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***skinstealer*** · (This post was last modified: 11-30-2023, 11:36 PM by skinstealer.)

Welcome to the Felid Factor Forums! Felid Factor is a forum run by TCPs, for TCPs, and only TCPs can join- yes, this does mean we’ll ask you for verification on signing up. Providing you’re willing to give that, you’ll be welcomed into a community that prides itself on being both a friendly place for TCPs to interact and a helpful resource hub for those looking for information on their species. Here you will find TCPs of all typings, including hybrids and those with anomalies, conditions and modifiers- we’ve even teamed up with people from research facilities to provide extra resources to those looking to learn more about themselves and their peers. For those who aren’t TCPs and are interested in our forums- our resource section remains public for viewing, and you’re welcome to learn through there, but please, respect our boundaries! We TCPs need a space of our own, too!

Within Felid Factor itself, we have a few different areas:

General Chatter, an anything goes area for anyone to talk in about just about everything. If you’re not sure where something goes, here’s a good place! If it’d be better suited for another area, someone will be sure to guide you to the right area, and you’ll be well on your way. It’s a great place to get started and introduce yourself!

Artist’s Corner, an area for artists of any kind to make, share, and sell their work. While we have a marketplace area (mentioned below) available, this is a more focused area for people to market their work, and people can choose to advertise wherever they please- or in both areas, if they like! Any kind of content is allowed as long as it is legal and non-sexual, and we encourage you to express yourself.

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Open Marketplace, an area for buying, selling, and overall advertisement of wares, services, and anything else you can think of. TCPs are often overlooked in the global market dominated by complexes, and this space allows for us TCPs to market to each other without fear of being overshadowed by our larger peers. As long as your wares are legal and non-sexual in nature, they are welcome here!

Enigmas and Absurdities, an area created by popular request, dedicated to strange happenings, magical studies, paranormal activity, you name it. While we don’t intend on making too many specialized areas like this, the demand for such a board was too high for us to ignore it, and due to the inherent magical nature of TCPs and the prevalence and reality of supernatural typings, we felt like it deserved a spot.

To sign up for Felid Factor, just fill out the following form and provide photo verification of yourself holding up a piece of paper with your preferred username on it, along with the date. We’ll review your application as soon as possible and try to get you on the site when we can, so you can start posting and enjoying everything we have to offer.

Thank you for checking out Felid Factor, and we hope you enjoy your stay!

4/4/316- Alias

Inhale, exhale. Oxygen in, carbon dioxide out. It was something that a lot of species did, not all of them, but a lot. A necessary function for life, something that if fucked with, could lead to serious problems if not outright death.

TCPs were one of those species that didn’t need to breathe, and the only way Alias knew what it could possibly feel like at all was through reading countless medical articles and overly descriptive prose on people’s fiction pages.

So why did Alias feel like they were choking?

Maybe they were different, and this was something they were actually capable of after all, just like crying. Maybe shorthair type TCPs secretly had a pair of lungs somewhere in their body and just, absorbed air through their skin or something, and it wasn’t enough, and they were slowly suffocating to death and that’s what was causing this horrible feeling of being crushed to death. Their eyes weren’t supposed to be able to make tears and yet here they were, watching horrible yellow-orange globs of fluid pour out of the corners as they trembled in front of the mirror, unable to stop any of it from coming out. It was all too much, and they tried to wipe it away, into the sink at the very least, keep it from making a mess of the floor…

Okay, okay. Relax. Breathe. Wait, no, breathing, that’s the whole problem, they don’t know whether they can breathe or not, is it a real, physical thing they’re capable of, or is it just another fucked up metaphor people use for “relax, chill your shit, stop freaking out!” They’d rather people just outright tell them to chill out at that point, because at the very least they wouldn’t have an existential crisis over whether they have organs in there or not-

They pat at their chest, getting nothing but a solid thump in return. Completely unhelpful. They don’t even know why they did that. It’s not like they know what whacking lungs sounds like, that’s probably not even a medical procedure...they need like, x-rays for that kind of thing, and it’s not like they have cash for that. Maybe if they pushed critter sales...no, stupid idea. They are not working themself extra just to find out whether they have lungs. Cmon.

They grip the edge of the sink with one paw, their now fully exposed left eye dribbling fluid freely into the basin. Get your shit together, Alias. It was just a stupid video, thirty seconds tops, not even a full minute long.

But it sounded like her. It sounded like her voice.

ALIAS: That’s not fair to them, though.
ALIAS: They’re just some fucking stranger on the internet, they’re not even a person I’ll ever meet, they didn’t...they didn’t hurt me!

Their voice is getting louder now and they’re trying to stop themself, and they know that the sound they’re making is a choke, even if it’s not the act of choking, because nothing about what they are makes any goddamn sense, and they’re just, it’s just-

They hear a notification from the other room, somehow, nearly falling off of their step stool- they must have accidentally bumped their headphone cable out of the computer when freaking out for it to be that audible from here. They fumble for the hand towel and shove their face into it, holding it there as they shuffle down the stool and towards their room.

There’s a message from Remmy.

[REMNANT_TREASURES]: u okay?

They hesitate, paws over the touchpad.

[CRITTER_CATCHER]: yeah
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: u sure?
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: u havent been on all day and i miss u
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: u didnt show up for our usual lunch convo time or anything
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: im fine
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: okay dropping cute talk
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: what happened
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: its fine and im fine
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: its stupid and not worth talking about
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: dude if it got you upset its worth talking about
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: is someone giving you shit about your prices again?
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: no
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: i mean yes but that was yesterday
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: i will wreck them.

Alias snickers a bit, unable to help themself.

[REMNANT_TREASURES]: ok but whats the today problem?
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: i saw this video and just
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: there was a TCP in it and their voice was just like
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: idk
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: was it like sonar’s?
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: yeah
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: shit
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: im sorry crit
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: its fine
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: no like that’s legit rough and i hope you know like
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: i am here for you.
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: ok?
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: yeah i just
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: had this whole fucking thing about
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: its stupid nvm
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: i will not think its stupid
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: you will think its stupid
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: i swear i will not
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: i got upset about like
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: breathing
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: breathing?
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: like the biological process?
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: yeah
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: okay
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: why that specifically?
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: i felt like i couldnt and it just
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: i mean, you can’t
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: right and that’s the problem
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: like TCPs cant breathe but it felt like i /couldnt/ breathe
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: okay i am trying very hard to follow keep going
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: like i didnt feel like i was physically incapable of breathing
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: i felt like i was being choked. like i was being crushed.
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: okay. i think i can get that part
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: i think thats called like
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: an anxiety attack
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: i know what an anxiety attack is
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: i mean i figure you would yes
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: but im pretty sure thats a symptom
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: i guess
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: but in the moment it felt like so much more than that
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: it felt just so
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: all fucking encompassing
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: like thats all there ever would be
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: well
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: do you feel like that now?
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: guess not
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: there you go then
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: anxiety attacks suck but they arent forever
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: nothing is
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: ok i dont like thinking about the nothing is forever part
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: fair enough! forget about that bit
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: just remember that the /anxiety stuff/ doesnt last forever and that youre gonna be okay
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: and that ill always be here to give you big ol hugs!
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: and that i miss u when you disappear like that
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: you are a dork.
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: well, correct, objectively
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: but you are my friend, and thus dork by extension
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: i infected you with dork cooties
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: so there
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: ugh

Huh.

They aren’t crying anymore.

How about that.

***skinstealer*** · 12-20-2021, 11:20 PM

4/11/316- Remmy

The subway is crowded as ever, but Remmy is used to that much. He might have been the only passenger to get picked up at his stop, but by the time he got close to the city, even the TCP sections of the cars were starting to get packed. He holds onto his strap, making sure to avoid hitting the adjustment button. He’d made that mistake too many times on his first few rides in on this train, the ones he was used to using a completely different system, even though they went to the same city…

His thoughts trail off as one of the narrow wall screens turns to a news report, and it’s nothing especially new- reporters talking about the Whimsy border and falling temperatures, with some reported snowstorms coming in soon...in the middle of spring, in Wonder of all places. It wasn’t out of the ordinary here on the border, but it was still weird...nothing compared to what was happening in Whimsy itself, though. The reporter’s going on about the refugees insisting on living on the edges now, using Wonder’s high tech settlements to brave the harsh conditions while it’s still...halfway here, is the phrase Remmy’s heard people use. He sees a bear type shake their head at the screen, mumbling something about people with no sense. Someone nods at their comment and Remmy keeps quiet, not wanting to volunteer his own opinion.

If something’s worth staying to them, it’s their choice, after all…

Punching into work is familiar as ever, even if the ride in is still new. Remmy gives a wave to all of the faces he’s grown to know over the two years he’s worked for this company as he heads to his work station, sighing as he sees a work order already pinned to his corkboard. It’s another quilted coat, but he expected as much- he’s a quilt type, after all, and he was hired for his ability. It’s what he can get done quickly and he provides a specialty item for their menu...and a best seller at that. Besides, with all the cold weather happening lately, people need the warmth, and he supposes he doesn’t mind helping someone out with that...even if it’s at a bit of an inflated price.

He starts rolling out his pattern paper, minding the measurements on his work order. Looks like a body type client, but that’s not a problem for him. Some of the smaller workers struggle with the larger TCP orders solo, but he’s capable of taking almost anything on thanks to his size. The sleeves, though, that’s where this coat’s real price hike comes in...this TCP had huge hands, and the sheer amount of fabric needed was going to drain him hard. Just as a bit of dread sets in over it, a small, BJD type TCP passes by, peeking over his desk as best as she can.

????: Reeeemmy. Remmy.
REMMY: Heeey, Peg...got a big order today, I can’t talk much…
PEG: I can see that. Is that the body?
REMMY: Sleeve, actually.
PEG: Whoof.
REMMY: Yeah…
PEG: And you have to do two of those?
REMMY: Four, with cuffs.
PEG: Goood luck, my guy.
REMMY: Thanks...I’ll handle it, it’s not the worst.
PEG: Just remember to hit up the bar and get yourself some sandwiches or something. Claire doesn’t want you passing out again.
REMMY: That was one time.
PEG: Yeah, and no one could carry you to the hospital.
REMMY: …
PEG: You’re huge, dude. It doesn’t work.

Remmy sighs, re-measuring his pattern piece carefully before flattening out any creases with his hands, running his palms along it as he uses his ability, turning it into a flat, white, quilt. It had taken years of self-taught practice and ability training to manipulate where colors and shapes showed up, not to mention making them suitable for clothing pieces…

PEG: Not bad.
REMMY: Peg, I appreciate the company, I really do, but-
PEG: I get it, I get it.
REMMY: ...Sorry.

There’s a moment of silence, but Peg doesn’t leave, lingering just a bit. Her ability’s putting all kinds of fashion ideas in Remmy’s head, something he always used to enjoy back when they hung out more...but now it just makes him feel this sense of bittersweetness, and it doesn’t feel particularly good right now.

PEG: You doing okay out there on your own?
PEG: I mean, it’s not like you went out partying like the rest of us, you always stuck around on your computer anyway-
REMMY: Yeah. It’s a nice place.
REMMY: It’s quiet! I like quiet.
PEG: Well...we miss you out here.
PEG: Not quite the same without our gentle giant.

He unrolls another sheet of paper and starts cutting, working on the next sleeve. He dreads what he’s about to say next, but he feels like he has to say it, he owes her at least that much, after everything.

REMMY: ...I’ll come visit sometime.

She lights right up.

PEG: Really?
REMMY: Yeah.
PEG: You promise?

God.

He forces the lightest voice he can manage.

REMMY: Yep! As soon as I figure out transportation a little better and find the time.
REMMY: We can figure out dinner or something.

Peg almost goes to punch him in the arm before realizing he’s holding a craft knife, and thinks better of it.

PEG: Awesome, man!
PEG: Shit, I better run off before Claire finds out I’m slacking.
PEG: But that’s the best, dude. You’re the best.
PEG: We really miss you. This is gonna rule. Seriously-
REMMY: Peg.
PEG: Right, right. Going now.

He waits until she’s finally out of view before letting his shoulders sag under his quilted body, taking a minute to compose himself before running his hands along the paper piece and transforming it to match the other.

He almost can’t find his keycard when he gets home, nearly panicking before finding it in his back pocket- why does he keep anything back there?! His entire body aches from using his ability as much as he did, but he got his quota for the coat done today in record time, even better than his last shift...there was still a good bit to do, and sewing still needed to happen, but no company could boast a quilted coat made as fast as they could, and not at such immaculate quality.

REMMY: ...I’m home.

He says it to no one in particular, a force of habit from his last living place, back when he had roommates. It was a running joke, considering they all came home at the same time, and came from the same place, but they would always greet each other the second they came in the door. Now he just says it to himself, and that’s that.

He tries not to think about Peg’s comment as he makes his way to his desk, settling in at his computer. [CRITTER_CATCHER] and [TRICKSTERS_COCKTAIL] are both offline on MessiRoom, but- if he had a heart, it would have dropped into his stomach. Oh my god, he actually has a message from her. Her.

[DOLLHOUSE_DRESSUP]: I’m contacting you in response to your comment on my thread looking for collaborative opportunities, especially in regards to needing help with traditional Whimsy fashion.
[DOLLHOUSE_DRESSUP]: I looked through the portfolio you sent and your samples are good. Really good.
[DOLLHOUSE_DRESSUP]: Your quality is immaculate, but my one critique is that you seem almost…/too/ professional. My clients want a handmade touch to their work, and I get a sense that you work for a corporation. Am I off base?

Oh god, she’s online. His hands are shaking as he goes to type a response, and he has to correct himself at least three times to avoid typos.

[REMNANT_TREASURES]: yes, my portfolio is from work i do with a company. it’s not a corporation but it is a major manufacturer and not my own business
[DOLLHOUSE_DRESSUP]: Do you have creative control over your creations?
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: i get to make them with my ability versus any of their practices and choose my own techniques
[DOLLHOUSE_DRESSUP]: But do you get to control the /designs/?
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: ...no. they’re company designs, i just make them according to the patterns.
[DOLLHOUSE_DRESSUP]: Do you want to do your own work, for me?

He’s frozen, unable to respond. He can’t believe what he’s hearing, and time’s stopped.

[DOLLHOUSE_DRESSUP]: Hello?
[DOLLHOUSE_DRESSUP]: Are you alright?
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: god, yes.
[DOLLHOUSE_DRESSUP]: Then let’s work out a deal.

***skinstealer*** · (This post was last modified: 12-27-2021, 10:51 PM by skinstealer.)

4/12/316- Marcel

It’s rush hour, and Marcel’s kicking herself for being out this late again- she had gotten caught up in hashing out plans with that Remmy kid all night and then coordinating with her materials suppliers to actually enact those plans this morning...he showed a lot of promise, and with that portfolio…she hasn’t seen work like that in a long time, and that’s with corporate training wheels on. Get him onto less standardized work and into a more custom field…

Someone honks at her to go faster, and she resists the urge to honk back, hitting the gas just enough to get them off her case. She turns up the radio in hopes that it’ll settle her now electrified nerves, praying her foot doesn’t twitch on the pedal.

I wish I didn’t have to drive anywhere, I wish there was a proper bus or something...but then I wouldn’t be able to take materials back and forth, and it just wouldn’t work, agh…

Her thoughts turn from the work earlier that day to the research she had done right before bed, the mindless searching and clicking done when she was supposed to have turned off her computer and be done with the internet for the night. Still; she had questions that needed answering...and last night, she found something.

Not anything particularly heartening, but something.

TTS, they called it. Abbreviating TCP as the first word feels a bit silly to her, an acronym within an acronym, but she figures TCPTS sounds even more unwieldy...TCP Toy Syndrome. Not the most elegant or humanizing term, but that was the whole point of the condition itself...what happens to a TCP when they are treated like a plaything for their status as a TCP, especially if based on their typing or appearance.

The wool type tightens her grip on the steering wheel, but tries to keep her speed within the limit. Keep it steady.

People with TTS exhibit a variety of symptoms - so varied that the lists get a little overwhelming to read. Some are easy enough to throw out as unfitting for herself, but some ride the line where she can’t tell if they’re accurate or not quite there.

Perfectionism. Issues with control and...attachment. I don’t see it, but, she always said I…

Her exit’s up next.

She makes the turn without an issue, and heads home.

Home is where the cluttered mess of work in progress projects are, but as she struggles to drag in her foldable cart full of fabric rolls, she feels the same immense sense of pride she always does. This is her space. She sets aside her findings in their designated area, making sure to give them at least some preliminary sorting before heading for her computer- she has emails in mind.

FROM: marcel@dollhousedressup.com
TO: lewisbooker@tcpdexresearch.org
SUBJECT: Re: Re: Bulk Orders
BODY:
Sent out designs to the manufacturers on time, awaiting further requests if you have any. I’ll admit that raincoats for the kinds of body plans you presented were a new challenge for me, but they should be a good addition to my portfolio and I look forward to similar opportunities going forward. I hope that the manufacturers continue to deliver on my designs and that the people living in your facility benefit from these coats, as well as those that you end up selling them to.

I do have a question unrelated to the coats, however- I tried looking on your website and found no publicly available resources, but I am curious as to whether you have any resources on TTS (TCP Toy Syndrome)?

Thank you for the business, and I hope to hear back from you soon.
-Marcel

Marcel reads it over twice before sending, making sure no typos slipped by. She gets to sorting her new acquisitions for real now, making sure they’re organized by color- her projects themselves may be a mess, but her materials, those had to be in their proper places for sure. It’s mostly just a way to kill time and she knows it well, but it’s effective- her laptop’s speakers are turned up to maximum, and when the email comes in, she hears it.

FROM: lewisbooker@tcpdexresearch.org
TO: marcel@dollhousedressup.com
SUBJECT: Re: Re: Re: Bulk Orders
BODY:
Thanks for the speedy work as always, Marcel! We can always count on you to get the job done! Our next set of orders are actually more pajamas, if that’s alright- we know you’ve done so many of those already, but it really helps newcomers feel more at home to have something cozy to wear in their rooms. Standardized stuff just doesn’t work with food types and anything else that can possibly stain, and yours are the best for comfort, and the fun patterns too...but listen to me go on! If you agree to the job, I know you can get it done right!

As for TTS, we have quite a bit of research done, but it’s still kind of a controversial topic, so we haven’t released anything on it yet. It’s a psychological condition more along the lines of a mental health affliction than something like a ravenous or horrified condition, and we don’t really have a lot of structure set up to properly and safely inform on something of that nature. It’d need a lot of nuance and care, especially with so much of what’s out there being fear-mongering in nature...but that could be said of all TCP conditions, really.

Why do you ask? Are you worried that you or someone you know has it? If you’re concerned, you can always schedule a remote appointment with one of our doctors here. After all you’ve done for us, I’m sure we could work out some kind of deal.

Mental health affliction. The words ring in her mind over and over, and she shakes her head.

FROM: marcel@dollhousedressup.com
TO: lewisbooker@tcpdexresearch.org
SUBJECT: Re: Re: Re: Bulk Orders
BODY:
No, I’m all set. I was just curious, that’s all. I heard about it on a radio show.

I’ll definitely be available to do the pajama order. Send me the details when you can.

-Marcel

She’s about to close the laptop and get something to eat before a MessiRoom notification pops up.

[BEWITCHING_EYES]: hi!!!

