JUNE 2019 TEST DRIVE MEME

[sodder]

JUNE 2019 TEST DRIVE MEME

Welcome to June's Test Drive Meme! This month's Test Drive's theme is: PSYCHOLOGICAL HORROR.

All Test Drive Memes contain at least one clue to the Deerington's upcoming in-game events for the month! Keep your eyes peeled! But...not literally.

Characters may die during TDMs, but you do not need to count it towards a game-canonical death unless you want to. Consider it a freebie. All TDMs can be considered game canon as TDMs introduce minor aspects about the world of Deerington that can be revisited by characters later on in the game. You may also use TDMs for your application writing sample as well as AC.

CW: Altered personalities, potential physical violence, character death
Don't forget to tag content whenever necessary. Have fun!

Prompt One
Prompt Two
Character Arrival
Master Navigation

ALL THE WORLD'S A STAGE

Welcome to the theater! No one knows when they held auditions, or when they held practice, or even when they started advertising, but there's suddenly flyers in every home, every shop, ever restaurant, and the locals seem to just be dying for a night of real culture. Whether or not you're usually a person who enjoys plays of any sort, once you see one of the posters, you'll find it hard to get it out of your mind. You'll find that your schedule lines up just perfectly for one of the plays and the tickets are free, so... Why not?

Strangely enough, none of the performances seem to be the same, so multiple visits to the theater will get you a variety of shows. It could just be a night of fun - a performance, maybe you go to dinner with a friend, and you get to have a night of pure enjoyment, especially if you really do love the theater. It could seem harmless the first time, maybe even the second, and maybe you'll walk away without ever experiencing the strange occurrences you hear other people going on about.

If you weren't so lucky, people attending the various performances will find that each show brings its own unique horrors, and they all seem to personally catered to you. The players seem to be broadcasting people's darkest secrets, their worst fears, and the most violent and terrifying personality traits that so many try to keep hidden about themselves. Monologues will be run that sound a lot like the critical voices inside of your head - maybe it's your mother talking about how worthless you are, or your best friend saying how they truly hated you all along, or the person you're deeply in love with making sure you know how pathetic they find you, or maybe you even see a player who looks like someone you lost, come back to tell you how it's your fault their gone, how you let them die. Or maybe even how you killed them.

The shows will leave you feeling dark and empty, depressed and maybe even angry. You'll find that you're more prone to lashing out, to getting violent, and you're more than ready to take it out on the people around you. Strangers, friends, it doesn't matter; someone needs to feel the same pain you are and you're happy to be the one to put them in it.

NOTE: None of the scenes put on in the plays will be actual memories. While background information or secrets may get brought up, they are primarily broadcasting exaggerated insecurities and fears.

RING AROUND THE ROSIE

A carousel has popped up in town, just nearby the ice cream shop! It seems like it has just pop up over night strangely, but that's the nature of things in Deerington, isn't it? The kids seem to love it, going to get sundaes, and then hopping on to one of the classic wooden horses for a ride. There's a tug of nostalgia that will hit you as you watch them laugh and play, even if you've never been on a carousel, or ever even seen one before today.

What's the harm in one ride? When it comes to a stop and the most recent group of kids runs off, you might find yourself compelled to hop on. The cheesy, mechanical music will fill your ears as the carousel starts to spin and for the first couple of turns, you're actually kind of having fun! No wonder the kids were laughing and clapping. There's something almost relaxing about this.

Until it's not. Things start to get strange quickly - the lights on the carousel flicker, until they go dead entirely, and it's like the entire world has gone dark with them. The music is still playing, but it's slowly warping into something less comforting. Eventually, you'll start to see things - terrible things that might make you regret having gone on the ride in the first place.

Whether it's occurred at home or not, some character's on the carousel will start to see detailed visions of their own deaths. They'll experience them as if it were truly happening and there seems to be little you can do to stop it. If you're lucky enough to not see your own death, you might get sucked into the vision of the person near you. Can you help to save them? Or will you only be able to do your best to comfort them through it?

Once a character is dead, the vision will end, the lights will return, and the music will be back to normal. You'll still be sitting on your horse as if nothing had happened at all. No physical reminder is present, but that doesn't mean the memories are going to fade any time soon.

Character Arrival

You can read how all characters arrive in Deerington here.

There is not a collective "all these characters showed up at the exact same moment" occurrence in Deerington. Since characters fall asleep, die, or pass out at various times throughout all their worlds, it wouldn't make too much sense if they arrived in game all at the exact same time. There should be some discrepancy between character arrival, whether by a couple minutes, hours, or even days up to a week.

The players are entirely in control of how/when they want to play their characters arriving in Deerington. For TDMs, you can play it like your character has just arrived and that can be maintained as your game canon, or you can wait until game events for that moment. Or you don't need to acknowledge it at all. The flexibility for character allows a bit more of an organic feel to the character arrival situation, so please play it to whatever feels right for you.

If you are interested in having an "arrival" introduction for one of your TDM prompts, you are more than welcome to explore that option.

Comments

QUESTIONS

[sodder]

Eliot Waugh ➼ The Magicians

[endlessflask]

[i. ARRIVAL]

[ Well.

He's not in Kansas anymore, is he? Or maybe this is just the next step up from his Mind Palace Happy Place, or maybe the monster finally got him. Either way, Eliot's not really into the idea of sitting around and waiting to find out. Whatever it is, it has a distinctively different energy to it.

Honestly? Something about it feels free.

Smoothing his finely tailored vest, he reaches for the jar of olives that came in his little welcome basket, and hopes nothing too Alice In Wonderland will happen as he pops a couple into his mouth, then supposes he should go outside.

He's hoping no memory monsters are planning on popping out at him, in any case, and he might be able to find someone helpful enough to explain things to him. ]

Uh. Hello?


[ii. ALL THE WORLD'S A STAGE]

[ Listen, Eliot loves a good show as much as the next person. And, honestly? It's pretty fucking nice to be able to try and enjoy something for once without the threat of death looming on the horizon. It's not that hard for him to decide to go take in a show.

When in Rome, as they say.

Scooting into an empty seat on the edge of a row - aisle seats are so much better for people with long legs - he settles in. At first, it's sort of funny, the similarities to his own life. Eliot can appeciate a good coincidence until it starts getting weird. A strange mix of friends who are overwhelmingly depressed, making things worse for themselves and each other than ever doing anything helpful, that's what Eliot is watching. It makes him shift a little in his seat.

