#the only words i struggle to spell are guarantee (because WHY does the u come first wtf why is there even a u in the first place)

[caffeinatedopossum]

I sure have a lot of indicators for dyslexia 👁👄👁

Too bad my parents just assumed I was stupid and ingrained into me the mentality that there can't possibly be any valid excuses for why I'm struggling hahaha

[elsaclack]

This is really random but I saw a fic of yours about Amy being sick (I think the prompt was "Amy yells at the Vulture") but I can't find the full piece anywhere. Is it on AO3 anywhere? I love your writing and I completely understand if you just didn't want it out anymore. Just thought I'd ask! :)

i thought it was but i just went and searched my entire work history (including all 70+ chapters of those god-forsaken oneshot collections) and i couldn’t find it anywhere!! i guess i forgot to cross-post it back when i first wrote it, and it got lost when i deleted the original elsaclack. but i just scoured my docs list and found it buried in a random folder so i’ll repost it here and add it to the newest one-shot collection on ao3 :)

fun fact: this was written almost exactly 2 years ago!!! meaning that my writing skills have developed considerably since i actually wrote this. aka please don’t judge me if this seems like a sudden regression haha

also i wanna tag @phil-the-stone-art bc we actually developed the concept of The List together so she’s at least 35% responsible for this fic lmao

under the cut!

Amy Santiago does not get sick, thank you very much. She prides herself on her meticulous nightly hygienic rituals, on the cabinet full of multivitamins and minerals she takes on a daily basis in her bathroom, on the rigorous workout routine and diet she keeps herself on each week to maintain perfect health. She lives her life by a very tight plan (laid out in checklists and carefully organized in color-coded binders) that simply does not afford her any extra time to be sick.

Which is why, when she wakes up one Tuesday morning with a head stuffed full of cotton and violent shivers rolling down her spine, she gets up to start her usual routine in spite of the fact that she feels like she hasn’t actually slept in three weeks. Jake’s still snoring on the other side of the bed, another hour away from getting up to haphazardly dress in whatever flannel he can find lying on her bedroom floor that doesn’t smell too dirty, and he doesn’t even stir at the sound of her shuffling footsteps or running nose.

She drags herself into the bathroom, shuts the door, and flicks the lights on. Her reflection honestly makes her jump back an inch or two; she’s never seen her skin quite so pale, or bruises beneath her eyes quite so dark, or her lips quite so visibly dry and cracked. She reaches out to grip the edges of her sink and realizes that her arms and hands are trembling, and when she leans a bit more weight onto them she notes that her knees are quaking beneath her.

All in all, not a great start to the day.

She presses on, though, ignoring her running nose and congested head and general exhaustion. The shower helps a little, but not much.

When she shuts the water off, she hears Jake moving around in her bedroom, and her heart skips a beat. She hadn’t even realized she’d been in the shower that long. “Jake?” She calls as she wraps a towel around herself. Her voice is coarse and rough.

“Hey,” he knocks lightly at the door. “You okay?”

“Yeah - yeah, could you, um…there’s a binder out on the dining room table, should say something on the cover about that case I was working on last night -” she clears her throat and winces at the sharp pain that responds “- could you grab it and put it in my bag?”

“Sure,” he’s quiet for a moment and Amy’s left to gently rub at her temples with the heels of her hands. “Are you sure you’re okay? You sound awful.”

“I’m…I’m fine.”

But she’s not. Her knees are still quaking and vertigo has suddenly set in and she’s swaying, reaching out to grab the tiled edge of her shower. Her hand slips against the wet surface and she falls forward, shoulder banging painfully into the tiles.

The door swings open and Jake bursts inside in a panic. “Ames? Oh my God!” She suddenly realizes that she’d sunk down to a crouching position upon falling. He kneels next to her, gently pulling her away from the shower and letting her lean heavily into him. Her head falls against his shoulder, forehead pressed to the crook of his neck, and she hears him tut. “You’re burning up, babe,” he says quietly.

“I’m fine,” her voice fails half-way through and she ends up finishing in an unconvincing whisper.

“You’re not going to work today,” he tells her.

“But -”

“You almost fainted just now, Amy. You’re staying home sick today.”

She tries to argue but he pulls her up off the ground, keeping his touch firm and steady should gravity leave her again, and her voice completely dies on the way out of the bathroom. He lets her whisper weak arguments as he steers her gently toward the bed, humming and nodding along as he pulls fresh sweatpants up her legs and eases one of his academy shirts over her head. He pushes back on her good shoulder with just enough force that she lays down and pulls the comforter up to her chin. Her eyelids flutter closed when he presses a kiss against her forehead.

