa ettiği aydınlanmacı medeniyet, ırkçılığın da arka planını oluşturur. Siyah ırk hem bedene dair, bedenle ilişkili, yani hayvanat dünyasına ait görülür (insanların sergilendiği hayvanat bahçelerini, sömürgecilik tarihi boyunca Afrika'yla ilgili olarak yapılan barbarlık propagandalarını düşünün). Bu şekilde resmi tarihin ve diğer bilgi sistemlerinin dışında tutulanların bedenleşmiş bilgileri de “hissin, hurafenin alanı” sayılarak ciddiye alınmaz. Dans müziğinin, pop müziğin belirli türlerinin entelektüel olmamakla itham edilmesine hepimiz aşinayızdır; bu türler ancak Beyaz adamların müdahaleleri vasıtasıyla ya teorik kavramsallaştırmalarla desteklendiğinde (Kraftwerk örneği) veyahut IDM gibi dans ederken düşündürecek müzikler olarak cilalandıklarında ciddiye alınabilmiştir. McKittrick ve Weheliye, Siyahlığın bu bedene indirgenmesi geleneğini Avrupa’nın Siyahlığı biyomerkezci bir yerden kurduğunu ve biyoloji ve onu destekleyen anlatılarla nasıl Siyahlığa dair bir mit yaratıldığını anlatır. Yani siyah karşıtlığı ve ırkçılık da bu şekilde aslında anlatısal olarak fizyolojik ve nörobiyolojik bilimlerle bağlantılıdır. Bu noktadan bakarsak, tıpkı 808’de olduğu gibi Autotune da aslında ırkla özdeşleştirilmiş bir araçtır, bu yüzden de ona yönelik tepkinin salt nesnel bir kötü müzik karşıtlığından ibaret olduğu söylenemez. Siyahların bedenlerine dair tekrar edilerek güçlendirilen mitler, onları old-school hip-hop, R&B gibi daha groovy, kıvrak, akışkan olarak algılanan ritimlere kodlamaya meyyaldir. Bu müziklerin beyazların Siyahlıkla ilgili algısını pekiştirmesi beklenir; old-school hip-hop, caz ve funk’tan sample’lar almalı, mükemmel ses perdesine sahip (Siyah gırtlağı diye bir şey vardır) Siyah şarkıcılar seslerini tüm görkemiyle Beyaz dinleyicinin tüketimine sunmalıdır. Siyahlığın en büyük zenginliği sayılan bu müziklere tarihsel olarak atıfta bulunmalıdır. Autotune ise bu açıdan bir sıçrama arz eder. Vokaller artık robotiktir, kim söylüyor çoğu zaman tahmin edilemez ve bütün şarkılar birbirine benzer. “Autotune müziğin insani tarafını baltaladı” şeklindeki serzeniş, ancak belirli yetenekler sergileyebilen Siyah müzisyenlerin insani görüldüğünü açık eder. Autotune karşısında Batı algısının biyomerkezci bilgi dağarcığı erör verir; duyduğu şeye hükmedemez, sesler kulaklarına batar: “ne?! robot Siyahlar mı?” Siyahlar seksi, bedensel varlıklar değil midir? Siyah müzik tarihine, bedenine, kendisine, mirasına bağlı kalmalıdır. Autotune ve trap, Batı kulaklarındaki arzu edilen Siyah algısını bozar. Onu adeta şu ana kadar “tüm derdini tasasını müziğe katık ederek sublimleştiren bir topluluk” olarak müzikal mirasına ihanet etmekle suçlar. Teknoloji beyazdır, siyah old-school. Beyaz bilgi sisteminde gerçekleşen bu erör, tiksinti olarak tezahür eder, zira McKrittik’in deyimiyle “808'ler ve diğer müzik icatları Siyah hayatı kanıtlar ve ifade eder.” YetenekSizsiniz Autotune’a olan bu şiddetli ve aktif nefretin arkasında efektin Siyahlıkla ilgili köklenmiş bilinçdışı yargıları sarsmasına ek olarak, ahenkli, yani rasyonel dünyada yeri olmayan ölçüsüzlüğe, abartıya yönelik tahammülsüzlük de vardır ve bildiğimiz gibi, abartı ve ölçüsüzlük kadınsı sayılan özelliklerdir. Autotune’un mucidi olan Harold Andy Hildebrand, efekte yöneltilen “şeytan icadı” ithamlarına şöyle cevap vermişti: “Karım da makyaj yapıyor, bu da mı şeytani yani?” Hildebrand’ın hemen kadınsı bir bağlantı kurması ilginçtir ve bir analizi hak eder, zira bu gibi teşbihler sayesinde abartının, ölçüsüzlüğün nasıl kadınsı bir özellik olarak algılandığı açık edilmiş olur. Simon Reynolds, Pitchfork için kaleme aldığı şu yazısında Autotune gibi vokal düzeltme yazılımlarının genelde kozmetiklerle birlikte düşünüldüğünü ve efektin botoksa, yüz gerdirme operasyonlarına vs. benzetildiğini yazar. Bildiğimiz gibi, tüm bunlar kadının “doğal” güzelliğinin düşmanıdır. Bu anlamda müzik bilmişlerinin Autotune nefretinin altında, kadınsılıkla özdeşleştirilen bu “abartmaya” dair bir tepkinin de yattığı düşünülebilir pekâlâ. Özellikle kadınlara yöneltilen aynı “ölçüsüzlük” eleştirisini vokalinde reverb kullanan müzisyenler için de duymak mümkündür. Bu seçimin nedense bilinçli bir estetik tercih olarak değil, kötü ve çirkin olan bir şeyi saklama amacıyla yapıldığı düşünülür: Aslında müzisyen yeteneksizdir, şarkı söylemeyi bilmiyordur ve acı gerçeği birtakım makyaj teknikleriyle saklamaya çalışıyordur. Erkekler yine görülmeyeni görmüş, duyulmayanı duymuştur, büyük oyun bozulmuştur. Ancak, aynı abartma eleştirisi sahneye 78 adet gitar pedalı ile çıkan erkek bir müzisyene getirilmez, bilakis, gitaristin tekniği, becerisi, müzik bilimine olan katkıları yüceltilir. Fazla makyaj kadını “basit” gösterir. Fazla Autotune ise, ölçüsüz ve görgüsüzdür ve müzisyeni kadınsılaştırır. Ölçüsüz kadın düşmüş kadındır. Ses, beynimizi ağırlayan kafatasımızdan çıkar, aklımıza en yakın ve en dolayımsız şeydir, bu yüzden de rasyonalitenin simgesidir. Herhangi bir çatırdama, öznenin kontrolü kaybettiği, irrasyonel olduğu, dolayısıyla kamusal alandan dışlanması gerektiği anlamına gelebilir. Kısaca, Autotune ve temsil ettiği kadınsılığın kamusal alanda işi yoktur. Gerçek hip-hop bu değil Estetik abartı, kadınsı olmanın yanında düşük kültürlere dair bir özelliktir: paçoz, rüküş, sahte, görgüsüz gibi sıfatların hepsi altsınıftan ölçüsüz kadınları ima eder ve haliyle belirli bir zevksizliğe atıfta bulunur. Kenar mahalleden insanların kılıkları ile Siyah trap’çilerin abartılı takıları ve Türkçe rap yapanların Autotune’lu vokalleri aynı algılanan görgüsüzlüğü mimler: sonradan görmeliği; çünkü bilirsiniz, formel sadelik “entelektüel güç demektir.”