#discord snippets

[frank-zhang-praetor]

Valgrace - Behind the Scenes : Part 1

I have more somewhere so maybe it will be a series.

[special-inchrest]

me: also update: tango now has like 30 separate lines of redstone redstone pal: and hes gonna snort them all me: he would me: how many lines of redstone do you snort on a daily basis? redstone pal: i shmoke it me: ohhh like in a little pipe? a whimsical little pipe? me: what are you, a hobbit? redstone pal: you know me i go crazy for the pipe redstone pal: theres a reason hobbits are at dick suckin height

[mamawasatesttube]

im dying of a migraine today and writing is NOT working, so here have a preview of snowglobe ch3! (ive been agonizing over this scene for like 2 weeks now. man.)

Kon leans into his touch, luxuriating, and takes a slow breath. He does know that, kind of. It goes back to the whole thorny tangle of “what is love, anyway?” (baby, don’t hurt me!) all wrapped up in his head, but he knows. Mostly. How could he not? He’s seen what losing him did to Tim.

“You… were singing,” he finally mumbles, looking up at Tim. “To me.”

Tim’s face flushes bright red. He drops his gaze to a point somewhere over Kon’s shoulder, then huffs and tucks Kon’s face back into his neck, presumably so he doesn’t have to make eye contact. He clears his throat. “Well, yes, I—it was—I thought it might make you feel better.”

Feel better? Kon tries to get his sluggish, slow brain to figure out how that works, but he can’t quite connect the dots. “…Huh?”

Tim’s heartbeat speeds up, and he huffs again. “I mean—you were purring while you were unconscious, to try and self-soothe, I think. And I noticed when I started humming or talking to you, you purred more. I think it was… I mean, my guess is that you were responding to feeling the vibration of my vocal cords? As if I was simulating the effect of purring back to you? And, uh, I mean, obviously I can’t do that, since I’m not Kryptonian, but I thought… well, I thought it’d help you feel a little better, so.”

Oh.

Oh, wow. It washes over Kon like a breaking wave, warm and cozy like sunlight. Tim really does love him.

Normally, he might giggle here. Would probably tease Tim for his choice of sappy oldies—did he think singing “Boulevard of Broken Dreams” would kill the mood or something? Why didn’t he go for Enya, huh?

But right now, exhausted and fragile and half-frozen, Kon can’t muster up the energy for that. He feels raw and vulnerable, all his strength gone with the sun. He’s peeled open to the core, and he’s safe, here, in Tim’s hands.

And Tim loves him.

Romantically. Right? He kissed Kon at the bar, last night. Looked at him so very tenderly when Sylvie and Ichiko said you really adore him, don’t you? and agreed with them that yeah, he does. And he’s been singing the cheesiest old love songs there are, while crading Kon in his arms and petting his hair. He…

Tim found him unconscious in the snow, picked him up, and carried him back to safety. Kon has always known he’s strong, that he has very impressive arms, but… wow. Tim carried him here, stripped him out of his wet clothes, and got him tucked into a bundle of blankets. And Tim’s here, holding him, taking care of him, loving him.

Tana wouldn’t have… She would have gotten him to safety, sure, but would she have told him it wasn’t his fault? Would she have comforted him, reassured him, held him, and sung to him?

Something wells up in Kon’s chest, too big and emotional for any name. He teeters on the brink of a realization, so close to grasping something, but not sure what. His thoughts are slow and sluggish, too cold and stiff to catch up to his heart, but his heart knows the something even if his mind doesn’t. He has to catch his breath before he can find his voice.

“Robbie,” he croaks, exhausted. He tips his chin up, turns his face up to look at Tim, and blinks back the sudden blurriness in his vision. He’s so coldhis bones ache. And Tim is so warm.

“I’m here,” Tim says instantly, holding him a little tighter.

His hand settles over Kon’s cheek; his palm is so warm and luxurious that Kon lets out an involuntary, pathetic whimper and pushes into his touch. Tim’s brows furrow.

“Kon.” He strokes Kon’s cheek. Kon’s chest feels tight. “I’m here, honey. I got you. What is it?”

“You—” Kon chokes out. “You love me.”

Tim’s face does something a little funny, like he can’t decide whether to be flustered or deadpan. “I—well, yeah.” He leans their foreheads together with a tiny smile, his cheeks pink. “I thought that was obvious.”

[yuesya]

“You need to eat me.”

The white-haired girl in front of him blinks, “That’s an odd way to start a conversation.”

Eligius briefly chokes at that uncaring, blasé response. “… I’m being serious here.”

“So you are.” Even so, the girl’s voice remains unperturbed, and her expression does not change. “Would your strange request have anything to do with the visitors who passed through recently?”

… That is a remarkably understated way of referring to the most recent Sarkaz travelers who’d visited Arkos. Travelers who’d come specifically in search of Miss Salome, too. From the heavy robes and tight wrappings that consisted their attire, from the necrosis-type Arts that they commanded, it had been obvious that they were Nachzehrers.

Nachzehrers –beings who were the very personification of war; gruesome, relentless warriors known to be devoted to the battlefield, who reveled in the slaughter.

But the standing policy of Arkos is that all visitors are welcome. Save for those who threaten the stability and wellbeing of the settlement itself, or commit crimes within its borders.

And so the Nachzehrers had been allowed to enter Arkos, just as so many others had been allowed before them, and no doubt far more would be allowed after in the future.

Eligius had regarded their Nachzehrer visitors with wariness and curiosity in the beginning. Which swiftly morphed into shock and outright alarm, when they had accosted Salome on one of her routine patrols around the mountains.

“You’re Herleva’s daughter, aren’t you?”

“My name is Naftali, a soldier who once served under Commander Herleva of the Withering Court. I apologize that it took so long for us to find you –I’ve come to bring you home.”

…

Salome had refused to leave with them.

… Much to the relief of many, Eligius included. Though their numbers were steadily increasing, it was undeniable that Salome was the heart of Arkos, and if she left, then in all likelihood they would end up scattering across the land once more. Misfits and travelers and wanderers with no place to belong, and no place to rest.

(No place to call home.)

…

Eligius had known that Salome was Sarkaz for a long time now, but he hadn’t realized that she was Nachzehrer Sarkaz. She certainly didn’t look the part; Nachzehrers were said to possess bodies that easily withered and rotted away like the necrosis Arts that they commanded, and Salome did not display any of those traits. She had a pair of distinctive Sarkaz horns sitting on her head, and that was it. Were it not for those curved horns, she probably could’ve passed as a Pythian girl with her pointed ears and long, snake-like tail covered in glittering white scales–

Or so Eligius had thought.

Because he’d seen it, the other day. Salome usually wore clothing that covered most of her skin, including a veil across her face, but he’d glimpsed her taking off her gloves –only to reveal blackened fingertips, eerily reminiscent of necrotic rot, which caused Eligius’ blood to run cold.

Was it because of her Nachzehrer blood? Was she –was she somehow rotting away? Was her Pythian blood not enough to offset the horrifying effects of her inheritance?

Wracking his brains and ruminating over what he’d overheard from the Nachzehrer visitors, there was only one potential solution that Eligius could think of. Through devouring the dead, Nachzehrers were able to add the strength of the fallen to their own, so–

“You need to eat me,” he repeats. Because if she doesn’t, if her situation worsens, then…

Salome arches an eyebrow. “Do you want to be eaten?”

…

… No. Of course not.

The day that Eligius had left Kazimierz, a broken husk of a knight who had failed his family and could no longer even properly swing a blade anymore… Eligius had thought that there no longer remained anything left for him to protect. Not that he even possessed the strength to protect anything, not as a disgraced, crippled knight driven out of his homeland.

Fate had led him to Arkos, eventually. He’d aimlessly followed a merchant caravan as a cheap hired hand, and somehow ended up staying in Arkos when a Sarkaz girl killed the head of the caravan. The man had a sexual proclivity aimed towards children, and had acted on those urges in Arkos –Salome had sliced the despicable merchant into bloody pieces for it.

