Chatterbox: Pudding's Place



That should hopefully cover the title. Anyways,you know how people do picturings? I’m doing write-ings! Basically I’ll write you a story excerpt! Please fill out this form and I’ll get to work. I know that Word-Song is doing the same thing right (or write xD) now and I thought I’t was a good idea and that I could do some so that she doesn’t have to worry about getting them done really fast UwU You May do yourself, your CB identity, A pet, anyone!





Parents (optional):




Other things I missed:

Story Type (First person, third person, exc.);

Story Type B (Genre):



Short Story Line (optional):

Anything else I forgot that you forgot when you wrote in the last ‘other’ section:  

submitted by Niteskiies
(July 18, 2020 - 12:29 pm)

I'd love for you to do a write-ing of my AE —

Alter Ego, PLEASE. Nicknames are not tolerated.

Sorry. I'd love for you to do a write-ing of my ALTER EGO, Abcde. I'm going to let her fill out the sheet so that you can get a taste of her personality, although I might pop in to add a few details.


Name: Abcde.

Age: 13. And yes, I know AEs are ageless. I'm still 13.

Gender: Female!

Parents (optional): None. Does PygmyOwl count? She's my chaperone.

Siblings(optional): None. It's not fair. You can pretend I have a bunch of siblings though, if you want.

Looks: Well, I'm absolutely beautiful in every way. I have a very becoming shade of mahogany skin, amber eyes, and GORGEOUS, wavy, long, deep red (not orange, RED) hair. I am wearing a red tunic dress a few shades lighter than my hair and black leggings. And black flats. Also, I'm very beautiful.

Personality: I'm really quite a wonderful person. I'm an ambivert (and ambidextrous, and ambitious, and lots of other things that start with ambi-.) I'm loyal, and loving, and loveable. 

She is also very stubborn.

In a good way.

And in a bad way, sometimes.

No. Nothing about me is "in a bad way."

And she's pretty vain, if you can't already tell.

I'm not vain. I'm perfect, and I know it. 

Other things I missed: I love music and sound and playing around with the technology of sound. Especially in theatrical situations. My favorite book is Theatre Sound by John A. Leonard.

Story Type (First person, third person, exc.): I don't really care, whatever works best with the story. You can do it in first person if you need inspiration though. But anything would be interesting.

Story Type B (Genre): Once again, whatever works best with your idea of the story. If you don't quite know what you want to do for the story, realistic fiction or fantasy would be nice. If I have magic, it has to do with controlling fire.

Likes: Me. And the Phantom of the Opera. And 

Dislikes: I love almost everything. Except animal cruelty. And loneliness. And having no siblings. And people who don't love me immediately. Actually, there are a lot of things that I don't like.

Short Story Line (optional): None

Anything else I forgot that you forgot when you wrote in the last ‘other’ section: I am vegan. Well, I'm vegetarian, but I do not eat animal products that come from factory farms that treat animals like a bunch of toys and puppets and non living things that they can do whatever they like with. Also, I despise nicknames.

submitted by PygmyOwl & Abcde
(July 18, 2020 - 1:41 pm)
submitted by top
(July 18, 2020 - 2:02 pm)

Well, I do need a backstory for this guy. Have fun with this.

Form: RuSsIaN

Name: Ivan the Russian Emu

Age: Uhm... Adult?

Gender: Male 

Parents (optional): They are also Russian emu's.

Siblings(optional): Just a bunch of other Russain Emu's. 

Looks: He's a black emu with a fuzzy Russian hat and a vodka flask around his neck. 

Personality: He's an over dramatic Russain emu with a heavy accent. What else could you want from me. 

Other things I missed: Well, you weren't their for his school play ten years ago.

Story Type (First person, third person, exc.): Suprise me. 

Story Type B (Genre): HmMmMMmmMmMM..... Lets go with an adventure/romance/comedy story. 

Likes: MoThEr  RuSsIa!

Dislikes: People that cheat at poker. 

Short Story Line (optional):  "FOR VODKAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!"