* Autotune bu açıdan işçi sınıfının abartma huyunun ve gösteriş merakının sesli bir ifadesi olarak algılanır. Trap ve Autotune’a yönelik nefret, arabesk karşısında duyulan tiksintiye de benzer. Arabeskte acının “pornosunun” yapıldığına dair o benzetmeyi duymuşsunuzdur. İşsizlik, parasızlık, her gün yaşanan aşağılanma vb. özel alanda yaşanması gereken yahut insanların yerinde ve zamanında kendi aralarında ifade etmesi beklenen şeylerdir. Bütün şarkı/albüm boyunca bundan bahsederseniz, üstelik bu “mızmızlanmayı” para kazandıran bir kültür haline getirirseniz, gizli kalması gereken, iğrenç bir şeyi ifşa ediyorsunuz demektir. Hem ortasınıf beyaz bir erkek değilseniz sizin derdinizi kim takar? Hislerinizi, makyajınızı, Autotune’unuzu abartırsanız pornocusunuzdur, bir sınırı aşarsınız ve kabul edilemez bir şeydir bu. Autotune kullanımının -özellikle bizimkisi gibi ülkelerde- bir sınıfsal göstergeye dönüştüğü çok açıktır. Autotune yüzünden yeteneğin öldüğünden, herkesin müzik yapabildiğinden şikâyet edilir. Ceza’nın ilk çıktığı zamanları düşünün; ne dediğinden çok, ne kadar hızlı rap yaptığı konuşulmuştu. Elitler altsınıfları ancak belirli, üstün yeteneklere sahiplerse ciddiye alabilir: Altsınıflar elitler için bu şekilde bir seyirlik, entelektüel egzersiz malzemesi sağlamalıdır. Gelgelelim Autotune gibi yüzeysel, boş, herhangi bir bedensel beceri gerektirmeyen kolaylaştırıcılar yüzünden elitlerin bu şov talebi karşılıksız kalır. Oysa Autotune sadece, burjuva ahlakının işlemediği ara sokaklara sızmakla kalmamış, anaakımlaşmış ve piyasalaşmıştır. Burjuva ideolojisi elbette bu düzenin sorumlusu değilmiş de müzik koleksiyonunu, zevkini ve bilgisini bir sermaye olarak kullanmıyormuş gibi masum ayağına yatar ve kapitalizmin faturasını da “kolay para kazanan” Autotune’lu bu düşük ahlaklı gençlere keser. Onlara kalsa, altsınıflar para da kazanmamalıdır, para kazanmak burjuva için ayıpsa, altsınıflar için misli misli ayıptır. Autotune ve trap’e yönelik beyaz tepkilerin çoğunluğuna “gerçek hip-hop bu değil” minvalinde tespitler de eşlik eder. Peki gerçek hip-hop nedir? Bu elbette soru kılığında bir tuzaktır. Cevap beklemez, cevaba ihtiyacı yoktur, zira soran kişi zaten, elbette, gerçek hip-hop’un ne olduğunu biliyordur, zira yüzlerce hip-hop albümüne sahiptir ve bu albümler gerçek hip-hop’a yaraşır bir şekilde plak formatındadır. Hip-hop’un siyah kültürle, sokakla ve yaşamla ilişkisi onu ilgilendirmez, onun ilgilendiği şey daha geniştir, hip-hop’un müzik tarihi içindeki yeridir. “Gerçek hip-hop bu değil” yargısı kapıyı suratınıza çarpar ve gasp edilmiş bir sermaye olarak müzik bilgisi ve zevkini mistikleştirir. Gerçek hip-hop, Sugarhill Gang’in bile bilmediği gizemli bir esanstır, kimselere nasip olmaz. Sermayeye sahip olan, kendisini özel kılan şeyin sırrını tabii ki kimseyle paylaşmaz, zira zevk aslında bir birikim, yani sermaye meselesidir. O halde her şeyin sınıfsal olduğu bir dünyada, sermayeden azade zevkli ve iyi müzikten bahsetmek de olanaksızdır. Hip-hop’un 90’larda New York’un fakir semtlerinde yaşayan Siyah toplulukların ellerindeki teknolojiyi bozarak, onunla kendilerine özel bir dil kurmak suretiyle bir ilişki kurmaları sonucu ortaya çıktığı gerçeğini ayrıntıdan ibaret kılar bu duruş. Pikap, plak, kayıt cihazı vs. araçlara erişimin sosyo-ekonomik boyutu es geçilir, bu gibi analog, orijinal ekipmanlara 2023 yılında yalnızca belirli insanların ulaşabildiği gerçeği bu şekilde sinsice örtbas edilerek kucaklanmış ve olumlanmış olur. Yazılım tabanlı ucuz yeni teknolojilerin ve internetin ekonomik açıdan avantajsız gruplara sağladığı imkânlar görmezden gelinir ve bu teknolojilerin gözetim, kitle kontrolü gibi etkileri vurgulanarak mutlaklaştırılır. Böylece dolaylı bir şekilde yeni ve herkesin ulaşabildiği olan şeytani, eski ve nadir bulunan teknolojiler ise değerli kılınır. Simon Reynolds, Autotune karşıtlığının sınıfsal bir refleks olduğunu belirtirken, niş dinleyicinin vintaj, tarih ve miras gibi kelime ve kavramlara olan düşkünlüğünün altını çizer. Yeni olan şey bu minvalde alt sınıflara ait bir şeydir: “İster giyimden ister mobilyadan veya ses prodüksiyonundan bahsediyor olun, sınıf yelpazesinde ne kadar aşağılara inerseniz, o kadar parlak ve yeni şeyler elde edersiniz” der Reynolds. Autotune’un Türkiye’deki alt sınıflar, ‘eğitimsiz’ kesimlerle özdeşleştirilmesinin sebeplerinden biri de ucuz, kolay erişilebilir olmasının yanında bu parlak niteliğidir. Tıpkı parlak ruj ve ojeler gibi parlak ve abartılı Autotune da paçoz olarak kodlanır. Eski olan asildir, aristokrasiye en yakın olandır, elimizden alınmış avantajlarımızdan biridir, teknolojiyi nasıl kullanacağından bihaber insanların gerçek hip-hop mirasını kirletmesi karşısında asil müzik lordları cinnet geçirir. Autotune müzik bilgisine birikimine yatırımına bağlı, sermayesini kaybetmek istemeyen zümreleri sinirlendirir, çünkü şu ana kadar onlara gizli bir koruma sağlayan doğallık, ölçülülük, görgü gibi kavramların hunharca ayaklar altına alınmasıyla pozisyonunun sarsıldığını hisseder. Kendini özel hissetmek giderek daha zorlaşır, zira herkes hikâyesini anlatabiliyorsa, bazılarının bazen susması gerekecektir ve bu dehşet verici bir ihtimaldir. Kaynaklar: *Adolf Loos, “Ornament and Crime” (1908), çev. Shaun Whiteside, Penguin, 2019. Catherine Provenzano, “Auto-Tune, Labor, and the Pop-Music Voice,” The Relentless Pursuit of Tone: Timbre in Popular Music, ed. Robert Fink, Melinda Latour ve Zachary Wallmark, Oxford Academic, 2018, s. 159-82. Bkz. https://doi.org/10.1093/oso/9780199985227.003.0008, accessed 4 Jan. 2023. 2018, s. 159-82. Jillian Hernandez, Aesthetics of Excess: The Art and Politics of Black and Latina Embodiment, Duke University Press, 2020. Katherine McKittrick & Alexander G. Weheliye, “808s & Heartbreak,” bkz. https://trueleappress.files.wordpress.com/2017/10/pn2-print.pdf, s. 13-43. Simon Reynolds, “How Auto-Tune Revolutionized the Sound of Popular Music,” https://pitchfork.com/features/article/how-auto-tune-revolutionized-the-sound-of-popular-music/ https://www.5harfliler.com/gercek-hip-hop-bu-degil-autotune-trap-ve-gorgusuzlugun-politikasi/