Ah. That’s right. The model.

[BEWITCHING_EYES]: this is marcel, right?

How the hell does she know my name?

[DOLLHOUSE_DRESSUP]: Yes, this is Marcel, though I’m not sure how you know my name.
[BEWITCHING_EYES]: oh sry thats probably super weird
[BEWITCHING_EYES]: i um lived at one of the facilities you did stuff for
[BEWITCHING_EYES]: and you came to visit once
[BEWITCHING_EYES]: and it was super cool!
[BEWITCHING_EYES]: and youve been my idol ever since!!!

Oh, god. The energy levels.

[DOLLHOUSE_DRESSUP]: Well, I’m flattered, but I’d prefer not to be idolized. I’d prefer my work to speak for itself versus being put on a pedestal myself.
[DOLLHOUSE_DRESSUP]: Also, I’m going to go get some tea.
[DOLLHOUSE_DRESSUP]: In the meantime, please either hook up a webcam or take pictures of yourself, preferably in some way that I can see your overall body shape and any textures and/or features that I’ll have to take into consideration when designing your outfit.
[BEWITCHING_EYES]: can do!

She takes her time getting the tea, dragging her feet just the slightest bit- half in hopes that the model actually gets what she’s supposed to on time, and half dreading returning to someone who looks at her like she’s some kind of fashion god or something. She already had to straighten Remmy out with that last night, but at least he picked up on that quickly…

[BEWITCHING_EYES] sent 5 files.
[BEWITCHING_EYES]: ok that should be it!
[BEWITCHING_EYES]: im an omen type, like the creature
[BEWITCHING_EYES]: i have a scaly body, long hair, and big eyes
[BEWITCHING_EYES]: oh and big claws. i have really big claws
[BEWITCHING_EYES]: but its all pretty standard for an omen type, i think? i dont have any anomalies or anything outside of some designer markings i got done a while back
[BEWITCHING_EYES]: oh and my names tansy!
[BEWITCHING_EYES]: thats not related to the measurements but i think you should probably have something to call me
[BEWITCHING_EYES]: and im sorry for the weird idol thing, i should know better than that

Well...that’s a pleasant surprise.

[DOLLHOUSE_DRESSUP]: Thank you for understanding.
[DOLLHOUSE_DRESSUP]: I can work with this typing easily and at my standard rates without any issue, seeing as you’re a biped without any sort of stain-prone body composition.
[DOLLHOUSE_DRESSUP]: That said, even if you weren’t, I prefer not to charge too much extra, only what’s necessary. The only extra expense I could feasibly see happening would be if you want some kind of glasses.
[BEWITCHING_EYES]: how did you know???
[DOLLHOUSE_DRESSUP]: You mentioned the eyes specifically, and from what I know about omen types, most would probably prefer avoiding those unless they wanted to highlight them.
[DOLLHOUSE_DRESSUP]: Also, it’s literally in your username.
[BEWITCHING_EYES]: :P
[BEWITCHING_EYES]: you got me
[BEWITCHING_EYES]: yes i really want glasses! or goggles, or something cute
[DOLLHOUSE_DRESSUP]: We can work on that.
[DOLLHOUSE_DRESSUP]: As for compatible materials, allow me to list some options out…

It’s going to be a long night.

***skinstealer*** · (This post was last modified: 01-31-2022, 12:10 AM by skinstealer.)

Tansy- 4/13/416

????: Good news, Tansy. Your vitals all seem normal for what you’ve just been through.

Tansy lets her legs dangle off of the examination table, the omen type’s hair falling into her face as she tilts her head.

TANSY: No weird blips on the machines?
????: Not a one. You’re the perfect image of health, all things considered.
TANSY: Like, not even anything minor?
????: Not anything that picks up on our scans.
????: Why, have you been experiencing anything out of the ordinary for the nullification process?

She runs through the checklist in her head. It’d been a few weeks since the process had begun, and her decision to take the slow and steady route had cost her pretty much her entire life savings and then some- and the whole time, they drilled every step into her at every appointment. She’d be weaker for sure at first, but the vitamin supplements and body modifications they’d give her would help balance that out. She had already gone through the weight loss and looked even scarier than usual, but now she was back to normal, if not looking better than ever. Chronic pain and depression were highly likely and those going away weren’t nearly as feasible, but there was still a chance they could be treated.

There were the nightmares, but that couldn’t be relevant. This is a positive change, and those were of something long past- something related to how horrible her ability was, and now she’s free of it.

TANSY: Nope, not really!
TANSY: I’ve been a liiiittle paranoid here and there, but hearing about the scans cleared my head right up.
TANSY: Just needed that last bit of reassurance.

The doctor nods, looking over their paperwork.

????: You’ll just need one last appointment after this to make sure everything’s in tip top shape, and then you’re done.
????: How does it feel?

If she could have smiled, she would have given him a wide grin.

TANSY: Never better!

Click.

GLYCON: I love it. Give me some over the shoulder next.

Click.

GLYCON: Ladder pose.

Click.

GLYCON: Perfect. Beautiful. Radiant. You want eyes in this next shot, yeah?
TANSY: You know it.

Click.

Tansy collapses onto the couch, fumbling for the conveniently placed bottle of water Glycon left her as she waves her trusty photographer goodbye. They’d have to catch up later, but the gorgon type has a bus to catch...family troubles and all. Her phone starts buzzing in her purse, getting a groan out of her as she has to reach all the way across the cushions.

[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS] is online.
[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: ohhhh my god.
[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: you. will not believe this.
[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: tansy. pick up your phone whenever you’re done with your shoot. you will flip.
[BEWITCHING_EYES]: just got off work...what’s up?
[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: wait, don’t you usually hang out with the snakes?
[BEWITCHING_EYES]: glyc’s got family shit tonight, something about one of the younger ones not doing great in school.
[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: school? they believe in that?
[BEWITCHING_EYES]: yeah...trying one of those old corvice things, i guess? it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me either
[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: weird. hope that goes okay for them.
[BEWITCHING_EYES]: same! i think it’ll be ok tho
[BEWITCHING_EYES]: soooooooooo
[BEWITCHING_EYES]: spill
[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: ok ok ok. so, guess who decided to show up in my DMs?
[BEWITCHING_EYES]: oh, god. who now?
[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: you have to guess!
[BEWITCHING_EYES]: please do not make me guess
[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: guess!
[BEWITCHING_EYES]: no offense lily but there are too many candidates for creepy people who could be DMing you
[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: ugh, you’re no fun.
[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: anyway, it’s kristoff again, under a new handle.
[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: get a load of this: [DIAMOND_BLADE].
[BEWITCHING_EYES]: ew
[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: his sword collection is iron at best!
[BEWITCHING_EYES]: didn’t he like, spend your entire spawnday talking about them after you made all these plans and everything?
[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: yes.
[BEWITCHING_EYES]: wow
[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: anyway, he wants free pictures- but wait, there’s more.
[BEWITCHING_EYES]: oh no
[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: he wants free pictures of me…
[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: POSING WITH HIS SWORDS!

Tansy stops drinking, somehow doing the closest thing a TCP can get to choking.

[BEWITCHING_EYES]: no!
[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: yes!
[BEWITCHING_EYES]: what did you say?!
[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: oh, considering he stalked me for weeks after i broke up with him? fuck off and die. the usual.

Tansy makes a noise akin to a sigh of relief, glad to see that Lily has a handle on things...she always knows just what to do with internet hecklers. God knows she got enough of them, what with all the creepy stalker exe’s.

That resilience was something she envied, a little bit.

The vacuum always grated on her senses, but it’s the fastest way to clean the house, and definitely the most thorough- it was a gift from Glycon, new tech made specially for TCPs, complete with adjustable size settings. Cleaning the house was a chore no matter what, but it was something to do that wasn’t endlessly scrolling the forums, and that...was definitely more unpleasant than the loud noise coming from the appliance.

Modeling was something she enjoyed more than any other work for sure, and magazines were taking her professional pictures, but the spares she posted online to Felid Factor...those got negative press. She got the feeling that some of the newer users with no other comments aside from the ones on her profile may have tracked her down from her work with the more well known mags, and while she wanted to believe that her infamy was only in this small, online space...it was entirely possible that the magazines were only getting her pictures for the controversy’s sake.

All attention is good attention in the model business, isn’t that right?

A sharp pain shoots through her side and she nearly drops the vacuum hose, struggling to keep an upright stance. It’s not the first time it’s happened since the nullification process, but it’s fine, it’s just...the chronic pain. There’s nothing they can do about that, so there’s no point in bringing it up, and even if she did, they’d just extend the appointments...draining her money and cutting into her work time.

She takes a moment to get her bearings, the vacuum droning on as she lets the world come back into focus. It all shifts back into place and she’s back where she’s supposed to be, and everything is fine.

It’s all good.

Never stop hustling.

***skinstealer*** · (This post was last modified: 01-31-2022, 12:10 AM by skinstealer.)

LILY- 4/13/416

[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: he wants free pictures of me…
[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: POSING WITH HIS SWORDS!
[BEWITCHING_EYES]: no!
[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: yes!
[BEWITCHING_EYES]: what did you say?!
[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: oh, considering he stalked me for weeks after i broke up with him? fuck off and die. the usual.
[BEWITCHING_EYES]: you always know just the right thing to say, lils

Lily slumps back in her seat, sighing. Yeah, right. As if that’s going to make this guy fuck off for real.

[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: i mean, we’ll see.
[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: it got him off my case for now, and if he keeps messaging me, i’ll report his account again. the royal highness got back to me quickly last time, you know they act quickly on this kind of thing.
[BEWITCHING_EYES]: yeah...the mods can be kinda weird but they do get a lot done
[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: you’re still reporting all the messed up comments, right?
[BEWITCHING_EYES]: yeah, and everybody’s getting strikes from what i can tell. they usually stop right at the second strike, and don’t go any further
[BEWITCHING_EYES]: thankfully due to the whole verification thing, people can’t make alternate accounts easily, but i feel like people are still getting through /somehow/. idk
[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: don’t think about it too hard, babe. you can’t let those suckers get you down every day.
[BEWITCHING_EYES]: they’re not getting me down!
[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: mhm.
[BEWITCHING_EYES]: please! i wouldn’t be modeling if i couldn’t take a few harsh comments!
[BEWITCHING_EYES]: besides, if i quit now, i’d be a shitty rival to you! Tongue

[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: we’re not rivals!
[BEWITCHING_EYES]: yessss we are
[BEWITCHING_EYES]: someday ill surpass you miiiiiiss popuuuular
[BEWITCHING_EYES]: watch out!!

The fascination type rolls her eyes, glancing out the tinted windows of the car as it rolls to a stop. She picks up her bag and gives an unceremonious wave to the driver, not bothering to make eye contact with them on her way out- all it’d do is make her skin prickle, and she had enough of that from looking into the cameras today.

The hotel’s revolving door sticks a little as always, Lily resorting to pushing it with her shoulder before nearly sending it (and herself) flying. She tries not to swear under her breath as she stumbles in- it’s a dirty habit that she’s trying to kick, at the very least in the real world. She reaches into her jeans pocket and pulls out her card, sliding it in at one of the gates- it registers her room number and the moving floor ahead of her starts up, a conveyer leading her down one of the many hallways. She knows which one is hers at this point, but it’s easy to get lost in these places starting out.

Her capsule’s all the way down at the end of this row, and up a few levels- she takes her phone back out. Someone sent her a news article earlier, commenting on her latest appearance in Rogue.

LILY REYES: A BOLD VISION IN GOLD

We all know the stories about TCP sessions gone wrong...but the up and coming magazine Rogue aims to challenge our perception of the TCPs that survive them. The models for Rogue dress in dazzling outfits and pose dramatically on professional sets, all while sporting “dangerous” typings and marks, the lines that appear on a TCP’s face upon killing another. Marks are a common occurrence among survivors of violent sessions, and are heavily stigmatized- but here in Rogue, they are accentuated with makeup and incorporated into the stylish looks on display.

Lily Reyes, a fascination type and one of the most stand-out models Rogue has to offer, was on the cover of last month’s issue. She draped herself in gold silks, flowing all the way to the floor- but the most powerful part of her look were the marks on her face; symmetrical, broken up lines going down her cheeks, indicating regret over her two kills. They were highlighted in sparkling gold liner, every break in the line making them even more evident as tears. The willingness to show such vulnerability in her look is astounding and inspiring, and I felt myself moved by such a display…

Lily closes the article with a snort, resisting the urge to roll her eyes for the second time in such a short period of time. Come on. If only they knew.

She taps her card against the entrance of her capsule, the door sliding open for her. She tosses her bag in first, getting a complaint from the neighboring capsule as it thuds against the far wall, before climbing in herself. She closes the door and shuts the curtain behind her...home sweet home.

Lily takes her hat off and reaches for the wipes kept by the door just as her phone notifications start to go off, sighing in exasperation as she wipes the makeup off her cheeks- marks and all. She picks up her phone and her entire face scrunches as she sees who the forum DM is from.

FROM: [DIAMOND_BLADE]
SUBJECT: Re: Pictures
BODY:
I will not “fuck off and die”, giving me pictures is the least you can do since you broke my heart, you horrible bitch. You give all those terrible magazines pictures that aren’t even real, saying that you’ve killed someone, that you’re from a session, but I know the truth about you. I know that you’re a fraud, and I know that your days are numbered unless you do what I tell you.

I want those pictures. I will be coming to your hotel on what would have been our anniversary if you hadn’t so coldly broken my heart, and you will take pictures with my collection. If you don’t, you will be sorry.

XOXO,
Kristoff

LILY: …
LILY: ...Why the fuck did I give him my address?

She guides the touchpad’s cursor over to the report button, but hesitates. The mods would get Kristoff in trouble without any hesitation, reporting him to peacekeepers without any second thought. They’d done it with other stalkers before, and it hadn’t been an issue.

But other stalkers hadn’t known about the fake marks before.

Another notification pops up, this time from MessiRoom.

[WAYWARD_RAMBLER] is now online!
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: Hey, you around?
[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: just got home.
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: Hey...everything okay?
[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: sure, why wouldn’t they be?
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: ...Just got a bad feeling. You’ve been dealing with a lot lately.
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: I don’t want you closing off again.
[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: please, you know i don’t hide from things when they get rough!
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: Uh, except you do do that, all the time.
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: And then I have to get you to come out of your shell...please, Lily, I’m serious.
[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: ugh, rambles, it’s fine. seriously, nothing’s wrong.
[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: the shoot went great!
[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: i even got sent an article all about me and my latest appearance in Rogue. want to see?
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: I’ll pass...I don’t like the way they talk about you in those, no offense.
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: Were they at least nice about you being a session TCP? Like, they weren’t derogatory or anything?

There’s a moment of hesitation before Lily types again, tapping her foot against the side of the capsule. Her hand shakes the slightest bit, but she manages to keep herself from typoing, at least for now.

[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: they were really flattering, actually. they said i had “willingness to show vulnerability”!
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: I...guess that’s fine.
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: Just, be careful, especially if people ask you for interviews again.
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: I still don’t know what happened with the last one, but you didn’t talk to me or Tansy for a week after that, and that’s scary, Lily.
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: Stay with us, okay?
[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: trust me, i’ve got things under control!
[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: nothing’s going to trip me up now or ever, not if i have anything to do about it!

***skinstealer*** · (This post was last modified: 01-31-2022, 12:31 AM by skinstealer.)

FOIL- 4/14/316

Food type donor, that’s out, research candidate, god no, all of these suck so bad…

The fox type flops backwards onto her couch with a huff, her sigh of exasperation turning to a growl of annoyance as her phone goes off.

Probably just some MessiRoom notification. Whoever it is, they can wait, I’m trying to actually get some shit done for once. Become self sufficient. Self sustaining. Whatever the word is.

Foil picks the newspaper in her lap back up and tries to focus on the tiny print ads, practically microscopic for a complex’s eyes.

FOIL: ...waitress, maybe? I could probably do that.
FOIL: Claire always said I could pull off one of the uniforms, anyway.

Her phone goes off again and she growls and grumbles as she grabs it off the nearby end table, flipping it open and seeing who’s bothering her.

[REMNANT_TREASURES]: u up?
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: i have news
[TRICKSTERS_COCKTAIL]: one second, i’m busy.
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: oooh doing what
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: ur so mysterious tricky
[TRICKSTERS_COCKTAIL]: i’m not mysterious, i’m looking through job listings and i need to focus!
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: oh
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: i thought you were like, going on one of your club adventures or something

Foil sighs, pressing a paw to her face.

[TRICKSTERS_COCKTAIL]: i mean
[TRICKSTERS_COCKTAIL]: i /was/ planning on doing that in a bit, yes
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: ooo mysterious
[TRICKSTERS_COCKTAIL]: i thought we said we weren’t going to flirt anymore?
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: im not flirting!!
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: this is completely platonic intrigue
[TRICKSTERS_COCKTAIL]: if you say so
[TRICKSTERS_COCKTAIL]: the point is, i’m trying to find a job…
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: that’s rough...also kind of awkward for what i was about to talk about o_o
[TRICKSTERS_COCKTAIL]: please, i’m not going to be petty over you getting a promotion or something
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: not quiiiite
[TRICKSTERS_COCKTAIL]: what, then?
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: you know that designer i really like…[DOLLHOUSE_DRESSUP]?
[TRICKSTERS_COCKTAIL]: the kind of pretentious one?
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: she is not pretentious!!
[TRICKSTERS_COCKTAIL]: she has pretentious vibes!
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: yeah, well! i work with her now
[TRICKSTERS_COCKTAIL]: oh
[TRICKSTERS_COCKTAIL]: oh!
[TRICKSTERS_COCKTAIL]: congrats?!
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: yeah! it’s a big deal!

Great...made a bit of an ass of myself there…

She gets up from the couch and heads to her closet, looking through for a dress to wear. Something nice, but not too nice. A glittery dress that she’s worn a million times comes to mind- she always ends up picking it, but it’s...familiar. Like an old friend. She slips it on and starts brushing her fur, glancing over at her phone every now and again to keep up with Remmy’s messages.

[REMNANT_TREASURES]: i waited a bit to tell you and crit, i just wanted to make sure like...the deal was /real/, that i wasn’t dreaming, you know?
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: but it’s real! i’m doing it!
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: i feel kind of shitty talking about it when you’re in the middle of hunting, but…
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: i don’t know, i think it’ll work out in the end.
[TRICKSTERS_COCKTAIL]: my luck’s gotta turn up right eventually, yeah? [REMNANT_TREASURES]: yeah!
[REMNANT_TREASURES]: have a fun night clubbing, okay? and stay safe!
[TRICKSTERS_COCKTAIL]: will do ;)

Time to go.

She doesn’t even know why she goes to this club in particular, honestly. It’s kind of a hole in the wall and she doesn’t know anyone here, but it’s there, it’s within walking distance, and...it has alcohol.

A lot of alcohol.

She’s on her fifth shot when her phone buzzes, and when she flips it open, there’s a weird feeling in her chest as she sees that it’s Claire.

[FLORAL_FRAGRANCE]: What are you up to?
[TRICKSTERS_COCKTAIL]: at the club
[FLORAL_FRAGRANCE]: Alone? Or with someone?
[TRICKSTERS_COCKTAIL]: alone
[FLORAL_FRAGRANCE]: Are you drinking?

