thesparklecollective | Fiebelkorn: 6.3

oh ho ho who is this sneaking in to write the update??

last time:

dionaea was born, and mr. handy was "born"
HU͝M̢A̸N̸ B̷OU͟NC̡I͘N̛G
missy visited the extended family
thwompbop: o__o

to begin, an entire day of candy breaking into the fiebelmanse completely fuckin uninvited!

candy: well yeah i don't want any of the weird shit that i ask jeeves in my search history

disquieting, thanks! what happened to your eyebrows?

candy: that's between me and my search history

drosera: you don't know my mom at all do you

candy: whaaaat? how can you say that, she's waving right at me!

drosera: that's not a valid metric, she waves at everything

lamp: hi trees, hi road, hi sky, hi grass, hi—

candy: hey there, offspring of my very best friend lamp fiebelkorn née love! whatcha paintin' there?

artemisia: a still life of the locks we should probably have changed

lamp: hey there, stranger! are you the emotional support flossing buddy i put up that ad for? you're just in time, my back molars are so crowded. it really stresses me out.

candy: that's so interesting. say, how far is the range on your wifi?

mr. handy: LEA͢V͝È

thwompbop: *o__o's at ludicrous speed*

mr. handy: TH̀IS ͘H̕E̛RB͠ G̨A͝RDE҉N ͘SO͜U̷N͏DS͏ Q̶UI̕T͝E̕ ̢DA͏N̶GE̢ROUS, ŞISTE̸R̸ DROS̡I̢E͜, ̢F̛ÓR ́I͜T I̷S A W͝E͡L̕L KNOWN͘ HU̡M̡AN͝ ͝FAC̷Ţ TH͞AT́ SOI͘L̵ ̴C͠A͏Ņ RUST́ ͝OUŖ ҉DEL̴ICAT̡È ḨU͢MA͜Ń ̶S̛K̷I͟N̶.

drosera: i don't think that's true.

mr. handy: Y̨E͟S ̡IT͜ ̢IS.

drosera: what the shit, that's our newspaper that we never read or pay for!

drosera: there's like fourteen people in this entire neighborhood and you're bright yellow, don't think i won't find you!

dionaea: droze, she's been gone for half an hour. more importantly, how are your fingers doing that?

drosera: doing what?

alegra: there's no need to grovel, yellow sean. i've already accepted your apology, this mauling is unrelated.

MIPS!!

lamp: i feel like i had something called a 'job' before i came to somewhither, but it's all a little fuzzy.

rum raisin: i think it's pronounced 'yob', with a soft 'j'.

lamp: that sounds right.

zappy friend: ANTERIOR SENSORS HAVE LOCATED A VERY GOOD BOY.

alegra: i'm the star of the show, skanks.

harsh, but fair.

lamp: rumrai, my scintillant princess, you're positively glowing! are we pregnant again?

rum raisin: no i think it's just the post-poop exertion

drosera: and in the latest chapter, detective schnord is trying to figure out who burgled the money factory, but the case has got her stumped because there's absolutely no fingerprints at the scene!

dionaea: whoa, you think it was a sheep?

drosera: could be, but i hope the author subverts that trope. everyone knows that sheep make the best burglars, on account of their hooves.

dionaea: it's true, everyone does know that.

mr. handy: T̀RUL̴Ỳ, ͘A͏N EXCELS̛I͠OR͘ LO̸CATIO҉N I͏N ̨W̢HICH͜ TƠ CH͜AR̶GE M̢Y͢ ̷HU͟M̵AN͞ P̧ǪW̵E͝R S҉OU͏R̡C͝E͠.͢

dionaea: i have to pee. should i go in the yard? i'm gonna go in the yard.

lamp: it's missy's birthday tonight, do you think we should make her a festive s'lad?

rum raisin: of course! it's just not a birthday without a traditional birthday s'lad.

mr. handy: M̷OTH̶E͞ŖS ̵I͜ ̀R̢EQŲIRE͏ A̴SS̨IS̛TA̴N̢C̕E̸,̕ ̵T̀H͞E̢ ̴Ş'̶L͞A͠D̛ ͜CO̢NS̨T͝R͝UCT̸I̶ON͞ S͡TAT͟I̧ON I̛S͡ O̧CCU͡P̶IE̢D̴.

alegra: you bet your shiny metal rump it is

too much fashion for the game to handle. by which i mean i forgot to apply the 4gb patch to my new launcher and it got overwhelmed by the clothing catalogue. oop.

let's try that again, shall we?

alegra: UGH. I'M SURROUNDED BY UGLY SHOES.

drosera: wanna play jumpies, leggles? y'wanna? who wants jumpies? who wants 'em?

alegra: me. :))

alegra: check it out, i can manifest my puke on command!

so can a lot of people.