#autotune #trap #türkçe rap

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how-to-make-mod-minecraftz2 · 2 years

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How to Code Minecraft Mods: Fun Tutorial - Create & Learn

💾 ►►► DOWNLOAD FILE 🔥🔥🔥 Last Updated: July 8, Tested. This article was written by Travis Boylls. Travis has experience writing technology-related articles, providing software customer service, and in graphic design. He studied graphic design at Pikes Peak Community College. The wikiHow Tech Team also followed the article's instructions and verified that they work. This article has been viewed 1,, times. There was a sad time when mods weren't available for Minecraft PE, but now mods are officially supported! Installing them on Minecraft PE is really simple. You just need to download the right app, find the mods you want to add, and install them. This article will walk you through how to do it step-by-step. If you're using an Android, download the BlockLauncher app. Open the BlockLauncher app, which also opens Minecraft PE, find the mod file that you downloaded, then tap it to select it. Create a new world in Minecraft and your mod will automatically be applied! For more tips, read on! Did this summary help you? Yes No. Log in Social login does not work in incognito and private browsers. Please log in with your username or email to continue. No account yet? Create an account. Popular Categories. Arts and Entertainment Artwork Books Movies. Relationships Dating Love Relationship Issues. Hobbies and Crafts Crafts Drawing Games. All Categories. Edit this Article. We use cookies to make wikiHow great. By using our site, you agree to our cookie policy. Cookie Settings. Learn why people trust wikiHow. Download Article Explore this Article Steps. Tips and Warnings. Related Articles. Article Summary. Download a trusted Minecraft Mod App. There are two main free apps that are available for both iPhone and iPad as well as Android phones and tablets. Tap the Search tab. Tap the search bar at the top of the screen. Type mcpe addons or terra mods into the search bar. Open The App. The Terra - Mods for Minecraft app has an icon that resembles a golden T. Tap the icon of your choice on your home screen or apps menu to open the app. Search for a mod. Scroll down through the home page to browse categories, or on the Addons for Minecraft app tap the Search tab at the bottom of the screen. It has an icon that resembles a magnifying glass. Use the search bar to look up a mod by name or description. Select your preferred mod. Once you find a mod that you want to download, tap it to open its page. If you see an advertisement pop-up, tap the icon that resembles an "x" to close the pop-up ad. It's an orange or green button below the mod's preview photo. Doing so will launch an advertisement page on Addons for Minecraft. If there's more than one DOWNLOAD button, the mod requires multiple downloads, meaning that you'll need to repeat the installation process for the second and subsequent button s after the first download concludes. On Terra - Mods for Minecraft PE this button will still say download, but these buttons still install the mods. For both apps a pop-up menu will appear at the bottom of the screen iOS. Usually there involves one resource pack and one behavior pack. It's the Minecraft app icon found in the pop-up menu. This will open both the Minecraft app and the mod inside of Minecraft. On iPhone and iPad, you may have to scroll right swipe left over the top row of options in the pop-up menu to see Minecraft's app icon. If you don't see Minecraft in the menu, scroll all the way to the right, tap More , and tap the white switch to the right of Minecraft. On most Android devices, the mod should automatically install without a pop-up. Wait for the mod to install. When you see "Import Completed" or "Import Successful" at the top of the screen, you may proceed. Create a new world with the Mod activated. Tap Create in the panel to the left. Make sure to turn on Experimental Settings! Mods that use behavior packs often need experimental settings turned on to work. Not Helpful 84 Helpful You go into Launcher Options, scroll down until you see safe mode, then flip it off. Not Helpful 51 Helpful Is there is a PE version of the mod available, then yes, it will work. PC mods do not work on Minecraft PE. Not Helpful 58 Helpful You cannot use blocklauncher on servers. If you enabled a mod and then joined a server, that mod will be disabled. Not Helpful 44 Helpful You have to be connected to the internet that the host has. You also have to know his username and connect to him on Minecraft PE. Not Helpful 46 Helpful Try to refresh Minecraft. Or delete the Mod, close Minecraft, then reinstall the Mod. Not Helpful 42 Helpful Completely close the game, then reopen it. If that does not work, then go to settings and clear the data and reinstall the mods. Not Helpful 39 Helpful As long as you downloaded the mods in the app store, just open them in settings. I have some apps and my blocklauncher is not working because it says that in order to work it needs Minecraft What should I do? Maybe you need to renew the apps on your blocklauncher, or maybe it is lagged to work. Check your Wi-Fi first and see if everything is okay. Not Helpful 19 Helpful Include your email address to get a message when this question is answered. Some mods will add custom structures to your Minecraft world, while others might fundamentally change the world or game itself by adding conventions e. Helpful 0 Not Helpful 0. Mods that make serious changes to the behavior of your Minecraft world typically need experimental features turned on. Check Step 10 for more details. Mods which you can download for Minecraft PE will likely not yield the same impressive results that they might on a PC. Helpful 26 Not Helpful When using Inner Core on Android, your app's load time will scale directly with the number of mods you have installed. Helpful 18 Not Helpful 7. There is a method for downloading mods from online, however it is not recommended. You Might Also Like How to. How to. About This Article. Written by:. Co-authors: Updated: July 8, Categories: Minecraft Pocket Edition. Deutsch: Mods auf Minecraft PE installieren. Nederlands: Mods installeren op Minecraft PE. Thanks to all authors for creating a page that has been read 1,, times. That is how I even knew about Minecraft, so I wanted to do like him, that is why I look for mods to play. I really thank you so so much.. Rated this article:. More reader stories Hide reader stories. Did this article help you? Cookies make wikiHow better. By continuing to use our site, you agree to our cookie policy. Tom Right Aug 1, Marion Pankratz Apr 26, Junior Clinton Aug 11, Anonymous Aug 13, Share yours! More success stories Hide success stories. Featured Articles How to. Trending Articles. New Pages. Featured Articles. Watch Articles How to. Trending Articles How to. 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fitsofgloom · 3 years

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Be Good To Your Goblins

#vintage halloween #trick r treat #lollipops #saf-t-pops #curtiss #witch

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cerealkiller740 · 5 years

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1953 Curtiss Candy Company Halloween ad featuring Baby Ruth, Butterfinger, Chum Bubblegum , and Coconut Grove candy bars

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greedentstripes · 3 years

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Road to Recovery, week 6

(Super Long Post warning: If you want to skip ahead, press J to skip this post. You’ve been warned.)

*** It’s time for Nick’s routine leg checkup. Nick and Shelly and John and little Kristin are at the hospital. Nick is sitting in the checkup office in a robe and has just had his X-rays taken. They sit waiting for a result from the doctor. Nick is passing the time by playing with his daughter.

(Nick) Hey Krissy, *covers his face with his paws* where did Daddy go?

(Kristin) Chii?

(Nick uncovers his face) Peekaboo!

(Kristin giggles) PaPa!

(Nick covers his face again) Where’s daddy?

(Kristin) Cleffa clefairy?

(Nick) Peekaboo! *uncovers face*

(Kristin laughs loudly) Pachii chii!

* As Nick was playing Peekaboo with Kristin, the doctor entered the office.

(Doc) Ahem, Nick?

(Nick) Oh uh, yes?

(Doc) We’ve looked at the X-rays, and it seems as if your leg has finally made a full recovery. We can finally take the cast off.

(Nick) Really? Thank goodness, this thing was so itchy.

(Doc) Anyways, I’ll need to help you up onto the examination table so I can cut the cast off.

(Nick) How are you gonna do that?

(Doc) Oh, we have this neat little tool that’s like a rotary handsaw, but it’s designed so that it only cuts plaster, not skin.

(Nick) How does that make sense?

(Doc) Wanna see?

(Nick) I ... i suppose...

* The Audino rifled through her shoulderbag and pulled out a cast cutter, and after turning it on, placed it against Nick’s upper right arm as if to try and cut it open, to no avail.

(Nick, laughing a bit) Hehehehe it-it tickles.

(Doc) Yeah! See? *turns device off* Nothing to worry about! It’s only sharp enough to burrow through plaster, but it can’t do anything to flesh.

(Nick) Cool! But uh, one more thing. Can i save the cast to show it off? I’ve gotten a few signatures on it and don’t want to lose them.

(Doc) Oh, I can see, you’ve got a signature from one of your friends, and a little doodle of a mimikyu with a--pfft--a cute little pun. Can I take a picture of this? We have a resident Mimikyu here and I think he’d like to see it.

(Nick) Oh heh, go ahead! That was from my friend Mimikyu. He doesn’t have a name, so he drew his face instead. He lives alone with some Unown in the distortion realm.

* A muffled chirping comes from Nick’s tail

(Nick) Oh yeah! Sorry N. You wanna come meet the doc? My friend N comes from that realm. I can’t speak their language, but they’re an awesome friend, and I probably wouldnt be around weren’t it for them.

* N peeks out of the scruff of Nick’s tail, before slinking outward.

(N) *speaks language of the ancients*

(Doc) Oh? Hello little Unown. Wanna watch me cut off your friend’s cast? I promise it won’t hurt him.

(N) *speaks language of the ancients. nods*

(Doc) I’ll take that as a yes. Lemme just grab that picture first.

* The Audino grabbed her phone out of her pocket, fiddled with it a bit, and took a picture of Nick’s signature, then put the phone back to sleep and placed it back in her pocket. Then she grabbed her cast cutter again, turned it on and began carefully cutting the cast open along both sides, going around the signatures to not disturb them. After a while, the cast popped into two parts. The Audino then turned her cast cutter back off and set it back in her shoulder bag. She handed the cast parts to Shelly to hold onto.

(Shelly) I’ll be sure to put this in a special place for you son.

(Nick) Thanks mommy!

(Doc) Now of course, now that the cast is off, your road to recovery isn’t quite done yet,

(Nick) Yeah, I heard about having to go through physical therapy earlier.

(Doc) Good memory you got there. Anyways--

(Shelly) Oh yeah, a friend of mine offered to help rehabilitate my son.

(Doc) How nice of them. Though of course we still gotta have the routine PT sessions.

(Shelly) Ah, right.

(John) How else’d we know fer certain Nick’s gettin’ better without a proper medical sayso?

(Doc) Yeah. Like your husband said. It’s for keeping track of his health. However, I’m not certified as a PT, i’m just a medical practitioner. I have the name and address of the Liepard I’ll have you be seeing from here on. It’s on this business card, make sure you call in to let him know when he’s available. I’ll be calling him myself to officiate the transfer.

*The Audino hands the business card to John, and then extends her paw outward toward Nick.

(Doc) It’s been an honor and a privilege to have been able to work with you Nick.

(Nick shakes Doc‘s hand) Thank you for making me feel better Mrs. Audino.

(Doc) Thank you for cooperating with me. Before you go, though, I have somethings for you. Gimme a sec to grab it.

(Nick) Okay!

* The Audino steps outside for a few minutes, and comes back with a walking cane. It doesn’t look quite as fancy as John’s but for the time being it’s gonna be seeing a bit of use.

(Doc) Here, you’ll need this so you don’t fall over. I don’t want you putting too much weight on your leg until the muscle is up and ready to support you.

(Nick) Yes, doc.

(Doc) I also have something else for you, for being such a good boy.

(Nick) Oh?

* The audino pulls a few Saf-T-Pops and a package of candy buttons out of her shoulderbag and hands them to Nick.

(Nick beamed with excitement) Oh sweet, thank you!

(Doc) You lot do be careful on your way out, okay?

(Nick) We will!

(Doc) Use the elevator, okay? You’re not ready to climb stairs yet.

(Nick) Yes doc.

(Doc) Once again, it’s been a pleasure being your doctor. Have a nice day, you lot.

(Shelly) Hey N, can you help carry these casts to the car?