Eligius had thought of his days as a knight in Kazimierz, of all the harsh training he’d undergone… only to be helpless in face of injustice and wrongdoing all the same. A knight must be honorable above all else. But what worth was there in honor when it was something that could be traded and bought by the monolithic corporations that ruled Kazimierz?

Arkos… is not perfect. The buildings are shabby and run-down, and the rooftops have a tendency to leak when it rains. There is no particular schedule for when merchants are passing through, and resources are always running tight. Sometimes, brash mercenaries end up causing trouble, even with the threat of Salome hanging over their heads.

But at some point, Arkos had grown to be precious to Eligius. The tenacity of the people that lived here, with all their storied pasts, and the young leader who never allowed the opinions of others to prevent her from doing what must be done.

Eligius is no longer a knight. With a body had been ravaged by vicious poisoning and missing his dominant sword arm, his days as a knight of glorious Kazimierz are long over.

But even so, there must be a way that he could still protect what was important to him. Even if he wasn’t the one holding the sword himself.

Eligius squares his shoulders and looks towards Salome determinedly. He knows that he is not the only one who is willing to become her strength through being devoured by her, but it’s better that a useless cripple like him becomes the first to die, so that the others–

“You don’t look like you want to die,” Salome says. Then, turns around to pick up a… shovel? From behind her? “Here.”

Eligius falters, automatically accepting the dull shovel with his sole remaining hand, “What is this?”

“A shovel,” Salome responds. Fair, but that’s not what Eligius meant– “Seeing as you have enough time on your hands to be thinking about useless things, you can go work with the others on developing the terraced gardens first.”

Eligius gives a small start, “But you–”

“I’m not interested in cannibalism. Let me know once you’ve figured out how to grow potatoes properly here.”

With that said, Salome turns and walks away.

Leaving Eligius standing in the street by himself, holding a shovel.

…

… It’s nothing but a rusty shovel, given to him haphazardly by a girl who doesn’t even bother to toss a second glance back towards him as she departs. But for some reason, the shovel rests in his hand with a greater weight than the sword he’d once held during his knighthood ceremony, and there is a strange emotion welling up within his chest–

Eligius tightens his grip on the shovel, exhaling slowly.

[spotofmummery]

Sometimes you just have to make light of the rough times in life. At least I had a great view of my city being on the 9th floor.

Happy to be home! Had a good night sleep and doing well enough. Just low spoons for now.

[silasalix]

ok my raw unedited not beta read little shuake snippet. tell me if i should Actually write this fic

"It's nothing." Akira said. The pause only lingered for a moment, though, before he continued, bashful, "You said you loved me."

He had said that, hadn't he? In the dim quiet of the evening, whispered in the ear of an Akira who Goro had figured would be too sick to remember it in the morning. Tasting it on his tongue and finding that it felt *right,* the discovery accompanied by mild fear, yes, but also something larger, giddy and bubbling.

It was a terrifying thing to love, and be loved. Laws and scriptures were fallible. Malleable tools readily at the disposal of whoever desired to use them, in whichever way it was desired. No matter how real and solid on a page, a breach of a contract was just a breach of a contract. Empty and ultimately meaningless, but solid.

In contrast, emotions were intrinsically tangible *feelings.* Not tactile, but something more inherent to a person. So much more intimate, and yet.

Even through his most apathetic and cynical moments, he had never bought into the idea that emotions were futile or unreal. The system that failed him, and those at the top of it, they believed that, and he had adopted their ideals into his own affect in his own climb, layers buried beneath more outward layers only covering more layers. But for all he had teased Akira's sentimentality, met the Phantom Thieves' passionate notions with snark or even vitriol, in reality, he envied them. He envied Akira's nature to encompass everything, and stand tall. To fully embody this wriggling, totally intangible mass that was emotion and conviction, and be so *solid* in what should be contrast. Those bright and honest eyes. While in juxtaposition, Goro had spent his life painfully molding himself, tamping his own convictions down, until he became nothing, in a way that allowed him to become everything and anything he needed. Years of that torture, once enforced onto him by his environment, but eventually self sustained. Yes, he was envious. And everyone knew.

Emotions were real and powerful, yes, but they weren't solid. Wholly unbound, and subject to change at a moments notice. Yes, he was envious of Akira's ability to navigate something like that. Guardianship was only a status on a paper, and parental care was only a construct. Marriage was only a certificate, and love was only a feeling. Was a successful relationship with the people around you reliant on active upkeep, an inherent connection, or luck? What made a relationship unsuccessful, in the first place? What constituted as failure?

Fear of the intrinsic uncertainty of every aspect of life. But there was the other thing, too. Delight at the prospect of feeling, and having his feelings returned. Contentment with commitment, and excitement at promises of a future with *more.* Happiness. That he was still capable of such a simple thing was exhilarating. On a fundamental level, he was capable of love.

Oftentimes, negative notions are seen as inherently more complex and real than positive ones. Fear, uncertainty, that was solid. So he could sneer at the prospect that he could be capable of such simplicity, or marvel over it. But he levels the idea that perhaps, this was just as real, just as nuanced. This love.

Maybe one day, Akira will no longer feel that, or maybe Goro won't. Perhaps he'll get bored, perhaps one of them may have a revelation of some sort. In the future they may be bound by a piece of paper, and Goro will have to watch it burn in front of his eyes. Or maybe they won't be, and Goro will have to watch that burn, too. Perhaps tomorrow, perhaps in three years, he may say it was never real at all. But maybe not. And maybe it was in his ability to be bright and honest, and maybe it was worth his best attempt, and all of his conviction.

"Yes," Goro says, the corners of his eyes crinkling, meeting Akira's gaze with a personal fierceness. "I love you."

[wundrousarts]

Was suddenly reminded about this moment from a November 2020 interview where Jessica Townsend briefly talks about Ages.

Based on the timing of the interview I am unsure if the “not in the next one” bit refers to Hollowpox (which had just recently released) or Silverborn. Regardless, the idea that we might be learning more about Chronologists and Ages in future books intrigues me!

Between the clock emojis (especially the 🕰️🌌 ) and the “… before the clock strikes midnight?” part of the blurb, I think the Silverborn theories floating around regarding Eventide or just moving into a new part of the Age might be on the right track…..

[rayjayoo]

if i had a nickel for everytime i got deeply invested into a musical to the point im thinking about it 24/7 id have 2 nickels

[gay-for-the-snz]

Coffee Stand Contagion (F, cold, NSFW)

This was definitely supposed to be sfw and then it very much did not go that way lol, I let my dick take the wheel on this one. Elliott is there briefly, but not really for the sex part. 7.1k

CW for contagion fic (apathetic rather than malicious or accidental), phone sex, some mild d/s dyanamics, humiliation. Implied F/F but it isn't actually pictured

⁂

Her alarm is blaring from the floor somewhere near her bed when she cracks open an eye blearily. It's Monday. She has to get up for work. Fuck.

She groans and half smothers herself in shoving the pillow over her face to throw a fucking fit and block out the noise, the groan rising into a sharp whine at how absolutely unfair it is that she has to do her job if she wants to get paid for it. They should pay her to lay in bed instead. She finally flings the pillow towards the corner of the wall and rolls over to shut her phone up.

She rubs a knuckle under her nose, grimacing at the faintly itchy feeling lingering there. It isn't terribly uncommon to be itchy, but she knows better than to be lulled into a false sense of security. This is a cold, she knows it is. More than that, this is Elliott's cold. She sniffs, dry-ish for now, but she's under no illusion that it will stay that way.

Shuffling towards the bathroom, she almost trips over the pile of dirty laundry that's strewn across the floor, and kicks a pair of shorts along with her as she wanders in. She's leaned against the sink when she makes eye contact with her reflection. Eh. Good enough. She pulls her hair back into a ponytail that mostly contains the wild curls into something manageable, and tugs some clothes on, before she makes the true breakfast of the French--black coffee and a cigarette--and is out the door.

