BUT IT'S NOT WHAT I WAS HOPING FOR

JCINK OR PROBOARDS? We're currently deliberating upon this potential move to the Jcink platform. Jcink has several tools that allow for automation of staffwork. Of course, it also has the added benefit of more mature content being allowed. Still! Nothing is confirmed. If you have any thoughts or opinions, please let me know!

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played by

aphelion

ada

they/them

thirty-seven

october 11

lavender town

greysexual

secretary

civilian

5'7" (170.18 cm) height

if grief is an amputation, then hope is an incurable hemophilia

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30 posts

DOLLARS

part of

TAG WITH @adele

adele veronesi

whiskey lemonade

POSTED ON Jun 18, 2024 8:08:32 GMT

index finger twitches, middle sliding against it in search of the stem of a champagne glass to press in-between, and finds none.

instead, fingertips find purchase in something soft and rough at the same time. not blankets, but not a bar floor either. carpet. their back hurts. still floor. just not dirty, sticky floor. well. not sticky, at least. maybe dirty. they haven't vacuumed in a while.

then, there's—light. and a breeze. and there is—

"luce,"

—ah.

their eyelids unfurl slowly like curtains, vision is spotted with flecks of black and pops of white, then warms with the sight of a familiar pair of webbed feet and a stout, yellow blob with feathers. adele hears themself blinking.

"good morning, luce."

the psyduck leans down, preening as he places his face in the palm of their hands. he places his cold wings on theirs in greeting.

their voice is more of a rasp than they expect it to be. "can you close the curtains?" but, as usual, luce can't parse the question being asked of him, so adele sighs and hauls themself up, vertebrae stacking on top one another until it composes them.

they trudge towards the windowed balcony to take care of it themself when something catches their eye. not something—someone. a face that they can't recognize and that is obscured all the more by long, ivory hair.

the first thought that comes to mind and out of mouth: "you don't think she's dead, do you?"

the second thought: "how heavy do you think she is?"

crouching down, adele snaps their fingers in the body's face then shakes her by the shoulder. "hey, wake up." no sense in losing their security deposit like this.

calla roth

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played by

lou

cal, calla lily

she/her

twenty-five

june 3rd

viridian city, kanto

heterosexual

matias’ PA / PR rep

ace

lost in you

and your eyes on the floor in your room

5'0 height

knew you weren’t ready for a girl like me, my honey’s only sweet if you can take the sting.

awards

321 posts

DOLLARS

part of

TAG WITH @cal

calla roth

whiskey lemonade

POSTED ON Jun 28, 2024 22:37:58 GMT

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Calla floats somewhere in the ether of cloudy unconsciousness. Her internal clock that should have woken her up at 6:30 AM sharp muted by the blanket of insobriety that had been draped over her cognition the night prior.[break][break]
Eyes glued shut, she shifts uncomfortably–reluctant to rouse even for a moment. Even to roll over into a more comfortable position. Somewhere underwater, she can hear someone muttering to her, asking her something as a weight settles on her shoulder and shakes.[break][break]
“Uri–shutupyou’retooloud,” she grumbles back at who she assumes is her boyfriend trying to get her up and going. A limp hand swats uselessly at the nuisance, then flops against the floor again.[break][break]
Her mouth smacks once, then twice. It feels like a desert, it’s so dry. Is her tongue made of sandpaper like a purrloin’s? She has half a mind to roll over and bury her face in the plush fur of Furia’s many snowy tails. But when her hand slaps the ground next to her, there is no softness waiting for her.[break][break]
Ground. Not mattress.[break][break]
A rogue shiver crawls through her when it subconsciously registers that she is cruelly blanketless.[break][break]
She is on the floor and she has no blanket.[break][break]
Finally her eyes snap open into a painful state of awareness.[break][break]
Two sets of eyes peer down at her as she pushes disheveled hair from her face. Decidedly not the familiar figure of URIAH BLACK. “What,” her voice scratches up her throat, and she sounds more like froakie than a person.[break][break]
But being awake makes room for panic.[break][break]
“Where am I?” she asks, voice low and vaguely threatening. As if she can be any sort of feasible threat with a pounding head and a mind fuzzy enough to make her forget who it is observing her.[break][break]
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[attr="class","nametag"] adele veronesi

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[attr="class","icon-ice"] we’re rlly in it now!!

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SOCIAL

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