Anything else I forgot that you forgot when you wrote in the last 'other' section: High-heeled crocs are hideous

submitted by Sammy E
(July 18, 2020 - 2:37 pm)

Well alrighty then, PygmyOwl’s AE. I’ll get to work. Also yes I enjoy being annoying heh

submitted by Niteskiies
(July 18, 2020 - 3:59 pm)

Me too! I might ask for one of these eventually (I can't do it for myself XD) or one for my AE. 

submitted by WordSong, age Forever, My bed
(July 18, 2020 - 4:23 pm)

Actually, this is for my OC:

Name: Aigha

Age: 7 years

Gender: Female.

Parents (optional): I'm not sure what their names are, but she does have parents. 

Siblings(optional): Saril. She adores Saril, her older, twelve year old sister. Saril was kidnapped two years ago, which is why Aigha ran away in the first place. 

Looks: She's very pale, and has short, dark brown hair. She often wears a crown of white roses. She wears a t-shirt that was originally white, now a murky brown color, and jeans, badly ripped and stained. She combs her hair daily, with a brush Saril brought her for her fifth birthday, so it's usually very neat. She is short and very thin, even for her age. 

Personality: She's very easy manipulated, but has strong willpower. She may be described as selfish and arrogant, but she is actually a very loving person, she has just been taking care of herself too long and does not often consider other people's needs. She's naturally cruious and brave. She doesn't really care about looks, but she enjoys making crowns out of white roses.

 She's an amazing person in general, but does have plenty of flaws, like everyone.

Other things I missed: She lives in a broken, futuristic world. A while ago, a group of people with elemental powers tried to take over, and in doing so colapsed the entire Earth. They are called the Failed, and secretly, Saril and Aigha's mom are both Failed, though not the generation who tried to take over. There is a group of people who kidnap childer, called by Aigha the Men, who are trying to kidnap Failed children, train them, and bring them back to power. That's who kidnapped Saril. 

Story Type (First person, third person, exc.); Third person

Story Type B (Genre): Futuristic fantasy

Likes: White roses, her sister, her family, love, Moon, a horse that's kind of hers, and a lot of other things.

Dislikes: Not many, but she doesn't like the Men or the Failed.

Short Story Line (optional): This is her story I'm writing so far, if that helps:

To most people, wearing a crown of roses meant riches, nobility, beauty. To Aigha, (pronounced eye-uh) it meant strength. It meant she’d scavenged and hunted for food, cooked it, ate it, tracked down water, cleaned it, drank it, and still had time to pick flowers.

Aigha lay on the cold floor, damp from the recent rain. Moonlight trickled in through a small hole, which she had come to love, even though it was the reason the roof had a leak. She thought about Saril.

She thought about little else since she turned seven (she knew because she made herself a calendar), the age when she had promised herself to rescue Saril. But now she was having doubts. She didn’t even know where the big man went with Saril!

There are millions of people being kidnapped every day. her positive brain scolded her, Just find a kidnapping and follow the kidnapper! It’s easy! 

But what if they have different hideouts? her negative brain worried.

At least you’ll have your revenge!

Aigha sighed. It was always difficult to fall asleep these days, and the arguing sides made her head hurt and made it even harder. She closed her eyes and saw the faint moonlight through her eyelids, assuring her it was okay. She had always been slightly afraid of the dark.

Eventually, somehow, she fell into a light sleep, punctured by dreams about Saril and her parents, and one nightmare when she found her horse, Moon, had fallen off a cliff and died. Well, Moon wasn’t really hers, but she loved him and he knew her well.

The next day, an inner war was going on inside her head as she did her ‘chores’. She always thought about Saril, but this was the worst it had been in weeks! What had gotten her positive side so determined? Maybe it was the thought of Saril dying, which had been one of her dreams, or the fact that today she was 7 ⅗ years old, and still hadn’t tried to find Saril.

She decided she would try tomorrow. It was probably a bad decision, but she was impatient and anxious. 

However, she still had doubts.

You can’t do it. her negative brain growled.

Come on! While you’re doing it, you should rescue some of the other children! her positive brain cheered.

You’ll need to bring a week’s worth of food and water, and probably Moon, if you plan on getting anywhere. her sensible brain decided.

Aigha put her hands over her ears, trying to block out the voices. She needed a good night’s sleep, so she was going to have to do her ‘chores’ quickly.