He should leave, right? It's rude to leave.

By the end it's a real Grand Guignol of over-the-top messes, death and tragedy caused by characters who couldn't get their shit together in time. Eliot doesn't applaud. It wasn't even well acted, he reasons, though it's under his skin. It takes him a few long moments after the curtain closes to get up from his seat. ]


[iii. WILDCARD]

Choose your own adventure. Open to anything, honestly, so feel free to go for it or hit me up a fritzwinky if you want to talk shop.

Arrival

[newtralize]

[A large husky seems to find its way to Eliot before Eliot can utter a word. She barks excitedly as she dashes to the man and runs a few circles around his legs before stopping to sit in front of him with her tail wagging excitedly and looking up at Eliot with large eyes. Her tongue hangs out and she barks again at him.

She’s shortly followed by a tall man in a blue coat. He looks a little worn out, although it’s not because he had to chase his dog.] Helga! You can’t just run off like that. You mustn’t run off to bother any old strange-

[His voice trails off as he catches up and quickly slows down to a complete stop as he sees who it was that Helga had ran to.] Eliot...

Ayana Amamoto | Caligula Effect: Overdose

[androphobe]

[A. Arrival -- Part 1]

[The first thing she really takes notice is that she's in a home. Which is weird in and of itself when she's been pretty much living inside a school all this time.]

This isn't... Mobius...? [It can't be. She can't imagine μ ever making up something like this in the virtual world. Besides that, she's still in the same form she had in that world.

But it's hard to bite her tongue and observe what's happening. The President would want her to do that, right? Learn some intel, report back when she can get the chance, and make the President proud of her. She could do that! So what if she had to be around some gross men for a little while? It was fine. She could do this.

...Until she couldn't.

God, they're everywhere. She recoils in disgust and horror the first time she sees any of the NPC men wandering around on their daily routines, face twisted in an expression of revulsion]

Disgusting... I can't believe even here they just roam around freely, like there's nothing wrong. Ugh, where am I...?

[She's taken a rolling pin from the kitchen and it's currently her only weapon, which she squeezes a little any time a guy either moves in her direction or even just glances at her. Ugh!!

If any male-presenting person approaches her, she quickly brandishes the rolling pin, the thing trembling in her outstretched hand]

St-stay back! Stay right where you are! Don't you dare come any closer! I, uh... [She scowls] Isn't there someone else I can ask questions to...!?

[However, if any female-presenting person approaches, her entire posture relaxes and she smiles, raising her free hand in a wave] Hey, excuse me! Sorry, I'm a little confused... And maybe a little lost?

[B. Arrival -- Part 2]

[SO she's gotten some answers and though she doesn't feel like she's any closer to really getting it, she does know that this isn't that far from what was happening in Mobius. People asleep, trapped in another world, trying to find ways to wake up again... Or something like that.

Fine. Cool. She was used to that.

Ayana just wishes she wasn't alone. This was all way more overwhelming when she was by herself, and though she still has that rolling pin with her as she explores the town, she doesn't really feel very in control or safe. She heaves a sigh, her head bowed low. WHat would the others do...?

Her mind lost in those thoughts, she's not really paying much attention to where she's going and accidentally slams into one of the NPC guys.] Oops! Sorry about tha-- Ah?

[Then she notices. That's a guy. That's definitely a guy. A scream bubbles up in her throat and she doesn't hesitate to let it out, a blood-curdling thing of terror as she swings the rolling pin, which hits the man upside the head with a satisfying, resounding crack! While it hasn't killed the guy (prob...ably), it does send him crumpling like a sack of potatoes]

Get away from me!

[Ayana stares at the crumpled form of the man, breathing hard, her eyes wild with fear before she takes off running from the scene.]

[C. Ring Around the Rosie]

[Carnivals! They didn't really have things like this, exactly, but it's similar enough to festivals that she can enjoy it, even if she DOES have to share the space with men. Ugh. Gross. Well, she can just pretend they're not there and don't exist. It's fine.

The carousel seems fun, at least, and she likes going around on it up until it...decides to Get Weird.

She freezes, baffled, but thankfully it's no death of her own that's being played out. Man or woman doesn't quite matter in this moment-- Ayana isn't so heartless as to completely disregard the feelings of someone on something like THIS just because they're a guy.

So she looks to the person nearest her, eyes wide]

Is that... Is that you?

C (Facehugger vision)

[onerthes]

[The goodnews was that she wasn't sharing the nearest horse on this ride with a guy, so there was that. But as the music started to change in tone and the lines dimmed, the three eyed woman could only stare in abject horror as, just at the edge of vision, it looked like some sort of weird, alien crab was lunging for her own face.

She looked shocked, both here and in the vision. It grabbed her face and she shook her own, trying to stifle it. She barely remembered anything at all right now, seeing this... it was terrifying to her.]

I... I don't know! I don't remember any of this!

[The thing's tail pulled tight around the vision's throat and she fell to the floor, struggling at first.]

(Minor note on date: This occurs on the 8th or later... she's kind of dead until then.)

Bruno Buccellati | Jojo's Bizarre Adventure

[ziprecruiter]

I. STAGE

[Buccellati hasn't forgotten the warnings Shiro has given him. Still, he's of the mind that he needs to see what these experiences are like for himself firsthand, and that means making a calculated risk. That includes even acknowledging that he has been compelled to see a play, to visit a theater, even if it is entirely suspicious as hell.

He thinks, maybe, he could fight the compulsion if he really wanted. In the end, he goes with it. If he's going to be here, he should know what this town is like and how to expect it.

Honestly, nothing could really prepare him for the experience of the play. It being called Lisca di Pesce should really have been his first indicator, but it does become uncomfortable fairly quickly. The moment he sees the "protagonist", he knows there's a nagging familiarity about him. The Fisherman, working himself to the bone to support his son. Only, when speaking to his son, the actor's eyes meet with Buccellati's.

Bruno, he says, stage blood dripping out of gunshot wounds from an earlier scene. Oh, Bruno, you wasted all those years for nothing. I'm so disappointed.

The words ring, clenching his heart and soul. Buccellati makes to leave, making his own exit through the wall by well-placed zippers, large enough for him to open up walls and shut behind him.