“I’ll tell Captain Holt where you are,” he says quietly. His hand finds hers against the mattress, fingers twisting through hers. “Get some sleep, okay?”

She’s asleep before he even gets out the front door.

A few hours later she’s roused by the sound of her phone vibrating on her bedside table. Sunlight streams in through her window and she squints, disoriented, fumbling around with semi-numb fingers for her phone.

From: Jake PeraltaHow u feelin? Miss u at work. Charles says he’ll bring u goat soup later lol

It hurts to even swallow, and Amy has to work really hard to keep from whining at the splitting headache igniting behind her right eye.

To: Jake PeraltaFeel like garbage. I haev a headache. Im afraid to get out of bed for meds. Miss u too

She waits five minutes for him to respond, and when her phone remains motionless, she closes her eyes and lets it fall against her chest.

Precisely twenty minutes after that, she hears her front door open. It closes again and she hears footsteps crossing her living room and it only just hits her that someone is in her apartment when those footsteps cross the threshold of her bedroom.

“Hey, hey, don’t get out of bed,” Jake says soothingly. Amy falls back against her pillow from her struggling half-sitting up position as Jake drops a plastic grocery bag at the foot of her bed and perches on the edge of the mattress beside her. He replaces her phone back on her bedside table with one hand and smooths his other palm over her forehead (and she only just then realizes that she’s sweating) and grimaces. “You’re still burning up,” he says, running his fingers through her hair just above her forehead.

“I’m fine,” she whispers, and the words slip out between two wet coughs.

He frowns and gently scratches his short nails against her scalp. “I brought Advil,” he says, casting an absent glance over his shoulder at the bag he brought in, “and stuff to make soup. It’s the recipe for Nana’s matzoh ball soup.” She raises her eyebrows beneath his palm and he grins down at her. “Don’t tell Charles, but it’s literally the best soup you’ll ever have and it’ll cure your dumb cold in twenty minutes or less.”

“Promise?”

He leans down and pecks a kiss against her forehead. “Promise,” he says when he leans away. “I’m gonna go make some and bring it in here and you’ll be back on your feet before the end of the day. Peralta Guarantee.” He winks.

She sinks down into the mattress as much as she can when he stands up, opening her eyes only when he comes back in with two Advil tablets and a glass half-full of water. Within minutes she begins hearing pots and pans knock around in her kitchen, and through her cloudy mind she registers that her stomach is rumbling in irritation.

“Alright,” he announces from her doorway. Her eyes split open and he’s carefully balancing the soup bowl on top of her dresser. “I’ll help you sit up, don’t move.”

He pulls her up with one hand and waits until she’s sitting up steadily before hurriedly stacking her pillows up behind her. She breathes a sigh of relief when she leans back, not realizing just how much of a strain sitting up is until that moment. He hurries back to where the soup is still steaming and carefully brings it over to her, the tip of his tongue appearing at the corner of his mouth for how hard he has to concentrate on not spilling any.

He nestles it in her lap, and she smiles, because he looks so proud of himself and he’s really so adorable.

Jake stays with her until she finishes the whole bowl and then he takes her dishes from her and quickly rinses them out in her sink.

“I’ll be back after work to check on you and to finish cleaning that, okay?” He calls from her doorway.

She hums hoarsely and fades out of consciousness.

An hour later, Amy wakes up feeling half-human. Her head and throat still hurt and she still can’t breathe out of her nose, but her brain doesn’t feel quite so fried and her limbs don’t feel quite so weak anymore.

Jake was right - the soup really did help.

Not as much as Nyquil would, but…still.

She kicks the comforter off and moves to sit up, and her phone suddenly falls into her lap from her chest. She pauses, staring at it, trying to remember when it ended up back there. She has no new calls or texts, but when she unlocks the screen, there’s a new note pulled up.

Things i want t odo to jake in bed

Amy feels flames engulf her face that have absolutely nothing to do with her fever. The list has twelve items on it, each one raunchier and riddled with more spelling errors than the last, and by the time she gets to the end of the note she’s covering her face in embarrassment. She’s got just the vaguest memory of typing it (and it’s really more of a dream of a memory than anything else), but none of it will solidify into more than just faint snapshots in her head.