The rest of the day, while she was gathering food and cleaning water from the nearby pond, for today and tomorrow, she planned out her trip. She would pack first (probably with bags made from her clothes) and then find Moon. She would ride Moon to the nearest street, a very small road called Raine Avenue. Then she would race him down the road, slowing when she saw people, and find a kidnapping. She would follow the kidnapper to their base, and then-

And then-

Well, she hadn’t quite figured out what would happen after that. She figured she would make it up as she went along. 

She had trouble falling asleep that night, but eventually she quieted the cheering, moaning, and calculating voices in her head and dozed off.

She woke the next morning, and immediately regretted waking up. Her voices were back again, and it was too early to get them to stop. Her negative brain was the loudest:

Oh, no. Oh, no, you’re going to do it today, aren’t you. You’re going to mess up and get yourself killed and probably kill Moon and Saril too, in the process. Oh, no no no no no. Oh, no.

She rolled her eyes at herself, but her musings troubled her. What if she did die? She hadn’t really thought about death before, except Saril’s death. She wondered what it would be like. Horrible, painful . . . or quiet and fast?

“Those aren’t appropriate thoughts for a seven year old,” said a gentle voice.

Aigha jumped. Lost in thought, she hadn’t noticed a stranger come in. The stranger was an old lady, or maybe an old man, Aigha couldn’t tell. She had a flashback to when she was five, and she hid behind Saril when the big man came . . . 

Aigha shook off her rambling thoughts and tried to square her trembling shoulders. 

“Who - who are you?” her voice squeaked. She cringed. It was the voice of a five year old, as she hadn’t used it much in recent years. 

The stranger laughed - a delicate trill, bursting from her lithe form. “I will not tell you my name, as young children are easily malleable and I would not like for the Men to know I have met you. But you can call me Ara, if you must.”

Aigha didn’t know how she knew the ‘m’ was capitalized, but she could just tell.

She had tons of questions running through her mind, but she decided on the least personal.

“Who are the Men?” This time her voice was stronger, more confident. She didn’t really trust this - uh, this person, but they seemed friendly, so she decided to let them stay and chat, and maybe she could get information about Saril.

“Why, the kidnappers, of course! They only let men join them, so that’s my personal nickname for them. I assume you’ve heard of the kidnappings, even this far out?” They winked.

“My sister was taken.” Her voice wavered, “That’s why I ran.”

The person laughed again. “Oh, you ran. Of course! Although - if you had the luxury of running, how do you survive?”

“My family was poor. They barely got through. Everyone had to pitch in, even me. That’s where I learned.”

“Oh, but not poor enough to abandon you.”


Then AIgha remember something the person had said: If you had the luxury of running-

The thought made her sick. Were kids around the globe being abandoned? When she had the luxury of running?

“Oh, you figured it out! What a smart little girl.” They laughed, like it was funny. “And, if that’s all, I’ll go now.”

They disappeared out the door.

Not once during that interview had Aigha thought to question why the complete stranger was there, or what they wanted with her. That’s the problem with little girls - they’re too trusting, and that is often their lethal mistake. As you grow older - if you grow older - you begin to doubt the trustworthiness of people. But Aigha did not know about ‘stranger danger’ or all those important lessons parents teach their children.

Aigha, in perfectly good spirits even after her encounter with Ara, began to think again about Saril. She packed food and water and brought her flint to start a fire (which she had watched her parents do many times before, and used all the time to boil water and cook food.) and her makeshift pot. She brung everything she could fit, and wished she could bring more. She stared through the hole in the roof of the barn for what might have been the last time, and had trouble tearing herself away. She looked for Moon, and found him, only to lose him again and again and again when she tried to tie her bags to his mane.

Finally she mounted the stubborn horse, exasperated and kind of scared. What if Moon abandoned her again? He wasn’t a trained horse, and she refused to tie him to anything. She closed her eyes, and allowed herself a moment of denial - no, she wasn’t going on a most - likely - suicide mission to rescue her sister who was probably already dead. Then she opened her eyes and clicked her tongue, urging Moon into a slow trot.

Raine Avenue was truly a small street, with scarce, small homes dotting the edges about every half mile. Most of the houses seemed abandoned, but every once in a while she would hear boisterous laughter or see through the window the signs of a flickering candle. She missed Saril and her home more every time she passed another house, to the point where when she saw a house coming up she would squeeze her eyes shut and trust Moon to get her past it. Moon sensed her discomfort and sped up until she opened her eyes and they were past the house. 