Oh, yeah. I am definitely doing that.

[TRICKSTERS_COCKTAIL]: a little
[FLORAL_FRAGRANCE]: Has anyone else talked to you?
[TRICKSTERS_COCKTAIL]: no
[FLORAL_FRAGRANCE]: Good. You know you aren’t allowed to talk to anyone else when you’re drunk.
[FLORAL_FRAGRANCE]: I don’t want you getting any ideas.
[TRICKSTERS_COCKTAIL]: im not gonna leave you claire
[FLORAL_FRAGRANCE]: Hm.
[TRICKSTERS_COCKTAIL]: im not
[FLORAL_FRAGRANCE]: I’d be more convinced if you hadn’t suggested trying an “open relationship” after gushing about that friend of yours.
[FLORAL_FRAGRANCE]: The one that wasn’t even interested in you.
[TRICKSTERS_COCKTAIL]: claire, please…

Another message comes in, and Foil has never been more relieved to switch tabs.

[CRITTER_CATCHER]: uhhhh
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: okay checking: are you drunk right now
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: remmy warned me you were clubbing
[TRICKSTERS_COCKTAIL]: only a litle
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: typos. great
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: just wanted to check on you i guess
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: you know i don’t do great with the whole drinking thing but i just. worry about you and i wanted to make sure you’re okay
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: i honestly don’t think you should be going out on your own like this but you didn’t sign up for me preaching at you
[TRICKSTERS_COCKTAIL]: ill be ok
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: ...thats not something okay people usually say
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: not like that

Claire is still messaging her.

[FLORAL_FRAGRANCE]: I’m just saying what needs to be said, Foil.
[FLORAL_FRAGRANCE]: I’m still hurt by your actions, and you still haven’t made it up to me.
[FLORAL_FRAGRANCE]: Are you ignoring me?
[TRICKSTERS_COCKTAIL]: how do i maek itup to you
[FLORAL_FRAGRANCE]: Hm.
[FLORAL_FRAGRANCE]: On our next meetup, I want you to take me to a restaurant. One that you save up for with your new job, which you will get. A good job. Full time.
[FLORAL_FRAGRANCE]: Prove to me that you’re serious about our relationship and our future together.

Her head hurts so badly.

[FLORAL_FRAGRANCE]: We can talk about things there.

Foil hesitates, her paw shaking over her phone’s touchpad. The idea of a full time job fills her with dread she can barely parse through the alcohol induced haze, the room starting to sway back and forth.

Can I do that? Can I really do that? Can I keep to that? Can I really make that happen? Will someone even give me that?

[TRICKSTERS_COCKTAIL]: ok
[FLORAL_FRAGRANCE]: Promise.

She feels like crying, a little.

[TRICKSTERS_COCKTAIL]: i promise
[FLORAL_FRAGRANCE]: Good.

[CRITTER_CATCHER]: tricky?
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: tricky, are you there?
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: shit you didn’t pass out again did you
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: fdshjdfashj
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: fuck
[TRICKSTERS_COCKTAIL]: no im here
[TRICKSTERS_COCKTAIL]: sory
[TRICKSTERS_COCKTAIL]: claire
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: oh
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: are things...okay
[TRICKSTERS_COCKTAIL]: i have to get a job
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: there are like, programs in precipice, right?
[TRICKSTERS_COCKTAIL]: idk
[TRICKSTERS_COCKTAIL]: head hurts
[TRICKSTERS_COCKTAIL]: il look tomrow
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: ok
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: im here if you need to talk
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: you’re...going to be okay, okay?
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: remmy and i are here for you.
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: do you need me to call a ride for you?
[TRICKSTERS_COCKTAIL]: yes pleas
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: okay. it’s the same place as last time, right?
[TRICKSTERS_COCKTAIL]: yea
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: got it...i’ve got you, okay?
[TRICKSTERS_COCKTAIL]: thank you
[TRICKSTERS_COCKTAIL]: so mch
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: hang in there, i’ll talk with you until the ride gets here.

Foil hangs onto her phone as best as she can, latching onto every message of Crit’s like a life preserver as everything swirls around her.

It may have been something she couldn’t even begin to unpack her feelings on, but at least she had this.

***skinstealer*** · (This post was last modified: 11-30-2023, 11:36 PM by skinstealer.)

ALIAS- 4/21/316

This is happening. This is really happening. Oh, god, this is happening.

If I could throw up, I probably would. Fuck.

Alias taps their foot against the concrete, watching for the train coming in. The wind’s picking up and they pull their coat around themself, feeling like a nervous wreck- they can’t believe they’re doing this. This feels like it can’t possibly be real, but it is.

They’re going to meet Remmy, real and in person.

They don’t have any more time to think about this as the train pulls in, towering over them. They stay on the TCP platform, and as the doors open up and TCPs start coming off the elevated section, they start feeling like they’re going to pass out. They had exchanged pictures plenty of times before this, so identification wasn’t going to be a big deal, but-

REMMY: Crit! Criiiiit!

The shorthair type nearly jumps as they spot a familiar quilt type rapidly approaching with a large bag strapped to his tail. They don’t have time to react as they’re swept into a massive hug, the quilt surrounding them with warmth.

OH GOD HE’S HUGE

ALIAS: D-dude! You are...massive!
REMMY: Yeah! I warned you!
ALIAS: It’s different in person!
REMMY: To be fair, you’re way tinier in person than I expected too, haha!

He lets them go with a squeeze, and they can’t help but notice that he’s shaking a little too- he’s just as nervous. Part of them kind of wishes the hug lasted a little longer, but they don’t want to linger on that too long.

REMMY: So...the big reveal.
REMMY: You ready?
ALIAS: Guess we did agree to this…
ALIAS: You first.
REMMY: Nah, you first. Mine’s anticlimactic.
ALIAS: Okay….Alias.
REMMY: Huh...like, aliased art?
ALIAS: Yeah. I wanted it to be, like...related to that, I guess. Related to the kind of stuff I do.
REMMY: That’s super cool!
REMMY: Okay, brace yourself.
REMMY: It’s…
REMMY: Iiiit’s…
ALIAS: Out with it!
REMMY: Remmy.
ALIAS: ...you just use your real name?
REMMY: As in short for Rembrandt.
ALIAS: Oh.
REMMY: Told you!
ALIAS: I like it, though. It’s...fancy.
REMMY: Eh, it was a given name. I like Remmy better.
REMMY: I’ll tell you about it on the way to your place…

Settling into Alias’ apartment didn’t take long, and before Alias knew it, the two of them were talking just like always. It was more natural than they could have expected, and it felt...warm. Comfortable.

REMMY: So I’ve been thinking...about critters.
ALIAS: Like, my critters.
REMMY: Your critters.
ALIAS: Is there something wrong with them?
REMMY: Oh, no. Opposite. Way opposite.
ALIAS: Uh...okay. I’m listening.
REMMY: You’ve gotten a lot of mileage out of them! They’re starting to show up all over the place in forum signatures, and you’ve made a ton of them so far.
REMMY: And you keep the design rights for all the ones you’ve made, right?
ALIAS: Yeah, I do.
REMMY: So, I’ve been thinking…
REMMY: Why not a collab?
ALIAS: ...A collab?
REMMY: Yeah!
REMMY: I do that whole pattern thing for work, where I like...take paper patterns and turn them into quilted pieces, and then sew those into unique garments.
REMMY: But I did some tests recently.
REMMY: If I make clay sculptures and use my ability on them, it gives them a quilted outer layer, and I can cut the piece open to remove the clay from the inside, wash them carefully, and fill them with stuffing instead.
REMMY: It took me a few tries to get it right, and I’m...not the best at sculpting yet, but I can learn.
REMMY: I figure I can ask you for tips!
ALIAS: Holy shit.
REMMY: Yeah!
REMMY: We can do it with your critters!
REMMY: A collab!
ALIAS: You’d...be willing to do that?
REMMY: Hell yeah!
ALIAS: It’d be so much work on your end, I wouldn’t feel right taking money from it-
REMMY: Nope. Your designs, I’m going 50/50. Plus, you’re going to have to tutor me on the clay sculpting.
ALIAS: You’re not going to back down on this, are you?
REMMY: Not a chance.
ALIAS: Shit.
ALIAS: ...shit, you’re really selling me on this.
REMMY: We’d have to haul ass to make it happen, and with me having two jobs at this point, I wouldn’t be able to do it all the time, but…
REMMY: I really want to try it.
REMMY: With you.

Alias would have blushed if they could have- there’s something about the way he says it, and even Remmy seems to realize it judging from the way they both awkwardly glance away from each other.

ALIAS: Yeah, well...you make it hard for me to say no to a deal like that.
ALIAS: I’m in.
REMMY: We can do some test runs on the trip- I brought some clay with me.
ALIAS: Yeesh, is that why your tail bags are so big?
REMMY: Yeah...it’s really heavy, too!
ALIAS: Ugh. You go hard, every time.
REMMY: I take my work seriously- and so do you, which is why I suggested this in the first place.
REMMY: ...and I’m really glad I decided to wait until I visited to suggest it. It feels more...organic, this way. More special. You feel that?
ALIAS: Yeah.
ALIAS: I think I do.

Alias doesn’t know who starts it, but after a few moments, they’re leaning on each other- more Alias on Remmy due to the size difference, but there’s a distinct feeling of pressure coming from the quilt type as well. He looks down at them and if he could, he’d be smiling- and it’s nice. It’s legitimately nice, and Alias can’t remember how long it’s been since they’ve felt this comfortable with someone.

Since Sonar-

REMMY: Hey, Alias-
ALIAS: Yeah?
REMMY: We need to do this again. Like, I know it’s a lot of money, with the TCP train seating being more expensive and all that…
REMMY: But I think we’re going to need this, after this trip.
ALIAS: Yeah…
ALIAS: Yeah.
ALIAS: I’d be willing to save up, and...I mean, you got that job with Marcel.
REMMY: Yeah- and maybe next time, I dunno...we could bring Tricky into it?
ALIAS: You think she’d be down for that?
REMMY: Maybe...I think she needs the company, though.
ALIAS: Yeah...the whole...drinking thing, it worries me a lot.
REMMY: Same.
ALIAS: We can bring it up to her tomorrow, tonight I want to spend time with just us.
ALIAS: That okay?
REMMY: You got it.

Remmy dares to drape a quilt flap around them, and they scoot in just a little.

REMMY: This okay?
ALIAS: ...yeah.
ALIAS: Yeah, it is.
REMMY: Good.
ALIAS: Yeah. The best.

***skinstealer*** · (This post was last modified: 02-16-2022, 04:55 AM by skinstealer.)

DARLING- 4/22/316

Darling lounges on its pile of cushions, nuzzling against the clawed fingers reaching to scratch around its artificial mane. Pleased with its show of affection, the hand gets a sensitive spot, the serpent type doing its best to do the purring sound that had taken it weeks to master.

It hurt a little bit to do, but it seemed to make Decorum happy to have such a doting pet.

DECORUM: Things have been so difficult, Darling…
DECORUM: So much is expected of me, but I am not allowed to go and pursue what I think is the right way to handle things…
DECORUM: Rein says that it has high standards for me and that I meet them- but I want to do more than just meet them, I want to exceed them.
DECORUM: If only I was given the opportunity…

Her claw digs into Darling’s neck slightly, but the serpent type refuses to make a sound, neither in response to the scratch or Decorum’s monologuing. It’s not expected to speak nor would piping up get a favorable response, and what its deity wants right now is a listener. That, Darling could provide, and provide it well. There was a reason why she always came to it for this kind of one-sided emotional support.

DECORUM: I know...I will just have to invite it to one of my parties!
DECORUM: It has always turned down my invitations in the past, saying that it is far too busy to attend frivolous events, but...the Pristine Charity Ball is major, and is surely on its radar!
DECORUM: And...it would have to see how much work I put in!

The claw digs in a little deeper, and Darling has to hold back an instinctual hiss. Thankfully, any marks would be covered up by its mane...surely any sort of scratches would be interpreted as its own fault, some sort of sign of roughhousing or troublemaking.

DECORUM: After a proper, formal dinner with me...there is no way that it would turn my proposals down.
DECORUM: I am sure of it.
DECORUM: I will have to make preparations, I only have a week before the ball...will this be too short notice? No, surely it would understand how busy I am…

She begins to wander off into her own thoughts, and Darling starts to lose focus as well, distracted by the pain in its neck. Protesting wouldn’t have done much even if it had tried, judging from past experiences- all it can do is stick it out.

That’s just how it is, here.

Darling steps into its room with a sigh, stretching its legs one by one. Its feet hurt from walking up all of the steps into the TCP quarters, let alone the fact that it has the highest floor room...but it wouldn’t be needed again until dinner and prayer time. That’s a few hours to itself, and it’s fully planning on savoring that.

Taking off the wooly mane is the first, extremely vital step to relaxation- the extremely poofy thing got in the way easily and had a tendency to itch, as as soft as it looked on the outside. Getting at the fastener at the back of it was incredibly difficult with its quadruped body, but with a little help from a hook on the wall, it was able to pry it open and off of its neck and chest. Sweet freedom.

Sometimes it would get fussed at for taking it off in the cases of not being able to get it back on (a much more difficult ordeal), but in this case, Darling could usually get away with the classic “I didn’t want to get it dirty at dinner…” excuse, and manage to slip away without it until morning. While it was a bit concerned with keeping the mane clean, it had everything to do with keeping Decorum happy and not yelling at it for being unkempt, and nothing to do with its own personal appearance.

No, when it came to Darling’s own personal appearance, it had a much different ideal self image in mind.

The serpent type walks over to its mirror slowly, examining itself in the reflective surface with a tilt of its head. It’s a routine it’s done so many times before, a habit- but it helps ground it after those hours and hours spent listening to Decorum drone on. Through research (done extremely against the rules) it’s been able to find out that its horns are a unique, rare anomaly, spirals instead of the typical straight back look for serpent types. Horns like this were found on some animal species for sure, but some complex species as well- some variants of shear centinels, some de’moneres...all kinds of people that Darling had never seen before outside of pictures, but a word kept coming up repeatedly to describe some of those complex species, one that stuck in its head and would not leave.

Ram.

Decorum called it “her little sheep” on occasion, what with the whole wool thing, and a ram was a kind of sheep, yes. But it wasn’t the same energy, it wasn’t the same…power. The wool just made it feel infantilized, toned down, made “cutesy”, but when it looked in the mirror like this and struck poses that it would feel incredibly embarrassed if anyone saw, it felt powerful. Not a sheep, but a proud ram.

Darling keeps this up for a good while before finally pulling away, walking to the pile of cushions it calls its bed. It gently pushes them aside, nudging out its most prized possession- a holo screen, paid for with cash stolen from the royal treasury.

It does not want to find out what would happen if Decorum found out it has this.

It settles into its bed pile carefully, booting up the holo screen and logging on. It looks like the forums have been active today, what a treat...so much to catch up on! It reads almost every post that it can get its hands on, at the very least in the general chat sections. Some threads move way too fast for it to keep up with, but...it loves to learn about the outside world, and this feels like the best window that it could ever ask for.

Darling bristles, feeling its own insecurities about its typing rise up. It’d just have to write a reply and show this guy a thing or two.

[ASPIRING_RAM]:

As a serpent type, I know what it’s like to have a difficult typing to deal with. People don’t trust me because of my ability, which makes people distrustful of each other when they’re arou

It stops typing midway through its post, deleting text before trying again, only to delete even more.

What am I doing? This person doesn’t know me, and I’m just going to get yelled at...I...should stay out of this.

It settles for a like on [BIRCH_BARK]’s post, and moves on to the forum game section before the guilt can settle into a pool.

Forum games are the only section that Darling actually participates in, and before long, it’s giggling to itself over its own silly contributions to threads. It even gets a few likes on some of its posts, each little thumbs up giving a little rush to the serpent type. It’s not like it’s making any friends, but...it’s something, and if it pretends hard enough, it can picture it hanging out in a room with other people.

But before long, it’s dinner time, and it has to slide the holo screen back under the bed. It’ll catch up more later.

Darling feels winded going down all those damn stairs, but as it comes down to the last landing, it sees one of the other TCPs completely absorbed in a book- it can’t remember her name, but it recognizes her, and...it recognizes that book as contraband.

DARLING: ...you should be careful, Decorum might catch you if you read outside of the rooms like that.
DARLING: Or that one uppity prince will tell on you…

The candy type closes the book with a jump, recoiling.

????: Th-this book is allowed! It’s allowed!

Darling takes another glance at the cover before the candy type covers it with a hand, but not before it’s able to make out something about magic. Very, very much contraband.

DARLING: I’m not going to tell on you…
DARLING: But you should put it away before dinner, and maybe keep it to your room next time.
DARLING: It looks like a cool read thou-

The candy type is already up and running before it can finish its thought, practically sprinting up the steps.

DARLING: ...oh.
DARLING: D-don’t be late for dinner!

It shakes its head, continuing down the last set of stairs and down into the main hall.

Weird...but I guess that’s one of the princesses for you.

***skinstealer*** · 02-22-2022, 12:02 AM

4/29/316- Cecilia

DECORUM: The Pristine Charity Ball is a once a year event, but you should treat it as once in a lifetime, do you understand?
CECILIA: Yes, Decorum.
DECORUM: This will be your chance to make a good impression on some of the most important people in all of Solitude, and make me proud...you will be my little princess, Cecilia.
DECORUM: I chose you because I know you have been working so hard to become the best princess that you can be, and to bring the best quality that you can...you have done well.

Cecilia hears a scoff from behind her, but ignores it as best as she can. She doesn’t hear it. She doesn’t hear it, and it doesn’t matter.

The candy type tries not to hear the knife sharpening noises either.

DECORUM: The government leaders and politicians sitting at our table tonight will have a taste of true luxury, and you will be the one to serve it.
DECORUM: For that opportunity, you should be grateful.

Cecilia is quick to respond, not wanting to miss a beat.

CECILIA: I am, ma’am.
CECILIA: I always am.
DECORUM: Good.
DECORUM: Are you prepared?
CECILIA: Yes, everything’s in order…

The chef brings the knives over, setting them beside the candy type on the tray.

They’re so horribly, horribly sharp.

It’ll be over soon.

DECORUM: You’re going to do wonderfully.
CECILIA: I know, Decorum. Thank you for the opportunity.

The tray is picked up, and she’s brought out to the table, hungry leaders lying in wait.

The infirmary lights are too dim, but they’re familiar, and as Cecilia watches her own limbs grow back bit by bit, she’s filled with a sense of relief. It’s over, it’s finally over, and she doesn’t have to think about it anymore. There wasn’t due to be another party for a whole two months, weeks spent without having to worry about mass consumption…

At least Decorum seemed happy with her, she guesses, though she wishes it wasn’t because Rein, oh that wonderful Rein, enjoyed the meal. She had wished nothing more than that old snake to choke on the bit of candy that it ate, hoping that it found the taste foul- but of course, it enjoyed it, and said that it should not have doubted such a delicacy.

So that was something fun to deal with. Fantastic.

The infirmary door opens, interrupting Cecilia’s musings. She glances up, seeing a familiar candy heart type- a bit of dread settles in as she recognizes the princess.

CECILIA: ...hi, Rosemary.
ROSEMARY: How’s the slices?
CECILIA: They’re healing fine…
ROSEMARY: Good.