But the more she rereads it, the more heat begins building in her body - heat from the mental images, heat from the germs ravaging her body, heat from the thick comforter still draped over her legs.

She has got to go get some Nyquil.

Santiago Determination blazes through her as she drags herself out of bed, shoulders set and jaw clenched as she pulls one of Jake’s hoodies over her frame and slides her feet into her rarely-worn flip-flops. Part of her feels guilty, knowing that if Jake was the one home sick she’d insist on him texting her anything he needs so that he would stay in bed and recover faster, but she brushes it off as she grabs her purse.

What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right?

She blames her scattered brain on the matzoh ball soup later. She blames her compromised detective skills and her lack of attention to detail and her general disorientation on the soup. Because under normal circumstances, no matter how sick she truly is, she would definitely have noticed the Vulture browsing the low aisles of the bodega around the corner from her house immediately upon walking through the front doors.

But as it is, she doesn’t, which means that he gets a visual on her before she’s even aware of being spotted.

She’s so busy perusing the medicine section toward the back that she doesn’t notice him stalking around the shelves, doesn’t feel him peeking around the Doctor Scholl’s cardboard display, doesn’t hear him mutter at a mother and daughter to get out of his way as he follows her ambling walk down the aisle. She isn’t aware of the danger until he’s basically on top of her.

“Yo, Santiago,” he says, his voice low and curdling. She winces and turns slowly, and he’s leaned against the shelves to her left, leering down at her. A handcart hangs between them; it’s full of at least thirty boxes of condoms, she realizes when she glances down. Her stomach shifts unpleasantly. “You look homeless.”

“Get out of the way,” she whispers hoarsely.

“Aw, what’s the matter? Peralta got you screaming so hard every night you lost your voice?”

Heat bursts through her cheeks and she glances back, meeting the scandalized look on that same mother’s face with an apologetic grimace. “Shut up.” She snaps as fiercely as she can.

He smirks, because her voice only comes in bursts. “Damn, you really let yourself go, didn’t you?” His eyes rove her body and she’s suddenly very keenly aware of the fact that she’s not wearing any underwear beneath her sweatpants. She can feel her face blossoming.

“Whatever.” She turns away quickly and digs her phone out of her purse, cursing when she hears the Vulture following her down the aisle. She dials Jake’s number quickly, and he answers after just two rings.

“Hey, is everything oka-”

“I need you go come to the bodega by my apartment,” she whispers. She can feel her hand trembling again and she curses whatever part of her thought it would be a good idea to do this on her own.

“Wait, what? Why are you -”

“I thought I could walk over here and get what I needed without you, but -” she winces at the sound of the Vulture’s laugh, loud and obnoxious behind her. “But I ran into someone and I need you to come save me.”

“Santiago, look - they do make extra-small condoms! Should I put a whole box in for you and Peralta or is that too many?”

She hears a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. “Is that the Vulture?” He asks quietly.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes. Do not faint.”

“I’m doing my best, but please hurry.”

Amy starts pacing up and down the aisles, doing her best to block the Vulture out. He trails along behind her, alternating between making lewd sexual innuendos about random items on the shelves they pass (“Everything’s a sex toy if you try hard enough,” while pointing out a plastic broom) and insulting her general appearance (“Y’know, you were much sexier before Peralta dragged you down to his level of ugliness. Just make sure your ass doesn’t get as fat as his”). It’s around the time they make it back to the medicine aisle that he turns to making fun of Jake himself.

“I still can’t believe you’re with that loser,” he laughs as Amy finally swipes a bottle of Nyquil off a lower shelf. She stands up slowly, gripping the shelves above her firmly, as a wave of vertigo hits her once again. “You’re hot as shit usually - not right now, obviously - I bet you could sleep with any guy you want.”

She clenches her jaw and tries to calculate how long it’s been since she hung up with Jake.

“I bet the sex is really boring, too,” the Vulture continues. “I bet it’s all missionary and full of, like, eye-contact and shit. I bet he tells you he loves you because you don’t make fun of his tiny weiner.”

“Okay, y’know what?” She snaps, and suddenly her voice is half back. “First of all, there’s nothing wrong with missionary if you do it right. Secondly, you’re full of crap if you really think eye-contact is boring. Third, you’re right, he does tell me he loves me, because he actually loves me, you sexist pig. And fourth, he’s not tiny.”

“Whatever. He’s a joke, just like you, and I bet the sex sucks and you’re both so bad at it that you can’t even tell that it sucks.”