It isn't a terribly long walk to the bus stop by her apartment, but it's long enough to regret not bringing a coat. It's supposed to be hot today, but it definitely fucking isn't right now, still cool enough she can feel the goosebumps across her arms and legs from the chill. She sniffs again, more liquidy this time, and flicks the ash off her cigarette before scrubbing hard again at her nose. This shift is gonna suck. More than that, she's definitely not going to be making as much in tips as she should, if everyone that pulls up finds her sorry ass sniffly and sick.

So she won't be. It's been warm enough that spring is starting to hit, and it's close enough to allergy season that she won't be the only one sniffling at the window. What are they gonna do, prick her skin right there to test it? She thinks not.

She's just finishing up her cigarette when the bus pulls up, and she crushes the remainder under the heel of stupid OSHA compliant non slip sneakers, and takes her usual seat. The air doesn't typically bother her--in fact, that's why she chose this spot initially, it's got the best vents in the summertime--but right now it just feels cold and irritating on her.

She scrubs at her nose again, and feels that spark of an itch in the back of her nose that threatens to come to fruition. It rarely does. She ignores it, letting it tease at her with as much of a stone faced resolve as she can manage, except to wrinkle her nose hard and give a harsh sniff. She gasps for it, and like usual, it fizzles out into nothingness after a second of anticipation. If she were home right now, she might have tried to coax it out, but she doesn't exactly have access to anything she might use, nor the desire to be watched by the bus driver in the rear view. She catches his eye and sticks her tongue out petulantly.

He says something on her way out that sounds like it might be "feel better" and she scoffs as she exits at her stop. "Right. See you in the morning."

She doesn't make much of a fuss on the way in to actually start opening, checking her phone with a frown at the fact that it's not yet even five, but she's still running a couple minutes behind already. Whatever. It's not like anybody's ever actually waiting for her anyway, she spends the first half hour they're open--at least--standing around getting paid to watch videos on her phone and hang around looking cute.

And, just like she predicted, by the time she finishes her opening duties there still isn't a soul in sight. She's leaned against the counter, tucking a handful of napkins into the pocket on her apron, when she feels that tickle rear its head again. She leans into it, closing her eyes and focusing on the feeling of it, willing it to actually become a sneeze this time. "Oh, this is fucking ridiculous."

She's not letting it go this easily. She grabs one of the napkins and twists it into a point, and focuses solely on the feeling it creates when she pokes the tip into one nostril and carefully shifts, poking around for that elusive spot that will give her nose no choice but to behave for once. She has to resist the urge to jerk away from it when she knows she's gotten close, parting her lips with a soft gasp, and then a harsher one as she continues to irritate nasal walls. "Hh...HH--! 'chu!"

Oh, thank christ. She sneezes uncovered, not bothering to even attempt to catch it. She's too busy here to focus on anything else. And, really, it's not like anyone's here anyway, or that there was really anything particularly wet about it that would require covering. She wrinkles her nose with a sharp sniff, and decides there's still a faint enough tickle that she can work with it.

She's working on the other side when she hears a car pull up, and has to abandon her efforts halfway through. Ugh. Annoying. She steps back into view of the windows, and rests her chin in her hands as she leans out to chat. "Morning. Do you know what I can get you?"

Evidently, he doesn't understand the arcane and difficult concept of "knowing what you want before you get to the window", and takes his sweet time reading over the menu. This is a coffee stand, a shitty one on a spit of land that's little more than a pair of driveways to surround it, and a shed, it isn't like there's a ton of options. He finally selects a smoothie, and she has to bite back the grimace, because they're such a pain in the ass that she doesn't wanna do it.

She throws the ice and mix into the blender, and lets it do its thing. Which gives her just enough time to see about picking up where she left off earlier, the tickle still present and dissatisfied with her cut off efforts. She pointedly ignores the customer on the other side of the wall, window shut against him to keep the chill out, and, in this case, the sound in, his cup in her free hand as she redoubles her attention to her itching nose. She halfway smiles through it when her breath snags, and--

"Hih--! 'CHu!" She swipes a knuckle under her nose, blushing freckled skin a light pink from the attention, and smiles with satisfaction. That's better, definitely. If her body won't give her the satisfaction that she deserves, then she'll just give it to herself. No need to stand around itchy and miserable if she's got the option not to. She does make note, as she pours his drink into his cup and slides it into a sleeve, that that was easier than it usually is. That's not a terrible thing, of course, and she definitely isn't going to complain about it. If it makes her job easier, then that's fantastic.

"Hey, you have a great day. Enjoy the sun when it's up." She smiles brilliantly until he's pulled off, and lets it drop instantly with a muttered "what a bitch" beneath her breath at the empty tip cup.

Perhaps it's a blessing that it's a particularly slow morning, because by the time they get into the afternoon for shift change, they'll be absolutely slammed and she'll miss the quiet she's currently mired in. She can only scroll her phone for so long before it starts to get kind of boring, and the stupid games she downloaded aren't really cutting it either. She's almost glad when someone pulls up and orders some sickly sweet concoction with one of the billion not-milks that they carry (what the fuck is hemp milk and why do people ask for it enough her boss decided they should actually stock it as an option?)

She can feel that faint, prickling irritation deep in one of her nostrils, begging for her to do something about it while she pulls a shot and rubs hard at the side of her nose, as if she could possibly reach through enough to soothe the irritation that way. She sniffs sharply--and realizes she's somehow hit the ticket when it makes her breath hitch just as sharply. "Hh--! 'CHuu! 'Tchu!"

She blinks in surprise, feeling the fine mist settle across her skin. Wow. Not only did she sneeze without some kind of personal intervention, rare in and of itself, it was twice? She gently pinches at her nose, and makes a sound of disgust at the wetness that greets her, swiping a hand over her shorts to wipe it away. "Do you--snf!--have a free card you wanna use?"

'Not this morning. And bless you! Allergies?"

She smiles ruefully, gesturing to the trees that stand outside the shop. "Spring came too early, I wasn't ready for it." Their fingers brush as she hands them their change, and she can feel a trace of the moisture brush off on their skin in the exchange.

It's nice that she doesn't even have to be the one to suggest it. There are enough people around right now, red nosed and dripping, to blend right in with the rest. And really, it's not like it's bad. She's gotta make tips somehow, and she doesn't need anyone finding some excuse to be extra chintzy. It's a little sniffle, maybe a little ticklish, and that's it. Elliott wore it worse than this, but doesn't he always? The world's mildest cold crosses into their post code and he's on death's door with it. She considers herself lucky to avoid most of what he brings 'round, and that whatever she can't dodge is pretty mild.

She grabs a napkin or two and blows her nose to get rid of the residual moisture, and then crumples them into her pocket to throw away later. She checks herself in the camera of her phone, and can't deny she is starting to look a little allergy-ish. Her nose is a soft pink at the tip and down into her nostrils, the whole of it starting to look a little damp and irritated. She sniffs again, and wipes her wrist beneath nostrils that are already starting to get a bit wet again, and groans. She's still got seven more hours of this shit.

It isn't exactly torturous, she more or less settles into a routine with it, and just as she predicted, as soon as it starts to warm up, people start piling in from both directions. Occasionally she has to duck back away from the windows to sneeze, and she's always met with sympathetic tuts and well wishes to maybe pick something up on her way home to try and get ahead of the worst of the rest of the pollen this season. They're all none the wiser for it, and she certainly isn't going to correct them anytime soon. Besides, they don't sound like she's sick, all pitchy and girlish in a way that absolutely grates on her nerves.

It's embarrassing, the high pitched gasps and the soft, kittenish releases, clashing so wholly with the rest of her that it pisses her off to think about, but it does at least play to her advantage with this. He would never be able to get away with this--even when it is allergies, he's so drippy and desperate and contagious sounding that it has people clearing the seats around him at tables or on the bus just to avoid breathing the same air. With her, it's just, y'know, poor Florence! Poor, cute Florence!