It was during one of those instances that she ran into the man.

She had kept her eyes closed for longer than usual, because it looked like a bigger house. Suddenly, Moon whinnied and started slowing down.

Aigha opened her eyes and saw a man standing in front of her. She almost screamed, and wanted to hide . . . 

Aigha was five years old. She was crouched behind her sister, Saril, who was ten years old. She stared through Saril’s legs and a man, and all she could think was that he was so big it was scary. She wanted to run away, hide somewhere safer, but then the man would see her, and what then?

“Good evening,” Papa said, holding out his hand.

The big man grunted and ignored Papa. “I’m here for the girl.” His voice was grunty too, Aigha thought.

Papa’s eyes skipped to Mama, Saril, and Aigha in turn. “Which one?” he asked, his voice panicked.

He grabbed Saril’s shoulder. “You’re coming with me,” he growled, shoving her to the door. That’s when Aigha screamed, and remembering that ear-piercing shriek brought her back to reality . . . 

Where she hadn’t screamed, only almost.

She came out of her daze, and began examining the man, finding his nose, mouth, ears, hair, but it didn’t match up. This man was similar to the one who took Saril, but not the same. 

She tried to regain her composure, but it didn’t work. She was staring at him, she knew, scrutinizing his every detail and matching it up with her memorized map of the big man. They could have been brothers, but he was different; taller, with darker hair, a rounded nose, and tiny ears. 

“Hello,” he said, and his voice was awkward and tense, and not at all grunty like the big man’s.

“Hello . . .” It came out like a question, and barely more than a whisper. 

He smiled slightly, then frowned. “Uh . . . you’re coming with me.” The first part was awkward, the second part was strangled, rough. The man grabbed her shoulder, and it was clear he was with Saril’s captor, but it seemed he didn’t want to be. His grip was loose, his posture tight, his voice all wrong. Somehow Aigha didn’t think to be afraid, just curious and kind of happy, because he was bringing her to Saril, maybe.

Aigha carefully dismounted, dropping onto the pavement. She rubbed her horse’s back. “Bye, Moon.”

She caught the man looking at her and cocked her head. “Why are you even doing this?” she asked, “You clearly don’t want to. You could just go. I’m sure they wouldn’t even notice, they have so many kidnappers.”

He shook his head, then hesitated. “It’s not like that. They know exactly who’s in it, and if I even tried to escape, they would hunt me down. I know too much. If I was a stray, I might stand a chance. But I’m not.” He seemed strangely proud of that. 

“Oh,” was all she could think of, and therefore all she could say. But - but - but . . . 

It seemed wrong that this man had discounted all possible options, when she hadn’t given up hope for two years. Why should she keep thinking of options, when he just shrugged them off?

Those thoughts led her back to Saril. “Oh! Do you happen to know a prisoner named Saril?” 

The man brightened. “Yes! I mean, maybe . . . I think I might’ve heard her name somewhere . . .”

“She’s my sister.”

The man dropped her shoulder. “Aigha?

“How do you know my name?” She slowly backed away, frightened.

“Oh. Um . . . I mean . . . your sister said . . . she had a sister. Named Aigha. She - she told me to look for you.”

“Can you bring me to her?” she asked, encouraged.

Her captor hesitated, then slowly shook his head. “No. But - I can bring you to the building where she stays.”

Aigha nodded. “Thank you.” For some reason she trusted this man, like she had trusted Ara.

He reached for her shoulder, then hesitated. “For - for the sake of formality, I’m going to grab you. Okay?” Her captor peered down at her.

Aigha nodded. “Okay.”

While the man walked her to the building, her thoughts spiraled around.

Yes! her positive mind cheered. We’re going to Saril, we’re going to Saril!

But what if he’s lying? What if they already killed Saril? her negative brain fretted.

He knew your name, so he must be in contact with Saril . . . her sensitive brain mused.

The man turned to her. “Are you . . . talking to yourself?” her asked.

“Oh. Um . . . I didn’t know I said that aloud.”


Really long, I know. Hehehe.

submitted by WordSong, age Forever, My bed
(July 19, 2020 - 2:49 pm)