She knows people are staring, but her brain just isn’t functioning right. She yanks her phone out of her purse and quickly scrolls over to her list. “Jake’s the best sex I’ve ever had, okay? In fact, he’s so good that I made a list!” She shoves her phone in his face and scrolls quickly, grinning in manic triumph at the dumbfounded look on his face. “I made a list of all the things I want to do with him because he’s so unbelievably good. You wish you were as good as him.”

He is, for once, speechless. Amy locks her phone and steps back, smug grin on her face. The Vulture’s eyes flicker to something over her shoulder and she sees the spark of recognition in his face; when she turns, she feels her stomach drop down to her toes.

Jake’s standing at the end of the aisle, looking just as dumbstruck as the Vulture. She gasps, and the sound comes out like a ragged squeak. His mouth is hanging open but his brows draw together at the sound.

“Ja- Jake,” she says hoarsely.

This seems to snap him out of his stupor. His mouth snaps closed and he immediately begins striding down the aisle toward her and there’s something new in his eyes - smug and barely-contained glee, maybe - when he throws his arm around her shoulders. “Hi, honey,” he says, laying a kiss against her temple and pulling the bottle of Nyquil from her grasp. “Let’s get you back in bed.”

“Yeah, well, you’re both a couple of losers!” The Vulture shouts after them. Jake twists around and flashes his middle finger at him and grins into Amy’s hair at the sound of his splutters. “I’m buying thirty-five boxes of condoms!”

“You’re amazing.” Jake murmurs once they’re outside of the store. “But next time, just call me instead of trying to go get stuff on your own. I really don’t mind doing it for you. That’s what boyfriends are for.”

She sinks into the passenger’s seat of his car and sighs in relief; her body is already aching from the exertion of just a lap around the bodega. She feels Jake slide in on the driver’s side, feels the engine roar to life beneath her and the air conditioner tickle across her face. The car lurches a little when he puts it in drive and then his free hand finds hers and interlaces their fingers.

“I’m sorry about…that.” She whispers once he’s pulled away from the curb.

“It’s fine, but I really mean it about calling me next time, okay? ‘Specially since you almost fainted this morning and everything, like, what would’ve happened if you’d fallen and hit your head and they took you to the hospital? They would’ve called Manny and it would’ve taken him three hours to get here and -”

“Wait, no, they’d call you,” she interrupts. “Manny’s not my emergency contact anymore. You are.”

He turns his head toward her and stares.

“I changed it two years ago, Peralta. Way before we started dating. I just figured, y’know, since you’re my partner and everything, you’d be able to get there the fastest. And, besides, that’s not even what I was talking about. I meant…the stuff I said to the Vulture. The list.”

“Oh,” he shrugs. “I don’t really care. The guy’s an ass. I could hear him yelling all the way from the front doors. Besides, you weren’t lying.”

He squeezes her hand a few times in quick succession and she snorts. “So you’re…not mad? About any of it?”

“I’m more curious than anything else. Do I get to look at the list, too? Or is that just between you and the Vulture?”

“I can’t stand you.”

She does let him see it once they’re back to her place. He reads each item carefully three times over without ever saying a word, and then stands and grabs his laptop and a notepad off of her dining room table. When she asks what he’s doing, he responds with a muttered “research” and then promptly tells her to finish her soup.

The night passes in a haze that has nothing to do with the cold or the soup or the medicine, and the next morning she wakes to the sounds of Jake’s congested voice explaining through chest-rumbling coughs that neither he nor Amy would be making it into work that day.

[awfullyhorriblybadfantrolls]

i know hell

i heard you liked cihuco ;) oh god

(this is super long because i get p i s s e d about a tenth of the way through about the misrepresentation and romanticization of mental illness so it’s under a cut. be wary of the discourse i’ve inevitably started)

-

When she wants she can become 2, both of her personalities taking a body. I realize she looks like a dude…she’s made to look like me…and since I look like a dude…yeah…you sound very uncertain about that The shirt symbols were tribal designs I found forever ago and tweaked slightly…i feel like that might be offensive and here’s what it says behind them.