There’s no sense of sympathy or good will in her voice at all, and she doesn’t sit down. Cecilia shuffles, avoiding meeting her eyespots.

ROSEMARY: It should have been me out there.
CECILIA: I...I’m sorry, I know-
ROSEMARY: You don’t even like doing this.
ROSEMARY: And you think you’re better than us.
CECILIA: Rose, it’s not- they’re eating us-
ROSEMARY: So?
ROSEMARY: It’s not like we die, and we always get better.
ROSEMARY: And we get to be princesses. Stop complaining.
ROSEMARY: Honestly, you’re so ungrateful…

Cecilia stops protesting, turning away from the other TCP.

ROSEMARY: Have it your way. I just came to see if you gave up yet.
CECILIA: …

Rosemary turns and heads out as quickly as she came, leaving the candy type alone to heal, bit by bit.

Heading up to her room after the healing feels shaky with every step, but she’d rather bear it alone than ask for help from any of the other royalty. Her reluctance to participate in the “dinner parties” is known to everyone but Decorum herself, and it’s gotten her a...reputation that she’d rather not endure dealing with.

She freezes as she reaches the door to her room, that weird serpent type Decorum keeps around as a simple pet waiting for her at the entrance.

DARLING: ...oh, you’re back.
DARLING: Are you okay? I heard that you usually take a few hours to heal, but it took a little longer than people say it does-
CECILIA: What are you doing here?
DARLING: I have something for you-

It pushes a box out from under its chest, but she shakes her head and opens the door.

CECILIA: I really need to rest, and I’m not expecting any packages.
DARLING: It’s not from anyone, it’s from me-
CECILIA: No thank you-!

She doesn’t trust that serpent for one second, closing the door on it. She takes two steps towards her bed before it starts scratching at the door.

CECILIA: What do you want!
DARLING: Please, I know my...aura, or whatever it is, makes it hard to believe what I’m saying, but I think you and I could get along, and I wanted to get you something to show that…
DARLING: I’d really like it if you gave me a chance-
CECILIA: Fine, but you have to stop leaving claw marks in my door...Decorum would ground us both if she found out.

Cecilia storms back over and opens the door, the serpent type stepping delicately inside while nudging the box forward. The candy type picks up the box carefully, bringing it over to her bed before opening it, carefully.

She nearly jumps out of her wrapper when she opens it, revealing it to be a phone.

CECILIA: Are you- are you out of your mind-?!
CECILIA: This is, this is extreme contraband!
DARLING: You already read books about magic!
CECILIA: But a phone?!
DARLING: I have worse, it’s fine! Just hide it in your room, it’s not like they can come in here anyway!
CECILIA: ...how did you even get this?
CECILIA: And why give it to me?
CECILIA: You don’t even know me!
DARLING: Well...I don’t know anyone here, honestly.
DARLING: I’m just Decorum’s pet.
DARLING: But I’ve been learning about the outside world, and...been outside, too.

This TCP is completely out of control and going to get itself in so, so much trouble, and she’s about to tell it as much, but it keeps talking.

DARLING: It’s where I got the phone, I just...I bought it, from the nearby market, with cash.
CECILIA: You STOLE?!
DARLING: ShhhHHSHhhh!
CECILIA: You stole?!
DARLING: There’s so much that they never notice...and with this, you don’t need to rely just on books that you find lying around the palace from before the rules got instated.
DARLING: That’s how you got yours, right?
CECILIA: …

Damnit...it has me completely pegged.

DARLING: I can show you a place where you can learn about the world, and being a TCP, and...I don’t know, it could be fun.
DARLING: ...if you want to.
DARLING: There’s just, a lot more out there.
DARLING: There’s a lot more than this.

Cecilia hangs her head, thoughts swirling.

She thinks of the knife coming down, and shudders.

CECILIA: Okay. I’ll take the phone.
CECILIA: But you have to show me how it works, and how to hide it, and all of that.
CECILIA: And if I get caught, I’m telling on you.
DARLING: Deal.

After being shown the forums, Cecilia takes to posting on them more than Darling does- writing projects, specifically. Stories about knights and magic, something that Darling finds out to be Cecilia’s favorite topics, and two things heavily banned from discussion in the palace.

But Cecilia writes about them, and when she posts her stories, Darling reads them.

CECILIA: D-darling! Darling! I got a like!
DARLING: Oh?
CECILIA: Yes! Someone liked my story!
CECILIA: Who’s…[ASPIRING_RAM]?
DARLING: That’s me, Cecilia...but I promise you, I did read it, and I did genuinely like it. Cross my heart.
CECILIA: ...What was your favorite part, then.
DARLING: I don’t know a lot about knights, but...Bunsen seems pretty cool, and I want to know more about that whole fire thing he can do with his hands…

It’s the tiniest thing, but Cecilia can’t help but feel like it cuts through the feelings of distrust and unease surrounding Darling, if only just a little.

***skinstealer*** · 03-22-2022, 01:20 AM

5/8/316- Wispy

These bus trips are always a bumpy ride, and this one is no different. Wispy slumps down in her seat, the memory type jostled violently from side to side as the vehicle hit what she presumed was a pothole or something. Usually Hearth had better infrastructure than this, but it was just her luck that she got a bus going in on one of the rougher roads. Most of the people here probably didn’t notice one way or the other, but as a smaller traveller, she feels every jolt. At least her seat’s closer to the front…

She takes out her battered laptop from her backpack’s front pocket, fiddling with the wifi dongle on the side and praying that the massive, zone sized city’s connection reaches from here. Sure enough, she’s able to log on- thank god for Hearth. No other place lets you browse in the middle of nowhere this easily, usually she has to stumble around looking for a place that actually gets signal...but here, the marvels of modern technology abound.

Her browser’s open to where it was before, in the middle of a story. It’s new, but the author seems really passionate about it, and already has three chapters up in eight days. Wispy can’t help but admire that- and while it’s not, like, the best story, it’s not bad either. Probably the author’s first piece, almost definitely was, but she was kind of getting into it.

“...Bunsen swung his sword, teeth clenched...he was hardened in the flames of combat for years now, but nothing compared to this fight. Nothing could have prepared him for his showdown with this terror, this mighty beast that had slain his entire village. The knight was more than ready to take down the baest who had wronged him more than anyone else in the whole world...but it was not to be. The sword clanged against the terrors scales uselessly, nothing! He got nothing out of his swing! He stared in horror as the terror lunged, claws outstretched

The bus hit another pothole, and Wispy almost lost her grip on her laptop, cussing. Goddamnit. Just when it was getting good. She waits for the ride to ease up before finding her place again, getting immersed back into the story.

claws outstretched. He does the only thign he can think of, flames bursting from his hands, the scraps he pulled from burning with the same anger that he felt towards the baest. He feels the terror fall back but he does not stop, pushing forward and burning, burning, burning. He feels the need to burn this terror to a crisp!

But there’s the tiniest shred of...what is it?

Remorse?”

Agh...the chapter stops there. Wispy groans, left on another cliffhanger. This author keeps doing that, and it’s going to just about kill her. It may not be the most well written thing in the world, but she can’t deny it, she’s attached to this guy. There’s something about a knight who lost it all that resonates...in ways that she doesn’t really want to think too hard about.

She’s just been a casual reader this whole time, but screw it, time to give this author some feedback. They’ve earned it.

She adds a like for good measure, glancing out the window as the bus rolls to a stop. Perfect timing, she guesses.

The bus stop is pretty much empty, with not many other travellers getting off here. Looks like most people were on their way deeper into the city, but the nearest TCP shelter’s closest to this one. She adjusts her backpack over her shoulder before approaching the front desk, only to swerve as soon as she notices the rack of postcards beside it. No way she was going to avoid getting these. One for Tansy, one for Lily, same as always. She still had stamps from the last time she picked stuff up, so that should be fine…

The frog type at the counter looks bored, but she can’t fault him much. Place is completely dead.

WISPY: Hi, can I pick these up?
????: Just these?
WISPY: Yeah, if that’s alright…
WISPY: Oh, and directions to the nearby shelter.
????: What, Charity Homestead?
WISPY: That’s the one, I think.
????: You visiting, or need a place to crash?
WISPY: Haha...the latter.
????: I see a couple of people like you a month...my sympathies.
????: Two cash.

Wispy shuffles uncomfortably as she gets the bills out, handing them over. She hates being pitied whenever she asks for directions- being without a place to live is incredibly common for TCPs, and yet here she is, getting shit for it again.

????: That’ll do it.
????: The Homestead’s a few blocks away, you’re gonna be walking for a good bit.
????: There’s a TCP-safe path though, just go left from the station and follow the signs.
????: Stay safe out there.
WISPY: Will do!

She forces a friendly wave and pockets the cards, turning to leave as quickly as possible. God, she hates dealing with people like this. The sooner she can get out of here, the better.

The shelter bed isn’t very comfortable, but these places rarely are. Wispy can’t think of a single time she’s ever felt like she’s living it up in one of these shelters, but them’s the breaks, she guesses. Even still, it’s nicer than spending a day and a half on a bus…She plugs in her laptop and prays that it looks busted enough that no one will try and take it, or that her typing will keep people away. Memory types might not be the most equipped for combat, but their abilities were definitely touted around as useful, and she was going to have to start peddling to make some cash soon enough.

She sighs as the MessiRoom notifications come in- looks like Lily messaged her while she was away.

[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: are you in hearth yet?
[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: i swear you’ve been on that bus for a week now.
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER] is online!
[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: finally!
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: Just got here, sorry that it took so long.
[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: it’s fine, i just get worried when you’re away for so long.
[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: you go on such long trips, and you never seem to settle down!
[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: you may enjoy this vagabond lifestyle, but you worry your friends, you know!
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: I just need to find the right place, that’s all.
[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: well...i trust your judgment, and i do love seeing all of your nice pictures.
[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: you really stunned the forums with your last round of posts!
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: You think so?
[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: i know it. you’re killing it!

She would have smiled if she could.

[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: Thanks…
[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: how’s the place you’re staying, anyway?

Wispy glances up at the shelter, seeing only tired and weary TCPs and rows of shoddy looking cots.

[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: Oh, fine.
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: Just your average hotel, I’ll be spending more time out and about seeing about temp jobs and taking pictures while I’m here.
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: I’m not staying long. You know how I am.
[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: yes, yes, i know how the ever mysterious rambles is.

Another DM pops up, this one from...someone she doesn’t initially recognize.

[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: Uh, hold on, I’m actually getting messaged by someone new.
[DELIGHTFUL_THINGS]: let me know if it’s one of my exes!

[KNIGHT_FAN]: Hi
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: Hi?
[KNIGHT_FAN]: Thank you for reading my story

Oh. Oh!

It sinks in quickly, Wispy almost starting to laugh.

[KNIGHT_FAN]: And liking it
[KNIGHT_FAN]: And leaving a comment
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: Oh, it’s no problem! I really liked it, I’m excited to see more.
[KNIGHT_FAN]: Really?
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: Yeah, really! You’re doing a great job.

I wonder how old they are… they talk like they’ve barely used the internet before.

[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: I have to know though- is this your first story?
[KNIGHT_FAN]: Yes
[KNIGHT_FAN]: Well
[KNIGHT_FAN]: No
[KNIGHT_FAN]: I’ve written a lot of stories but I wasn’t allowed to share them
[KNIGHT_FAN]: Or write them in the first place
[KNIGHT_FAN]: So it means a lot that someone likes them aside from Darling
[KNIGHT_FAN]: I mean Ram
[KNIGHT_FAN]: Its my roommate
[KNIGHT_FAN]: Wait Im not supposed to tell you that
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: Uh...it’s okay, I won’t tell anybody.
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: Sorry if this is presuming a bit, but like, are you new? Like, newly spawned?
[KNIGHT_FAN]: No
[KNIGHT_FAN]: I just wasn’t allowed to use the internet ever
[KNIGHT_FAN]: Im still not but Ram is helping me be covert about it
[KNIGHT_FAN]: Am I bad at it
[KNIGHT_FAN]: Being online I mean

Shit.

Wispy feels a twinge in the back of her mind, which she desperately tries to push away. This one’s got issues at home and she can just feel it, but there’s nothing she can do. There’s nothing she can do about it.

[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: Well, no. I’m just used to people being a bit more…I don’t know, discrete?
[KNIGHT_FAN]: Oh
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: You didn’t do anything wrong! I’m just…

Don’t do it.

Don’t open the can of worms.
Don’t, you don’t know this person, you have enough on your plate-

[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: Is everything, like...okay?
[KNIGHT_FAN]: I mean
[KNIGHT_FAN]: It does get a little scary here sometimes
[KNIGHT_FAN]: But writing my stories helps and Im glad you like them
[KNIGHT_FAN]: It makes it feel less awful
[KNIGHT_FAN]: Like it wont hurt as much when I get eaten

Why the fuck did you ask, why did you get involved-

As she tries to process that gut punch, the messages keep coming, the writer TCP clearly oversharing now that the floodgates are open. But there’s one thought that’s clear to Wispy, something that rings true, the thing that drew her to this TCP’s stories in the first place, even with their quality being lower than she’d usually go for.

Because they’re just like me.

***skinstealer*** · 03-29-2022, 12:42 AM

5/10/316
[Group Conversation Created]

[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: Okay...is everyone here?
[ASPIRING_RAM]: yes, i’m here
[KNIGHT_FAN]: Yes
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: Okay.

[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: Thank you both for agreeing to this, I figured it’d be easier to talk with you both in the same room than hop between DMs back and forth like we have been.
[KNIGHT_FAN]: DMs?
[ASPIRING_RAM]: direct messages
[KNIGHT_FAN]: Oh
[KNIGHT_FAN]: Got it
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: First off, you two are the only people on FF that know about me being homeless, got it?
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: And that’s something I don’t want getting out. The only reason why I even mentioned it is because it’s relevant to the plan.
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: Which, I am risking a lot to come and do, so I’m going to put a lot of trust in the two of you, and that’s saying a lot considering we’ve only known each other for…
[ASPIRING_RAM]: two weeks?
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: Two weeks.
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: But I want to help, and while it’s a big risk, I also don’t have a lot to lose, however that works out.
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: Can you work with me on this?
[KNIGHT_FAN]: I wont tell anyone
[KNIGHT_FAN]: You really think you can get us out of here
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: I can’t promise anything. But your situation sounds bad enough for me to want to try.
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: I’ve spent a long time running around and being unable to fix anything for anybody, especially myself, but I think this is possible.
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: Way more possible than the people holding you want you to believe.
[ASPIRING_RAM]: your secret’s safe with me, too
[ASPIRING_RAM]: it means a lot that you’d be willing to risk this for us, so thank you for that
[ASPIRING_RAM]: and for reaching out. i don’t talk to anyone on the forum, never have, so this is a big step for me as well
[ASPIRING_RAM]: knight fan was my first real life friend ever, and now you’re my first online friend.
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: I...appreciate hearing that. Not even the people I’ve talked to for longest on the forums know about me being homeless, and I don’t know how they’d take it, so your secrecy means a lot here.
[KNIGHT_FAN]: Why havent you told them
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: They come from...very different lives.
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: They’re great people!
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: And god knows they go through hard stuff, one of them went through a TCP session for god’s sake.
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: But they have secure jobs and housing, and as far as I know, have for as long as they’ve been spawned.
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: I don’t want to say they haven’t been through shit, because they have, both of them absolutely have, I think everyone on the forums has to a degree…
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: But I don’t know what they’d think of me if they found out that I’ve been on the streets for five years, let alone that I don’t remember what happened before then.
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: At best, they’ll be overly worried about me, and I don’t know if I can deal with that.
[ASPIRING_RAM]: are you afraid of us being overly worried about you?
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: Are you?
[ASPIRING_RAM]: well...no, you seem to be handling this well
[KNIGHT_FAN]: Yeah
[KNIGHT_FAN]: You sound like you know what you’re doing
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: Truth be told, I kind of don’t, but I’m trying, and I know enough.

[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: The image I’ve built up for these friends doesn’t really line up with that. Not on purpose, but they think I’m just some...travelling photographer who gets caught up in adventures.
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: Not someone who has to do whatever it takes to survive.
[KNIGHT_FAN]: I know what its like
[KNIGHT_FAN]: To survive
[KNIGHT_FAN]: They almost kill me so many times and it is so horrible
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: I know. We’re going to try and get you away from that.
[ASPIRING_RAM]: i have it a lot easier in the palace than knight fan, but there have still been times where i’ve been injured by decorum and her fits of impulse.
[ASPIRING_RAM]: and seeing the way knight’s been treated has really opened my eyes to how we need to leave. i’ve wanted out for years but this really sealed it for me.
[KNIGHT_FAN]: Wait
[ASPIRING_RAM]: what is it?
[KNIGHT_FAN]: If we’re going to be meeting up
[KNIGHT_FAN]: Can we share names
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: Uhhhhhh
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: Only if you promise to also keep that a secret.
[KNIGHT_FAN]: I do
[ASPIRING_RAM]: i’m also fine with that
[KNIGHT_FAN]: Im Cecilia
[ASPIRING_RAM]: darling, but i don’t know if i’m keeping that eventually
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: Wispy. Please don’t tell anyone.
[KNIGHT_FAN]: That’s a pretty name
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: Thanks.
[KNIGHT_FAN]: Wait
[KNIGHT_FAN]: Types too
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: God, okay, but I already know yours. Memory type.
[KNIGHT_FAN]: Candy type
[ASPIRING_RAM]: serpent type
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: Are we good now?
[KNIGHT_FAN]: Yes
[KNIGHT_FAN]: We are ready

[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: Well, no, we have a lot more to discuss.
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: Like...how guarded the palace is, ways in and out, what times are going to be best for this…
[ASPIRING_RAM]: i know a way out, and a good meet up point
[ASPIRING_RAM]: but getting cecilia out is going to be hard
[ASPIRING_RAM]: she’s a lot more heavily guarded than i am
[KNIGHT_FAN]: They keep me locked up
[KNIGHT_FAN]: They say I am precious and I hate it
[KNIGHT_FAN]: It makes me feel gross
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: Yeah, I still hate that a whole lot. We’re going to get you the hell out of that.
[KNIGHT_FAN]: Thank you
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: How locked up are we talking?
[KNIGHT_FAN]: Most days Im not watched
[KNIGHT_FAN]: But if Im going to be eaten they put guards at my room
[KNIGHT_FAN]: To make sure I dont try to run
[KNIGHT_FAN]: They do it for any of the ones being eaten but they know that Im special to Decorum so they lock me up extra
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: Okay...we’re going to have to time this, then.
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: Do you know when the next time you’re scheduled for, uh...that, is?
[KNIGHT_FAN]: No
[KNIGHT_FAN]: She never tells me until right before
[ASPIRING_RAM]: she mentions it to me, though
[ASPIRING_RAM]: i know about the parties before anyone else, because she gets stressed and talks about it to her “beloved pet”
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: Eugh.
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: Our safest choice would be after a party then, ideally after Cecilia’s recovered enough that she wouldn’t be too weak to make it out of there quick, but not too far after that another party could come up.
[ASPIRING_RAM]: yeah
[ASPIRING_RAM]: but decorum only talks about it a week in advance
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: That’s...not a lot of notice.
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: Getting a ticket out to Solitude isn’t cheap, and you have to go through Consumption to get the best deal.
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: Which, frankly, is really fucking dangerous, and could have a lot of delays if I’m not careful.
[KNIGHT_FAN]: So what do we do
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: Well…
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: Given a week’s notice, I could try and get over there. A trip from Hearth to Solitude takes about three days by car, but that’s providing you have papers ready to go. I don’t.
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: If I hitchhike with the right people, I could get smuggled in easy, but that requires me finding someone willing to shove me in their glove compartment and pray I don’t get detected by scrap equipment at a checkpoint.
[KNIGHT_FAN]: They have ways to check for that
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: Unfortunately, yes.
[KNIGHT_FAN]: Oh no
[KNIGHT_FAN]: What happens if they catch you
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: Nothing good.
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: I might be able to figure something out, but my best shot is to start moving soon and see if I can get hookups with someone here who’s willing to smuggle me in across the borders.
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: I know people like that exist, it’s just a matter of finding them…
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: And then we have to figure out where we’re going once we make it out of the palace...staying in Solitude is risky when you two are literally kept by a god.
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: I don’t think it’s impossible, it’s just...a lot. We’ll figure it out.
[KNIGHT_FAN]: Okay
[KNIGHT_FAN]: Im really scared but I believe in you
[KNIGHT_FAN]: I believe in us
[KNIGHT_FAN]: And I think we can get somewhere nice
[ASPIRING_RAM]: me as well, i know enough about the outside world at this point to know that there are places out there for people like us
[ASPIRING_RAM]: and with any luck, we can find a place for you as well, wispy.
[ASPIRING_RAM]: thank you so much for taking this chance on us.
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: Well...we have to stick together, right?
[WAYWARD_RAMBLER]: We got this.