He hasn't felt this awful in years.]


II. CAROUSEL

[Ice cream? Hell yeah. Merry-go-round? Hell yeah.

It doesn't seem like such an awful time, and there aren't any closings that make it an impossible escape. So, Buccellati is sitting on one of the horses, but he's riding side-saddle with his legs crossed. No reason, he just can't seem to sit like a normal person is all.

When he notices someone else getting on, he just gives a casual salute of his fingers.] Ciao.

[The way he says it almost sounds like he's teasing you, really. Then again, he's the grown man. On a horse. Sitting like this. Take it as you will.]


III. WILDCARD

[make your own prompt! if none of these strike your fancy, i also have a previous prompt at the last TDM!]

CIAO

[heavyweaponsbot]

[This is ridiculous.]

[Let's be real, though, that's probably the mindset Ironhide had been in since he got here. And the sight of the carousel, the painted wooden creatures and the tinny organic music doesn't help anything. He's not even in his proper body, still. Still human. Still massively annoyed by literally everything going on.]

[Especially when some human points at him, sounding like Mirage at the peak of his weird human culture fixation.]

That means goodbye.

[No it doesn't Ironhide, stop that.]

riku | kingdom hearts

[miragesplit]

i. arrival

[ It's hardly been an hour since he arrived and he's found trouble. Trouble in the form of a large three-headed dog.

It's only second-nature for him to pick up a strange object and tuck it away in his pocket - it might be useful later! The junkyard is full of them but, unbeknownst to him, there's a fee. And as soon as he tucks something away like the thief he is, Annie the guard dog is running at him.

He attempts to block her with his keyblade, but one of the heads bites it out of his hand and... decides that it is a perfectly-sized chewtoy. She stops where she is and all three heads slobber on the ridiculously large carkey that he calls a weapon. ]

Ugh, don't-- [ He can just summon it back to himself... or he's trying to, but nothing's happening except the heads seem to be slobbering even more now. ]

Uh, hey... girl...s? I actually need that back, so can you--

[ Nope, he just gets a growl in response. Maybe someone can help him negotiate with this three-headed dog. ]

ii. ring around the rosie pt. 1

[ He's not sure why the carousel catches his attention. It's obviously for kids and doesn't even look that enjoyable. But those kids seem to be having the time of their lives and he wonders if he maybe he missed out. Destiny Islands never had one of these and even if it did, he would have felt too mature for it.

But he's trying to follow his heart and his heart wants to be on one of those horses. He glances around to find someone closer to his age or older who's also looking at the carousel, and asks: ]

Have you ever tried one of these?

iii. ring around the rosie pt. 2
( spoilers for kh3 )

[ Maybe listening to your heart isn't all it's cracked up to be.

He sees himself in a familiar setting, the barren Keyblade Graveyard, but everything is wrong. He watches as his friends are picked off one by one and devoured by a mass of darkness until it's only him--and Sora.

The next part isn't as strange as it should be, the way he walks toward a death he doesn't remember and uses every bit of strength he has to block the oncoming darkness from Sora. It eats away at him rather quickly - but feels like forever in the moment - until he's entirely consumed.

And everything returns to normal. Except he feels exhausted and stays on his horse blankly. ]

( or go for a wildcard! )

arrival

[missingache]

[The only reason Roxas is in the area is shown by a bag he's carrying for Hoppy's pet store. Hearing a dog growl was always concerning and he goes to find out what's going on. What he finds...

Lack of being able to sleep well must be getting to him. Someone is here who shouldn't be. He looks between Riku and the dog with a rather flat expression.]

I don't think that's how you're supposed to be playing with her, but okay...

[Is he hallucinating now? Probably. Great. Just great.]

Crawford Sands || Original/CRAU (CW for violence, and references to child abuse in part 3)

[crawfordstone]

01. Arrival (The Action Part)

He woke with a start. Gasping and clawing his way out of sleep. It was the first time a dream that wasn't entire his had invaded his sleep. Deep down, he knew it wasn't his, even if he hadn't consciously been aware of it. The first few had been so gut-wrenchingly awful, his body immediately tried to wake him on instinct the moment it could. That's when he found himself tangled in the sheets of a bed he didn't know. Fully dressed, when he'd gone to bed somewhat more comfortable. He even had his gloves and boots on.

Having so recently returned from a surreal trip to another world, this couldn't be the same thing, could it? He charged out of the bedroom and found the basket of items. He easily fished out the phone, the keys, and the ID card. He didn't even really look at them, just cramming them into his pockets. He needed to find people, fast. He fiddled with the phone as he headed toward what seemed to be the heart of the city.

Blending in had been the goal before, but he quickly saw that wasn't possible. The locals just looked...bizarre. And the people who looked like they didn't belong....none of them were familiar. At all. He didn't personally know everyone in town, as small as it had been. But he'd recognize them if he saw them. There wasn't a single familiar face to be found.

"HEY" He demanded, seizing a random person by the arm. "What hell's goin' on here?!"

02. Arrival (The Network Part)

[ The video shows a rather angry looking redhead as he walks through one of the more residential areas of town. He's already got a lit cigarette in his mouth. His voice is gruff, and very much that of a New Yorker. ]

I don't know where the fuck they dropped us this time. Another creepy town in the middle of the woods? More fucked up dreams? Those damn gods are losin' their touch already!

Where the fuck is everybody? I think this stupid thing's not workin' right. I can't even find you to call you! So: Zelda, John, Michael, Lu, Aaron. Shit...Avari. That Wolfgang fuckhead. If you're hearing this, chime in. And Boss? I'm definitely not makin' it in today.

03. The Stage (CW for many heavy topics, especially references to child abuse and murder)

The fliers had been everywhere. At first, Crawford thought nothing of them. But as he searched the town for anyone he even vaguely considered a friend, he started to think it would be a good place to look. How that became getting a ticket and taking a seat, he couldn't say. Plays weren't his thing. Hell, movies were hardly his thing. They were just a means to fall asleep. Yet he was still seated as the lights went down and the actors came out. But right away, he was unsettled. The main character looked alarmingly like his step father. But any man of a certain build in a suit could look like that man in the right light. As the story played out, Crawford wanted to bolt from the theater. It wasn't the same, but was similar enough to his own childhood that he didn't want to see it.