Potens sidera pateris me Dilamino Mortem et Vulture Duae solae Duae aequalia Eodem sensu Duae corpora Iterum Which translates from Latin into Powerful stars allow me to Split in two Death and Vulture Two separate Two equal Same mind Two bodies Once again

i had my friend who’s learning latin translate this for me and he got

“My strong star father. I split death and the vulture in two [or “i’m split in two. death and the vulture] two alone two of the same a sense of purpose two bodies again”

he also added that it’s very badly translated and has no proper declension or cases and vulture isn’t a word in latin apparently

“they definitely used pateris when they shoulda used poddiderit”

-

you’re welcome hey also? there’s more. 

cihuco: i know i’m weird cihuco: i know my blood makes you sick cihuco: i know i’m not normal also cihuco: can you accept me for me now because i just told you all of my problems

Pesterchum name: bonesbloodSkullprotect excuse me

Typing Issue: uses txt tlk & symbols b/c she tends 2 tlk kinda fast, however if she’s perfectly calm she will spell things out completely unlike Morgan. she only capitalizes names & sometimes I’s…sometimes not. i don’t know why i hate this so much

Font Color: After finding a way to alternate between Fire Red and Water Blue water isn’t blue asshole she keeps it on so 1 sentence will be red, the next blue. However, if she’s really pissed it goes completely red and if somehow she’s completely and utterly calm it will go completely blue. i have more of an idea why i hate this so much but i do

Cimi (Death, Transformer, Worldbridger. 6th Mayan day sign) what

what is this in reference to

Symbol: skulls of any kind, so the design on her shirt changes constantly. usually the skull is White (which is the color of Death in Mayan astrology) and Red (which has come to symbolize Death now not really) Sometimes the skull will have a vulture on/near it. As the Vulture is the foe of Death, this presumably means she is her own greatest enemy. …that’s actually kind of cool

Mythological entity named for that’s a really specific category: Aztec goddess Cihuacoatl (Partly a fire goddess …….cihuacoatl was a motherhood and fertility goddess?)

and was associated with midwives and, uh, sweatbaths

and the Celtic goddess Acionna (Partly a water goddess) are you saying both goddesses are only partially affiliated with fire and water, respectively because cihuacoatl is not at all associated with fire as far as i know and acionna is only associated with water

Blood Color: Metallic Cyan…? Or…possibly between Cyan and Topaz…hard to tell when it turns to crystal not long after being (over) exposed to oxygen or any other chemicals in the air. what the fuck kind of blood Naturally the air born air born. born from the air chemicals effect how big and dark the crystals are. 

God Tier: Witch of Rage

Duel horns match her dueling personalities. duel horns. her horns fucking fight all the time. her personalities also duel. they engage in fisticuffs every other tuesday She’s Bipolar or Schizo…or both…i was gonna draw a reaction image but my tablet stopped working again so i’m just gonna have to settle for a firm “STOP. FUCK YOU”. also, i’m not really sure you understand what bipolar disorder or schizophrenia actually are. also also schizo is considered a slur because of the derogatory nature it’s used in. bye sweaty as such her personality changes instantly and usually without warning. i was right

listen up kids lemme give you a lil fuckin lesson on these two mental illnesses that are portrayed very very badly and overromanticized by this person:

“Bipolar disorder, also known as manic-depressive illness, is a brain disorder that causes unusual shifts in mood, energy, activity levels, and the ability to carry out day-to-day tasks.” (nimh.nih.gov)

this does not mean someone with bipolar will “change personalities instantly”, it only dictates mood changes, so fuck you on that

symptoms of bipolar include: periods of unusually intense emotion, changes in sleep patterns, activity levels, as well as unusual behavior. these are called “mood episodes” and vary wildly from person to person.(manic episode) being very “jumpy” with increased activity levels, prone to agitation, risky behaviors, talking really fast about a bunch of different things and feeling as though they can do many things at once, (depressive episode) feeling dead inside, as if you’re heavy and have no energy to even move, perhaps at the same time empty and unfulfilled with no desire to do things you usually love, sleeping too much or too little, frequent thoughts about death/suicide and probably making plans about it

to quote myself, “bipolar […] only dictates mood changes, so fuck you on that”

let’s get to probably the most self-dx’ed and romanticized mental illness now

“Schizophrenia is a chronic and severe mental disorder that affects how a person thinks, feels, and behaves. People with schizophrenia may seem like they have lost touch with reality.”

where are you seeing personality change. i’m not seeing personality change. schizophrenia is, very over-simply, an inability to tell what’s real or not anymore.