***skinstealer*** · (This post was last modified: 11-30-2023, 11:38 PM by skinstealer.)

Show Contentimage description:

[image description: a queen type TCP with a black and gray body palette, along with a sparkly gold and yellow dress and crown.]

MABEL- 5/11/316

Two DMs about the private message system having bugs…

Mabel sighs and starts kneading into her doughboard, logging in as [MAJESTY] and getting deep into the code for the PM system on the forums. Running the code side of Felid Factor was practically a part time job at this point, the rest of her time spent on bounties picked up on the side. She vastly preferred working on her own website of course, but god knows she never looked forward to squashing these bugs that just kept popping up...she’d much rather put in a new feature that Honey and Courtney came up with.

Today doesn’t seem to be a very good day for it either, her thoughts straying and fraying at the edges- there’s that cursed static noise fizzling at the back of her head, making it impossible to focus. It always seemed to kick in whenever she tried to start getting to work these days, a remnant from her time coding in corporate offices...hours spent numbly kneading away in cramped TCP-sized cubicles, the whole office put to work for far less pay than they should be getting.

And other reasons.

MABEL: That’s enough of that.

The queen type reaches for the volume on her speakers, turning them up just enough to be heard before putting on some gentle music, acoustic sounds coming through. Much better...the sound cuts through the noise just enough for her to be able to work.

She gets into the zone easily now, the kneading feeling completely natural, motions that she’ll never forget. When she’s able to work on her own projects, it feels like she’s perfectly at home, even with the initial dread that came with things like this… as long as she has direction, she’s just fine. Getting over the starting hump took some doing, but as soon as she got over it, it was smooth sailing.

That’s what Phantom always used to tell me-

Mabel stops kneading, hands frozen. She keeps them steady, refusing to let them tremble.

No. My books tell me that thinking about her is normal. It’s a part of the process. This is fine.

I can keep working.

She places her hands back down on the board, pushing them back into the soft, squishy surface and entering more code onto the screen. The thoughts begin to flood as her mind wanders, and she lets them come, sweeping over her.

She encouraged me so much, early on. I mean, she was the one who got me into coding in the first place, she would be so proud of me, I always know she’d be proud of me...she’d probably give me hell over the fact that I don’t contribute any features for myself though, she always did say I lacked ambition of my own. But even then, she was always there for me.

Never leaving my side.

They had had their fights, like any couple. Phantom was prone to fits of frustration, her own anxieties building up and not having many ways to deal with them. Mabel was never sure how to help her partner, but loved her all the same, and knew that Phantom always felt the same way in turn, despite their troubles.

When Mabel lamented not having any skills or direction in life, Phantom offered to share her own knowledge, and began to teach her what she knew, acting not only as the love of her life but her mentor, showing her how to code. And she took to it, slowly but surely, enjoying the feeling of building something up and doing something creative, even if many people didn’t consider it as such.

But Phantom always did, she insisted it was just as much of an art as any other, and swore on it until the day that she-

There’s a knock at Mabel’s door, the queen type rushing to turn down her music.

MABEL: Come in.

The door opens, a spice jar type stepping in with two skeins of metallic colored wool in hand.

MABEL: Is something wrong with an order, Courtney?
COURTNEY: No, I just came to check on you-
COURTNEY: You have your music on.
MABEL: That just means I’m working.
COURTNEY: It means you have one of your headaches…
MABEL: It means I’m curing one of my headaches. Blocking it out.

Mabel tries to keep her voice gentle, knowing that her type’s aura runs the risk of setting off feelings of fear in her friend- a need to respect her as an authority at best, but even that felt off, and something they had to overcome with time.

COURTNEY: I guess so…
COURTNEY: I did have something to ask, though.
MABEL: Oh?
COURTNEY: I got a new scarf pattern-
MABEL: Mm.
COURTNEY: It was on sale.
MABEL: Mmm.
COURTNEY: A significant sale, a deal for sure this time.
MABEL: I’m guessing that’s what the yarn’s for.
COURTNEY: Yes, I wanted to see whether you wanted to be my test run.
MABEL: I have...five scarves from you now.

Mabel feels a hint of static start to creep back in as Courtney’s voice softens, clearly disappointed.

COURTNEY: Is that too many?

Ah, no...she sounds so sad…

MABEL: No, that’s not what I meant...I meant…
MABEL: Surely you must be sick of making scarves for me by now...they’re the same size and shape, and you have to work with my colors…
COURTNEY: But I like your colors. Metallic yarn is always stunning, and you look lovely in it…

G-gah…

Mabel can feel the tiniest bit of blush crossing her cheeks.

MABEL: W-well...I suppose a new scarf couldn’t hurt.

Courtney perks right up.

COURTNEY: It’s a summer scarf pattern, too. You’ll be able to wear it in these temperatures with no problem.
MABEL: Ah, that’ll be good…
COURTNEY: Which yarn would you like? And would you like pom poms? I can put pom poms on the ends.
MABEL: ...how big are the pom poms.
COURTNEY: Fairly large, but not too big.
MABEL: I’ll opt out, and...the right yarn. I think we used the left one last time.
COURTNEY: I’ll start right away, you won’t regret this...it’ll be a lovely piece.
MABEL: I have no doubts, all of your work is good.
MABEL: Have sales been alright?
COURTNEY: So so, but they’ll perk up with this new design, I think.
COURTNEY: I just need to get enough stock out in time before June and July…
MABEL: I’m sure you can do it.
MABEL: Let me know if you need any help setting up things on your store again, I can try to update your layout…
COURTNEY: Could you? That’d be wonderful…
COURTNEY: Oh, Honey bought a pie.
MABEL: A pie? Can we afford that?
COURTNEY: Apparently.
COURTNEY: It says we haven’t eaten in a week and it feels like we deserve a treat, so it took some cash out of the splurge jar.
MABEL: ...what flavor is it?
COURTNEY: Blueberry, I think.

Her favorite.

MABEL: I’ll be out in a minute, then.
MABEL: Thank you, for the scarf.
COURTNEY: Don’t thank me until it’s done…
MABEL: The thought means a lot, all the same.
COURTNEY: Of course, Mabel...we have to stick together, after all.
COURTNEY: You know I’ll do anything for both of you.

As Courtney turns to leave, Mabel’s struck with another passing thought.

I don’t think Courtney or Honey would leave my side ever, either.

...Hm.

***skinstealer*** · 12-07-2023, 07:26 PM

Show Contentimage description:

[image description: a spice jar type TCP with pastel blue tinted glass with white polka dots, a dark blue cap, and a white tag with a dark blue floral pattern on it. she also sports freckles underneath her eyespots.]

COURTNEY- 5/11/316

A new project always feels like a wonderful thing, something fresh and fun...one of the few things that makes Courtney consistently brighten up. It’s so easy to caught up in the anxieties of day to day life, especially when running such a bustling forum like Felid Factor...but knitting this scarf for Mabel will be a welcome break from all that. Not even a scarf for work, just a fun thing for a dear friend. She’d put her 110% into it, for certain.

But even so, her thoughts stray to other things...namely the site, as usual. Whenever she wasn’t thinking about how to run her online knitwear shop, it was all about FF, the forum that the three TCPs living here in Sunside Cottage started together. Not her idea, of course- that would be Honey’s- but it was hers to bring everyone together to one central location, starting when Mabel had that severe breakdown working for corporate...that just wouldn’t do, she couldn’t stand to see it. Honey had jumped at the chance, but Mabel took some convincing to move all the way out here and buy a place...and it had all been worth it, even if money was strained.

Very strained.

Even if the site hadn’t been Courtney’s original idea though, the melancholic spice jar type cared about it dearly. How could she not? It had brought her and her friends together and given them a life closer to one another, and for that she was truly grateful. And now, she runs all of the community events...though such a job on an unprecedented venture requires more trial and error than she’d like. Still, such a thing isn’t too out of line for her- she has to do that kind of thing with her creative work as well, trying new variations on patterns to keep her stock fresh and exciting for her sales.

The last major community event had been a mess, however. There were a few minor ones run with the help of community members- some gaming ones for the most part- but she had tried to get a digital card and gift exchange going for Forge season. Despite the holiday having plenty of room for people with solely platonic relationships, many complained about it encouraging people to flirt and “hook up” with other forum members, and the drama that got stirred up as a result made Courtney’s head hurt just to think about it. Now she needs something for spring, and she’s running out of time- it’s already approaching mid May, and if she doesn’t move fast, it’ll be June soon enough.

Maybe something promoting gardening...spring is a good time for that in a lot of places. Wait...but that’s a lot of places, not all of them, I’m sure that some zones still have winter this time of year. Or...all times of year. Or summer all times of year. Shoot. And then there’s cities, though I suppose you could just buy a nature type-made potted plant. It’d have to be nature type centric in general, most plants are too big for TCPs to take care of, and...agh, asking people to find a nature type would cut back on accessibility to a huge degree, and exclude those who live alone…

I should think broader, and have a focus on something that anyone can do...maybe something that helps the environment in general- no, that still limits people, especially people who live in crummy places. Life improvements, maybe? I worry about people who have abusive situations, then, it might just make them feel bad if they can’t get anything completed...unless I offer things for people to do around the forums as well, that could work. Little tasks for people to do both online and in real life, goal setting, encouragement...prizes for people who complete the most goals, perhaps? We’d have no way of verifying who’s completing the most, it’d be total honor system, but that’s just kind of how it is with these things.

It could work. I’d still need to figure out the prize system, that’s going to take money to commission an artist of some kind, ack…I’ll figure out some way how. The site’s worth it, and this could really help people out-

Courtney’s thoughts are interrupted by a crash from the room next door, the spice jar TCP getting up out of her wicker chair and dashing to see what happened.

COURTNEY: Honey?! Honey, are you alright?!

[image description: a fur type TCP with gray body fur and a very, very subtle lighter spot pattern. its face is dark, black as if hidden by shadow- with its eyespots a bright yellow for contrast. it has claws emerging from its furry hands in the same shade of yellow.]

Honey is sprawled on the floor of its room, covered in dye even more than usual and trying to right some spilled bottles on its tarp setup. The polka dotted fur type's claws keep knocking into the glass and spilling them further, its eyespots narrowing as it frantically tries to clean up.

HONEY: I didn’t get any on the project or the floor, don’t worry!
HONEY: Nothing broke, just a bunch bumping into each other.
HONEY: ...and getting on me.
COURTNEY: You scared me…
MABEL: Me as well.

Both of the TCPs turn to face the queen type in the doorway, Mabel's arms crossed.

HONEY: Sorry, Mabel…
MABEL: You alright?
HONEY: Just made a bit of a mess, but I clean up easy!
HONEY: It’s the project that you have to worry about getting spilled on, you need that to look nice for the clients.

It gestures to the sheet of fur on the ground, patterns in the process of being dyed in.

MABEL: Or the floor. It has enough stains.
HONEY: Yes, I said the floor’s fine! We’re good!
COURTNEY: You’re a mess, though…
HONEY: Nothing that a bath won’t fix!

The fur type rights itself, the full damage of the stains revealed.

MABEL: ...we should probably work fast.
COURTNEY: ...or we’ll have to shave you again…
HONEY: Like hell you will!
COURTNEY: Bath time…
MABEL: Bath time.

Both TCPs start gently pushing Honey away from its work and towards the bathroom, ignoring its protests.

HONEY: This isn’t so bad.
MABEL: It’s never “so bad”, you just protest like a big baby every time before you get in, and then when we’re in, you love it.
COURTNEY: It’s because we spoil it rotten...
HONEY: Maybe I like being spoiled by two pretty girls.

Courtney giggles a little, and Mabel is as shy as ever. The spice jar type knows that Honey’s just being silly, and it always likes to say things like this just for fun. There’s no way that it could actually find such a simple jar like her pretty, and that’s the joke.

...though, Mabel is legitimately pretty. Honey wouldn’t joke about that.

Huh.

Before she can ruminate on that too hard, Mabel passes her the showerhead, and it’s her turn to step up on a stool and get under Honey’s neck. The fur type always has trouble getting all this dye out of her fur whenever these kinds of spills happen, and the two of them get right to helping as best as they can. It’s a big scene, what with Mabel’s dress ruffles getting soaked down and any water spraying off of Courtney’s glass surface, but Honey is as happy as can be once they got it in the actual shower itself.

HONEY: What would I do without you two here to help me?
MABEL: Look like a clown got ahold of you, probably…
HONEY: I could pull it off.
COURTNEY: ...You’d look like my last scarf commission.

Honey starts laughing, Mabel having to hold onto its back for dear life to avoid being shaken off her stool.

HONEY: Oh god, that thing?
HONEY: The one with the horrible yarn you had to pick up special?
COURTNEY: Yes, that! You’d have too many colors, and none of them would match!
HONEY: Okay, that’s a fate I think I’ll have to avoid.
HONEY: I cannot bear to look like some ill-advised craft store purchase.
MABEL: Congrats Courtney, you managed to talk some sense into it…
COURTNEY: It only took a reminder of the worst job I ever took.
HONEY: Hey, save that. You can use that as a bargaining chip forever.
HONEY: “Don’t give me a hard time, I had to go through the nightmare scarf experience.”
HONEY: “Let me rest today, I’m reliving the hell scarf memories.”
HONEY: “This scarf? It costs extra, because some jerk made me use this pattern on the worst piece of knitting to exist.”

Now all three of them are giggling, water going everywhere- only making the giggles worse, and everyone soaked.

It’s just another night in Sunside Cottage, and Courtney wouldn’t have it any other way.

***skinstealer*** · (This post was last modified: 12-21-2023, 08:45 PM by skinstealer.)

Show Contentimage description:

[image description: a fur type TCP with gray body fur and a very, very subtle lighter spot pattern. its face is dark, black as if hidden by shadow- with its eyespots a bright yellow for contrast. it has claws emerging from its furry hands in the same shade of yellow.]

Honey dries itself off as best as it can, wrapped up in multiple warm towels- they had spent some good money out of the splurge jar after the first time it needed a big shower like this, but it was totally worth it. Settling into its hammock like this with its holo screen after getting cleaned up was a feeling like no other, and it would easily work for the price of those towels again if it had to.

Speaking of the holo screen...time to check FF.

A couple more bans to do, mostly users using slurs again. How many times did it have to tell people not to use dirty language? Swears were fine, but cmon, really? You don’t have to get that nasty about it…

Banned, banned, banned.

Another harassment case. Banned.

It had gotten a track record of being the disciplinarian admin of the forums, being the most ban happy of the trio- but that didn’t stop it from being well liked all the same. It was friendly with people any time it wasn’t swatting them for breaking the rules, and was genuinely happy to have users interacting with each other and using the forums...how could it not be? The impressions of the other admins varied...Mabel was seen as the scary mod, which killed Honey and Courtney a bit, considering how shy she was in real life. Talking formally and with a flat affect over text would do that… Courtney on the other hand was busy and heavily involved with everything, and was seen as everything from the “mom” of the forums to a busybody, with the meaner members of the site claiming that she “tried too hard”.

Honey takes particular spiteful pleasure in warning and banning those jerks.

The fur type opens up its DMs, sifting through and deleting spam messages, banning the bots along the way. Just using that ban hammer with wild abandon, the life of an admin is never a dull moment. Ah, but wait- a legitimate message!

Its eyes skim over at first, but then it slows down- it’s a thank you message from a user who had their abuser banned the other day...huh. It had taken that as just a standard harassment case, your everyday average bullying deal...but apparently, it had been a severe instance of abuse, one that had been going on for years prior to joining the site.

Yeesh.

Honey lets it sink in, nodding to itself. This part of the job always made it feel some kind of pain in its chest, but at least it did some good for the world, even if it was on a small scale...one less scumbag out there on its forum. People slinging slurs around were small potatoes compared to people like this, and thankfully it didn’t have to deal with them frequently at all- but it happened, and it never got easier.

There’s a lot of sick people out there…

Before it can get too melancholic over it, a MessiRoom DM request pops up, scaring the hell out of it- it doesn’t usually turn those on, and only one person could have known they were even available...and thankfully, it is who it hoped it’d be.

[HEAD_SPILL] has requested a direct message conversation!

[SLUMBER] accepts the request!

[SLUMBER]: Hello!
[SLUMBER]: Thank you for getting back to me!
[HEAD_SPILL]: oh that was fast
[SLUMBER]: Haha, yeah
[SLUMBER]: You caught me online [Image: tcp_chuckle_small.png]

[SLUMBER]: Just before I rest for the night, but I have time!
[HEAD_SPILL]: got it
[HEAD_SPILL]: i’ll try not to take up too much of your time, then
[SLUMBER]: It’s no trouble at all, I messaged you on the forums in the first place because I want to connect and start getting things together here.
[SLUMBER]: Take up my time! Talk to me!
[SLUMBER]: Let’s make things happen!
[HEAD_SPILL]: if you’re sure…
[SLUMBER]: I assure you.
[HEAD_SPILL]: well...okay
[HEAD_SPILL]: i guess we can start with going over what you’re looking for here, exactly
[SLUMBER]: It’s straightforward enough.
[SLUMBER]: Savoring is looking to start up more events soon, and we need prizes to incentivize people to come on down and participate- and she was going to handle it, but she’s been so busy with everything, I thought I’d look around and put some feelers out.
[SLUMBER]: And my feelers found you and your work!
[SLUMBER]: Everybody loves portraits, and the stuff you do is just...wow!
[SLUMBER]: You do people, you do their pets, you do their friends, their families! Their characters!
[SLUMBER]: Nothing stops you!
[SLUMBER]: And when it’s a TCP, oh, you work in the typing so well- but without losing the personality…
[SLUMBER]: It really embodies the philosophies of Felid Factor, the spirit of being a TCP, without boiling us down to just what people see us as!
[SLUMBER]: It’s amazing! It’s perfect!
[SLUMBER]: That’s the kind of stuff we need!
[HEAD_SPILL]: haha, thanks...
[SLUMBER]: Oh, and it’ll be paid, of course.
[SLUMBER]: I wouldn’t ask for free art- I don’t know if you’ve seen my own stuff on the forums, but I’m a physical crafter, and so is Savoring.
[SLUMBER]: We totally know what it’s like to work with commissions.
[HEAD_SPILL]: well, that’s good
[HEAD_SPILL]: i was kind of scared this was going to be a volunteer deal and i would have to turn you down
[SLUMBER]: Nope, totally paid.
[HEAD_SPILL]: i still need to know the rates though
[SLUMBER]: 25 cash an hour, no less. You tell me how long it takes me to make a painting, and I’ll work with that.
[HEAD_SPILL]: that’s...not bad at all.
[HEAD_SPILL]: can you afford that?
[HEAD_SPILL]: no offense meant, just...i’ve seen you ask for donations for the site before.
[HEAD_SPILL]: i know that you want something nice for the forum events, but i, uh
[HEAD_SPILL]: don’t want to contribute to it going potentially bankrupt if those funds are misplaced?