Then the man in the suit stabbed his wife. It didn't look like the overly dramatic way it was supposed to be on the stage. It looked real. Even after she hit the floor, he kept stabbing and the stage was flooded with red. Crawford found himself crying out. Why didn't he just leave?

After that, the man started mistreating the two children. Smacking them around. Yelling at them. Blaming them. All while the plot continued and he advanced in his career. Mistreating the kids even as they grew older never seemed to have anything to do with the actual story. Constantly punctuated with the man delivering drawn out monologues about the consequences of actions. The phrases "you brought this on yourself" and "you only have yourself to blame" came out a lot. The older boy was injured so badly, he needed medical care--portrayed as people dressed as doctors dragging him off the stage.

The conclusion of the play was not the suited man's demise or success. It was the older boy, his arm in a cast, standing over the younger boy. Far too long, just staring at each other in dead silence. Until suddenly, the older boy punched the younger boy in the side of the head. The younger one didn't fight back. He just crumpled to the ground. The older boy fell upon him, punching over and over. As red flooded the stage, before going completely black.

"...no..." Crawford said, his voice meek in the theater as people shuffled out. "...I'd never..." But he couldn't get the words out. He wouldn't dream of hitting his brother. He'd done everything in his life to protect Donavin. But it whispered to a fear that he'd thought long dead. That some day he'd do something to hurt his brother.

He left the theater feeling numb and empty. Brittle. Ready to snap at anyone who so much as looked at him funny. He didn't need the theater's magic to do it for him. He felt that way naturally. The only thing it did was stop him from seeking a means to blow it off without hurting something. He just wanted to slam someones face into his knee. Where was that damn demon when he needed someone to hurt?

the tetherer ( original character / crau )

[tetherer]

i. arrival. sort of.

[This is not the arrival of Teth. Nor is it, via wordplay, the arrival of the Tetherer.

Teth has been here. They have had their time to think. They have stared out at the lake, Lake Tomie according to their map, and thought, "This is not at all like looking at the river." They grew tired of it. Restless.

They had started their life over once, and it had seemed so easy. This time, after everything, they just feel completely alone. They've hardly recognized anyone here. How could they, when the only friends they've ever really made were in the Quarantine?

All of this goes against their Nature in such a way it makes their very existence feel sacrilegious. It's a reflex. They still have faith in the Natural order, even if they've willingly left its ranks.

Where does one go to meet people? It should be the same as it was before, but they feel even more awkward and stiff even attempting now.

That's how, despite all odds, Teth ends up at the Hair of the Dog bar.]

A... beer, please?

[That's what people at bars drink, surely.

They had all kinds of alcohol imported from all kinds of worlds on the Nexus, but Teth had never really had any reason to drink alcohol. One flute of Nexian champagne at a special occasion, sure, but Nexian champagne was notoriously diluted. No one really drank it unless they had to, for appearances. It was slightly sweet, but there were better tasting liqueurs (or, gods, champagnes for that matter) in frequent use.

They drank even less in the Quarantine.

Teth receives their beer here, in Deerington, in a frosted pint glass, and they squint at it for a second or two before they... take a sip.

Instantly, they let any drink that made it into their mouth spill right back out into the glass, in an uncharacteristically emotive display of "what in the worlds did I just put in my mouth."]

That. That can't be right.

[The moment they notice someone else witnessed this, though, they freeze up and try to look more... passively unimpressed. It's like they left all their social skills back in Riverview.]

ii. all the world's a stage. ( cw: panic attack )

[Hm, alright, so the first time someone starts talking about an impassive and absent god in narration, it does pique Teth's interest. They have been more interested in learning more diverse theologies than before, now that they know many more happen to also be as true as their own.

When a veiled woman on stage expresses in dismay that her partner left her, they're not sure how that ties into the religious aspect of the play. But sure enough, people live their religion as much as they live their romantic lives. The tone seems to be getting bleaker by the scene, though.

Until the climax of the play, when the very same woman has a full meltdown, throwing objects around the room, identifying her god and her partner to be the very same person. An uncaring, negligent god that abandoned their followers, but most importantly, abandoned her. She practically spits the word.

She claims she will never forgive their Separation, her eyes locking right with Teth's in the crowd.

Teth doesn't know when they left their seat. They aren't sure how they ended up in the lobby, crouching by the concessions counter. They realize it very suddenly, that their hand is clamped over their mouth and they are trying very, very hard not to forget how to breathe. They haven't cried since their month spent in captivity. They were sure they'd forgotten how.

Apparently not, as they bite back a sob.]

iii. ring around the rosie.

[Teth is... delighted by the sight of the carousel. Kids and adults alike at play. It makes the town seem much more like home, really. A spirit of festivity in the air, like Riverview Quarantine's frequent festivals.

They climb onto a... child's sized tiger. They are not a child by any means, but some of the horses are a bit too vertical? For them?? Let them live, they have short legs, it's not a moral failing to be barely above five feet tall.

As the carousel starts up again, they quickly realize the tiger is one of those immobile parts of the carousel ride.]

Oh. That's... unexpectedly disappointing.

[They glance up at the nearest proudly bobbing horse with a sort of hapless look. They're not even considering asking to trade, that would be ridiculous, but that won't stop them from feeling like they missed out on the entire appeal of the ride.]

iii.

[fullcry]

[Hey, if she's gonna be penalized for being unable to decide what she wants to be when she grows up, she might as well act like a kid. Besides, it's not like she'd been able to do any of this stuff when she was a puppy, so why not enjoy it now that she has a chance?

When someone takes the badass looking tiger before she can get there, she huffs in annoyance and climbs onto some bear-horse monstrosity beside it, not bothering to hold on, just pulling a battered pack of cigarettes out of the rear pocket of her shorts and snapping her fingers to create a tiny burst of flame to light it. Halfway around the first rotation, she notices that the tiger isn't going up and down like her horse-bear-freak is, but only manages a few seconds of smug schadenfreude before the cute person actually sitting on the tiger comments that it's disappointing.

Jeri deflates a little. Flicks the ashes off the tip of her cigarette and purses her lips.]

Hey. Hey you on the tiger.

[After making eye contact, she shoots a slight grin, pinches out the ember on the end of her cigarette and puts it back in the pack before holding her hand out to them, invitingly.]