It's more of a pain than anything else that she seems to be constantly verging on a sneeze. It isn't terribly unusual for a cold, she often spends most of one itchy and unsatisfied, but this one is making its presence known by the fact that it *doesn't* require much nudging along to actually get her to sneeze. Not that she's complaining, of course, this is probably the best cold she's ever had for that simple fact alone, but it does make it a little inconvenient that she lacks that element of control over the whole thing. It isn't purely on her schedule anymore, they creep up on her when *they* decide, not because she's got the point of a tissue prodding at the back of pink, twitchy nostrils to move things along.

She definitely misses a couple tips because ill timing, literally, has her spraying the counter at the window, only partially covered by splayed fingers that don't quite make it up fast enough to do anything terribly effective. Whether they think it's allergies or not, people aren't exactly *thrilled* to be sneezed on by their barista. She's mostly good about it, though, getting a hand up fast enough to mostly contain things. It's weird to try and get back in the practice of. Usually she doesn't bother even attempting, because so rarely does a tickle actually become a sneeze without her taking matters into her own hands and forcing it to be, it isn't worth looking like a clown to prep for something she knows isn't coming.

She shoots Elliott a text to tell him that the instant he's off work and has the kid squared away, his ass OWES HER some soup and an apology for doing this to her--and that he'd better not breathe a word of this to anyone, or she'll make sure they all know *exactly* who to thank for putting her in this situation in the first place. He doesn't respond for awhile, but she doesn't see it when he does, too busy actually doing her stupid job for once to have any opportunity to be paying much attention to her phone. He sends some rambling, apologetic, emoji filled thing telling her how truly sorry he is, how he really didn't mean to, yadda yadda. The part she actually cares about is a promise to bring over chicken noodle from that deli she likes across town, well out of her way on a trip home on the bus, and that if she can hang out long enough he can also pick her up. She doesn't accept the latter part of the offer--she doesn't need or want a ride from him, it'll mean just having to listen to him talk the whole time, and *that* just means listening to him *apologize* the whole time, and that sounds obnoxious to have to sit through. She'll just take the soup, let him grovel for a few minutes, and then send him home.

It isn't until she's getting into the home stretch that things go from *satisfying* when she sneezes to decidedly irritating. They don't seem to be putting as much of a dent into the itch anymore, requiring a second one most times to achieve the effect that one was having this morning, and she's definitely starting to notice that she's looking less *allergic* and more *contagious.* Nobody's questioning her on it directly, but they do seem to be a bit more skeptical of her claims of allergies. How annoying. The supply of napkins in her apron pocket has already been replenished a couple times, her shorts pocket and the trash under the counter starting to get more full with the byproducts of a cold than she would like. She does wash up once or twice after a couple sneezes caught into palms, but for the most part, she doesn't really bother with it. She's busy, and it's not a huge deal anyway. She scrubs at nostrils that are now much more red than pink, hearing the distinctive click of wet congestion shifting from the action. Eww.

Whatever. She'll survive this thing, and then she'll go home, and then she can eat soup and then, like, sleep or something. It's a fucking stupid day anyway, she's ready for it to be over. She'll just figure it out.

She just barely gets a hand up in time to catch a harsh, wet "hH'TSCHu!" into her palm, which she ends up using just a second later to press a lid flat onto the drink she's making. She's just gotta survive another half hour until shift change, and then she's home free. She blows her nose, then scrubs at it furiously, before she's satisfied enough to fix on a bright smile and lean out the window to hand them their coffee. They don't seem happy, but neither is she, so she guesses they can BOTH just be fucking miserable. At least one of them gets to leave now, so she doesn't know why they're so irritable. She should be the one that's upset, she'll still be stuck here.

The traffic has finally lulled, like it always does around this time, which gives her the opportunity to finally tend to herself and do something about this god awful tickle that just won't leave her alone. The napkins are struggling not to immediately get limp and shitty as soon as she starts, but she's more determined to do this than her nose is to run, and she's going to force it if it kills her.

Her lashes flutter, chest heaving with a series of pitchy hitches, before she snaps forward with a rough "GSCHyu!" that betrays the congestion that's starting to truly settle in. It's a good start, but she's far from satisfied, and she's not willing to let herself off the hook so easily. She doesn't let herself stop, not yet, and renews her efforts to actually do something about this stupid cold--sorry, "allergies". She takes a shaky gasp, knowing that she's found the exact right spot when it makes her feel like her nose is full of feathers.

She lets herself practically moan through the build up. "hG'GSHHYuu! 'sCHYue!" Oh, god, thank fuck. She rarely actually ends up with a double, but especially one that seems to really satisfy the itch for the time being. She sniffles wetly, and scrubs hard at her dripping nose, and has just finished swiping a hand along her shorts when she sees her coworker's car pull into the driveway.

When he walks in, he visibly cringes. "Dude, you look like shit."

"It's a wonder your dumbass is single, you really know how to charm a lady." She rolls her eyes, grabbing another handful of napkins and shoving them into her pocket. "It's allergies."

"Okay, so, that's a lie. Please at least tell me that you were being careful?"

She's busy pinching at the tip of her nose, missing the septum piercing she can't wear at work because it's "unacceptable" to be pierced here. "How about you hop off my dick?"

"Whatever. I'm not saying shit to anyone, least of all the owners, but you're on your own to defend yourself if anyone calls to complain."

"I wouldn't want you to defend me anyway. I'm going home, don't call me or I'll sneeze into your fucking mouth." She grabs her drink off the counter and shoulders open the door.

The bus isn't here yet, and she doesn't think it'll be here for awhile yet. It takes its sweet time usually, but at least now it's warm. She could be forgiven for thinking it really was allergies, even if it isn't, with how bright and warm and blooming everything is right now. Trees are exploding into flowers, the ones that have poked up through the dirt and mulch and sidewalk cracks are colorful and fragrant, and people have already started mowing the scraggly grass that's poked up because, and she's fairly certain she can contact a psych about this to get it verified, every middle aged man on earth sees the sun is out and his grass is a hair's breadth above the minimum threshold that the blades will catch it, and he has to mow it or he'll die.

She scratches a nail along one of her nostrils, and immediately regrets it a little when instead of helping any, it just makes her even more stupidly itchy. God damnit. She rubs hard at her nose to try and soothe it, but it's not cutting it, and instead she pulls her hand away to avoid catching herself with the spray. "hG'GSHyu!" Ugh, fuck. Someone walking by calls a blessing, which means they probably didn't see that it was uncovered, since most people feel entitled to tell her what to do with her body.

When she gets home, she's doing something about this, uninterrupted, and nobody is gonna stop her. Clearly, if the point of sneezing is to get rid of what's in her, she's just gonna get rid of it all at once. She's just ready to be done with this whole thing. Usually she's glad to be sneezing, but this is just too irritating to really be enjoyable. It isn't so much that she doesn't enjoy the sneezing itself, it's satisfying and she's glad to be having it instead of being teased like usual, but this is clearly an Elliott type of cold, because she keeps feeling like she has to, even after she has. He owes her big time for this.

Maybe she'll text Rhoda when she gets home...some little note that she's dealing with a cold and expects somebody to come take care of her when she gets off work.

The bus finally crawls into view, and she's never been more glad to see that horrible little goblin of a woman driving it, even if they aren't exactly on good terms. She hauls herself to her feet and creeps up to the edge of the sidewalk, leaning against the lightpost as it chugs towards her.

...and keeps on going.

"HEY. HEY!" If she didn't fear getting arrested, she'd be throwing rocks by now, sprinting after it as fast as she can, but she is not built to outpace a vehicle. For something that always seems to go at half the speed limit, it's sure making good speed now. "YOU STUPID BITCH! I'LL SUCK YOUR EYEBALLS OUT OF YOUR SKULL!"

GOD. FINE. This is so stupid. She can't fucking believe that this is happening to HER of all people. She has never done anything wrong in her life, she doesn't deserve this. She pulls her phone out and dials Elliott's number.

"Hello?"

"The fucking bus passed me again, and I'm not walking along a highway to go home. When do you get off?"

"Oh no! I'm sorry, that sucks! Uh, I don't get off for another hour, and then I've gotta get Warren from school, but, like, I can be over to try and get you from there if you can wait?"