Honey hesitates, not sure what to say. It was definitely taking a gamble on this, for sure. It had the money- not a lot of money, but enough for...some things. It had been putting away its own earnings bit by bit, taking on extra work on the sly in order to build up some funds for stuff like this. You never knew, and lo and behold, something like this came up.

[SLUMBER]: Admittedly, I won’t be able to get a whole /lot/ of paintings from you. Probably just a couple.
[SLUMBER]: So they’ll be like, really really hard to get prizes.
[SLUMBER]: But your work is top tier. I have no doubt that people will work for it, and I also have no doubt that it’s worth that much- hell, if I could pay more, I would in a heartbeat.
[SLUMBER]: I refuse to go any lower.
[SLUMBER]: Like I said, I’m a crafter, I do commissions, I get it.
[SLUMBER]: I wouldn’t ask you to lower your prices for me, /especially/ not when I’m in a figure of authority, being the admin of the forums.
[SLUMBER]: That’d be an abuse of power, haha! I’m not about that.
[MIND_SPILL]: i appreciate that
[MIND_SPILL]: so...i’d basically be doing commissions for prize winners, and you’d be paying me for it?
[SLUMBER]: Yes!
[SLUMBER]: That’s the long and short of it.
[MIND_SPILL]: i can work with that...though i’m going to charge extra if they make me do something ridiculous, and i’m only doing headshots
[SLUMBER]: Easy peasy!
[SLUMBER]: You have yourself a deal, payment upfront when the event is settled on and we know how many we’re doing- we’ll confirm with you just to make sure before then, and if you need to back out, no hard feelings.

Honey sighs in relief, flopping back in its hammock. That actually went well...it was so scared that its offer wasn’t going to go through, and with any luck Courtney won’t take offense to the fact that it moved ahead without her say-so. It was for the good of the site, and it was meant to help her out in the first place...it’d tell her in the morning. For now, rest.

[MIND_SPILL]: i look forward to working together, then
[SLUMBER]: Me too- I should get to bed, then!
[MIND_SPILL]: oh, got it
[MIND_SPILL]: goodnight
[SLUMBER]: Gnight!

Another day, another win for Honey.

***skinstealer*** · (This post was last modified: 01-05-2024, 01:17 AM by skinstealer.)

Show Contentimage description:

[image description: a migraine type TCP with a purple and black body, white migraine-indicating markings, and orange swirly eyes]

KIERAN- 5/12/316

[SIKE!]: collab, bro?
[HEAD_SPILL]: oh god, not you again.
[HEAD_SPILL]: look, i don’t do collabs with people i don’t know, or at the very least not for free.
[HEAD_SPILL]: and i don’t know you
[HEAD_SPILL]: and as far as i know, you aren’t paying me
[SIKE!]: ok but we could do good tho
[SIKE!]: ur art
[SIKE!]: my stickers
[SIKE!]: match made in a dream
[HEAD_SPILL]: i’ve seen your stickers, they’re very good, but i still don’t know you and money’s not on the table
[SIKE!]: thx i try
[SIKE!]: think about it

Kieran reclines in her seat, feeling the headache settle in already. She had already fended off one earlier this morning, but it’s just one of those days where another one’s coming on. This isn’t the first time where she was approached by someone for collaboration for free, and it wasn’t going to be the last by any means, but to say she’s sick of it was an understatement. She was already going to be busy with this whole prize deal with the forums on top of her usual commission workload, and that left little time for personal pieces...god, thinking about this isn’t helping her head.

Ten...nine...eight...seven...six...five…

Something drops through the mail slot with a soft sound, disrupting the migraine type TCP’s attempt at initiating meditation. Kieran sighs and gets up with a grumble, used to this kind of interruption- it’s always something. She could always just leave it for later, but at this point, she’d just be thinking about it anyway, her groove totally thrown off.

Junk mail, junk, junk, spam, annnnd

Sure enough, there’s a letter from Dr. Battz. If she could frown, her face would be contorted into a grimace, never pleased to see correspondence from her old practitioner.

That old coot can’t just leave me alone...I’m not seeing him, I’m not his patient anymore, what the hell does he even want…

Probably for me to come in and run more experiments as his little lab rat. Eugh. Fuck him.

Into the trash it goes along with the rest, another sigh escaping her as she realizes the state of her kitchen. It’s time for a cleanup, desperately, and as she goes around picking up trash, she knows it’s inevitable that she’s going to have to brave the outside world to haul it out to the cans down the hall.

Perfect. Just what I need with a fucking migraine.

I’m sure good ol’ Batty would love to watch me try this, carrying a bag out while teetering around. Wouldn’t be the first time…

She does her best to shake off the bitter thoughts as she hauls the bag over her shoulder, unlocking her door and starting off down the hall. Every step feels like a struggle, her head pounding as she strains to keep her body upright. The bag isn’t that heavy compared to her strength as a body type, large hands able to hold it with ease, but walking with literally anything in hand would feel like a misery ride at this point.

Someone passes by as she trudges on, and in her haze she recognizes them as one of her upstairs neighbors- a shorthair type, their name on the edges of her mind. Alien, or something. Alan? Wait, no. Fuck. Alias. Yeah. Pretty sure she’s heard the landlord yelling at them about rent a few times, something she’s dealt with herself more times than she’s willing to admit.

There’s something that nags at her as they almost brush against each other, exchanging mutual apologies before going on their separate ways.

The cans at the end of the hall are free, and there’s just enough space for her bag. Thank god, if they were full she would have fucking lost it. That would have been real icing on the cake today. The walk back is a little bit better than the way there, her head starting to clear up and become more lucid.

Still, there’s something pressing at her- not pain, but like she’s forgetting something. Like something’s missing. Like something’s...not quite clicking together.

Oh FUCK.

It’s gotta be a coincidence. Maybe they’re just a fan- but Felid Factor isn’t that big, and Critter hasn’t set up a storefront yet...it’s not like they’ve talked or anything outside the forums, but they’ve commented on each other’s work a few times, enough to call each other acquaintances. But still, the odds. The fucking odds. The planet’s so big, and the odds of two TCPs on a tiny TCP forum sharing a small ass apartment building, separated by a single floor, knowing each other...god, the odds are impossible.

But that shirt, it looked hand made, and that design was- no, it had to be a coincidence. There’s no way.

Kieran rushes to her computer, her head threatening to start pounding again from the sudden movement. She logs into the forums, screwing up her password a few times in her haste.

That’s it. That’s what I saw, it has to be. One of a kind.

Her hand is shaking a bit as she clicks on Critter’s recent threads, and finds one labelled “collab with [REMNANT_TREASURES]: critter fashion!”.

Fuck. It’s them. That’s the shirt.

Critter’s my fucking neighbor. Critter is Alias.

Do I tell them? Is that weird? Will they think I’m a stalker? Oh god, they’re going to worry that I’ll tell everyone. But...

It would be nice, to have someone in person. And Critter always did seem nice.

Kieran opens up MessiRoom, her hands really trembling now.

[HEAD_SPILL] has requested a direct message conversation!

It feels like an agonizing eternity, but after a few minutes, it comes.

[CRITTER_CATCHER] accepts the request!

[CRITTER_CATCHER]: hey, can’t say i expected this
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: but uh, what’s up, i guess?

She has to correct a million typos while writing her first messages, catching so many mistakes just trying to get it right.

[b][HEAD_SPILL]: so this is...awkward.
[HEAD_SPILL]: and i don’t want to come off as unpleasant, or weird, or upsetting.
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: uh
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: is this a love confession or something
[HEAD_SPILL]: god no, god, no.
[HEAD_SPILL]: it’s weird, but god no. no.
[HEAD_SPILL]: i just, do you remember walking past a migraine type this afternoon?
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: UH
[HEAD_SPILL]: i’m sorry, i don’t know how else to open up to this, this is a weird realization for me too, i did not even mean to put this together
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: are you stalking me?
[HEAD_SPILL]: no! i’m the migraine type, i just live here!
[HEAD_SPILL]: i recognized your shirt and your typing from your profile and realized it was you, and...i don’t know, i thought…
[HEAD_SPILL]: i don’t have a lot of real life friends since moving here a few months ago
[HEAD_SPILL]: i swear, i’m not stalking you. i literally just noticed it this afternoon and it clicked together and it was complete chance
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: shit
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: well youre right
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: this is weird
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: but you never gave me like
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: creep vibes on the forums i guess
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: the odds of this are kind of fucked up
[HEAD_SPILL]: yeah, that’s, kind of how i feel about it
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: but i guess im kind of in the same boat
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: im lonely as shit
[HEAD_SPILL]: do you want to talk or something?
[HEAD_SPILL]: like...over coffee. or whatever, somewhere public
[HEAD_SPILL]: like how online-offline meetings are supposed to go
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: sigh
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: fuck it
[CRITTER_CATCHER]: meet you in ten

***skinstealer*** · 01-18-2024, 08:26 PM

5/19/416- KIERAN + ALIAS

[image description: an image of alias and an image of kieran.
alias is a calico patterned shorthair cat type TCP with distinct abstract-style yellow eyes, and kieran is a migraine type TCP with a purple and black body, white migraine-indicating markings, and orange swirly eyes.]

Kieran’s apartment somehow feels even more cramped than Alias’, but that’s to be expected from a much bigger body type crammed into the same cheap space. Sure, the complex offered bigger apartments for rent, but considering Alias knew how the digital artist lifestyle went... yeah, they were pretty sure Kieran was in the same boat as them.

Dirt poor, broke as hell, and doomed to cheap, tight living spaces.

KIERAN: Can I...get you anything?
ALIAS: No, no, I’m good. I’m all good.
KIERAN: Okay...if you say so.

The body type sits down on the floor across from them, getting situated on a bedroll. Sleeping on the floor didn’t sound too comfortable to Alias at all, but the futon looked...surprisingly soft, and apparently those kind of things were in style these days.

Guess she keeps up with trends.

KIERAN: So you’re doing this collaboration with Remnant-
ALIAS: Remmy.
KIERAN: -Remmy.
ALIAS: Yeah. He and I are going to make plushes of the critters.
KIERAN: That’s exciting...how’s that going to work?
ALIAS: He’s going to use his ability to make the plushes based on my designs, it’s a whole thing.
ALIAS: We’re splitting the profits 50/50, which...I think he should get more, but he’s pretty insistent on it.
KIERAN: That’s a good rate.
ALIAS: Yeah. Too good.
KIERAN: Take it and run, honestly.
ALIAS: You don’t think it’s taking advantage of him?
KIERAN: Well...it’s your design work. You put the work in.
ALIAS: Yeah, but he’s doing the actual production, and these things don’t exactly take me ages to do.
KIERAN: I guess...but you guys are like, dating, right?
ALIAS: Wh-what? Where’d you hear that?
KIERAN: ...you have each other’s names on your profiles with hearts.
ALIAS: …
KIERAN: You don’t need to make an announcement for that to be obvious.

Alias wants to melt into the ground, their face covered in blush.

ALIAS: It’s...a new development, I guess.
ALIAS: We don’t want to make a huge deal out of it yet.
KIERAN: Yet.

There’s a teasing tone to Kieran’s voice, and they could just about die.

ALIAS: We’ve got this friend and we don’t want to make her feel like a third wheel, ok?
ALIAS: She knows, but we don’t...want to make it seem like a big thing.
ALIAS: She had a crush on Remmy for a bit, maybe still does, and I don’t want to hurt her.
ALIAS: Maybe I already have, I don’t know…

Alias looks up from the ground to catch Kieran staring at her, and panics.

KIERAN: Sounds like a lot to deal with-
ALIAS: You didn’t ask to hear about all that, th-though!
KIERAN: I mean, I kind of did? And I don’t mind.
KIERAN: We’ve been hanging out for a week, it’s ok to small talk, I think.
ALIAS: It’s romance drama, though…
KIERAN: I can handle that.
KIERAN: Are you considering opening a storefront though, together?
ALIAS: We’re going to have to, in order to sell the plushes.
KIERAN: Is it going to be just for plushes, or for critters in general?
ALIAS: Well, he’s already got a plush store, but he was thinking we’ll do something separate for this in case I wanted to open up for other opportunities.
ALIAS: Which, I don’t think I’m gonna get…
KIERAN: Why not?
ALIAS: I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m not exactly the networking type.
ALIAS: Literally the only reason why we started hanging out was because you found out about us being neighbors, otherwise we probably would have just liked each other’s posts into forever and kept it at that.
KIERAN: You met your friends, didn’t you?
ALIAS: They’re...different.
ALIAS: It’s different.
KIERAN: Hmm.

The migraine type folds her arms, thinking something over.

KIERAN: How many critters do you have designed?
ALIAS: I don’t know the exact number offhand, but at least a hundred and twenty by now.
ALIAS: Why?
KIERAN: That’s a lot. Too many to make into plushes.
ALIAS: Yeah...we’re going to have to make selections, and design some with plushes in mind, is the plan.
ALIAS: Some of them wouldn’t work out in the medium anyway.
KIERAN: Right. But still, merch would be nice of them, don’t you think?
ALIAS: I mean, sure, but I can’t network for shit-
KIERAN: Why don’t you collab with me too?
ALIAS: ...aren’t you like, booked to hell?
ALIAS: We literally talked about the other day, how you get...stress headaches and all that over it.
ALIAS: Wouldn’t taking another project on just add to that?
KIERAN: Usually I’d agree with you and say “you know what, you’re right, I’m being crazy right now”.
KIERAN: But at the moment, all of my personal art has been about how much my life sucks, and I think that alone is driving me up a wall.
KIERAN: I don’t post any of it, and I don’t plan on doing so. I’d like to make something nice and fun for once, but I don’t know what that would be.
KIERAN: And...I think working with a friend, even if they’re a new one, would be something I could try starting with.
ALIAS: I mean...sure, I guess. I guess I can see the logic there.
ALIAS: But don’t you have other artist friends you know better, even if you don’t know them in person?
ALIAS: Like what about that artist that does the cartoon stuff? The toon guy?
KIERAN: He’s busy with style development work, I can’t trouble him with something like this- and I want to get to know you.
KIERAN: ...If that’s not weird to say.
ALIAS: No, it’s not weird, I guess.
ALIAS: What kind of collab are we talking?
KIERAN: I was thinking miniature paintings of your critters- like the kinds you see on trading cards, that kind of little art.
KIERAN: We could photograph them like I do for the rest of my art and get them sold as prints through an online service.
ALIAS: Doesn’t that cost money?
KIERAN: Not for an on demand service, they’re a new thing.
KIERAN: They’ll take a cut out of the price and we won’t make a whole lot off of each print, but it doesn’t cost anything to upload the design.
KIERAN: If we start doing really good, we can go to a print shop and get prints made up for a fee and ship them out ourselves, but I would want to start with something that won’t cost us a lot upfront until we can guarantee customers.
ALIAS: Huh...that’s smart.
KIERAN: The good news is that my client base on Felid Factor is pretty big, and you have a lot of people interested in critters.
ALIAS: I don’t know if they’re interested enough to pay significant cash, though...I make enough off of them and doing random commissions for rent, but for prints and the plushes, I dunno, I’m worried.
KIERAN: Only one way to find out.
KIERAN: Why don’t you give me a critter to paint, and we’ll see how long it takes? Gauge how doable this is.
ALIAS: Okay...let’s do a new guy. Gimme a theme.
KIERAN: Brain.
ALIAS: Got it.

The two of them settle in, Alias breaking out their sketchbook and scribbling out a design quickly- Kieran looms over and watches, the shorthair type trying not to feel too self conscious. Soon enough, the critter’s done, and Kieran’s fast at work painting away. Watching the migraine type go is mystifying, and it becomes evident how she can price her paintings the way she does- she’s fast.

ALIAS: How...do you do that?
KIERAN: How do you draw your critters so fast?
ALIAS: Practice, I guess.
KIERAN: There you go.
ALIAS: But they’re so simple. They’re doodles. You’re painting.
KIERAN: Some people would struggle to draw critters as quickly as you do, some people would struggle to paint as fast as I do, it’s all about building up your technique and finding what works for you.
KIERAN: Don’t discount the work you’ve put into it.
ALIAS: ...huh.
ALIAS: Alright.

The two of them step back once the mini painting is completed, looking it over. It’s not so mini compared to Alias, but compared to Kieran’s other works, it may as well be.

KIERAN: ...well?
ALIAS: I love it.
ALIAS: I never would have thought one of my little guys could have been rendered like this.
KIERAN: You think we could do this?
ALIAS: If you’re sure about it, then...yeah. Why the hell not.
KIERAN: I think the thing to do is shake on it then, right?

She holds out a massive hand, Alias eyeing it nervously before extending their own. The migraine type grips it carefully, practically engulfing it.

KIERAN: To a deal!
ALIAS: To a deal.

***skinstealer*** · 01-25-2024, 11:26 PM

Show Content"image description:

5/21/316- BLOODTHIRSTY
[Image: bloodthirsty.png]

[image description: an image of bloodthirsty, a yellow love type with black splattery markings, blue and red accents, and two no-regret kill marks.]

The siren type’s hair falls into her face as Thirsty reaches forward and wraps her hands around her neck, and for the millionth time recalling this moment, Thirsty feels the distinct thought pass through her mind- I always found her so pretty and with a lunge it’s over, someone’s screams echoing behind her. It’s the same as always, and it repeats once, and then twice, and before it can switch tracks to another murder not too long before- or was it after?- her alarm goes off, and her eyes snap open, fists clutching at her blankets in a death grip.

It’s fine. Just a dream. Just another dream. The same as always, nothing new. Predictable.

Bloodthirsty sits up with a groan, cracking her neck and unclenching her hands- god, they hurt. She can deal with predictable, and has for the past...she stopped keeping count, and doesn’t have any plans of keeping track of that kind of thing again. No point to it anyhow, it’s in the past.

Walking is more of a stumbling affair as she makes her way from bed to the bathroom, looking herself over in the mirror and shooting her best attempt at finger guns at the marks on her face- solid lines, no regrets.

BLOODTHIRSTY: Lookin’ good, Murderface.
BLOODTHIRSTY: Ready to lose us some chances at personal interactions today?

There’s no response from the mirror, and she nods.

BLOODTHIRSTY: Yeah. That’s what I thought.