(N’s eye begins glowing) *speaks language of the ancients and nods*

* A portal opens up and some other Unown peek out, featuring a S, a J, and a K.

(N) *gives orders to the Unown, his eye takes a stern shape for a bit.*

* The Unown hivemind nod, getting into position to carry the cast halves, two Unown carrying each half.

(Kristin) Pachairy?

(Doc looks at Kristin) Hm, interesting child you have there Nick.

(Nick) Yeah, she was abandoned cuz her mom couldn’t take care of her. Her dad walked out.

(Doc) A shame. If it weren’t for your parents being on your side, I’d be unsure you were ready to care for a kid. Do be careful with her.

(Nick) I wouldn’t hurt a hair on her head.

(Doc) Safe travels!

(John) You too!

* Nick stashes his candies firmly within his tail, and the family, and N’s cohorts, leave the doctor office. As they head outside, after putting Kristin in her infant chair, Shelly pulls her phone out and dials a number. After ringing a bit it goes to message.

(Shelly) Hello Naomi? This is Shelly. Yeah, Nick just got his cast off. We’re ready anytime you are. Call us back when you get my message. Thanks in advance.

* Shelly hangs up the phone and then gets in the car and pops the trunk open. The four Unown work together to gently place the cast halves in the trunk, and then the three Unown cohorts leave via portal. N closes the hood of the car, hops in, and gets snug into Nick’s tail. Shelly then starts the car and begins heading home.

@mountainleafuniversity

#plot post #injury arc #nick greedent #kristin pachairy #shelly greedent #john gumshoos #n unown #unown hivemind

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icklemissmayhem · 4 years

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BTS - Stones Thrown (Chapter 1)

Summary: Suddenly there’s a loud series of pops, but no stage effects, no smoke or fireworks... Something’s wrong. Really wrong. T/W: Violence, Injury, Shooting at a concert, Angst, Hurt/Comfort. (Obviously it’s fiction, it’s not something I’d ever want to happen in reality.)

He’s confused at first, when suddenly there’s a loud series of pops, but no stage effects, no smoke or fireworks, but then Taehyung’s spinning into him, he’s knocked backwards, hard, as they collide and fall - he’s got just enough time to decide that he’s definitely not taking the blame for this when Hoseok brings it up later (because he will - he always does...) before he’s landing flat on his back, Tae landing heavily on his chest. “Yah! Taehyung-ah! Get OFF!” he shouts, laughing, rubbing his head where it had banged on the stage when they fell, frowning when Tae doesn’t respond, or move to get up. Instead, he’s still, sprawled across him, pinning him to the stage almost, eyes closed, face relaxing from confused shock to completely slack. Something’s wrong. Really wrong. “Tae?” Still no response, so Jin wraps an arm around him, ignoring the sharp pain in his shoulder as he does so, and carefully, slowly, rolls them both over, wincing sympathetically as Taehyung cries out as they move, until he’s the one lying on his back on the stage, Jin kneeling over him. No longer confused, as understanding doesn’t so much wash over him as he looks down at his bandmate, it slams into him like a tsunami as a wave of nausea threatens to sweep over him. Quickly, and less carefully than he probably should, he yanks down his mic, leaving one of his in-ears in, but pulls Tae’s headset off completely, though much more gently. He knows he needs to know what’s going on, he’ll need to be able to communicate at some point, but he absolutely does not want to be heard by the entire stadium right now, and definitely doesn’t want Taehyung to be heard. As he tosses the headset away carelessly, he’s relieved to see Tae stirring a little, before he opens his eyes and looks up at him, grimacing. “Hey Taetae.” he’s pulling off his overshirt now, balling it up tight, and pressing it against where Tae’s own shirt is darkest, stained and soaked through already, down the side of his stomach. “No, no, Taehyung-ah, try and stay still.” he says, hoping the panic and revulsion he feels overwhelmed by isn’t showing too clearly on his face. “I know. Tae, I know it hurts, just… here.” He consoles, pleads, really, seizing each of his friends hands one at a time and pressing them to his wounds, squeezing them gently before he releases them. As if that can provide any comfort.

He quickly checks the rest of him over, finding one more place, at the top of his thigh, a ripped hole in his pants surrounded by wet fabric, and thinking quickly, almost automatically, puts his knee on top of it, resting his weight on it, knowing he needs to put pressure on it.

Taehyung screams then, trying to push Jin away and curling up, trying to protect himself where he’s injured. Jin, hating that he’s causing pain, even knowing it’s what’s best, what he needs to do, fights him back to lying flat, hands pressing down on his abdomen once more.

“Tae, how you doing?” he asks, cringing at the stupidity of the question, but wanting… needing any sort of answer, for Taehyung to stay awake til help comes. After screwing his face up, obviously confused by what’s happening, a few tears involuntarily leaking from the corners of his eyes, Tae answers, and it’s then that Jin truly starts to panic. He sounds… weak. Jin’s heard his voice when Taehyung’s been exhausted, so tired he can’t keep his eyes open, let alone stand unaided, he’s heard his voice when he’s upset, sobbing with grief, he’s heard him when he’s sick, when he squeaks rather than his usual deep voice, or speaking in a hoarse whisper.

Nothing like this though. Jin has to crouch right down next to his face to hear him, and it’s not just because of the surrounding noise in the stadium. Every word seems like a struggle mentally and physically, and any words he manages to form are barely more than a shaky exhalation anyway.

“Hyung… hurts.” he says, “What… how…?” and he’s damned if that doesn’t mirror his own thoughts and feelings exactly right now. He can’t - won’t answer that, instead choosing to try and reassure his injured dongsaeng, even if he needs the same reassurance himself, needs Taehyung to be alright, to… He shuts that thought down immediately, instead smiling down at Taehyung, repeating that he’s going to be ok, that he just needs to keep his eyes open, looking up either at him or up at ARMY; the army bombs still flashing around the stadium, in time with the backing track, still playing even if the concert is definitely over.

“Hyungs… members? Safe?” At Taehyung’s murmured question, Jin looks up and around. Just in time to see Yoongi and Jimin, arms wrapped round each other’s shoulders, heads down, unsteadily running off-stage.

Namjoon - he looks alrig-unhurt, from a distance at least. He’s making his way over to Hoseok, who’s struggling to hold their youngest back, trying to hold onto him as JK lashes out to get free. Jungkook’s yelling and fighting him, pulling Hoseok back towards Jin and Tae, even as he gets one arm free, using it to shove Hoseok away from him. He only gets two paces back towards them, not far enough to really start running even, before he’s seized by Namjoon, who gets an elbow to the face for his trouble as Jungkook yells, screaming really now, as Hoseok grabs his other side, the elder two between them finally managing to half-drag, half-carry him offstage despite him kicking and lunging against them the entire way.

Jin half-wishes he had managed to get free - he’s sure between the two of them they’d have been able to carry Taehyung to safety and better help than he can give him out here on the stage alone, but the responsible part of his mind overrules that, knowing that someone will come and help them as soon as it’s safe, and he’s relieved that the rest of them are safe - or safer, at any rate.

“Jin...?” Tae questions, Jin’s attention snapped back to him instantly, as he tries to smile down at him, hoping it’s good enough to pass as reassuringly genuine.

“They’re fine Tae” he responds, hoping like hell it’s true. He’s not all that sure it is when it comes to both Yoongi and Jimin, but the other three seemed unhurt, aside from any injuries JK may have unwittingly caused Hoseok and Namjoon. It’s just Taehyung he’s really worried about, paler than he’s ever seen him, weaker too, as he reaches up towards Jin, frowning.

“No Jin-hyung, you- you’re hurt.” he says, as Jin catches his hand as it falters in mid-air, pressing that bit harder with the other with his jacket against Tae’s abdomen. “You’re… go. Get help for you…” he trails off as Jin shakes his head vehemently.

“I’m fine, you don’t need to worry. Nothing hurts, I’m ok.”

“But..”

“Yah!” He interrupts, smiling softly even as he rebukes him gently. “I’m not hurt. This-” he nods down at the stain spread across his t-shirt - “this is all from you. And someone’ll come soon. They’ll come help us and you’ll be okay too.” Tae doesn’t look all that reassured, he thinks, maybe he shouldn’t have been quite so honest about the staining on his own clothing, but he does change the subject.

“ARMY? Hyung - is ARMY safe?”

Honestly, Jin has no idea. He’s not sure that he wants to know, or even check, truth be told, but from where they are he can easily see groups of venue staff not far from the stage. There’s a scuffle over to one side, a lot of security staff, so he guesses that where- that’s who did this, and they’ve been dealt with. To their other side, there’s a couple smaller groups, so maybe, hopefully not, but possibly some of their fans got hurt too. Hopefully not badly. He’s not going to tell that to Taehyung though. Not when he doesn’t know for sure, and it’ll upset him, and he doesn’t need-

“They’re okay too, Taehyung-ah. Venue staff will help ARMY, don’t worry about them. You can still see all the ARMY Bombs, right?” he replies, a lot more calmly than he feels, hoping it will serve as a distraction. “

“ARMY’s… pretty. Always so pr...” Tae agrees, smiling softly, even as his eyes roll back slightly into his head, which flops limply back onto the stage, the rest of him relaxing.