We're both small. Bet you could fit on here with me. Come on!

jim kirk; star trek

[episodically]

A. Stage (Fright)

[ it's weird, being back planetside. it's even weirder, jim thinks, that this is earth. his trips to earth have been short and sweet over the past few years. stop in, visit, and then back on the enterprise to be shot into deep space again.

but now he's here and there's no sign of his ship, no sign of his crew, nothing. he's here and so far, he's stuck. it's not such a bad thing. the city's pretty quaint and the people are pretty and he's been able to charm drinks out of just about anyone.

so, why not enjoy it while it's happening? maybe he's dead or maybe he's in a coma or something else. he'll deal with that later. right now, he's going to take in a show. feet kicked up on the seat in front of him, he slouches down and decides that maybe he'll take a nap.

except that's when khan's face appears. khan who was dead. khan who had indirectly led to his death. khan, telling him that he'd failed. khan khan khan khan.

cutting the throats of his crew. jim pales. he shoots out of his seat and lunges forward but he ends up tackling some random person. it's not khan. his heart...

god, he needs to get out of here. he can feel the blood of his friends on his hands. so, he bolts, shoving his way out of the theatre and into the street, breathing heavily and shaking just a bit. ]

B. Carousel (Of Nightmares)

[ he convinces himself that the thing at the theatre was just a side effect of no sleep. he's fine. everything's fine. he's going to forget it happened by getting on a damn carousel.

yeah, that's the spirit. it's harmless. he mounts a brown horse and drapes himself over it, smiling flirtatiously at every single pretty person he sees.

this is good. this is what he needs. so, when the merry go round does another pass, he's got a smirk on his lips and is ready to throw out a nod when he notices someone familiar. someone...very familiar. it's him. it's jim kirk and while jim's sometimes thought about sleeping with himself, it's not something he'd ever actually do.

because he doesn't have a twin.

but this jim...looks terrible. sweating, bloodshot eyes, clammy skin. there's blood leaking from his eyes and nose and his knees hit the dirt while jim grips the pole holding the horse up. radiation. jim knows what that feels like.

he remembers.

on the next pass, the other version of jim is face first on the ground, shaking. god. ]

Fuck.

[ he closes his eyes and hangs on. doesn't even notice when the ride comes to a stop. he's too busy hugging his horse. ]

C. Wildcard

[ hit me with whatever. ]

A.

[variantcover]

[ Working concessions at the theater is an okay gig. A bit boring during act one, but no one minds of she slacks off until intermission. And, since the weather's nice, she decides to sit outside on the front steps of the building.

She's just minding her own business, humming some Dazzler song that's stuck in her head, when suddenly a guy comes storming out of the doors. Gwen looks up... It can't be intermission already? No, this guy is obviously upset. ]

Hey, everything okay?

Shadow Moon | American Gods (book)

[itsaname]

ALL THE WORLD'S A STAGE

[ It's been a long time since Shadow has been to the theatre, but tickets are free, and the urge to attend is hard to ignore. So he makes his way over one evening, settling down near the front row (how did he get so lucky?) for what he hopes will be an enjoyable time.

When the performance begins and the first of the actors appears, Shadow's breath catches in his throat. He recognizes her. He'd know her anywhere. He's heard of people arriving in this place from different times; could it really be his wife, alive and well?

She looks out into the audience. It feels like she's staring right at him. Shadow begins to rise from his seat, a name slipping quietly from his lips: ]

Laura?

[ Another actor appears. Laura turns to the man and squeals in delight as she hurries toward him, calling out, "Puppy!"

Shadow freezes. The other actor doesn't look like him: he looks like Robbie, Shadow's best friend.

As the play continues and the two actors fawn over each other, Shadow — looking much like a lost, kicked puppy himself — slowly sits back down. Silently, he watches the affair that he knows happened but has tried his best not to imagine. ]


RING AROUND THE ROSIE

[ This isn't the first strange carousel that Shadow has been on. But unlike the other, this is a ride that Shadow quickly regrets getting on.

He doesn't see his own death. Instead, he sees the deaths of those around him. Strangers, one and all, but Shadow still tries to help. He still approaches them, voice raised just enough to be heard: ]

Hey.

[ That seems a safe enough opener, right? ]


WILDCARD

(( ooc: have another idea? come at me! ))

ring around the rosie

[ziprecruiter]

[Of all the ways to go, he hadn't expected dying on a fucking carousel.

Buccellati is struggling to keep himself upright, blood pouring from his torso and staining his white suit. The wound is in the front and back, as if something had managed to punch its way through him.

He peers at the man speaking to him, squinting.]

Hey yourself.

[He then coughs up blood, eyes widening, almost choking on it.]

ichiro yamada ★ hypnosis mic

[steelo]

I. ONE FOR MY BROS

[ when ichiro wakes up, it's with the sound of a crowd still resonating in his ears. he didn't pass out after the match with mad trigger crew, not as far as he remembers--he remembers jiro and saburo hurt, clinging onto him, remembers samatoki's fucking face looming over him, hurt but victorious, proving to ichiro that everything he'd ever said (you'll never catch up to me, to start) was right. he remembers medical attention--

it doesn't matter.

yamada ichiro has never come to a place without making an entrance. if you happen to be nearby when he wakes up, you're treated to an entirely different kind of music--there's a discordant noise of something turning on, kickback, and then the door to the house slams open as ichiro bursts out into the street. he looks wild eyed and angry, though maybe if you knew him you might read it more as panic. in his hand is a microphone of all things, his fingers threaded through the knuckle rings, and behind him float what look like a pair of speakers, massive and towering.

this is an ichiro ready for a fight. and while he's a fighty young man, there's really only one thing that could get him that riled up. ] --Jiro?! Saburo?!