symptoms of this disorder include: hallucinations, delusions, “flat effect” (reduced expression of emotions through facial expressions or tone of voice), reduced speaking and enjoyment in life, troubles focusing or paying attention or executive functioning (the ability to understand and use information to make decisions) or working memory (the ability to use that information immediately after learning it)

so ? honie ? where. literally where. i am abridging this but i guarantee i’m not purposefully leaving out “personality changes instantly and usually without warning”. you know why? 

because it’s not fucking there

what a surprise someone is romanticizing and at the same time not understanding and yet still undermining the struggles of mental illness

a little personal here but i’m friends with a girl who’s bipolar and buddy it’s not fun for her. her three moods are hypomanic, prepared for death, and panic attack. there is no personality change. only genuine struggle because mental illness isn’t pretty or a decoration for your self insert oc

bye sweaty,,,,,

Generally she can control the voices in her head inaccurate…………………, unless someone pisses her off. When she’s pissed off her eyes change from the normal (for her) golden with red spots to red swirls with icy blue as well. her pupils are actually dark blue. Because of this mutation, she usually wears super sweet red glasses with 3 points on each lens (most likely to represent 6, as in the sixth Day Sign). what does any of this mean in any capacity When she’s alone she argues with herself a lot, rather then keeping the voices bottled up…sometimes they’re her only company, after all… how fucking lonely do you have to be to argue with your voices jesus i almost feel bad now The only good thing about the dueling personalities is it allows her to control both water and fire. dueling personalities……………….

I suppose duel personalities may not be the right word no, it’s not. you mean dual personalities…as she it literally 2 different trolls stuck in one body…both Death and the Vulture live within her, Death being dominate. y tho She has the ability to seperate into both of these trolls for short times. HOW THO When she does Death becomes red, takes on the fire part of her powers, and uses only red psyonics psyonics in addition to taking the top horns and the red stripe in her hair. Vulture becomes blue, takes on the water, bottom horns, blue hair tips, and uses blue psyonics. It’s also worth saying her psyonic abilities are almost completely unusable to her just…in general. They generally show up without her knowing or control. “The only good thing about the dueling personalities is it allows her to control both water and fire.” …..???

She is incredibly good at video games, always coming just short of Sol when they play she gets points for not being BETTER THAN SOL XD SHE’S SOOOOO GOOD AT VIDEO GAMES but five points don’t help your current score of like -928374929871…there is one genera

“there’s one principle taxonomic category that ranks above species and below family, denoted by a capitalized latin name she’s better at though”

she’s better at though. She’s better at Horror games then he is because she is “very attune to death, whether it be real or virtual”. not all horror games have death also what does this even mean. i’m so confused She and Sol do a lot of gaming together and the main problem with her duality is that Vulture likes Eridan and Death like Sollux…however, seeing as Death is the main personality she get’s 1st pick…this has caused Vulture much annoyance and caused her to try taking over more often. uh

-extra info not needed-

Relations:

Aradia: BFFs do NOT bring my spooky wife into this. stay the FUCK away from my ghost girlfriend

Aaron and Morgan: Auspices between them. She describes them as constantly fighting as a serpent would with an eagle…they have no idea what she’s talking about. they’re dumb af have u ever seen an eagle pick up and consume a snake

Morgan: Good friend, as Death is the friend of the Serpent. i have no idea where you heard this but okay

Aaron: Good friend, as the Vulture is friends with the Eagle which she believes he would have been born under if he was born a troll. …there’s an eagle constellation? also vultures are friends with eagles? oh shit there actually is an eagle constellation it’s called aquila Her being good friends with both is why she’s also a good auspice. auspice would be a verb. the noun is auspistice

Jenny: Moirail

Vriska: probable Kismasis KISMASIS, the only thing they can agree on is they dislike the spider. since when did vriska dislike spiders

Other Humans: Takes to usually helping them randomly and with no warning ……….??????????

Other Trolls: Iffy, as they used to avoid her at all cost because of her mutation. However, because some of the others now are known to have mutations they don’t care as much. dude i’d fuckin care. her metallic blood makes me sick

Jaslusolo: a combination of jaculus (Snake)

and pervolo (to fly).

Her lusus, managed to escape just before the reckoning but couldn’t get to Cihuco in time to bring her as well. cihuco would’ve fuckin died?? if the reckoning wasn’t stopped the session would become null She is a feathered, winged serpent which resembles Cihuacoatl.

…..winged serpent who ?