alegra: yeah but i can do it with my paws. be impressed.

mr. handy: STIL̀L ͏AN̶ ͠E̛XC̸E͘LS̷I͡OR̡ ͢L҉OC̛ATI̧O͞N̛ I͠N͜ W̵H̨ICH TO C̕H̸A҉R͝G҉E̴ ̷M͠Y̢ H͢UM̵A̛N̵ ̷P̢ƠW̡ER S̛OURC͠E̕.͝ ̶TH͞ÍS̷ ͠W͟A̴Y̶ ̡I ̀CA̵N̸ ̀K͡E͠E͜P͞ ̧TWO̸ ÒF̕ M̴Y̨ T̨HRE̷E H̕UMA͝N ̧E͠YES͏ ON MY BEL̵O͜V̸E̶D̀ ҉FAM̶ILY͢

lamp: ruuuum raaaaai

lamp: eeehehee!

artemisia: me.
mr. handy: S̵H̨E.

missy's not heir so she's off to find her fortune in simbin city.

artemisia: one last glamor shot for the road!

alegra: sick, that means i get her bed.

you already have a bed. several beds.

alegra: yes, but i don't appreciate any of them.

dionaea: oh shit, did you guys know we have a tea set?

not for long, they don't, once they decide it's the only source of sustenance they require, and we have to take it away from them.

dionaea: hey mom, you're good with tools. you think you could build me a raygun?

lamp: no, but i could hit it with a hammer!

drosera: oh shit is that oolong? can i have some?

dionaea: absolutely not.

lamp: ruuuum raaaaaaaaaai

lamp: r̡̟̱̘͉͓̣̬u̗̫̜͕̗̳͢u̠̯̥͇̙͕͞u͓̣̱͈̩u͙̦m͉͎͡ ̤͎͎̜̕r̜̰͞a̹̩͍a̜̺̪̹̣̘a҉ą͎̪̳̝̩͓a̼̩a͔̗͟a̩̗a̴̲̤̗̖̹̼a̱͖͇̖a͔a̭̤̹̗a͎͟ͅa̙̥͇a̡͕̻͚̠ạ̢̟̻͚̹i҉̺̺̩

it comes as a shock, i'm sure, that lamp has the hopeless romantic trait.

alegra: i keep you around for your magical powers, luna, not your judgment! if you've got complaints, take them up with mr. octopus!

handy-chan, engaging in her second-favorite human activity: having a complete breakdown.

cute.

lamp wanted rum raisin to give her pointers on how to jump on the trampoline.

rum raisin: well, first you jump on it.

rum raisin: and then you keep jumping.

extremely complex instructions.

mr. handy: UN̴L͟IKE ̴MƠTHER L͞AMP I͠ ͢A̸M ̷Q͡ƯI̕T̷E AS͞TUT͢E IŃ ̶T͜HE A͢R̷T OF̸ H̢U̢MAN B̡O͏U͜N̡C̛I̴N͡G͠ ͢A͞N҉D̀ ͢N̕E̶ED̡ ̨NO̴ FO͘RM̡AL͡ ͡ÌNST̡RƯCTÍO̕N̛.̢

drosera: hey everyone, come see how far i can bend my fingers back!

rum raisin: SICK.

dionaea: droze, i think you may have a connective tissue disorder

she does. it's called bone-assignment-itis.

lamp: that's such a cute haircut, drosie!

dionaea: yeah, but i'm still the pretty sister.

drosera: WHAT.

don't listen to her, drosie. you're the one who gets to be heir, and carry on the family legacy!

drosera: but that sounds like one of those dumb yobs that mom was talking about!

i mean. yeah. yeah, it kind of is, come to think.

drosera: this licks. but at least we have each other, thwompbop.

thwompbop: o__o

anyway, here are some extremely sporadically-provided stats for the heiress of gen 6:

aspiration: romance/grilled cheese
personality: 6/8/7/7/7
traits: neurotic, good, family oriented, hydrophobic, hopeless romantic
zodiac: aquarius
turn ons: glasses & redheads
turn off: werewolves

off to what is still the only pickup spot in town: the dirt pit!

lophorina: hey wad, let's boogie down!

drosera: but there's no music. and it's pronounced 'drosera'.

moving on.

what about her, drosie? she's cute.

candy: i'm cute. you should marry me into the family.

not on your little pink life.

drosera: i like her.

drosera: i want her to shuffle my deck, if you know what i mean.

i do not.

drosera plucked up the courage to talk to to sylvassa for a little bit, but then she noticed that someone had brought marshmallows to roast and beelined for the firepit.

that went well.

drosera: sure did!

go talk to someone, you lazy nard.

drosera: not yet, i gotta warm my buns.

lophorina: they seem plenty hot to me.

inapropes.

sylvassa: i only wear full-length dresses. makes it easier to go commando.

drosera: that's so practical.

sylvassa: but i am thinking of branching out from wedges into a comfortable pair of sneaks.

speaking of sneaking.

unsavory charlatan: if that was a criticism of me, i won't hear it, and i won't respond to it.

drosera: i love your opinion on fashion. we should kiss about it.

oh drosie, no. sweetie, no.

sylvassa: um, no thanks.

drosera: what? how? but, we talked about sneaks!

sylvassa: sorry, it's just that i literally don't even know your name.

she makes an extremely cogent point, droze.

