p̶h̶i̶l̶i̶p̶ ̶b̶u̶c̶h̶a̶n̶o̶n̶ CLARENCE (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
surpriseitsclarence) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
diademlogs2026-02-20 12:15 pm
surpriseitsclarence) wrote in diademlogs2026-02-20 12:15 pm
Entry tags:
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Who: Clarence and ~you~
Where: A random gas station in Panorama
When: Mid/Late February
What: Clarence has lost his driver, so he's trying to get a new one! Also, he's loitering. And shoplifting.
Warnings: body horror, illness, mention of organ harvesting
[Clarence looks like a mess.
It's not his fault -- not entirely. Viruses like him have a way of breaking down their hosts in degrees. Every week, his eyes get a little more sunken. His skin gets a little more sallow. Just yesterday, he woke up to something growing out of his belly button, veinous and umbilical-like, and he hacked it off with a kitchen knife and a pair of scissors. Now it keeps weeping through its bandage (does masking tape count as a bandage?) and he can't quite figure out if it's starting to grow back or refusing to stop bleeding.
Some of it, however, is his fault. Hydration? Never heard of her. Food? If you're counting chocolate sauce and caramel corn, then he's nailing it. Not to mention the hazards of his so-called career: acting as bait for organ harvesters. Every few nights, he lets himself get beat up so that his compatriots can nab their latest victim. It pays well, but he always has a black eye (or two) and a new and exciting collection of boot-shaped bruises.
a. Did you arrange to meet with him on the forum? Then he's waiting for you outside a gas station with a styrofoam cup in his hands, staring at piece of graffiti that might be an angel or might be an anatomy lesson gone wrong. Huh.
b. Are you visiting the convenience store attached to the gas station? Maybe you spy him adding sugar packet after sugar packet to his styrofoam cup. (From the sounds of it, there isn't any liquid in it.) Or maybe you catch him clumsily sliding a candy bar into his jacket and strolling out the door like someone fully committed to the bit.
c. Later on, he's asleep in the back seat of his own car. Or maybe he's... dead? No, he's asleep. Definitely. Probably. The vehicle is parked sideways across two spaces and the headlights are still on, faithfully draining its battery. There's a bloodstain on his shirt that probably has a good explanation.
d. Wildcard. Send me a PM or reach me at![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
dendrite if you'd like to do something else! ]
Where: A random gas station in Panorama
When: Mid/Late February
What: Clarence has lost his driver, so he's trying to get a new one! Also, he's loitering. And shoplifting.
Warnings: body horror, illness, mention of organ harvesting
[Clarence looks like a mess.
It's not his fault -- not entirely. Viruses like him have a way of breaking down their hosts in degrees. Every week, his eyes get a little more sunken. His skin gets a little more sallow. Just yesterday, he woke up to something growing out of his belly button, veinous and umbilical-like, and he hacked it off with a kitchen knife and a pair of scissors. Now it keeps weeping through its bandage (does masking tape count as a bandage?) and he can't quite figure out if it's starting to grow back or refusing to stop bleeding.
Some of it, however, is his fault. Hydration? Never heard of her. Food? If you're counting chocolate sauce and caramel corn, then he's nailing it. Not to mention the hazards of his so-called career: acting as bait for organ harvesters. Every few nights, he lets himself get beat up so that his compatriots can nab their latest victim. It pays well, but he always has a black eye (or two) and a new and exciting collection of boot-shaped bruises.
a. Did you arrange to meet with him on the forum? Then he's waiting for you outside a gas station with a styrofoam cup in his hands, staring at piece of graffiti that might be an angel or might be an anatomy lesson gone wrong. Huh.
b. Are you visiting the convenience store attached to the gas station? Maybe you spy him adding sugar packet after sugar packet to his styrofoam cup. (From the sounds of it, there isn't any liquid in it.) Or maybe you catch him clumsily sliding a candy bar into his jacket and strolling out the door like someone fully committed to the bit.
c. Later on, he's asleep in the back seat of his own car. Or maybe he's... dead? No, he's asleep. Definitely. Probably. The vehicle is parked sideways across two spaces and the headlights are still on, faithfully draining its battery. There's a bloodstain on his shirt that probably has a good explanation.
d. Wildcard. Send me a PM or reach me at