“Yah! Taehyung-ah! Look at me, c’mon Tae, look at ARMY - stay awake, don’t you dare…!” Jin cuts himself off as his panicked demands seem enough to rouse Taehyung slightly. “Please Taetae. Stay awake for me, keep talking about ARMY, anything, ok?” he pleads, too terrified to care about pretending otherwise now, before cocking his head to the side, puzzled.

“Music… it’s stopped. Hyung, is the concert over?” Taehyung queries confusedly. Jin can’t help but snort out a humourless laugh, because yes, there’s no way in hell they’ll be finishing the setlist tonight, but he can’t help but worry about Tae’s mounting confusion over the situation they’re in. Luckily, he doesn’t get to answer, as his earpiece suddenly switches back on, flooding him with relief as he hears a familiar voice cutting through the noise around him.

“Jin-hyung - Seokjin, where- are you alright?!”

Namjoon. Jin’s never been more relieved to hear his voice, as he nudges his mic clumsily closer to his face, tipping his head down to his shoulder, so he doesn’t have to take his hands off Tae’s abdomen.

“Joon-ah. I’m ok. We’re still on the stage, but Taehyungah… he- we need help.” he finishes, fighting hard to keep his voice from wobbling.

“He’s hurt?!” Namjoon sounds as panicked as Jin himself feels. He hears him relaying the information to someone else, muffled, like he has his hand over his mic, before he becomes more clear again. “Hyung, listen. Once the medics finish with Yoongi they’re going to come for you. Won’t be long, the ambulance is pulling up now. Taehyung- does he need..?”

“Yes!” he practically yells into his mic, “He needs help Namjoon. It’s… tell them to hurry. Please.” Maybe it’s because he knows help is close by, maybe it’s because it feels like they’ve been out here alone for hours, not the minutes it’s realistically could only have been, maybe it’s simply that he’s way over his head, scared both for Taehyung and Yoongi now, though he knows virtually nothing about what’s happening off-stage, he desperately wants to, wants to see how the others are, check that they’re all okay, or as well as can be, that they’re getting looked after properly - it’s his job after all and-

“Hyung? Where are- hurry” Tae mumbles suddenly, and he’s not sure how much of his side of the conversation Tae heard or understood, but he decides to answer, to keep the conversation going, keep Taehyung awake and talking as much as possible.

“Who needs to hurry, Taetae?” he responds, smiling down at him.

“Members. Hurry. ARMY’s waiting - concert.” He scrunches up his face as if frustrated, it’s almost comical, like when he’s drunk, trying to work out what’s happening around him, but… not. It’s not funny. At all.

“Are you ready for the concert?” He asks, following it up with “what song’s first?” Taehyung actually fixes him with a glare, and mutters something darkly, the only part audible being “Seokie-hyungie” and for a moment it’s almost as if they’re actually backstage prepping, getting ready for a show, and he’s being threatened or glared at for forgetting some choreography or other, and it makes him genuinely smile for the first time since they actually were dancing.

“Don’t tell on me” he mock-pleads, “but what song is first?”

“Hyung… jinjja?!” Tae says, still obviously frustrated by Jin’s questioning. “IDOL.” and if they’d been in any other situation, Jin would’ve been laughing by now, unable to keep a straight face for long when he’s teasing. But he isn’t. Instead, he’s scanning, eyes searching for movement, anything that heralds the arrival of help, as he half-listens to Tae continuing to mutter at him and his faults.

“Won’t be long now Taehyung-ah” he says, looking down at him, before raising his voice - Tae’s stopped muttering and his eyes are closing again slowly. “YAH! Tae! I told you to stay awake, didn’t I?!” Taehyung stirs, and mutters “hurting” but his eyes do open, even if he seems to be having trouble focussing them on Jin, or anything at all now.

“Come on, come on come onnnnn…” he mutters to himself, before almost yelling with relief as he finally, finally spots a group of people appearing from the side of the stage and running towards them.

“Tae - they’re here, they’re coming, ok? You’ll be ok now, help’s almost here, they’re going to make you better, alright?” he practically yells, desperately blinking away the blurred vision he’s suddenly struck with, practically sobbing with relief as they draw closer, close enough for Jin to recognise Seijin there too.

As they’re surrounded, Jin is unceremoniously shoved aside by the medics crowding around Taehyung, taking over efficiently and calmly, if loudly, swapping instructions as they work around him quickly. As they’re slipping a mask over his face, Tae reaches for him, mouthing his name, even if he can’t hear him any longer Jin still grabs the hand offered to him and squeezes it tightly, as Seijin crouches down next to him.

“Are you ok Seokjin-ah?” he queries, and Jin has to bite back a sharp retort, instead opting to bite his lip and shake his head silently. Seijin just sighs in answer before trying again. “Not hurt?” Same response. When he’s reasonably sure he can hold himself together enough to speak, he asks his own question:

“Yoongi?” He flinches as Seijin purses his lips, suddenly not wanting to know. Not if it’s bad news. As their manager inhales sharply, Jin holds his breath, bracing himself as best he can.

“Last seen cursing out the paramedics as they loaded him into the ambulance. Jimin’s gone with him to the hospital with…” Jin zones out at that point, suddenly feeling dizzy. Head dropping, he inhales sharply, before blowing out slowly, relieved when everything comes back more or less into focus.

“...need surgery when he gets to hospital, but they think he’ll be fine and should recover fully with time. And the others are all fine. Well… Namjoon might have a broken nose, but he’s refused to leave with Yoongi or even get it checked over until he’s seen you and Taehyung. You know how stubborn he can be.” Jin smiles at that, because of course he knows. It’s one of Namjoon’s strengths as a leader, even if sometimes it costs him dearly, which is why Jin looks out for him just as much, if not more than the younger members.

His attention is drawn by Tae suddenly groaning, and Jin’s hovering over him immediately, Seijin and anyone else all but forgotten, uncaring if he’s in the way of the medics, because they’re meant to be helping, not hurting and Taehyung might still need him-

It turns out they were sliding a stretcher under him, and Jin quickly relaxes, satisfied that Tae’s being looked after properly, even if his grip on Jin’s hand is loose to the point of non-existent. Jin keeps a tight enough grip for both of them though, determined to stay with his dongsaeng for as long as he possibly can, until he’s forced to leave him.

That hasn’t happened yet, though, and Jin keeps hold of Tae’s hand as he gets to his feet, ignoring the slight light-headedness he feels as he does so - once more protesting that he’s fine when Seijin and one of the medics point at his ruined shirt, eyebrows raised. Quickly, the medics lift Taehyung on the stretcher, and as they move, Seijin claps him on the back, and everything shatters.

It’s like his shoulder suddenly explodes, pain lancing through him, as Seijin realises something’s wrong, that he isn’t fine and turns to yell as he makes a grab to steady him. He misses though, as Jin loses his grip on Tae’s hand, loses his balance, loses all feeling, and loses consciousness before he hits the floor.

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misforgotten2 · 4 years

Photo

SAF-T-POPS: Now only a choking hazard!™

As sanitary as a saliva, sugar and artificial color string could be as it disintegrates into a linty sludge.

Parents Magazine 1953

#vintage ad #candy #lolipop #treats #funny

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fluttering-by · 5 years

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THANKS FOR THE TAG @ryuunosenshi! 💚💜💚💜💚💜

ONE / name / alias

My name is Saffron, which it feels like everyone knows at this point 😂

As for nicknames... Saf(f), Saffers, Frog/Froggy/Frog-chan

(And Safferoniouspeabaconburglar which really hurts that I'll never hear again)

TWO / birthday

July 15th

THREE / zodiac sign

Cancer

FOUR / height

I'm like... 5"6? (167cm ish)

FIVE / hobbies

Crafts, music (though I haven't recorded music in so long), dance, gardening, photography

I used to perform extremely low budget local stage plays but had to stop for illness reasons 😂

SIX / favourite colours

Green and blue!

SEVEN / favourite books

Silmarilion! And anything else of that vein (LOTR, Hobbit, Unfinished Takes, etc)

EIGHT / last song listened to

... P. A. R. T. Y.

I'm not that into dancey pop music but I'm absolutely obsessed with this

NINE / last film watched

The OOO X Fourze movie for reasons.......

TEN / inspiration for muse

... Tumblr most of the time honestly 😂

Or the shows I watch

ELEVEN / dream job

Criminal profiler, which is why I'm gonna be in uni for the next bloody decade 😂

But I'm gonna get that PhD and shove it right it Mrs. "meeh you're never gonna get your a levels uwu" 's face

TWELVE / meaning behind your url

My grandad always called butterflies flutterbies and it just sounded cool

And I had a habit at the time of being super active for a few days and then disappearing for a month so it fit 😂

I... no longer have that habit

---

Is it cheating to say anyone can do it? I don't like tagging people 😂

#Tag game

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whimsyprinx · 5 years

Note

Pumpkin, Candy Corn and Full Moon

🎃Pumpkin: What is your favorite season? Fall! I love the aesthetic, halloween, the leaves changin, the cool weather and the cloudy grey clouds, that I can start wearing jackets without comments from my family, it’s just the best!