[ he doesn't give two fucks who you are, random deer and nice voices, and he'd be more than happy to help you with your problems, but if you separate the yamada brothers, you have another thing coming. ]

II. TWO FOR THE SHOW

[ having somehow been brought down from defcon level one wasn't going to last long, apparently.

ichiro's still restless, and he's not sitting when the show he's attended starts. he's half expecting ichijiku to walk across the stage and declare this some new division battle, and with his mic squeezed tight in his hand, not on but still present, he's not even remotely close to relaxed.

as he shouldn't be.

the show itself is about a young man in a japanese style school uniform with a hood, and two little brothers. the young man is universally hated--whispers across the stage call him the red devil of maine, and he receives scathing looks from the two younger men who narrate like a greek chorus as he walks across the stage. woe is the youth, who nobody's ever loved, the poor orphan who'd do anything for the mob boss no matter how cruel, for the mysterious man who comes to take him away in the second half of the play, who leaves at the end when things start to look okay.

the greek chorus taunts the main character and he snarls, turning on the two of them. "shut up, you don't know anything." they look angry, and the three start to argue--one starts to cry, and the red devil raises his fists, and--

ichiro turns his head away from the stage so fast it could give him whiplash. he need to get out of this theater and now. head down, mismatched eyes at the ground, he pulls his hood over his head and starts to stalk out. if you make the misfortune of getting his attention or trying to stop him from leaving in the middle of the show, his head snaps up, and the glare ichiro gives is downright nasty. ] What the hell are you looking at?

[ yikes. the similarity to the red devil is awfully real here. ]

III. THOSE LYRICS WEREN'T IN ORDER

[ despite the fact that both of these prompts show something completely otherwise, the young man in the red and blue bomber jacket is not actually a hellish nightmare delinquent.

if you just came out of what can only be considered the nightmare vision from hell, your vision might return to a pair of mismatched red and green eyes and the face of a concerned young man. turns out you wobbled right off of your horse in fear or fright or panic from said vision, and ichiro's hero senses kicked in fast enough that he parkoured the fence and jumped up to catch you before you smashed your head on the ground of the carousel. it's still moving, the music's still playing, but congratulations, you're now being cradled tenderly by a handsome beefcake. ]

Whoa, hey, you okay? [ he is 100% completely and actually concerned, too. ]

IV. HOLLA.
[ well in case you thought ichiro was cool, let's go ahead and ruin that one real fast. texted out: ]

yo.
since all the titles on the manga are screwed up in the library, does anyone have any recs that's been here a while?
i picked up a copy of "middeer's night dream", which was kind of weird.

also: if you're playing the rhythm game on the phone, let's share friend codes.
i marathon played it last night but my teams are shit.
thanks
- bb

WILDCARD.
[ have another idea i didn't mention here? c: feel free to tag in with it! you can add me on discord or plurk (protags#8655 / protags) if you'd like, too. ♥ ]

iii

[allforshu]

[it's a very real, very possible death for mika, something akin to the little match girl in fairytale woe, and the sensation -- the feeling, the all-too-familiar nostalgia -- of starvation turns him faint,

right into the arms of a certified beefcake. mika stares up at the eyes that match his in a heterochromic sense, red and green instead of blue and gold, and makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat, heart picking up at the fact he's so close to a stranger oh my god it's some GUY and he looks TOUGH but like, kinda nice, but also really strong and mika's almost positive this guy could pop his head with an arm? he's 100% on that?

the strangled noise happens again, but this time mika's hands fly to his own face so he can cover it, the noise eventually turning into a whine.]

Nnah, I'm-- m'okay, I woulda been okay if I landed too, 'cause I don't really feel anythin' when I'm hurt an' all...

[which is, an issue, if he happens to bleed from the head at some point.]

Naminé | Kingdom Hearts

[purestwave]

1) Arrival (Spoilers for KH3)

[What was this?

The dream, the dream she just had was incredible...but also fast-paced, confusing, eerie

...frighting.

At least, Naminé thought so. All these new experiences and emotions were overwhelming to her. Sure, she had experienced fear and pain before, but to go through it in a new body? Something she can use to explore new areas, things, happenings, all at once and kicked up to eleven? She shakes just thinking about it. This may be too much for her, she may need to calm down. So instead she lays right back on the bed and closes her eyes.

...wait a minute. Naminé looks on again, and is now noticing her new surroundings. This isn't her room. Getting up, she stands for a minute before walking out, shivering as she hears the music threading throughout the walls.

As she walks up to the front door of this new house, she turns the handle, but to her shock all it does is jiggle! It doesn't release the door, it doesn't move much. Naminé, without noticing, is breathing quickly now. The music is still droning on, and with her jiggling the handle and inadvertently shaking the door, it doesn't make the situation sound pleasant. Noticing that it's not working, she lets go, but not before noticing her skin, which feels so odd. When she gulps and runs her fingers against her skin...it feels like tiny bumps have shown up. But what is making this happen?

Steadying her breath, she tries to relax, breath, and heads to the door again. She knows knocking helps people notice others on the opposite side, so maybe if she knocks on her side, someone walking by will notice and open the door for her on the other?

That is if they aren't freaked out by it.]

2) Carousel
[How quaint! Intricately painted horses on a mechanical device. She's never actually seen one in action before, so the first thing she does is...go straight for the paint job.]

Wow, this is so pretty. I wish I could paint like this.

[Naminé is so busy not noticing the person next to her. Maybe you want to give her a heads up that she shouldn't be holding up a line for this ride?]

3) Wildcard

I'm up for anything! Give me what you got! ;3

2

[miragesplit]

[ He's only passing by the carousel, glancing over at the bright lights and happy riders without really even meaning to. And near the front of the line is a familiar sight, at least he's pretty sure.

It seems like it has to be her when he notices that she's too busy admiring the ride to let the line move forward. And the people behind her seem to be getting annoyed. ]

Naminé? [ He pops up behind her to make sure everything's alright. ] Maybe we should move--unless you're going to ride?

rachel amber | life is strange

[thesbians]

█ ONE (ALL THE WORLD'S A STAGE)

❰ she went to the play on a whim.

it's been less than a day and a half that rachel has been here, wherever 'here' is (no, "deerington, maine" is not a sufficient answer, sorry) and of the dozens of things that one might expect an involuntary tourist like her to do, attending the theater probably isn't high on the list. maybe that's why she's here. rachel never has been one to embrace predictability.

and besides - she loves the theater. granted, she prefers the view from on stage, ideally as the starring role, but this performance seemed intriguingly ambiguous (there was literally no way to discern any form of plot or character from the flyers, like what??) so she attended. second row from the front, an aisle seat of course. some productions send actors up the aisles, and even if not, an aisle seat lets you duck out before the inevitable post-curtain-call traffic jam.

little did she realize she'd be escaping quite a bit sooner.