"I can't."

"Oh. I didn't, uh--it wasn't really a question-?"

"She can take the school bus. Unlike one of us, it won't pass her by."

She can practically hear the frown in his voice. "I'm really sorry, but I--I can't? But I can leave here a couple minutes early to take you home, and then I can get her and take her home, and then come back over for you? I know you were asking for, uh, some soup and stuff, and I can grab that for you. I just really can't leave her there, or ask her to try and catch the bus to be by herself."

"Ugh. Fine, whatever. Just disappoint me again, sure." She inspects her nails. She'll have to cut them if she and Rhoda are actually going to see eachother tonight.

"Please don't be upset, this is the best I can do. I'll see you in like forty-five minutes, okay? I've really gotta get back to work now or I'll get in trouble."

She doesn't respond, just hangs up on him and moves on with this. She doesn't wanna hear his excuses. She slumps back down onto the bench and scowls at all of the buses that aren't hers as they merrily drive right on by along their routes. She's gonna have to call the Department of Transportation and lodge a complaint. Again. Actually, better yet, she'll have to make somebody else do it so they take it seriously. Maybe Rhoda, she's affluent. Well, but also she's Indian, and a woman, so maybe another immigrant lady isn't the best choice. Maybe she'll have to get a guy to do it.

She blows her nose into a couple of the napkins in her pocket, and idly scrolls TikTok while she's waiting for Elliott's ugly little Subaru to appear on the horizon and deign to grace her with its presence. If he doesn't show up soon, she's going to have to ream his ass for making her wait so long.

He cruises into view with all the haste of a grandma, windows down and blasting some weird music that she's come to recognize as, apparently, a staple of his youth. Apparently, fiddles are highly prized wherever he grew up in the fucking boonies. She doesn't hate the instrument itself, just whatever it is they're doing with it in whatever he's listening to all the time.

"Florence!" He waves as he pulls up, as if she wouldn't see him coming from a mile away, and leans across the car so he can unlock the door and let her in. "I came as quick as I could, I got caught a little at the end and couldn't make it out the door quite as soon as I was hoping."

She slumps into the front seat beside him, crossing her arms over her chest and shivering a little despite the heat. She sniffles and turns the vents away from herself. "Whatever."

"Are you feeling alright?"

"Do I look like I'm feeling alright?"

"Er, no. I just, uh--I'm sorry you're not feeling well." He fiddles with the stick shift idly while they're sitting there, and finally looks towards her. "Do you--"

"'hGSSHHuhh!" She sneezes openly, and he recoils as the spray hits him squarely. She wrinkles her nose, and swipes a knuckle underneath rosy nostrils.

He sits there in stunned silence for a second. "B-bless you?"

"Don't look so miserable, it's your fault I'm like this." She leans back into her seat more comfortably, curling up in it. "Drive."

She sees him wipe the spray off his arm and cheek with a napkin out of the center console. "I hate to disagree with you--"

"Then don't."

"Er...I didn't, uh, get you sick?"

She looks over at him with disgust. "Don't lie to me, you were absolutely sick as dog when I saw you last week."

"I wasn't. It--I don't know if you've really noticed, but it's, uhm, allergy season early this year. The last time I was sick was weeks ago." He's tense beside her, like a frightened little animal. It's kind of pathetic.

"Sure, the same as this is allergies." She slides the seat back, the chill from a few minutes ago deciding to be sweaty heat instead, and kicks her feet up on his dash. "It's not very Christian of you to lie."

"I'm not, I swear! This would be a really silly thing to lie about, you know that I never have any problem owning up to it when something is my fault!"

"Do I know that? Because you are the world's most sickly little man, and last week you were sneezing like they were paying you for it, and this week I am sick and miserable. You APOLOGIZED to me earlier for it!"

"Because you weren't well, not because I put you into this state!"

"You're giving me a headache, just be quiet." God, he's annoying. If she didn't have a good reason to still know him, she absolutely wouldn't. It's a miracle she's tolerated him as long as she has.

"You know, one of these days I-I'm going to get tired of how unfair you are to me. I'm helping you here, and you're treating me like dirt!"

"I'm not, but if I was, what are you gonna do about it?"

"...keep driving."

"That's what I thought. I'll forgive you for your attitude this time, but don't let it happen again."

He really should be grateful that she's feeling so magnanimous right now, because it's definitely never been considered one of her highest quirks. He drives in relative silence, save for occasionally muttering something to the cars around them about giving him more space, and that he's already going a smidge over the speed limit, that they ought to just climb right on into his backseat if they want to be so close on his bumper. She ignores him, for the most part.

"Hh...hH--! 'GZHyu!" She turns away from herself--eww, no way is she gonna sneeze on her own legs, she's looking absolutely great today--and towards Elliott, because, really, he deserves it. He owes her whatever comfort it is that he can offer, and if that means bearing the brunt of this cold while she's in his car, then so be it. It's not like she's really concerned about him catching it anyway. He gave it to her, and even if he's somehow telling the truth and he didn't, he's bound to catch something in a second anyway.

"Bless you."

"What," she sniffs, "leaving God out of this one?"

He bristles a bit, but acquiesces. "God bless you. Do you also want a gezondheid for good measure?"

"I do." She takes some of his napkins, not wanting to waste her own supply, and blows her nose, and fuck, it's so much more productive than she really expected. She grabs a couple more for damage control with an involuntary "eww". "How do you survive being like this, all of the time?"

"Uhh." He waffles on it a little. "I guess I'm just sort of...used to it? That doesn't make it less unpleasant, of course, but it gives me more sort of, uh, experience, I guess? It's easier to deal with something that you know more about, have dealt with more. It sounds rough, though, and I don't envy how you're feeling. Do you have medicine at home? I can bring you something when I bring the soup if you need it."

"I don't have anything. I never really needed it, until I started hanging out with you." It is a tempting offer, though. "But I will accept your generous offer, since you seem so insistent."

He seems relieved by her acceptance, and it's almost laughable. He's so grateful for the opportunity to please her, even if he's insisting it wasn't even his fault. "Good. Well, I'll see you in, like, an hour, then. Gotta get everything all settled first, and run to the store, and then I'll be right over, okay?"

"Okay." She slams his door as she exits it, and starts the process of trudging up the stairs to her apartment. Of course she couldn't have a first floor apartment. Ugh. Life was so unfair. She goes immediately to her bed, and flops down onto it with an extremely dramatic sigh.

After a moment of laying there, she finds Rhoda's contact in her phone, and shoots her a message.

F: r u in country rn??

It takes almost half an hour to receive a response. It feels like a long time, but it's fast enough that she knows that she's got her attention.

R: No, but I am out of state. Why?

F: call me rn

R: Are you asking me, or telling me?

F: snzing sooo much from this cold and I cn make it more just 4 u baby

R: Two minutes.

Good. She's satisfied by the immediate response, and knowing that she's got her hooked. She undresses, because frankly her clothes are starting to touch her body weirdly, and she's not exactly worried about the tarantula being offended by her nudity. She's curled up on top of her blankets when her screen lights up, some obnoxious ringtone that tells her that Rhoda is calling.

"Are you alone?"

"I am." She can hear that Rhoda's voice is carefully level, and can only imagine the intensity of her gaze if she was able to see it. "Would it be coy to wish you to get well soon?"

She laughs. "You don't want that. You want more calls like this."

"Oh, Florence, you're so congested already..."

"I've been relieving that already, but to tell you the truth...I could do with something more effective." She sniffles, wet and soupy, and hears the faint moan on the other end of the line. "Too bad only one of us gets to feel better right now. When are you off work?"

"Not until late tonight. I had to make excuses to leave during our brainstorming after the meeting, they'll be expecting me back soon. If you're...still awake tonight, though..."

"You'll be my first call." She sniffs again, rubbing hard at her nose. "Ugh, god, can you hear how wet this cold is? Too bad you're out of state. They won't miss you at that meeting, the only thing you're actually good for is being my tissue."

"I know," she breathes, "I should be the one dealing with this for you."