(srsly tho drosie just did this with acr, even though they had been talking for like 20 game minutes. can't even blame it on the beer keg, it's down in the pit.)

drosera tried again with kozette here, taking things a little bit slower by discussing a mutual love of grilled chee.

drosera and kozette: sidewalk dance, sidewalk dance, sidewalk dance, sidewalk dance!

kozette: your collarbones look so good in that dress!

drosera: collarbones be damned, she burped right into my face!

kozette: hey. hey, you. are you watching?

yeah, why?

kozette: fuck your legacy is why.

oh. okay. point taken.

eufala also self-selected out of the marriage candidate pool by eating from the trash and then immediately ralphing all over the pavement. so it's time to make some new townies, cheatily structured to appeal to drosie's redheads-in-glasses turn ons.

wow, it's so lucky that that they all showed up so quickly and entirely of their own free will *throws blanket over the summoning box*

ruh roh, looks like someone randomized the pickpocket trait.

fountain: and what about you, blue miss, are you interested in an exciting business opportunity as well?

drosera: no thanks.

drosera: but i am interested in an exciting pants opportunity.

what?

drosera: you know, like, for exciting things to happen. in my pants. or hers.

no one here is wearing pants.

drosera: she is!

elisee: oh, you went to batbox university, too? i graduated summa cum laude

lili: wow, me too!

(everyone does when you use the upgrade sim function on the batbox bc you want them to have six want slots but hate actually playing uni)

elisee: okay, but i can also do this *chipflip*

lili: i concede defeat.

sif: and then, friend, THEN the raisin bran-fueled hedgehogs put all that delicious, fibrous energy to use on their exercise wheels, which provide power to the windmill, which turns, generating lucrative, lucrative wind! genius, no?

linnea: um, no?

linnea: my wallet! it's gone! i had all my pogs in there!

sif: wow, that sucks. let me know if you find out who took it, i'll beat them up for you.

drosera: and the hedgehogs. you say they're partial to bran?

sif: quite partial!

sif: why, they go positively MAD for the stuff! which is why i need your generous donation to construct more habitats for them! because if we don't keep them separate, friend, they'll turn on each other! fight bitterly to the death for that bran! it'll be a bloodbath! and you certainly don't want something like THAT on your conscience, do you, friend?

drosera: EEP

drosera: wait, where's my wallet?

sif: oh dip, is it missing or something?

drosera: FUCK.

sif: welp, this was fun but i got hedgehogs to feed. peace out.

drosera: when i find out who took my wallet, i'm going to fill a sack with baseballs and beat them with it

unsavory charlatan: this is preposterous, having someone look over my shoulder. why, it's unconscionable! an insult! i don't see why i'm the only one here with a chaperone!

candy: because you're the only one who was dumb enough to try to steal my stash of werther's originals last week. now shut your mustache ride and place your bet.

eufala: *siiiiips drink*

lili: hey small, hot and blue, how'd you like these teeth anywhere near your genitals?

fountain: *ears prick*

drosera: tee hee i dunno maybe. i'm a risk taker.

fountain: hey, i've got unsettling teeth, too. but mine come with SNUGGLES!

lili: i concede defeat.

drosera and fountain: *giggle titter flirt*

antimony: *nod of approval*

unsavory charlatan: i've endeavored as of late to carry a hacksaw with me wherever i go. you never know when you're going to find a corpse handcuffed to a suitcase full of money!

drosera: fountain, old sock! it's been ages. mmwah!

fountain, who left the lot and then immediately came back: ages, my dear! i only hope i can soothe the ache of our separation with this employee discount card!

drosera: *delighted gasping*

drosera: kiss me, you fool!

second time's the charm.

drosera: let me rub your back, darling, your shoulders are as hard as rocks!

might have something to do with the fact that she's a literal gargoyle.

drosera: so, want to be gay together?

fountain: shit yeah.

drosera: okay, but do you like ... grilled cheese?

fountain: oh, no. no, i'm lactose intolerant.

unlike mawreen, this is not a deal-breaker for drosie.

drosera: yeah, that just means more for me!

elisee: heyyyy, speaking of more, got room for one?

no. no they don't.

OKBYE

Fiebelkorn: 6.3

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