the play was fascinating, at first. okay, no, that's a lie - it never stopped being fascinating. but that didn't make it okay. it was an artsy piece, about a girl who burned to death in an apartment building fire. a handful of eyewitnesses saw her in the upstairs window before she died. the policeman who arrived on the scene couldn't get a clear story because each witness described the girl as an entirely different person. as a terrified girl who screamed for help. as a savior who passed a child out the window but couldn't get out herself. as a tresspassing squatter, too high on drugs to even notice the fire was set. one even claimed they watched her light the fire in the first place, cruel and deliberate. she differed in age, in appearance, in demeanor. they fought over it, over which of their eyewitness accounts was correct, over how it could be possible for them to see her in such vastly differing ways.

they were so caught up on the discrepancies that they lost sight of the fact that she was dead at all. that she died alone, trapped, afraid. that she died without anyone knowing who she even was.

it hit rachel like a truck. drove the air out of her lungs. twisted nausea through the gut that was already pretty unsettled by much of the play so far. everyone around her seemed to be enjoying it just fine, which almost made it worse. like it was some big joke on her, one that wasn't even a little bit funny. she ducked out of her seat then, walking briskly up the aisle to step out into the lobby with no intention of returning for the final scenes.

which brings us to now, with rachel shoving her way out the front door of the theater. she's tense, every bit of her, and she's making a very visible effort not to look it, but for once that effort isn't quite convincing.

her eyes are on the sidewalk ahead, but she's not really seeing it, let alone paying attention to what's going on around her. so when someone touches her - maybe they bumped into her (or she bumped into them, even), or maybe they reached out to touch her shoulder or arm - they don't even have time to apologize before she snaps: ❱ Don't. Touch me. ❰ her hands are balled into fists at her sides, and there's a definite chance that she might just be in the mood for punching. ❱

█ ??? (WILD CARD)

❰ so i was going to do prompt #2 too but her death is an absolute mess i'm not gonna inflict on the tdm - which leaves just the one angry prompt, whoops.

that being said, just reply as a WILD CARD and toss me literally any hook you've got and i'll fling rachel at it. feel free to handwave that she's around town, in any given building/location, or whatever else you need. i'm easy. o/ ❱

i just screamed really loudly

[tagartist]

[ Chloe had been debating seeing a show. After the hell that the last few weeks in Deerington had brought on her, being in a group of people could either have been exceptionally good or exceptionally terrible, and there wasn't much of an in between. There was already a performance going on, but she'd hovered near the ticket box, squinting at the other options, and had been about to even approach to maybe ask about the next show when she saw an all too familiar head of blonde hair rush by. One that made her freeze in her spot and her stomach feel like it had just gone inside out.

It was a hallucination, right? It wasn't like she hadn't been having them everywhere already, seeing her constantly, talking to a ghost of a person who wasn't there, but ... But they'd been quiet since June had hit, blessedly so, and there was something about that that was too real. It didn't feel like the same mind tricks that plagued her since her arrival in this stupid town.

She went with her gut, going to quickly run to try and catch up with her, reaching out to put her hand on her shoulder, opening her mouth to say something -- and getting very quickly cut off by that anger. She quickly pulls her hand back, holding them both up in a sort of surrender, eyes a little wider than usual and she swallows roughly as she tries to think of something to say. Because that's... definitely Rachel. Angry as ever. ]

Wow. Nice to see you too, asshole. [ It's said more in jest, but her voice is far weaker than she wanted it to be. ]

Rose Hathaway | VA + Bloodlines

[littledhampir]

ARRIVAL

[ For most who wake up in Deerington, the idea of this all being an elaborate dream is probably difficult to swallow? For Rose, it's not only her first conclusion, but the only one that makes any sense to her. This place has the familiar too real feel that she's come to associate with Spirit dreams. The only thing missing upon her awakening is the appearance of a certain enigmatic Royal. The one who weaves these scenes for her more often than she likes to acknowledge.

This is why, you may be unfortunate enough to come out of your place to discover a certain brunette yelling at thin air, her gait confident and her scowl prominent as she searches the surrounding area. ]

Adrian! If you think hiding from me will save you from an ass kicking you don't know me at all!

[ She will continue this way, making casual threats at this unknown Adrian person and when that fails to get her anywhere, she will resort to slamming on doors, as if she honestly expects the person she's looking for will be the one to answer her.

She probably could have saved herself a lot of time and effort if she'd just read the note in her basket but that would involve staying put long enough to even look over the contents. ]

ALL THE WORLD'S A STAGE

[ Had you asked her as she sat there waiting for the performance to begin, what had brought her here tonight? Rose wouldn't have been able to tell you. Not only had she never been all that interested in the Theater, but it also wasn't the kind of thing she'd had the opportunity to attend before. Dhampir had no need for cultural enrichment and Rose in particular, struggled to sit through a movie without getting fidgety, let alone through a live performance.

While she may have been drawn here she couldn't fully suppress the desire to leave, the performance barely fifteen minutes in before she was attempting to duck out. It's when she hits the aisle that she hears a voice that roots her feet to the spot, one so familiar that she'd know it anywhere, even if hearing it now was impossible.

He was dead. Not the kind of death that left you with some foolish semblance of hope that you could be wrong. She'd been there when it happened. Had heard the crack, had seen the unnatural way his head hung to the side. She'd been speared by that vacant stare and guarded his body against attackers that never came. She'd even seen his ghost, had talked with him before he'd moved on to... whatever waited for them beyond their world. There was no possibility that he could have been here and id she would have been smart to keep moving. To cling to what she knew to be real but that voice was just enough to make her look back, to stare into the eyes of a person that couldn't possibly be real but was unmistakably standing on the stage.

She doesn't remember how she got back to her seat, only that she's sitting in it as the curtain closes, the tears that had fallen now dried rivers that mark her face as her nails leave crescent-shaped wounds on her palms. My fault. It's not a revelation but rather a confirmation; The cementing of something she's known to be true for some time but has always tried to bury it. Had she never told him, they wouldn't have been there. Had she gotten help, they never would have been taken. Had she told him that she could never be in love with him, then maybe he wouldn't have come back for her.