Checking the computer’s next up on the morning checklist, a laptop set up at the tiny kitchen table folded out from the wall. These little bio-dome shacks don’t come with much space, everything all capable of nestling into the walls...but Bloodthirsty likes it all out where she can see it, and folding and unfolding everything is such a hassle. Whoever designed this stuff clearly anticipated people being able to grip on better than a typical TCP can, and she’d rather just sneak by stuff than give herself a strain.

She only has two contacts she gives a shit about; Claims and...him. One of which, she’s got a message from- as expected, and the other, she has nothing. Also as expected. Might as well see what Claims is on about, though she has a pretty good guess.

[UNSUBSTANTIATED_CLAIMS]: Do you have any more skulls available?
[UNSUBSTANTIATED_CLAIMS]: Particularly of the miniature variety, they make for wonderful pendants.
[UNSUBSTANTIATED_CLAIMS]: The medium sized ones can be workable as well for some larger pieces, but the large ones are only suited towards masks.
[UNSUBSTANTIATED_CLAIMS]: I have enough of those for now, I think.
[MORBID_RANCHER]: okay okay okay oh my god
[MORBID_RANCHER]: no, i do not have any tiny skulls
[MORBID_RANCHER]: but i can get some. if my lambs are on schedule then i should have some minis popping in tomorrow, and i can strip ‘em down and get you what you need, i just need a number and advance payment.
[MORBID_RANCHER]: you could always wait for me to get stock in if you dont want to pay the custom fee but yknow...
[MORBID_RANCHER]: those always have the chance to go fast.

They never go fast.

[MORBID_RANCHER]: your choice. i gotta get to work on the farm, but i’ll check back later.

Thirsty doesn’t even bother looking at [CRYSTAL_HALL]’s message window, there’s no notifications there and seeing her old messages is just going to make her feel depressed- and she does NOT have time for that. She’s got some orders from the nearby town of Reminder, and the lambs aren’t gonna feed themselves.

The lambs are looking good, at least. Looks like a few of ‘em popped in overnight, right on schedule, and all they’re doing is shuffling around safely in their pen, munching at their hay and bleating whenever Thirsty comes close. She gives a medium sized one a pat on the head, checking them over- no signs of parasites at all, though any getting into a bio-dome like this would be pretty impressive. These things were built to keep pests out and crops, livestock, whatever you wanted to grow, safely inside. Getting her hands on her own little one wasn’t a huge deal thanks to all of Hearth’s nice systems set up for residents, but she did have to get signed up as a resident first, and fussing with paperwork while carrying around an asexually and spontaneously reproducing lamb from another world wasn’t exactly ideal in a big city. Sure, the god she ended up with after the session offered to help house her for a bit, but she only took up that deal for as long as she had to- she wasn’t one to impose, and it’s not like she ever really liked them in the first place.

Just wish he had come with me.

The lambs don’t need much outside of a little cleaning and their hay refreshed, with everything else happening completely on its own. All Thirsty has to do is let them pop into existence while no one’s looking and take them out to slaughter when the orders come in, stripping them down and saving everything- the meat sold the best for sure, especially since it was TCP consumable, but the rest went towards her taxidermy projects. The forums may not be keen on her stuff entirely yet, but she was gonna get ‘em eventually. They’d see. The butchering’s the hard part, and by the time she’s done with it today, she’s covered in technicolor gore and exhausted. Nothing new, but always hard.

She stumbles into the pen one last time, looking over what’s left of her flock. Still plenty, and by tomorrow, there’d be enough replenished that she wouldn’t have to worry. Just gotta pick one more out…

She takes one on the smaller end, grateful that they don’t seem to have much on their mind but fluff- she doesn’t think she could bear it if they turned out sweet. Even so, she says a quick thank you to both the lamb itself and, begrudgingly, its creator, before lunging and pressing her head against its side, draining blood from it through its skin. It doesn’t even react, and she doesn’t kill it, she never does anymore- just enough to feed the urges.

Just enough.

The warmth of her shack is welcoming, even if the amount of space isn’t. It’s a repetitive, predictable life, but it’s still Bloodthirsty’s, and it’s far away from any kind of horrible TCP murder hell, with no more god mindgames to worry about. Sure, she doesn’t get much in the way of talking to people short of the one guy who can’t shut up about buying her skulls, but that’s...something, right?

She glances at her computer and against her better judgment, checks for messages- and it’s the same as earlier. Some from Claims, none from him.

[UNSUBSTANTIATED_CLAIMS]: I can work with that.
[UNSUBSTANTIATED_CLAIMS]: While your custom fees /are/ a bit steep, I completely understand the idea of charging extra for the work, and I can’t imagine it’s easy working with tinier...lambs, you call them?
[UNSUBSTANTIATED_CLAIMS]: I await news on the skulls. Thank you again.

Well, at least that went well. She’d reply to him after she got the skulls cleaned up. No point in making small talk...for now. The last time kind of went disastrous.

Just leaves one last routine to her day.

[CRYSTAL_HALL] is offline.
[MORBID_RANCHER]: hey
[MORBID_RANCHER]: i know you aren’t going to respond to this but
[MORBID_RANCHER]: i miss you.
[MORBID_RANCHER]: and i want you to know that the lambs are doing good
[MORBID_RANCHER]: the skull guy keeps coming for business
[MORBID_RANCHER]: and uh
[MORBID_RANCHER]: it rained the other day, and i thought of you
[MORBID_RANCHER]: that’s all. hope you’re alright.
[MORBID_RANCHER]: bye.

She leans back in her chair, making a noise like a sigh. She’s not sure why she does this every day, but here she goes again. Again, and again, like clockwork.

From now until god knows when.

***skinstealer*** · (This post was last modified: 02-01-2024, 08:50 PM by skinstealer.)

Show Contentimage description:

5/22/316- DESMOND

[image description: a tiny image of desmond, a horn type TCP with a dragon's spade-tipped tail. his horns are a lighter brown, and his body is a deep-reddish brown with horizontal stripes.]

Desmond moves his claws carefully, ever so carefully, fully aware of how delicate the work he’s doing is. He hadn’t been able to handle making the hole for the cord himself, his hands far too big to manipulate a drill, but he insists on trying this part himself. He desperately wants to learn how to make his own jewelry, to take on craftsmanship just like the people who hire him-

A knock on the door startles him, the horn type nearly banging his head on his desk lamp and toppling it. He sighs and rights the light fixture before it falls over, setting the skull he was handling on his desk with just as much care as before. Later, then. He calls out to the person at the door as he walks over, grabbing a light shawl on his way.

DESMOND: Carver, I told you to stop coming early!
DESMOND: I have things I’m doing.

He opens the door, leaning on the entryway as he looks down at the geode type standing there.

DESMOND: Important things.

[image description: a tiny image of Carver, a geode type with a white rocky outside and a black and gray gemstone inside.]

The geode type shuffles, a bag slung over her shoulder.

CARVER: S-sorry, Desmond…
CARVER: I keep forgetting...I always figure a head start is the way to go-
DESMOND: No matter, I can’t fault you for wanting to be punctual.
DESMOND: Did you bring all of the equipment needed for today’s session?

Carver perks up, patting her bag. It seems far too large for her, but that’s what happens when you buy a new camera from bougie Monte body types. They always go the extra mile.

CARVER: Of course, boss!
DESMOND: No need for the nicknames, Carver.
DESMOND: Come inside. You’ll catch cold out there.
CARVER: I can’t catch a cold, sir-
DESMOND: It’s a figure of speech. Just come in.

She hurries inside, the horn type closing the door after her.

DESMOND: Since you’re early, I’m not quite ready for our shoot yet.
DESMOND: I have to talk to Maverick about our new deal, we set a time- right about now, actually.

Desmond settles onto a hammock, reaching for a tablet resting on a side table. Carver looks around nervously before taking a seat on one of the floor cushions, setting her bag to the side.

CARVER: A deal?
CARVER: Are you ordering a new set of charms?
DESMOND: Modeling, actually.
CARVER: Modeling?!

She sounds legitimately surprised, and Desmond can’t blame her.

CARVER: It wants someone to model for it?
CARVER: I thought its whole aesthetic was kind of...simple, mystical, that sort of thing?
CARVER: Placed on mannequin hands with rocks and stuff around it?
DESMOND: That’s what I thought as well, but it looks like it’s interested in trying a more aesthetically oriented approach for its new set.
DESMOND: See if it can draw in people based on the look of the charm as well as the function.
CARVER: Well...I know you believe in the whole magic aspect of the charms-
DESMOND: Of course I do.

His tone is curt.

DESMOND: I wouldn’t buy them if I didn’t. That’s the whole point.
CARVER: Y-yeah...

He turns to his tablet, irritated.

[CHARMED_LIFE]: Desmond?
[UNSUBSTANTIATED_CLAIMS]: I’m here. Sorry to keep you waiting.
[CHARMED_LIFE]: No wait, I just got here myself.
[CHARMED_LIFE]: Are you ready to talk things over?
[UNSUBSTANTIATED_CLAIMS]: Of course
[UNSUBSTANTIATED_CLAIMS]: I’m excited to model for you, I have to say I wasn’t expecting the chance to do something like this
[CHARMED_LIFE]: Well, it’s a big jump for me too!
[CHARMED_LIFE]: My store focuses on the practical element of my charms, but online sales have been slowing down…
[CHARMED_LIFE]: I’m planning on bumping things up with my tutorials, but I think I’m going to have to resort to bringing people in based on how they look as well.
[CHARMED_LIFE]: It kind of sucks to think of people ignoring the magical effects and just buying them because they look nice, but I’ll be honest, there’s probably people who do that anyway.
[UNSUBSTANTIATED_CLAIMS]: It’s sad to think about. Your charms are the best
[UNSUBSTANTIATED_CLAIMS]: I haven’t had any negative energy enter my home since I’ve picked up your protection charm
[UNSUBSTANTIATED_CLAIMS]: What scrap did you put in it again?
[CHARMED_LIFE]: Was that the one with the teardrop shape, and the cloth tag?
[UNSUBSTANTIATED_CLAIMS]: Yes, and the beads.
[CHARMED_LIFE]: A mother’s hug on a sick day. One of my strongest!

If he could have smiled, he would have. Maverick is always looking out for him…

CARVER: Isn’t Maverick a little...too mysterious, sometimes?

Desmond looks up from his tablet, glaring the geode type down. The crystalline TCP shrinks a little, intimidated by the dragon-like body type’s look.

CARVER: I-I mean...you don’t even know its typing.
DESMOND: Lots of TCPs on Felid Factor don’t reveal their typings.
DESMOND: It’s a personal choice, and often for safety.
DESMOND: I only reveal mine because it’s of no danger to myself.
CARVER: Right, but aren’t you two on a proper name basis?
CARVER: No, like...usernames, or however it goes.
CARVER: I’d kind of expect you to know its type by now…
DESMOND: Its type does not have any bearing on our friendship, or the fact that we share a professional relationship as well.
DESMOND: It could be any typing at all and it wouldn’t change a thing to me.
DESMOND: Such shallow things don’t phase me.
CARVER: I guess that’s a fair point…
DESMOND: Besides, I figure that it has its reasons.
DESMOND: If I had to guess, it wants to keep its identity a mystery to maintain its status as an almost phantasmic wizard.
DESMOND: I’m fine with that.
DESMOND: And frankly, I don’t care if you are, one way or another.

He returned to his tablet, not waiting for Carver’s response.

[CHARMED_LIFE]: I’ll try to have exact details on the job for you soon, I was kind of rushed this morning with a new job- sorry.
[CHARMED_LIFE]: I hope you don’t mind that I’m still charging you for the charms you’ll be modeling, I know that you usually get this kind of stuff for free from your sponsors…
[CHARMED_LIFE]: Desmond?
[UNSUBSTANTIATED_CLAIMS]: Sorry, Carver’s over
[UNSUBSTANTIATED_CLAIMS]: That’s fine, I know money’s tight for you right now
[CHARMED_LIFE]: Oh, no problem!
[CHARMED_LIFE]: And thanks for understanding.
[CHARMED_LIFE]: I really appreciate it.
[UNSUBSTANTIATED_CLAIMS]: As for details, it’s okay if you don’t have specifics now, I just need to know how many charms we’re talking about modeling and when they’re due to arrive for now.
[CHARMED_LIFE]: Five, and I should have them sent out by the end of the week…

They talk for a little while longer, with Carver shifting nervously in her seat the entire time. When Desmond finally wraps up and sets the tablet to the side, she unzips her bag and gets her camera up.

CARVER: Are you ready to go?
DESMOND: Yes, I’m ready.
DESMOND: We have one job for a jeweler in Luxson, a complex who just started a TCP branch in their shop, and one artisan who runs a local stall in the next settlement over from us.
CARVER: Wow, in Bramble?
CARVER: I didn’t know they had any artisans left out there...
DESMOND: Don’t be crass, of course they do. Art can exist anywhere.
DESMOND: Bramble’s grown stronger as of late, and they’ve gotten better at fortifying their town. Business is flourishing. It gives artists more time to grow and create, and this one wants a model to help promote their work.
CARVER: ...you’re doing this one pro bono, aren’t you.
CARVER: Desmond, you can’t keep taking charity cases-
DESMOND: You aren’t the one selecting the jobs, you don’t get to judge my picks.
DESMOND: Let’s just take the pictures.

***skinstealer*** · (This post was last modified: 02-15-2024, 10:44 PM by skinstealer.)

Show Contentimage description:

5/24/316- MAVERICK

[Image: maverick.png]

[image description: a tiny image of maverick, a rhabdophobia type TCP with a tan body, mottled blue and pink "robe" coloring, and white accents.]

The rapping on Maverick’s door wakes it from its slumber, the body type stirring from its nest of blankets with a layered grumble. It glances over at the clock and groans, seeing how early it is- the sun had barely come up an hour ago, and now it was going to lose precious sleeping hours away from the heat…

MAVERICK: Why do I even bother sleeping, anyway…

It lifts itself from its tangle of blankets as the pounding continues, reaching for its pants and pulling them on. An unnecessary step what with the disguise, maybe, but it always made it feel more professional.

The knocking just gets louder as it heads down the steps, still rubbing its eyespots.

MAVERICK: Coming, coming!

After a quick peek in the mirror, the TCP reaches for the last crucial part of any interaction with the outside world- its massive cloak, crafted by a complex who had no idea how big TCPs actually are. No matter, that was exactly what it wanted- and as the fabric drapes over its body, it gathers its nerves and opens the door to its tower.

????: Maverick! Good morning!

[image description: a tiny image of a monkey type TCP, with black fur and a gray face.]

The monkey type that stands there looks cheery as ever, brushing the sand off of her outfit and keeping her tone light.

MAVERICK: ...morning, Jerri. Are you here for your order?
JERRI: Yes, I am! I’m a little early, though…

Just a little.

MAVERICK: Come in, I’ve got your charms ready to go.
JERRI: Excellent! Thank you so much!
MAVERICK: It’s no trouble...take a seat over there, and I’ll package everything up.

Maverick gestures to some floor cushions, Jerri eagerly scooting over and getting comfortable. It turns back to its work station, doing its best to remember what charms the monkey type had ordered.

MAVERICK: A good luck charm and- another protection charm, yes?
JERRI: That’s right!
MAVERICK: Any reason for the latter? Did the one I gave you last week not work?
JERRI: Oh no, it worked amazingly! No more hungry bugs trying to get into my home at all.
JERRI: It just worked so well that I wanted to pick one up for my friend Nef as well.
JERRI: She’s got an even worse problem with the bugs than I do!
MAVERICK: Easy enough, and I appreciate the referral…

It wraps up the charms in a fine cloth, reminding itself to pick up more of those later. A paper bag would have done just as well, but these really completed the magical appeal. It made it feel...luxurious, whimsical. Like something out of a mysterious storybook- and that’s the way it liked it.

MAVERICK: Here you are, both of them good to go.
MAVERICK: Be gentle with them as always, they aren’t toys.

It passes over the charms to the monkey type, watching as she cradles them with her far smaller hands.

JERRI: How you make such delicate things with those claws is such a wonderful mystery...you really are full of secrets!
MAVERICK: Years of practice and fine tuning go a long way. Anyone could learn this kind of craft.
JERRI: But what about the magic part?
MAVERICK: With tools, even that’s possible. You don’t need to be a natural scrap sensitive like myself, though it definitely makes things easier…
JERRI: I’d honestly love to hear about this kind of thing more...but I’m much too simple of a person to ever learn myself.
JERRI: I’m much better off baking for my shop!
MAVERICK: And you do a great job at it, the scones you made me didn’t even last a day.

That gets a laugh out of her, and Maverick can’t help but feel a little bit bittersweet. It wasn’t lying, those scones were amazing- but there’s no way that it could ever talk with Jerri or any of the other villagers on a closer level.

No matter how much it wants to.

JERRI: Well, if you say so...though I am pretty proud of how far I’ve come!

She stands to head out, careful with her new acquisitions. She pauses for a moment, turning to face Maverick.

JERRI: Oh, right…
JERRI: You’re still watching out for Ichor, right?
MAVERICK: ...is he on the warpath again?
JERRI: Well, I wouldn’t go that far…
JERRI: But he’s definitely not a fan of having your work spread to more of the village, and judging from your trips to the post office, outside of it as well.
MAVERICK: I’ll keep an eye out for him. Thank you.
JERRI: Crescent has your materials ready in town, too! I think that’s everything…
JERRI: Don’t get too lonely out here, okay?
MAVERICK: This life suits me, Jerri. I’ll be a okay.
JERRI: Well...thank you again!
MAVERICK: Anytime.

It closes the door behind her, sighing as it waits to make sure she’s gone. As soon as the coast seems clear, it sheds its cloak and heads for its workstation, opening its laptop and taking a seat. Its head’s already starting to hurt from that last exchange, but there’s nothing to be done about it now. If this kind of strife was coming its way just from the fact that it’s a magic user, god forbid what would happen if people in the village- or people in general, really- knew its typing.

A rhabdophobia type working as a wizard...people could never wrap their hands around it. Someone literally based within the fear of magic creating charms for others, people would call me a hack at best…

MessiRoom opens as the computer finishes booting, and it sighs even harder when it notices its messages.

[SCRAP_GAZER]: hey, you around?
[SCRAP_GAZER]: i found something that might interest you.

It was sent a couple hours ago, but it looks like she’s still online.

[CHARMED_LIFE]: Here now, sorry...was sleeping, and then I had a client.
[SCRAP_GAZER]: are you trying to see into the dreamscape again?
[SCRAP_GAZER]: you know i have resources for that.

Maverick slumps in its chair, grumbling to itself. Yeah, yeah, she had resources for everything. Freaking smarty pants.

[CHARMED_LIFE]: I’m still figuring it out on my own, I like the journey through teaching myself.
[SCRAP_GAZER]: suit yourself, but it’s not cheating to look up a guide.
[SCRAP_GAZER]: you should know that, considering you’re making your own tutorials, right?
[CHARMED_LIFE]: ...yes, and I was just about to get to that.
[CHARMED_LIFE]: Still, I can figure it out.
[CHARMED_LIFE]: I like messing with things myself…
[SCRAP_GAZER]: just know you have somewhere to go if you need any help.
[SCRAP_GAZER]: it’s not often that i get to work with any actual scrap users, seeing as half of the people claiming to be ones on FF are posers, and other forums are even worse.
[SCRAP_GAZER]: still, i’ve seen your charms and they’re legit.
[SCRAP_GAZER]: so...let me know if you want to work together on things. i’m open to it.