🎃Candy Corn: What is your favorite kind of candy? Hmm fruity candy I think, of I’m getting really specific those saf t pops that are swirled specifically the blueberry vanilla ones are my favourite

👻Full Moon: Do you prefer nighttime or daytime? Nighttime! It’s just nice and quiet and like relaxing

#rambles #asks #anon #thanks for the ask!#i love fall so much #its the best

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depositmarketplace944 · 2 years

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Buffy The Vampire Slayer Kitten Poker

Buffy The Vampire Slayer Kitten Poker Games

Buffy The Vampire Slayer Kitten Poker Game

Buffy The Vampire Slayer Kitten Poker Free

Buffy The Vampire Slayer Kitten Poker Free Play

Xander sighed, knowing that he was caught. Faith had been right; it had taken Spike and Buffy all of five minutes to get over being mad and go straight to the sex. Xander had bet on fifteen, thinking that Buffy would surely pop him in the nose at least once for not calling. Here’s one reason why: Buffy, inebriated, saying: “ the only person I can even stand to be with anymore is a neutered vampire who cheats at kitten poker!” That’s the kind of line that. But this is 'Buffy,' not our boring lives, and she gets to get drunk watching a vampire and demons play kitten poker. She also slays at the puns when Spike demands someone stake him (pokerwise) and she pipes up, 'I'll do it!' Buffy's great at handling big, demon-y problems, but it's always been a little funny watching her fail at life. TV Shows Buffy: The Vampire Slayer. Follow/Fav Cheating at kitten poker. By: TamaraJagellovsk. In vino veritas.

“I won the bet, which means I get to pick the game, and we’re playing strip poker.” Faith stared him down. “What? You’ve got something to be ashamed of?”

Now, he and Faith were stuck in the house together, waiting for Giles’ arrival. The head Watcher was flying in from England, and someone had to be there for him. They’d drawn the short straw, and they had to do something while they were waiting.

“All right. I’ll grab the deck of cards.” Xander found a spare deck in the junk drawer and started shuffling. “How are we doing this?”

“You’ve never played poker before?”

“I’ve never played strip poker,” he corrected her.

She shrugged. “Instead of chips, you bet clothes. If you’re naked, you lose.”

He began to deal. “I know I’m going to regret this,” Xander muttered.

Faith looked over her hand. “So, why’d you come to Cleveland?”

“The apocalypse, what else?”

“Figured you’d stay in Africa.”

“Buffy said a reunion would be nice.” He looked around the living room of the Cleveland headquarters. “Where’s Wood? I haven’t seen him the last couple of days.”

She stared at her cards. “What are you betting?”

“My right shoe,” he replied, “and you didn’t answer my question.”

She smirked at him. “Coward.”

“No, just cautious. You?”

Faith’s expression was daring. “My bra.”

His eyes went wide. “Don’t you have to bet your shirt first?”

“Not if you do it right.”

Xander almost choked, beginning to feel a little warm. “Yeah, okay.”

“He left,” she replied as she discarded two of her cards.

He got rid of one and quickly dealt three. “Any reason?”

“I wasn’t the Slayer he wanted.”

He was surprised to find himself sympathetic. “Yeah. I could see he had that whole ‘mommy complex’ going for him.”

Faith frowned. “What?”

“His mom was a Slayer, right?” Xander pointed out. “He was sniffing around Buffy for a while, and then you. He was trying for a replacement mother.”

She snorted. “I’m no one’s mother.”

“That’s his problem, not yours.”

Her eyes took on a new respect for him. “Yeah, I guess it is.” She laid her cards down, revealing a flush. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