With her help she is able to actually fly back in time what the fuck and to what she calls her “true home” on earth back with the Mayans. earth doesn’t exist yet bicht She speaks their language fluently as well, 

which one

and she is the one who told them of the end of the world. no, the mayan end of the world was predicted by the mayan calendar and the popol vuh, a compilation of the accounts of creation of the k’iche’ maya. the popul vuh states that the gods first created and failed at creating three worlds, then placed humanity in the first successful word. in the maya long count, the previous world had ended after 13 b’ak’tuns (around 5,125 years) and december 21st, 2012, was when the mayan date struck 13.0.0.0.0 which they believed to bring about the destruction of this world and the formation of a new one, this starting the cycle again. try again hunty 

Jansin Aciona: Dancestor, can’t stand her. yeah i can’t stand you either she’s named after Jowangsin, the Korean goddess of fire.

who

oh sorry do you mean jowangsHin, goddess of the kitchen?

She was relatively good friennds with Nivnaj…not as good as you’d expect though. She was Cronus’ matesprite. ok bye

The Poet: that is definitely not eight letters Ancestor, most likely deceased. Was matesprits with The Wisest. still not eight letters Aporev: Close friends

Strife Portfolio: X2Whipkind, X2Bladekind sure whatever

Fetch Modus Setting: Pictionary Advanced -The advanced just means she can draw what happens with what’s on the card and it happens. ughhhhhhhhhhhhh like if she wants it to shoot out and hit someone- then what. please do tell. the suspense is killing me

Age: 7.4 Alternian Solar Sweeps (16 earth years)

Planet: Land of Pulse and Haze (Original planet destroyed. Presumably she started in The Land of Tents and Mirth, which is associated with the Rage part, but liked LOPAH better so claims it as “Home”) THAT AIN’T YOURS BITCH PUT IT BACK

Name Breakdown (Troll) : “Acionna was a Gallo-Roman water goddess, attested in the Orléanais region.” -Wiki. which one Not much is known about the goddess other then she was most likely representative of water. This is where her last name came from. “In Aztec mythology, Cihuacoatl was one of a number of motherhood and fertility goddesses.” -Wiki …..if you knew this then…….y tho

Name Breakdown (Pesterchum) : Acionna was thought to be protection, Cihuacoatl supposedly helped make the current race from ancient bones and blood of Quetzalcoatl (Who mainly gets the credit). Skull is the symbol for death. The other reason the trolls avoided her was because she showed literally as [BS] which is what they thought she was full of are you saying she’s not? until Sollux started saying the same thing a long time after. Perhaps because the goddess she was named after, Cihuacoatl, she was not named for any goddess her name was incoherently gurgled out of her winged snake goddess-that’s-she’s-supposedly-named-after of a lusus supposedly created the current race…she had a stronger connection psychically to happenings…the problem is sorting what’s true and what’s not from the voices in her head.

Info on her Mutation: This is what happens when a troll falls in love with a local. love is love but this thing is disgusting don’t do it again It is unknown who exactly they were, as the blood is to diluted to guess who they could have possibly been. ????????? look i’m no med student but i’m at least 98% sure that’s not how blood works  This…sorda leads to say that it was mostly the local’s (whatever or whoever it was) blood taking over. wait i thought it was too diluted by……other blood, i guess?? what the fuck even is this It is probable, it seems, that one of them was able to wield fire and the other water, thus resulting in the duel personalities. why do i hate this sentence so much

Personality(s?) Qualities: Issues with anyone who tries to tell her what to do, she tends to sometimes contradict herself and speaks in riddles which are always hard to figure out except when they’re not and they’re easy. wow thanks had no idea She hosts qualities from both Death and Vulture, and they are as follows. Death is “open to ideas and willing to make sacrifices for the greater good…sensitive to endings of any kind, and it can be hard for (her) to accept losses. Practical, Oversensitive, Fragile.” While the Vulture is “very self-aware and concerned about (her) status in the world. (She) places a high value on life experiences, wanting to learn as much as possible from the triumphs and challenges they offer. (She) can appear a bit jaded and ruthless to others, but that is because (she) sees things as they are and thus tend to be cynical. (She) dislikes being judged, and if (she) feels under scrutiny (her) self-esteem takes a blow. Knowledgeable, Wise, Challenging, Jaded, Cynical.” -Horoscope.com oh my god

Rules Broken: all of them. all of them? every single one. not the naming rule though. but only for the troll herself. everyone else can go suck a dick

Fantroll Rating: look i started working on this blazing heap of trash at around 1915 now it’s 2058. what the fuck man