It would have rolled its eyes if it could, absolutely certain that Gazer’s looking down on it as usual. She always thought she was the top wizard of the whole forums, going on proper adventures and all...but it would play nice.

[CHARMED_LIFE]: I’ll think about it…
[SCRAP_GAZER]: it’s your call.
[SCRAP_GAZER]: i’ll be here.
[SCRAP_GAZER]: how’s the tutorial coming along, anyway?
[CHARMED_LIFE]: Just starting now. I’ve got a lot to do, so I’ll be quiet on and off.
[SCRAP_GAZER]: fine by me. just keep me posted.

It pulls away from its laptop with a huff, starting to get its materials in order and ready to be worked on.

Time to get started.

***skinstealer*** · 03-07-2024, 08:30 PM

Show Contentimage description:

5/25/316- ADELE

[Image: adele.png]

[image description: a tiny of adele, a scrapmancy type featuring a blue, teal and green palette.]

The motel is cheap, but that’ll do Adele fine. She’d get looks for traveling with big bags and a fancy outfit, only to stop at a place like this...but that doesn’t matter to her, not when she had work to focus on. All this room would be was a place with proper power outlets to charge up her gear and a pillow to rest her head on at night. Anything more would be superfluous, and frankly- she doesn’t consider it warranted until she’s actually gotten the job done.

The scrapmancy type settles onto the bed, dragging one of her suitcases over. This particular job wasn’t one she was hired for explicitly- no, she just found the case online and decided to handle it herself. With any luck, the poster would be grateful that someone with actual skill decided to look into it, and she’d get some kind of reward…

But even if they weren’t, the scrap payoff was going to be huge.

Inside the bag are her scrapbooks, an outfit for actual work, and various gadgets she’d picked up along the way. Gauntlets for handling more dangerous scrap types, a radiation detector, an ability amplifier...all of which had been developed by a witch friend back in Calliope. She missed traveling there especially, seeing all of the specialized magic gear...really, when it came to witchcraft and wizardry, you couldn’t get better.

Adele takes out the radiation detector and sweeps the room, relieved when the device doesn’t make a single beep. Checking by eye for scraps also turns up no results- both a blessing and a curse. While she was always interested in collecting new potential tools, motel rooms never seemed to have anything good. The most interesting remnant she’d picked up was a murder of all things, and she had to drop it after a week. She should have avoided taking it in the first place, but people saying that those kinds of scraps were cursed never really sank in prior. All she got out of it were nightmares and visions of death and destruction...never again. There were far more practical scraps anyhow.

Vision scraps came easy to her, and those were the most powerful in her arsenal…for her specific ability, anyway. It was handy to be able to see things far away, across time and space, things that hadn’t even happened yet…divining potential futures and doing her best to make the ideal ones come true. Even with that, the rest of her collection was intensely varied, with a focus on more than just elemental typings- after all, some of the best kept secret techniques could be achieved with rarer tools.

Before she can dig into her own thoughts, her phone buzzes- a MessiRoom notification.

[PICTURE_PERFECT]: hi

Huh. She wasn’t expecting anyone to DM her, and she didn’t recognize the username.

Adele pulls her laptop out of her bag and starts setting up, plugging in and loading it up before responding.

[SCRAP_GAZER]: can i help you?
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: um
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: yes
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: i saw your thread about photo analysis…how you can look into them and see scraps.
[SCRAP_GAZER]: why not DM me on site?
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: dunno
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: i’m not very good at forum stuff and i don’t talk to people much
[SCRAP_GAZER]: i see.
[SCRAP_GAZER]: well, i am open to MessiRoom messages, i just usually prefer people to approach on there first.
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: sorry…
[SCRAP_GAZER]: it’s fine.
[SCRAP_GAZER]: did you have photos you want me to divine information from?
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: im not sure yet
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: im a photographer
[SCRAP_GAZER]: as the name would imply.
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: yeah
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: and i specialize in “haunted” photos
[SCRAP_GAZER]: interesting. go on
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: well
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: i go out on little
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: adventures
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: to get my photos
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: and i get a lot of pictures that are spooky but sometimes they feel legitimately haunted
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: sometimes i think it’s my ability’s fault because im a ghost type because itll show up weird on my camera but be fine when i upload it
[SCRAP_GAZER]: refresh me on ghost’s ability?
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: oh
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: um
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: stuff around me acts “haunted” sometimes
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: is what they told me in school…
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: i don’t…actually know what it means
[SCRAP_GAZER]: i have some hunches, though i wouldn’t have any way of testing them.
[SCRAP_GAZER]: at least, not without being in person or directing you over something like a video call.
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: oh??
[SCRAP_GAZER]: we can get into that in a minute. first, finish your thoughts about your photos
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: right
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: so
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: sometimes i think it’s my fault for making my camera’s display act weird, but sometimes the photos do come out kind of messed up
[SCRAP_GAZER]: define “messed up”
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: sometimes there’s handprints, or faces, or writing
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: like
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: it feels like they’re fake, it’s so obviously spooky
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: but im not faking them
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: i would never fake a picture
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: but other times there’s just something wrong with the pictures
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: they refuse to upload or display correctly a lot of the time and make me feel weird to look at when i can get them uploaded
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: when i do get attention online
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: it’s usually for those
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: because they feel kind of fucked up
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: and i dont know why
[SCRAP_GAZER]: do you think they’re dangerous?
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: i dont know
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: thats why i want your help and advice
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: i love taking pictures but i dont wanna hurt anyone
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: and
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: i dunno its stupid
[SCRAP_GAZER]: what is?
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: if there are ghosts making my pictures come out weird
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: i want to make sure theyre okay
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: because they seem upset all the time
[SCRAP_GAZER]: i don’t think that’s stupid.
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: really?
[SCRAP_GAZER]: ghosts are a life form just as much as any other, albeit complicated when it comes to how much sapience they actually have.
[SCRAP_GAZER]: they’re still to be respected. the fact that you’re interested in their wellbeing shows that you are responsible with your craft, and are curious for the right reasons
[SCRAP_GAZER]: i think you’re on the right track.
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: thanks…
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: i do have some pictures you could look at but idk if theyre going to be any useful for this
[SCRAP_GAZER]: well, we’ll just have to find out, won’t we?
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: how much does it cost again
[SCRAP_GAZER]: for now, i’m willing to waive the fee. you’ve piqued my interest
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: you sure?
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: i dont want to take advantage of you
[SCRAP_GAZER]: tell you what. if i can’t find any sign of paranormal activity, i’ll charge you.
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: deal
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: ok so here is one

The picture sent is warped, covered in noise and twisted marks. What was once there is unintelligible, with Adele unable to make even a little bit of it out.

There’s a distinct and powerful “off” feeling to it as soon as she gets a good look, and that only manages to give her a thrill.

[SCRAP_GAZER]: hm
[SCRAP_GAZER]: well, you’re right about one thing
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: oh?
[SCRAP_GAZER]: there is /definitely/ something up with this picture.
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: shit
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: really?
[SCRAP_GAZER]: zero doubt about it
[SCRAP_GAZER]: usually for discerning scraps in pictures i have to use my ability and an amplifier
[SCRAP_GAZER]: this one carries energy so strong i can get a reading off of it just innately. absolutely incredible stuff
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: is that
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: a good thing?
[SCRAP_GAZER]: we’ll have to take a closer look and see.
[SCRAP_GAZER]: give me a moment

If she had a mouth, it would have been pulled into a gleeful grin- she had done so many readings for people in the past few months, but this…is actually something to discover. So many nights spent looking over peoples’ keepsakes- and sure, finding bits and pieces of peoples’ pasts for them was fun and all, but what she lived for was the new, the unexplored, the unexplained…

She immediately fishes around for her ability amplifier, strapping it around her arm and focusing.

ADELE: Relax…and…
ADELE: Ascend.

She feels the innate knowledge of her “health” going down a point come into her mind, dismissing it- as long as she didn’t go too far, she’d be able to recover fine with some snacks. A second pair of arms unfurls, a wavy, cloud-like halo accented with scrap lookalikes forming around her neck. She doesn’t need a mirror to know that her eyes were full of stars, having seen it many, many times at this point.

Focusing, she turns to the photo.

ADELE: Divine.

Immediately upon using her ability, she’s blasted with feelings of discomfort and unease- extremely strong, with no direction to them. It’s clearly scraps, it has to be scraps, but there’s no memories to pick up on…just raw emotion. Feelings extending out and corrupting everything they touch, worming their way into her very mind-

She pulls back and shakes her head, ignoring the health ticking down from her attempt at divination.

ADELE: Damnit…

She tries again, pushing deeper.

Fear, panic, terror- things have gone wrong, horribly wrong, with no way to tell what, crying out for help but no one coming, the feeling of being abandoned-

When she pulls out of it this time, she’s shuddering. Taking a moment to recover and feeling a little woozy from the health loss, she leans back- but doesn’t unascend.

No, there's more work to do. More photos.

If she has to go down to the last safe health point, she will.

[SCRAP_GAZER]: so i took a look.
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: did you find anything?
[SCRAP_GAZER]: that’s…complicated.
[SCRAP_GAZER]: mainly very, very negative feelings. the weird thing is…
[SCRAP_GAZER]: i wasn’t able to pick up on any memories associated with them, and that’s /very/ unusual.
[SCRAP_GAZER]: i have some theories, but they may be unpleasant to go into. are you prepared for that?
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: yes
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: i need to know what’s happening with these…
[SCRAP_GAZER]: simply put, my theory is that you’ve got a case of “pseudo-ghosts” on your hands. scrap ghosts, that is
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: what’s that
[SCRAP_GAZER]: do these effects happen fairly consistently?
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: yeah…
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: i get them almost every time i go out
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: at least once
[SCRAP_GAZER]: i have reason to believe that it’s your ability and the fact that you’re going into scrap-heavy areas interacting, then.
[SCRAP_GAZER]: it’d be highly uncommon to encounter ghosts this much and this consistently, but i don’t think it’s just your ability screwing with things, either.
[SCRAP_GAZER]: i mentioned having theories towards how ghost type ability’s works.
[SCRAP_GAZER]: one of those would be that there’s an interaction between your scraps- even ones that haven’t fully shed yet- and those around you, which causes “hauntings”.
[SCRAP_GAZER]: objects being lifted, things shaking, strange noises…
[SCRAP_GAZER]: scrap ghosts are created when similar scraps cluster together and merge, and i think that your ability is doing some kind of…temporary projection, that latches onto residual scraps in your vicinity.
[SCRAP_GAZER]: i can get a read on the memories because of how weird and transient this connection is…it’s ever shifting, fluid, unable to be contained or examined fully
[SCRAP_GAZER]: i have so many more questions, but i’d need to look at more pictures.

There's a gap in messages, Adele waiting tensely for a response.

[PICTURE_PERFECT]: wait
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: so
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: are the emotions mine?
[SCRAP_GAZER]: that depends.
[SCRAP_GAZER]: i felt deep, horrible fear when i looked into the photos, feelings of being abandoned…
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: you can really get that from it…?
[SCRAP_GAZER]: clear as day.
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: well…
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: i guess you got me then
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: fuck
[SCRAP_GAZER]: well, you did want to make sure the ghosts are okay, right?
[SCRAP_GAZER]: looks like you need to take care of yourself first.
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: that is
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: really corny.
[SCRAP_GAZER]: as much as it may be, i did mean it. if you want your pictures to corrupt less, you should work on those feelings.
[SCRAP_GAZER]: however…they may still do so, just in different ways.
[SCRAP_GAZER]: i’d have to take a look at more to get a better grasp on the situation
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: i have more
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: and
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: thank you
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: i want to learn more…
[SCRAP_GAZER]: so do i.
[SCRAP_GAZER]: we’re in for a long night. let’s take on some more.

***skinstealer*** · 03-22-2024, 12:41 AM

Show Contentimage description:

5/30/316- EDEN

[Image: eden.png]

[image description: a tiny of eden, a ghost type TCP featuring a beige, skeleton-print body and teal, purple and red accents]

Eden floats amidst the rubble, taking the scenery in around himself- it was a long since abandoned factory, and definitely not TCP scale. But…the ghost type had heard rumors that there were TCPs working here at some point, before TCP-specific labor laws had even been put in place here in Heirloom…

Solitude had been…slow on the uptake for that. People had been assured that surely TCPs could put in just as much effort as anyone else, neglecting the fact that certain machinery malfunctions could easily be fatal to TCPs where a complex would be perfectly fine, and having no regulations on ability usage. Hearth had policies ready to go thanks to Wax’s preparations for the species’ “release”, but many places chose not to adopt immediately, most likely based on the fact that no one expected them to truly be as widespread as they were, even when warned about spawning mechanics...

Eden shakes his head, trying to get out of his historical musings. It was so easy to think about this kind of stuff, especially when he was out exploring…but that just made it more dangerous, and it was a habit he was trying to curb.

The ghost type floats over a particularly large chunk of concrete, stopping for a moment to hold up his digital camera and take a picture of the twisted rebar and wires nearby. Thankfully, the display shows no distortion- not today.

Ever since he’d talked to that wizard, things had been going better. Slowly, bit by bit, his photos were distorting less. He wasn’t sure why they were getting better, and sure, it had impacted how many people were looking at his pictures, but…maybe this was for the better. No more “pseudo-ghosts” or whatever.

He keeps moving, looking up and around at the structures towering above him- old machinery and-

Eden doesn’t notice the floor ending, tumbling into what feels like a chasm before he’s able to stop himself. He does manage to catch himself and float before hitting the ground, thank god, but looking up at the distance to fly up there…

He could do it, but the idea of being that high up in the open air scares him more than the prospect of looking for some stairs.

The factory’s emptiness feels worse and worse the more he wanders around the lower floor- a grim thought passes through his mind, grateful that Morbitian TCPs don’t leave corpses…down in this basement, it felt like there’d be all kinds of bodies.

He shivers a little, and starts to pick up the pace. The longer he stays down here, the more he’s going to get anxious, and he is already freaked out.

Just when he thinks his nerves couldn’t get any worse, he finds stairs- complex sized ones, requiring quite a bit of floating to get up…but at this point, he’ll deal with it.

He goes up and up and up and up, hope building up in his chest-

-only for the stairwell to be blocked off by rubble, concrete chunks compacted in an almost unnatural wall.

The ghost type sinks down to the floor, his fabric skin flattening a bit as he presses his head into his hands.

EDEN: This can’t be happening…I just, I just…

His mind races, subjecting him to flashes of endless hallways, screaming, chains around his neck-

EDEN: I j-just want to go home-

His phone buzzes in his bag, the sound startling him and sending the poor ghost type tumbling back.

It’s MessiRoom.

[PARTYS_OVER]: hey
[PARTYS_OVER]: you around?
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: sort of
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: im out exploring but i got stuck
[PARTYS_OVER]: stuck? what do you mean, stuck?
[PARTYS_OVER]: can’t you fly over things? through things?
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: …yes, but
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: im
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: scared of heights
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: and going through things

There’s a pause before any more messages come through, Eden’s anxiety spiking at the lack of response.

[PARTYS_OVER]: well…you have a way to get out, right?
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: i found some stairs
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: but they’re blocked off and im scared to try phasing through them
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: so im just
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: kind of scared
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: and im having bad brain stuff
[PARTYS_OVER]: it’s gonna be okay…
[PARTYS_OVER]: i’m here for you, alright?
[PARTYS_OVER]: i love you, and we’re gonna get through this.
[PARTYS_OVER]: okay? you got that?
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: i love you too
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: are you ok?
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: you messaged me first
[PARTYS_OVER]: eh, same old, same old. im still fucking trapped here
[PARTYS_OVER]: but…talking to you makes me feel better.
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: even when im like this?
[PARTYS_OVER]: yeah, dude
[PARTYS_OVER]: you’re my rock.
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: ghosts are like
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: the opposites of rocks
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: you could literally pass through me if you hugged me too hard
[PARTYS_OVER]: then i’ll give you the most gentle, soft hug i can.
[PARTYS_OVER]: does that help?

Eden can’t help but make a little sniffling noise at that.

[PICTURE_PERFECT]: yeah
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: thank you
[PARTYS_OVER]: what about that bad brain stuff? what’s going on?
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: just
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: ive been trying not to think about what happened
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: with my old family
[PARTYS_OVER]: with the like…maze stuff?
[PICTURE_ PERFECT]: yeah
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: thinking about what it was like to just
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: be stuck in that place
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: not even phasing could get me through all the walls
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: i got scared of getting stuck and
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: idk
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: wandering around these places
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: getting stuck and needing to find ways out
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: never being sure what’s on the other side of a wall
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: it reminds me of it
[PARTYS_OVER]: then…why do you keep coming to places like that?
[PARTYS_OVER]: wouldn’t you want to stay AWAY from stuff that reminds you of the maze?

He isn’t sure what to say to that- the thought had crossed his mind many times, that he could just…stop. He could stick to taking pictures of nice places, forests, gardens, places that didn’t have chances of pseudo-ghosts showing up, or him getting trapped, or-

…But he doesn’t want to.

He takes a minute to gather his words.

[PICTURE_PERFECT]: if i keep coming to places like this
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: i dont know
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: maybe ill be able to face it better
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: because here i’m in control
[PARTYS_OVER]: …i don’t know if that’s the best idea, but…
[PARTYS_OVER]: i can’t…stop you, i guess.
[PARTYS_OVER]: if this is something you feel like you have to tackle on, then you should do that.
[PARTYS_OVER]: but please, find some kind of /safer/ way to do it, /please/.
[PICTURE_PERFECT]: ill try
[PARTYS_OVER]: okay…
[PARTYS_OVER]: you’re going to be okay, eden. i know you will be.

Before Eden can type a reply, there’s the sound of the rubble next to him moving. He’s immediately up in the air, scooting far away from the blockage- only for just enough of it to move for him to see a way through. …an almost perfectly shaped way through. He very quickly types a response to his partner before floating forward.

[PICTURE_PERFECT]: hold on
[PARTYS_OVER]: what?
[PARTYS_OVER]: what is it?

There’s a pair of eyes watching him from the other side of the rubble, burning into his own eyespots. There’s an immediate feeling of dread coursing through him as he does, and he almost recoils- but there’s…warmth, as well.

Relief.

Freedom.

EDEN: …what are you?

The eyes disappear as soon as they came, leaving the ghost type alone again.

EDEN: Wait-

He reaches through the passage, only getting unnaturally cold air that fades before he can even process it fully.

EDEN: …thank you.

The little ghost takes a moment to steel his nerves, and goes through the passageway. It’s a tense moment, but he fits right through without needing to phase through anything, and after going up the stairs…

He’s back in the main floor space, the door at the far end of the building open, inviting him to get the hell out of here.

He pauses for a moment, taking out his camera and aiming it at the empty space in front of him.

Eyes on the digital display, the same as earlier, just…watching amidst a shadowy body. Eden takes a few times to glance between the display and reality, and sure enough- it’s invisible, but very present.

He takes a picture, and gives a little wave, lingering just a few moments before making a beeline for the door.

He wouldn’t be coming back to this one anymore, but…

Maybe he’d see the ghost again.

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