She takes the roll of toilet paper off the nightstand, and rolls a corner of it into a point. "You'd be having a field day. You know how hard you have to work to get me sneezing usually, but listen..." She inserts the point into one nostril, and finds herself gasping after not too terribly long. "Hh...oh, fuck, it's already so--hH--!? hG'GSHYue! 'GSCHuu!" She was definitely playing it up a little on the build-up, since she can't actually see the desperate flare of nostrils, but there is nothing of her own doing in the intensity of the pair of sneezes. She can feel the spray on bare skin, and Rhoda moans in response to them.

"Oh, sir, bless you..."

She sniffs hard, features twisting into a snarl against the buzz of irritation still very much alive. "You're pathetic. Two sneezes and you're already moaning? I bet you're as wet as those were."

"It's unfair to call me when I can't do anything about this." She doesn't sound genuinely displeased, more desperate than anything. "That was so quick, and a double...this cold is really getting to you, isn't it?"

"It is. You should have seen me at work, sneezing between customers, trying to hold back at the window..."

"Oh, Florence...I can only imagine." She whines on her end of the line. "They were uncovered too, weren't they?"

"Not always. Sometimes into my hand if it was necessary." She inserts a new corner into the other nostril, the corner she'd used earlier now soaked beyond use. "I told them it was--hh--allergies--hGSH'uu! Fuck, it's so easy-! iGSHue! 'GSCHyu! Oh my God, I don't--GSHuu!--think I've ever sneezed so much from a cold in my life."

"I'm in fucking shambles over here." She can hear the sound of her setting her phone down, of the unzipping of pants.

"Don't you dare."

"Florence--"

"Don't you know that you're at work right now?" She blows her nose into a wad of the toilet paper, and throws it somewhere off onto her floor. "Besides, you know the drill. Don't tell me you're so horny you forgot your place?"

She practically whimpers as she repeats the rule. "You first.."

"I'd say it's going to be harder without you here, but you're hardly any help even when you are here, too wet and desperate and focused on yourself instead of taking care of me." She sets the phone down next to herself. "You can listen, and maybe if you're good, I'll listen to you tonight."

"I'm going to have the rest of this trip to come home and be with you."

"You can only have so many family emergencies while on business trips before they start to question it."

"I'll deal with the consequences. I need to be there before this cold is over."

She leans back, teasing at herself enough to earn a bit back moan as she slides her fingers into herself. She isn't surprised to learn she has a fever, she knew that much already, but she is surprised by the febrile heat that greets her. "Fuck me, damn near gonna burn myself like this."

"Tell me about it..."

"I've got a fever, and I'm going to boil my fucking fingers."

Rhoda just moans in response, especially when she hears the hitching of her breath, leaving to guess whether it's out of pleasure or the need to sneeze.

She knows her body well. It doesn't long for fingers to curl directly over the spot that has her arching her back with a grunt and an instinctive shift of position that angles herself better. Her nose chooses now to get fussy with her, and her hand is starting to tremble as she brings it up to rub at rosy nostrils that are twitching dangerously. "Hh...h-hG--!?"

She hangs there on the precipice, entirely distracted from pleasuring herself by the wholly consuming feeling of the first real time this whole day it's left her characteristically on the edge before threatening to back away and leave her unsatisfied. She drags the corner of her nail along the rim of one nostril, and it's enough to push things back in her favor.

" 'GSSHHyue!" Her fingers jump with the release, and she damn near blacks out from the pressure against herself. She shudders a moan on the exhale. She's never been particularly noisy in bed, nor does she ever really feel compelled to play it up for a partner, but she can't deny the whimper that's escaping before she can stop it.

Someone knocks on the door, a sharp repetition, and she's about to fucking kill them. "Go away!"

"Oh! No, it's Elliott! I came as quick as I could, just like you asked-?"

"I'm BUSY." And god, is she ever. She's chasing that spark of pleasure that's threatening to swallow her whole, if he would just shut his goddamn mouth and let her focus.

"Do you want me to--"

"Oh my god, I'm in the bathroom, can you shut the fuck up for TWO SECONDS?"

"Don't pay any attention to him, just yourself." She can only imagine how desperate Rhoda must be, based on the way her voice is thin and whimpery right now. She must be absolutely losing her shit over there listening to this.

She can feel the buzzing tickle in her sinuses roar to life just as urgently as the approaching orgasm, and she thinks if she times this shit right, she can kill two birds with one stone. Her chest heaves with the fluttery gasps, unable to tell where the pleasure ends and where the itch begins between them. She's practically abusing her clit with trembling fingers, before the itch finally spills over. "hH'HGZZHHyuuee!"

FUCK. She throws her head back, gripping onto the pillow so tightly she's half afraid she's going to rip it to shreds under her fingers. She lets the feeling wash over her with a shaky exhale and just lays there panting for a second. Over the line, she can hear a breathless, "oh, bless you, sir..." that reminds her she isn't entirely alone.

She sniffs wetly, grabbing some toilet paper off the nightstand to clean herself up a little. "As soon as you get back into town, I'd better be your first stop. Call me tonight--I want to hear you remember this."

"Trust me, it's going to be all I think about the rest of the day." She murmurs a hasty "I've got to go" and the sound of a kiss before the line goes dead, leaving Florence laying alone, save for the idiot standing in the hallway between apartments.

She redresses somewhat, pulling on a pair of basketball shorts and a tee shirt that reeks of coffee grounds from work, and opens the door with more force than necessary. "What?"

He looks so startled to see her that she has to lean away from the hand that instinctively reaches for her face. "Oh! Oh, Florence, you look--er, what I mean is--oh, you poor thing. I only left you for an hour, but you look so much worse!" He fusses and frets, worrying at the bag clutched in hands that have been decisively banned from clutching at her instead. "Oh, you're shaking...your fever must be nasty--you're so flushed and sweaty. Can I come in?"

"No."

"But--"

"I said no." She wipes some of the sweat off her skin, thankful for the first time today to be running a fever. "Just give me the bag."

"Oh." He looks like he wants to fight it, but he doesn't press the issue any further, just gingerly hands her the bag. "It's, uhm--I got you soup, like you asked, from that deli--the owner is so nice, he insisted on making sure you also got some bread to go with it when I said you weren't feeling well--but I also got you some cold medicine, and some cough drops, and one of those, uh--what do you call them--it's like a soap, but not really, it just sort of sits in your shower and when the water hits it, it makes it, like, smelly--I mean, smelly is the wrong word. It smells good, it's like aromatherapy to help you sort of breathe better--not that it ever helps me breathe better, this one is so potent that it just gets me sneezing so badly I can hardly catch my breath--"

"Elliott."

"Right, sorry. Rambling. I guess I will...just leave you be, then? Unless you--"

The door slams on him and cuts off any further begging. Really, she's sparing his dignity and her patience. Her phone pings as she sits down to eat the soup, still steaming as she opens the lid. Flight details, setting Rhoda to be touching back down around midnight.

She grins at the message, sends something absolutely lascivious in response. Oh yeah, she is definitely calling out tomorrow.

[jaiscbstash]

[mrghostrat]

some writers: yeah i love torturing my characters. beat them up so their romantic interest can comfort them. make them watch their loved ones die. put them through hell and kick them while they're down.

me: fuck yeah, suffering. subject anathema to a conversation with crowley at 1am.

[artsy-the-little-pink-pencil]

Hey guys, so I was watching TADC again and I just could not get over the amount of abstracted characters and I started wondering how they abstracted and who they were as people? So I did just that! Happy reading

Sparky - She was a girl who was just an absolute pick me. She radiated toxic positivity, she was like the mean popular girl, think of Ocean O’conell from Ride the Cyclone or Regina George from Mean Girls. She was two faced, passive aggressive, and talked shit about everyone behind everyone’s back.

Reason she abstracted: Queenie called her out on her bullshit and everyone agreed they felt the same, Sparky felt alone and worthless, cue abstraction.