He looked from her cards to his own, then began unlacing his shoe. “This is going to be a long night.”

~~~~~

Faith’s eyes went wide as Xander pulled his t-shirt off over his head. He’d lost some weight, and it was clear that he’d been working a lot more than he’d been eating.

He tossed his shirt to the side. “See something you like?”

She met his good eye. “Maybe.”

He flushed, then began reshuffling the deck. “What’s it going to be this time?”

“My shirt.” Faith had already lost her bra, and she could have bet her pants, but she’d never been one to play it safe. Besides, if Xander was distracted, all the better. “You?”

“Pants.”

She took the cards he dealt. “Does it bother you?”

“What?”

“That.” She pointed at his eye patch.

He touched it self-consciously. “Nah. Chicks dig it.”

“Only if you’ve got a story to go with it,” Faith responded. “What do you tell them?”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You make something up, right?” she asked. “It’s not like you can tell them that some crazy ex-priest possessed by the First Evil poked it out.”

His lips quirked. “No, I usually tell them that it was a construction accident.”

“Lame,” she judged. “You’ve got to do better than that if you’re going to get laid.” At the expression on his face, she sat back. “You have been laid sometime in the recent past, right?”

He pulled out three cards and put them down. “Of course.”

“No, you haven’t,” she accused, getting rid of two cards. “How long has it been?”

“None of your business,” Xander snapped.

Faith raised her eyebrows. “Oooh, temper.”

“Shut up.”

She suddenly remembered something Buffy had told her, after the Hellmouth had been closed, about Xander grieving. “Not since Anya, huh?”

Instead of replying, he dealt the cards.

Faith let the awkward silence hang, thinking that she’d probably crossed a line. Not that she cared, but she felt the need to say something. “You could always tell the girls you got gored by a wild boar or something.”

“They’d never believe it,” he replied. “I prefer telling them that I got knifed by a mugger while saving a friend’s life.”

“Not bad,” Faith admitted. “What about getting attacked by a rabid gopher?”

A reluctant smile formed. “We don’t have gophers in Africa.”

“Never been there.”

“Would you want to go?”

“What would I do in Africa?” she asked.

“Same thing you’re doing here,” he replied. “There’s plenty of evil in Africa to fight.”

“Are you going back?”

“Yeah, eventually.” He smiled crookedly. “It’s nice to have hot water for a while.” Xander put his cards down. “Full house.”

Faith looked at her flush and smiled ruefully. She put her cards down and pulled her shirt over her head—slowly. When she tossed her shirt aside, his jaw was slack. “Like what you see?”

She could hear him swallow. “Uh…”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Faith would never find out what he would have said, because Angel and Giles entered the house, arguing.

“I wasn’t evil!” Angel protested.

“It was an evil law firm,” Giles shot back. “What was I—” He stopped, staring at Faith.

“Faith?” Angel choked out.

She smiled, not bothering to reach for her shirt. “Hey, Angel.”

Giles quickly averted his eyes. “What is going on here?”

“We’re playing strip poker,” Faith replied, feeling as though the answer to that question should have been obvious. She rose from her position on the floor. “Looks like it’s a tie, Xander.”

Xander scrambled to his feet. “I guess so.”

“Come on,” Faith seized his arm. “I think it’s time to get you back on the horse.”

Much like the first time, Xander didn’t offer a protest, although Faith had a feeling that the strip poker had softened him up considerably…so to speak.

It was time they both moved on.

Author: PrettyPoppy

Title: Kitten Thrall

Summary: A brief encounter between Spike and Dawn, set sometime around 'Crush.' A Spike/Dawn friendship ficlet. Rated PG.

Author's notes: Kitten poker is season 5? I know, I know, but just because Buffy didn't find out about it until season 6, doesn't mean that Spike hadn't been playing it all along. (Even if he never did get the whole cheating thing down.) I have absolutely no idea where this came from, and I'm as shocked as anyone to find that, after almost four months of writer's block, the thing that got me moving again was a Spike and Dawn piece. But I'll take what I can get.

Feedback: Please. I'd be ever so grateful. [email protected]

Distribution: If you want it, just let me know.

Disclaimer: Um, wait. I know this one. Give me a sec. Joss owns everything and I own nothing? Yeah, that sounds about right.

* * *

'Oh, don't look at me like that.' Spike was seriously losing his patience. He put the small bundle down on the lid of his sarcophagus and glared at it again. 'I said don't look at me like that!' The little red and white ball began to move, edging its way toward the corner of the stone box. 'What . . . where the hell do you think you're going?'

Pulling in a sharp, unneeded breath, Spike grabbed the little bugger and unceremoniously plopped it back down in the middle of the lid. 'Now you listen to me,' he said, pointing a finger in the horrid little creature's horrid little face. 'You stay put. We're gonna do this, and we're gonna do this right.'

Meow.

The kitten blinked. Then yawned, and got ready to crawl up into a contented little ball.

'Oh no you don't.' Spike picked it up again, forced it to unfurl, and planted it firmly on its four sickeningly furry feet.

The minuscule monster began to purr.

Spike rolled his eyes.

Hunkering down on the cold floor, Spike managed to align himself eye level with his latest bit of poker winnings. He stared, straight ahead, into the round amber eyes of the less than cooperative furball. His gaze narrowed and he began to concentrate with all his might.

Just then, the door burst open and Spike lost his balance, tumbling onto the floor behind him. 'Ow!' he yelled, his hand coming up to soothe his bruised backside. 'Bloody hell Slayer, the least you could do is–'

'A kitten! Oh my gosh Spike, when did you get a kitten?'

It wasn't the Slayer after all. No, more like the mini-Slayer. The Slayer-In-Training. Bitty Buffy herself.

'Dawn . . .' he began in warning.

Dawn turned around and looked down at Spike, the warm, fluffy bundle already wrapped tightly in her arms. 'Oh sorry, did I do that?'

'Uh, yeah, you kind of did.' Spike pushed himself off the ground and stood next to her, absently wiping the dust from his dark jeans. 'You might try knocking next time. You never know what manner of evil things I get up to in here.'

'Oh right, like what? Taking care of your sweet, wittle, adorwable kitten?' Somewhere along the way, her voice took on that insufferable, squeaky, baby-talk speak that women always seemed to use whenever they were around something weak and in need of mothering. She smiled up at him. 'He's so pretty. What's his name?' she asked.

Spike glared at her. 'He doesn't have a bleedin' name. He's dinner.'

'What?' Dawn squeaked, as she pulled the puffball closer to her chest.

'Din-ner,' he repeated, emphasizing both syllables. 'Won him in a poker game, and now he's going to be dinner.'

Dawn's mouth had fallen open and she was staring at him in horror. 'You . . . you can't eat him. You can't even kill him. It's impossible. You've got that chip, remember?' she said, her voice gaining a quavering false confidence.

'So what? Won't take much to dispose of a little morsel like that.' He motioned toward her arms. 'Quick snap of the neck. Won't hurt a bit.' He shrugged.

'Which one of you won't it hurt?'

'Either really. Trust me, Mr. Fast Food over there won't know what hit him.' He nodded toward the cat.

Buffy The Vampire Slayer Kitten Poker Games

Dawn narrowed her eyes and glared at him.

God how she looked like Buffy when she did that.

Meow!

This time it was more of a shriek than a warm utterance. Apparently Dawn had been so frightened for the poor creature that she had clamped it to her chest so hard that it was finding it difficult to breath. She immediately loosened her hold and began cooing soft nothings into its ear.

'It's okay, we won't let the bad vampire hurt you. No we won't. My sister's the Slayer,' she said, loud enough for him to hear, 'and she can kick his sorry ass any day.'

Spike let out a disquieted breath, something like a 'hmpf,' and walked away toward the fridge.

Dawn saw where he was going and squealed, 'What are you doing?'

'Looking for something to enhance the meal,' he said, as he swung open the door. He looked back at her, raising a quizzical, yet seemingly earnest brow. 'What goes with tender feline?'

'Spike, you can't!' She stormed over to the fridge, kitten still coddled at her breast, and stood toe to toe with him. 'I won't let you.'

'Yeah, li'l bit?' He said quietly, his tongue playing wickedly against his teeth. 'What you gonna do about it?'

Dawn puffed herself up. 'I'll . . . I'll . . . tell Buffy you tried to bite me, and she'll come over here and stake you.'

'Oh please,' Spike turned back toward the fridge and closed the door, 'we both know you're not gonna do that.'

'I could. I would. I mean, I will.' She followed him across the room.

Spike ignored her. He poured himself a drink and then threw himself down into his one and only armchair. Dawn hovered beside him. 'You're not having this kitten for dinner. And that's final.'

'Whatever.' Spike shook his head and downed half his glass. 'Have it your way then.'

'You mean it?'

Spike turned his face to look up at her. A sly smile pulled at his lips. 'Wasn't gonna eat it anyway.'

'What?'

'Eh.' He shrugged. 'Kitten's not really my thing. Too stringy. I don't care what they say, it does not taste like chicken.' He finished his drink and bounded out of his chair to fetch another.

'You don't eat kittens, do you?' Dawn asked, her voice heavy with suspicion.

'Not really. Not worth the trouble. Not enough blood. It's like eating a rat. Never really my thing.' He moved to turn away from her again but quickly remembered something and turned back. 'But Angel,' Spike emphasized the word, 'Angel knows a thing or two about eating rats. Bloody poofter. Apparently feeding off real, live humans wasn't good enough for him, after the whole en-souling.' Spike waved his hands in the air, as if heralding the end of some great, lame magic trick.

'Jealous much?'

'What?' Spike looked at her as if she were insane. 'Of the Poof?'

'Yeah, of the . . . the poof.' A small smile escaped her as she said it.

Spike was too offended to be warmed by Dawn's childish grin. 'Soddin' hell,' Spike cursed to himself. 'I have never been, and will never be, jealous of that magnificent wanker. You can count on it.'

'Even where Buffy is concerned?'

She said it lightly, dryly, as if it were nothing. A mere, innocuous question like any other. But it wasn't like any other. Damn insightful girl.

'What? You expect me to be jealous because he's caused her more harm?' Spike began. 'Because Angelus was able to torture and torment her? Well listen, Nibblet,' he said, moving in closer, doing his best to sound dangerous, 'there may come a day when I get this chip out of my head, and then you wait and see. See who it is who finishes Buffy off.'

Dawn blinked at him. Then yawned.

Just like that sodding kitten.

'Are you finished?' she asked, feigning boredom.

'I'm serious,' he said, trying indeed to sound very serious.

'Right, okay.' She rolled her eyes at him. 'Now honestly?'

Spike stared at her, deep into her dark brown eyes and tried to think of one thing to say, one simple way to deny it. He couldn't. He stepped away. 'I don't . . . envy,' the word was hard for him, 'what he has with her. I don't really give a bloody damn about any of it. What I . . .' He turned toward Dawn, his head lowered, his gaze furtive. She was gazing at him with earnest encouragement and a quiet kind of patience he had rarely seen from anyone, since his mother.

A hard lump caught in the back of Spike's throat and he had to pull away from her stare. He straightened up and squeezed his eyes tightly together, waiting for the sting to subside. When he could finally speak, he continued, not looking at his audience. 'Vampire's aren't supposed to feel, you know that right? Not without souls. And yet . . . and yet,' he was having difficulty forcing himself to speak, 'I do. I always have. Even before the chip.' His voice suddenly lowered to a whisper. 'Even before the bleeding chip.'

'Did you love her even then?'

'What?' Spike's eyes shot up and he stared at Dawn.

'Buffy?' she asked, nonchalantly, as she absently stroked the small tuft of fur in her arms. 'Did you love her even then? Even before the chip?'

Spike's vision glazed ever so slightly. Although he continued to stare at Dawn, he ceased to see her standing there. His mind was a million miles away.

He had never thought about that before. Not quite in those terms. He had been blaming the chip for this ever since that blasted dream! But it wasn't the chip, was it? No. Drusilla had known long before there ever was a chip. Had sent him packing because of it. No, it went back much farther than that, back to the first night they had met. He'd felt it even then.

And even then he'd known it was wrong.

He had never wanted to admit it to himself. Had always lived in a tenuous state of denial. But he had loved her since the very fist time he had laid eyes on her, all those years ago at The Bronze. At the time, he hadn't known exactly what that feeling was, and even now, he didn't quite know why he'd been able to feel it. But he had. He had loved her, from the beginning. From day one. The chip was just an excuse.

'Spike? Uh, Spike?' Dawn waved an agitated hand in front of his eyes to get his attention. 'So?'

Now Spike blinked. Several times. He felt no need to yawn. 'So, nothin'.'

'Right. Like I'm just supposed to believe that?'

'Look, if I loved her, why did I try to kill her all those times?'

'Well, things change,' Dawn said, going back to stroking the dozing kitten in her arms. 'Or maybe you just didn't know how to express your feelings. There was this boy in my fifth grade class, Billy Johnson, who totally had the hots for me. But instead of telling me - like a sane, normal human being - he used to sit behind me in class and tie my braids together in elaborate little knots. I just think he really liked to play with my hair, you know? Touching me, but not really touching me. Anyway, maybe you just liked trying to kill Buffy because it was a way to get near her. I mean, maybe if Buffy wore her hair in braids more often, you wouldn't have resorted to attempted murder to get close to her.' She smiled at him.

Spike looked at her like she was fairly insane.

'Besides, back then you didn't think you had a shot in hell with Buffy, so why not try to kill her? I mean, you probably figured if you couldn't have her, then no one could. Especially Angel. Better a dead Buffy, than Angel's Buffy, right? So, you see,' she said cheerily, 'the fact that you tried to kill her so many times, really doesn't prove anything. So, I'll ask you again. Did you feel this way or not? Before the chip?'

'Oh Bollocks!' Spike pushed himself away from Dawn, physically shaking the refrigerator as he slammed it in frustration. 'I don't feel anything for the Slayer. And even if I did, it's none of you're business.'

Dawn smiled at him. Just like a Cheshire cat. 'You like her, don't you? I knew it. Knew it all along.' Dawn skipped away from the fridge and toward the door, humming triumphantly to herself.

Spike whirled around to watch her as she made her way to the door. 'Where do you think you're going?'

'Home. It's pizza night. At least, I think it's pizza night. It is Friday, right? Anyway, mom'll be worried sick if I don't get home soon.'

'Uh-hem,' Spike cleared his throat and put out one strong, lean hand. 'Aren't you forgetting something?'

'What?'

'My poker ante?'

Dawn looked down at the sleeping mound cradled in the crook of her arm. 'Oh,' she said flatly. She looked up at Spike. 'Can I keep him?' she asked, far too cheerily.

'No, you cannot keep him,' he said as he stalked toward her and tried to pluck the kitten from her care. Spike knew he couldn't keep the kitten either, he had too many demon acquaintances who were all too ready to eat kittens for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It wouldn't last long hanging about his crypt. He'd have to give it away, when he was through with it.

Damn ruddy chip! If it wasn't responsible for him falling in love with Buffy, at the very least it had him developing a conscience.

Dawn pulled away before Spike could grab the purring feline. 'But Miss Kitty Fantastico could use a boyfriend.'

'Likes younger men, does she?'

'Well, I don't think she's too particular really. Actually, since she's neutered, it's probably not going to matter. But I think she might like the company. And I'm sure mom wouldn't mind.'

'Right. Well,' he said, as he took the tired kitten from her arms, 'when you get written permission from Joyce, saying that cats are now acceptable in the Summers household, I will gladly hand him over. In the meantime, I'll be keeping my little experiment to myself, thank you.'

'Experiment?'

'What?'

'You . . . said . . . experiment.' Dawn glanced about the room, scanning for anything unusual. 'What, exactly, were you doing with that kitten before I got here? What kind of experiment?'

'No, no kind of experiment.' Now Spike was clutching the few feeble ounces of fur.

Dawn gave him a look. The look. Something she had obviously learned from her sister.

'It's nothin',' he protested. He was beginning to wilt under the oppressive heat of her gaze.

'Nothin', huh? Let's see.' Dawn stepped around Spike and descended the few stairs back into the center of the crypt. 'Hmm?' She put a very thoughtful look on her face, and Spike couldn't help but watch her curiously. 'You were down on the ground, watching the kitten. What? Did you give it something? Some kind of poison or something? You wanted to see if it would take, without activating you're chip? Is that it?'she asked with accusatory horror.

'Oh please. Yes I am intending to wreak my evil vengeance by poisoning the entire cat population of Sunnydale. Oh, I'm so evil,' he mocked.

Dawn crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. 'There's no need to be sarcastic, you know? So, you're not doing evil, poisoning experiments?' she asked, her voice softening and becoming slightly hopeful.

'Course not.'

'Then what?' Dawn raised an eyebrow at him, and gave him another look.

Bloody hell she was good.

Spike shook his head and sighed. 'It's stupid really. And nothin' to worry yourself over. So forget about it.' He placed the sleeping kitten down in the armchair and moved closer to Dawn.

'Stupid?' Now she sounded sympathetic. Was that pity in her voice?

'Right, okay, well, you see, I wanted to see if I could . . .' Spike couldn't finish. He broke off with a loud cry of frustration and threw himself up against the sarcophagus, the small of his back pressed firmly into the edge of the lid.

'Wanted to see if you could . . . what? Control the kitten?' she mocked playfully. 'Get it to do your evil bidding? Put a thrall on it?'

Spike didn't speak.

'I mean, can you imagine trying to put a thrall on a kitten? Only the most pathetic vampire in the entire world would ever try to . . .' Dawn's voice trailed off. 'Oh.' She quickly shut her gaping mouth.

Spike turned his head to look at her from the corner of his eye. 'I didn't try to get it to do my evil bidding,' he tried to defend himself. 'I just wanted to see if - oh, I don't know - I just wanted to do something vampire-like!' He pushed himself away from the sarcophagus, accidently dislodging the lid and sending it skidding across the top of the box several inches. Luckily, it didn't hit the floor.

Spike had never actually put a thrall on anything before. That was Dru's bit. But he figured he'd give it a try, learn a new skill. After all, with that soddin' chip in his head, most of his old one's were lost to him now.

'Yeah, and we all know how much vampires love putting thralls on kittens,' Dawn said. 'I mean, it's like Gospel right? In the vampire Bible? Everyone knows vampires drink blood, hate pointy wooden objects, and of course, enthrall hordes and hordes of kittens to be their loyal minions.' She smiled at him. And then reconsidered. 'Or maybe that's dogs. Dogs are more loyal than cats, right? Did you ever think of using a dog?'

Spike very much wanted to strangle the little bit, but knew he'd literally have hell to pay for it if he did. His own private hell in the form of one very brassed-off slayer. Instead he tried to ignore her.

Spike crossed the crypt and opened the refrigerator again. This time he reached inside and pulled out a packet of blood. Maybe she'd leave if she knew feeding time was near.

'Oh, so you're gonna ignore me then? Fine.' Dawn let out an all-too dramatic sigh. 'I guess I'll just go tell Buffy then. Got to keep her up-to-date on all the evilness that goes on around here.'

Spike still tried to ignore her. He refused to turn around, but listened intently as she made her way toward the door. He heard feet pad spryly up the stone steps. Then a pause. The door opened, a few more steps, and then it closed. She was gone.

Spike turned around and cursed under his breath. Sodding slayer-wannabe. 'Dawn!' he yelled in aggravation, as he headed toward the door. Just as he reached it, it swung open and he was met with a brilliant pair of dark, smiling brown eyes.

Dawn smiled at him.

Spike scowled.

Buffy The Vampire Slayer Kitten Poker Game

'You are not to tell your sister, do you understand?'

'Of course I do. I am not - as I keep telling everyone - a child,' she said indignantly. 'Look, Spike,' she said, all seriousness for the first time. 'I get it, okay? You wanted to prove something to yourself, and what other means did you have? I mean, Buffy would have killed you if she had found you out there practicing your thrall on real humans. I do get it. But honestly, doesn't the victim need a soul for that kind of thing?'

Spike sighed and ran a hand over his hair. 'Reckon so, but figured, what the hell? Couldn't hurt to try, right? Didn't know I was going to get caught by Buffy's shadow.'

'Hey, I am not Buffy's shadow,' Dawn cried defensively. 'I go where I want and do what I want. And sometimes I don't even tell Buffy where I am,' she said proudly.

'Even though you should,' he said, matter-of-factly.

'Hey, what is this? I thought you were evil? I thought you understood.'

Buffy The Vampire Slayer Kitten Poker Free

'I do.' Spike smiled slyly. 'But it's dangerous out there bit.' He nodded toward the open door. 'Can't be too careful, especially around here.'

'Right. I know,' Dawn grudgingly conceded. 'Look, I'd better go, or Buffy'll be knocking down this door any . . .,' she glanced at it, 'well, okay, it's already open, but you know what I mean. I'll see you later.'

'Sure li'l bit.'

She turned to walk away. Before she could place a foot outside, she turned back toward Spike. 'Spike?'

'Yeah?' he asked softly.

'If you . . . if you need someone to practice on, someone who's not of the kitten variety, I could always . . .'

'No!' The startled cry was barely comprehensible. Was she completely off her bird?! What the hell was wrong with her, volunteering for thrall practice with a vampire? She was as daft as her sister, apparently.

'Are you sure? Because I wouldn't mind.'

'Dawn,' Spike said sternly, 'go home.'

'Right. Home.' She nodded succinctly. 'Can I stop by tomorrow then? No enthralling, I swear,' she quickly assured him. 'Just to see little William over there.' She pointed toward the chair.

'What?' Spike asked, completely baffled.

'William. William the Bloody. You know, Din-ner? Mr. Fast Food? He needed a proper name, so I gave him one.'

'When, did you do that?' Spike asked tightly.

'Oh, I don't know. During one of your blow-ups? You know, if I didn't know any better - you know, know that you're a vampire and all - I'd swear you had hypertension. We learned about it in health class. So, you never actually turn red, you've got all the other symptoms. Funny, do you think vampires can have heart attacks?

'No,' he said as he moved directly toward her, hoping to maneuver her out the door, 'but what they can do is murder little girls. Strangle them, disembowel them, suck their blood dry until they're so weak they can no longer beg for mercy.' He glowered down at her with piercing blue eyes.

'You're right. But that's just as long as they don't have chips in their heads. 'Cause, the chipped kind? They're kinda whipped.' She nodded, smiled at him, and finally, disappeared through the door.

Spike closed the door behind him with a thankful sigh. Just think, she'd be back again tomorrow. The troublesome bint.

Buffy The Vampire Slayer Kitten Poker Free Play

No, Spike admitted to himself, as he picked up the kitten and sat down with it in his arms. She wasn't all that bad. Not bad at all. Actually, he liked her quite a lot. Too much like her sister for her own good really. Just like the little sister he'd never had. The problem was, she had hit too close to home tonight. She knew too much - about him, about his feeling for Buffy. He was scared of being close, to anyone, didn't matter who. The fact that that little girl knew him so well scared him. What scared him even more was the fact that she knew him so well and actually liked him.

She was nuts!

Just like her dear sister.

Just like his slayer.

Between the two of them, he knew he was doomed.

END

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