Age when she joined: 19

Age when she abstracted: 31

Height: 5’7

Age Now: 35

Fave Color: Golden Yellow

Sexuality and Gender: Straight Ally (Closeted Lesbian) Cis Female

Pronouns: She/Her

Personality Type: ESFP

Zodiac: Gemini

Home State/Country: Texas (French American)

Birthday: May 25 1989

Year she joined: 2008

Year she abstracted: 2020

Voice Claim: SquaisheyQuack

🧡🧡🧡

Spike - The big seemingly intimidating gym guy but is actually the super nice uncle who helps you with sets, life advice, and is a super good friend. Doesn’t judge anyone, holds no grudges, and is kind of a himbo. Very tall and muscular.

Reason he abstracted: experience workout burnout, got overweight and depressed, and no one was there for him like he was for them.

Age when he joined: 30

Age when he abstracted: 43

Height: 20 ft (On all fours) 55 ft (on hind legs)

Age Now: 48

Fave Color: Purple

Sexuality and Gender: Straight Ally Genderfluid

Pronouns: All Pronouns are fine

Personality Type: ENFJ

Zodiac: Leo

Home State/Country: Florida (Australian American)

Birthday: Aug 10 1976

Year he joined: 2006

Year he abstracted: 2019

Voice Claim: Greg Eagles (Grim from The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy)

💜💜💜

Bliptzy - Very naive child who believes everything she is told. Easily manipulated and led astray. 100% adopted by Kinger and Queenie. Treated everyone with kindness and was loved by all. She was always around to help the others with tasks, she was almost like a butler to them and was proud of it. She is the result of gentle parenting that worked. Until she hit her teenage years.

Reason she abstracted: Once she hit her teenage years, she started hating her body, wishing she could leave and go home to her actual parents, she started lashing out at others, treating others like shit and constantly throwing tantrums.

Age when she joined: 9

Age when she abstracted: 20

Height: 3’2

Age Now: 25

Fave Color: Lavender

Sexuality and Gender: Non-Binary and Pansexual

Pronouns: It/It’s

Personality Type: ESFJ

Zodiac: Virgo

Home State/Country: Nevada (Canadian American)

Birthday: Aug 31 1999

Year it joined: 2009

Year it abstracted: 2019

Voice Claim: Cozy Glow (MLP)

🩷🩷🩷

Pinkie - Another Himbo, but very shy and is easily swayed by other’s opinions, to the point where they had none of their own, no opinions, no boundaries, no wants or desires, and no identity of their own, only going by what other people said about them. They are the walking definition of a people pleaser and yet somehow, no one liked them for that. They never even had a real connection with anyone there, they just lurked around the circus. Used arm canes.

Reason they abstracted: Realised they had no identity, no opinions, no boundaries, and no one even liked them for what they were.

Age when they joined: 16

Age when they abstracted: 18

Height: 10’0

Age Now: 25

Fave Color: Pink

Sexuality and Gender: Androsexual and Bigender

Pronouns: He/Him, She/Her

Personality Type: INFP

Zodiac: Libra

Home State/Country: Michigan (Indian American)

Birthday: Sep 24 1999

Year he joined: 2015

Year he abstracted: 2017

Voice Claim: Rebecca Root (Misabel from Moominvalley)

🩷🩷🩷

Stringly - A mute and deaf teenager who was bullied the majority of his life. The “Alpha kid”, the “Ricky Potts” kid. Very wild imagination and loved computer games and reading comics. Never went outside unless he had to. Is autistic and has many fidget toys that he hates sharing. Despite being mute, he makes up for that by being overly animated, like a Disney cartoon. Definitely a furry

Reason he abstracted: Realised he will never be able to express his emotions verbally, he wished to speak but never could, his thoughts were only trapped in his mind, and no one could understand what he was trying to say. Just like in real life, he felt alone with no one on his side. Don’t ask why he has a British accent, no one knows.

Age when he joined: 17

Age when he abstracted: 29

Height: 6’6

Age Now: 32

Fave Color: Orange

Sexuality and Gender: Gay and Demiboy

Pronouns: He/They

Personality Type: INFJ

Zodiac: Pisces

Home State/Country: South Carolina (Indian American)

Birthday: March 2 1992

Year he joined: 2009

Year he abstracted: 2021

Voice Claim: StampyLongHead

💚💚💚

Jackles - a Jack-in-the-box who is always overly dramatic and sad. Obsessed with Shakespeare, Macbeth and English History. He’s a pick me but in like, “Oh I’m not gonna get the lead, why would anyone pick me” kind of way. Is always looking for attention and putting himself down to get said attention. He fakes being depressed and heavily yearns for attention just like any theatre kid. Says he’s horrible at singing, but is actually really good and can sing baritone opera.

Reason he abstracted: He actually did become depressed, but by then everyone had already realised it was an act and didn’t care when he went no contact with anyone leaving him to his thoughts.

Age when he joined: 23

Age when he abstracted: 30

Height: 7’5

Age Now: 33

Fave Color: Grey

Sexuality and Gender: AroAce and Genderfluid

Pronouns: He/They

Personality Type: INFJ

Zodiac: Scorpio

Home State/Country: Idaho (Italian African American)

Birthday: Nov 12 1991

Year he joined: 2014

Year they abstracted: 2021

Voice Claim: Astarion (BG3)

❤️❤️❤️

Mippsy - Literally the most basic girl ever, no personality, no aspirations, no talent, no style, no nothing. The most blank stare ever, the biggest bimbo around, dead weight, No thoughts, head empty, not a single thought behind those eyes, extremely forgetful, has the iq of a goldfish cracker, think of Karen from Mean Girls or Heather MacNamera from Heathers.

Reason she abstracted: One day she suddenly became hyper-aware of her surroundings, what she was and the fact that she was just a puppet both figuratively and literally.

Age when she joined: 15

Age when she abstracted: 27

Height: 4’9

Age Now: 29

Fave Color: Pale Aqua

Sexuality and Gender: Lesbian

Pronouns: She/Her

Personality Type: ISFJ

Zodiac: Pisces

Home State/Country: Iowa (American)

Birthday: Feb 19 1995

Year she joined: 2010

Year she abstracted: 2022

Voice Claim: Karen (Mean Girls the Musical)

🩵🩵🩵

Wizzy - A very calm and wise sorcerer. Has always been able to look into the future and tell others exactly how their day will go. Is always the voice of reason and was a dad figure to all, even Ragatha. He would put on magic shows for the others when they were feeling down, but yet no one did the same for him. Always spoke in magic tongues, only Jackles understood what he was saying. He could fly and help Caine with coming up with adventures. (This was before I learned about his actual form and just went off of the very blurry frame in the pilot)

Reason he abstracted: He looked into the future and saw that he was going to abstract and tried his hardest not to.

Age when he joined: 26

Age when he abstracted: 39

Height: 7’1

Age Now: 48

Fave Color: Electric Blue

Sexuality and Gender: Bisexual

Pronouns: He/Him

Personality Type: INTP

Zodiac: Aquarius

Home State/Country: Louisiana (Romanian American)

Birthday: Feb 1 1976

Year he joined: 2002

Year he abstracted: 2015

Voice Claim: God (Prince of Egypt)

💙💙💙

Venus - A very promiscuous woman, who always knew what she was worth. Very confident in herself and never let anyone change her mind about herself, not even Jax, but would get upset and angry easily, and with each outburst, her leaves and flowers fell apart more and more. She then became too hard on herself and forced herself to stay beautiful forever. (This was before I learned about her actual form and just went off of the very blurry frame in the pilot)

Reason she abstracted: She lost her confidence and beauty with each outburst and lost herself in her chase after her once perfect form.

Age when she joined: 21

Age when she abstracted: 29

Height: 8’0

Age Now: 34

Fave Color: Leaf Green

Sexuality and Gender: Lesbian and Trans Woman

Pronouns: She/Her

Personality Type: ESTP

Zodiac: Taurus

Home State/Country: North Carolina (Greek American)

Birthday: April 21 1990

Year she joined: 2011

Year she abstracted: 2019

Voice Claim: Queen Chrysalis (MLP)

💚💚💚

Kaufmo - Was a loveable clown and always made jokes and acts for the others. He was a typical clown, with an over the top Roger Rabbit like voice. At first the others enjoyed his acts, as it was a nice distraction from the day’s traumatic adventure, same for him, he often used humour to cope with his trauma and eventually, his “jokes” became self deprecating and condescending to others, which then led to jabs and passive aggressive remarks of the others actions. He soon grew bitter of his friends, and the circus in general, finally seeing the hell that it was.

Reason he abstracted: After becoming more bitter and bitter over the years, his jokes declined and drove a wedge between himself and his friends, leaving him alone in his thoughts.

Age when he joined: 19

Age when he abstracted: 38

Height: 6’3

Age Now: 39

Fave Color: Neon Yellow

Sexuality and Gender: Bisexual, Panromantic, Demisex/rom Cis male

Pronouns: He/Him

Personality Type: ENTP

Zodiac: Sagittarius

Home State/Country: Alabama (Irish American)

Birthday: Nov 30 1985

Year he joined: 2004

Year he abstracted: 2023

Voice Claim: Jack Black

💛💛💛

Queenie - A wonderful woman who was the mother figure to all. She was very kind and caring, always giving advice when asked, and was always so put together and calm, even during the most dangerous of situations, she always had a plan for everything. Was very fun to be around, despite her grandeur, she had a youthfulness to her. Was very competitive and hated losing to anyone.

Reason she abstracted: Over the years, the pressure of being “Queen” got to her head and became narcissistic, truly believing she was the queen of not only the circus, but the world, she thought the world revolved around her and everyone was but a mere peasant in her eyes, even Kinger would be afraid of her wrath. If anyone were to dare disobey her, a world of hell would be brought upon them, she’d make their life a living hell and never forgive them. But once Jax destroyed her garden to “humble” her, she lost it, demanding that Jax fix it at once but Jax only told her, “This is just a game, and your status means nothing here” she abstracted on the spot. Kinger has never trusted him since.

Age when she joined: 26

Age when she abstracted: 43

Height: 6’9

Age Now: 49

Fave Color: Blood Red

Sexuality and Gender: Straight Ally and Cis Female

Pronouns: She/Her

Personality Type: ESTJ

Zodiac: Capricorn

Home State/Country: Birmingham England (English) Moved to Minnesota when she was little

Birthday: Dec 26 1975

Year she joined: 2001

Year she abstracted: 2018

Voice Claim: Mitski

❤️❤️❤️

[eggyolkguzzler-archive]

Alex..... I am so glad to see you have grown into the kind young man I knew you always were. Or, well, are. It brings me so much joy to see you so well loved.

Tell me. Are you happy dear? < @claramullner >

M-MOM!? MAMA!?

Wah- How!? How is this- How are you talking right now? You were-

You-...

.

.

.

Mom. Mama. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I was such a- I was such a brat! I was just- I was so scared. And I hated him so much! What he did to you, I just- I couldn't- I didn't know what to- I couldn't do anything! And-...

And I'm sorry...

I'm trying to be better. I'm not a little brat anymore! I promise! I'm trying so hard! I- I'm-

*Hic*

.

.

.

I... I am happy... At least, I think I am. Sometimes I'm not. B- But I have a lot of friends. And I have a job that I work in the summer. And I take really good care of Dusty. He-... He misses you so much.

...

I... miss you so much.

[yuesya]

“A shipment to Arkos, you said?”

“Yup! Logistics wants this delivered before the end of the week.” The young lady types rapidly into the keypad fixed to the wall, and the doors slide open –revealing the warehouse to be stacked high with giant boxes of various medical supplies. Bagpipe cranes her head back, surveying the contents of the storage room. 

“… All of these?” 

“Mhm. It would’ve been included as part of the regular shipment last month, but the guys over in the Medical Department changed something about the new formula that they’re developing, so these got delayed,” the girl explains. “Sorry for the trouble, Ms. Bagpipe.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Arkos… it’s a familiar name, although Bagpipe has yet to go and pay a visit there in person. It seems that she’ll finally be getting the opportunity now.

Arkos is not quite a city, exactly. It’s more of a collective –a gathering of various disparate individuals; a hub of mercenaries and traders alike, in addition to a small regular population that calls Arkos home. The small settlement is located in one of the more treacherous parts of the rugged terrain between Leithanien and Ursus, making it an excellent resting stop for any travelers.

But on the flipside: Arkos is located on dangerous terrain, and one must wonder how anyone had even thought to establish a settlement there in the first place. In a way, it’s genius, but it’s also insanity. Because Arkos is not a mobile city; if a Catastrophe ever came their way, then…

Well. Bagpipe assumes that there must be some manner of precautionary measures set in place. She’s never known Doctor Kal’tsit to invest in a sinking ship, after all, and the agreements signed between Rhodes Island and Arkos would not have been possible in the first place if the Director had not truly seen something in it.

According to the rumors, the first homes in Arkos had been built by their elusive founder and leader herself. Weary travelers had been allowed a place to rest, and none were turned away on basis of race or occupation, gradually leading to a motley collection of individuals who gathered together in the area as time passed.

… And at the same time, there were also rumors that those who dared to cause trouble in Arkos with any ill intentions were all met with violent, bloody ends, without exception. Also courtesy of their great and powerful leader.

Bagpipe is curious as to what the leader of Arkos is really like. Kal’tsit is the only one in Rhodes Island who’s ever met them in person before, and she’s very tight-lipped on the subject, which only adds to the mystery of it all.

[loadinghellsing]

"Bland"

[trans-jon-rights]

Heya. Here is some outline I wrote for a potential fic. It got out of hand.

Anyway, enjoy :3

It's 5PM. Elias asks for Jon in his office. He just got promoted. That's a good thing, right ?

Elias asks Jon which assistants he wants. He asks for Tim and Sasha from research. Both are competent, and he'll need them. Elias tells him that they'll be informed so he doesn't need to bother. They must be home already. He should go enjoy his weekend before starting the new job.

Then, Monday is here. Jon goes to work in the Archives, one entire hour early. It is better to make a good impression. It's around 10AM, and he realises his assistants aren't here. He tries to text or call them, but there's no cell service. It's fine. He'll just go up in Research. Perhaps they just didn't get the memo.

When he reaches the doors, they are locked. The heavy wooden panels won't budge an inch.

It's fine ! It's just- the building is just old, and he's never really been strong physically or whatever, but it's fine. Maybe he'll just wait a bit. It'll be okay.

12AM is there. Then 4PM. Then 7PM.

Still no signs of anyone. No one's checked on him, no Tim, no Sasha, no cleaner, no Elias- No one.

The doors are still locked, taunting him with their ornate brass plate reading "Archives" in a neat cursive.

Another day pass. Then another. Then a week.

Jon keeps reading Statements and organising the Archives. It's the only thing he can do, right ?

He found lots of Statements that wouldn't record on his laptop. Somehow, they work on the old tape recorder he's found.

He keeps going.

It takes him longer than it should have to realise that he didn't suffer from any side effects of the hunger he feels. It has been too long since he ate, yet he doesn't feel himself grow weaker. Just restless.

He is trapped alone under a building he can feel is bustling with life.

He keeps reading.

Again and again.

Statement after Statement after Statement.

He must have recorded at least over a dozen when he realised he didn't change the cassette even once. Yet, when he checks the files, there is always a new one with his voice reading the attached Statement. The handwriting on the label is his, but he doesn't remember writing it.

Statement after Statement after Statement.

Again and again.

Tim and Sasha are concerned. It's been months since they've heard of Jon. Sure, Elias said he'd gotten another job but- it doesn't sound like him, leaving without even a note.

The Archives are as locked as they've always been, ever since the death of old lady Robinson.

Then Elias calls both of them in his office. They've just gotten a promotion. They're now Archival Assistants.

He said not to worry about the Archivist. He'd found one suitable enough.

Standing in front of the doors leave them with an uneasy feeling of being watched. Still, they cross the threshold.

They refuse to believe the creature facing them was ever anything human.