Calloused hands roughly swipe at the tears that begin to fall again as she jerks herself out of her seat, Rose's body radiating with tension as she pushes her way through the dispersing crowd. If she could just get far enough away, maybe she could breathe but there are too many people blocking her path, too many faces she wants to lash out at for seeing the anguish that's etched across her own. ]

Move, before I fucking remove you. [ The threat hissed out through gritted teeth as she gets blocked by yet another figure, Rose boxed in and ready to unleash the rage that's boiling in the pit of her stomach. ]

WILDCARD

[ Anything goes. Around Deerington. Pull her into your Ring around the Rosie death. You can always PM me on her journal or hit me up on plurk for ideas; brooklyn2181 ]

all the words a stage

[ganks]

No offense, but I'd like to see you try.

[It's not like this chick is the only one that has baggage. They all get pushed through the chipper here and she's not an exception. He can tell she's miserable and despite his words, he can't help but soften his features a little bit in response. She must be new, she had to be. Dean wasn't exactly a seasoned professional himself but from what he'd heard, this was just the tip of the iceberg.]

Just calm down, okay? Let's get you outta this sardine can and then you can deal with whatever this is from there. Limit the death toll.

[All things considered he seriously doubts a girl her size can cause too much commotion in this joint, full of bonified titans and well, Norse gods, but he's been wrong before and being all too familiar with pissed off women he knows better than to say it out loud, keep that one under the surface and save the family jewels and an earful.]

Loki Laufeyson | Marvel Cinematic Universe

[shutupthor]

[ arrival ]

Loki--god of mischief and lord of lies stories, prince of Asgard, son of Laufey, Odinson-- did not often dream. Sleep that was deep enough to allow for proper dreaming was never a luxury that he could afford, having learned painfully of the dangers of leaving himself in a state vulnerable to his enemies and at the mercy of his mind's creations. Therefore, the scene that he witnessed came to him through a rather unfamiliar medium. The forest, the deer, the strange voices making promises that rang false to his ears…. He tried to struggle but found himself trapped in that sensation….

With a jolt of adrenaline, Loki awoke on high alert. Magic did this to people, and if the caster wanted him in this place, then it would be the one place where Loki would not be found. He slid out of the bed, obscuring his real body and leaving the illusion of himself still in the bed where someone may expect him. In this disguise, he explored the residence, but what he found only lead to more questions, rather than answers.

For all the welcoming guise, there was no chance that Loki would stay in this place. The most sure way out of the situation in which he now found himself was the artifact he had rescued from the destructive fires of Ragnarok. Pulling the translucent cube from where he'd hidden it, Loki's face could not hide the astonishment and sudden twist of anger. The Tesseract sat in his hand, dormant. There was no glow, no longer any power within the vessel. He threw it with the full force of his frustration, imbedding the inert cube into a wall.

Minutes later after taking time to consider his options, he had retrieved the silent Tesseract and stashed it again (with the goal in mind of working to reactivate it), then proceeded to escape from the place where he'd arrived. It appeared to Loki that he was back on Midgard, so he'd clothed himself in the black suit he was fond of to lower the possibility of notice. Where was their ship? How had he arrived here against his will and without his notice?

Loki watched the skies for lightning. It may be his only hope.




[ all the world's a stage ]

Theatre was, by its very nature and down to its fundamental core, deception on a massive scale. Actors pretended to be who they were not using false names, costumes, and disguised voices. Their emotions were grossly affected for the sake of a voyeuristic audience. They told stories using other people's words and were applauded for it, the victims of this deceit begging for more. While some tales were simply the author's flights of fancy, pure fantasy with no grounding in reality, it was the ones based in truth and twisted into something new that often conveyed the most powerful of lies.

For all of the above reasons, Loki enjoyed the theater. Seeing the posters around town, his attention would normally have been drawn, but the urge felt almost inescapable. Although he should have been more alert, he wrote the feeling off as boredom. Anything to distract himself from the situation into which he had arrived.

He decided to attend several, choosing shows with large audiences and intriguing taglines, looking for something to amuse himself. However well acted or courageously written, by the conclusion of the third, Loki's mood had already begun to darken. No matter how carefully he chose, themes of rejection, abandonment, betrayal, and isolation seemed to seep into the narratives. It wasn't until the fourth, a story about two brothers-- princes competing for control of the throne of a far-away kingdom, set against each other by their father who clearly favored the eldest --that Loki had seen enough.

It had taken every ounce of his rapidly diminishing self-control to not simply raze the theatre (and maybe even this whole town) to the ground for its audacity. A master of chaos himself, Loki did not tolerate this sort of meddling from outside forces. And that must be what this was, for no one would dare taunt him in this matter.

The tempest in his mind grew.

Arrival

[lordofsparkles]

Thor was tired. Not just "in need of a nap" tired, but tired to bones. Tired in his very soul. More tired than he had been in his life. This was not the weariness brought on when the adrenaline last fades after a battle. This was slogging through the deepest depths Mulspelheim and Jotunheim for weeks on end levels of exhausted. He had subjected himself to that blasted party almost every single night it had run. The only thing which kept it all at bay was those tiny candy dots. But that only made it worse later. Then once he left, there was the violence to contend with. The sheer madness that seized people at random. He suspected there was something more to it, something that made him unable to resist saving people from what was really only mild peril. He had slept for three days solid when the party last ended, and he still did not feel rested. What he didn't know yet was that his natural ability to bounce back had been turned down drastically.

The whole ordeal had him feeling like a failure. He'd not really saved anyone and he'd solved nothing. He just got sucked into the chaos and was unable to fight it. This place had made him weak and he was still no closer to finding a cause for any of it.

So he searched. Street by street, block by block. On foot. Not only did he want to know the town as well as he knew--known--Asgard, he needed to know if there was any other magic like the Mayor's house. Anything else sinister or mind-altering within the town.

He was on his fourth pass of that particular residential street since he'd begun his search, coming by once a day at different times to see if anything was different. He wore the same clothes as when he'd met the wizard on earth, only he carried a massive axe at his side. He wasn't even really looking at anything, his gaze focused on the sidewalk, when he heard a door open rather abruptly.

And there. Just a few houses further down was a slim figure in a black suit. One he'd searched for since the day he'd arrived.

"...Loki." His eyes burned with unexpected tears, the name little more than a gasp. It had to be another trick, like Hela had been. He didn't know if he dreaded or hoped that to be the case.

topher brink | dollhouse

[ethicalproblems]

[ I. ALL THE WORLD'S A STAGE ]

[ It doesn’t take much encouragement to get Topher to the theater.

Boredom sets in fast, even—or especially—when trapped in a mental hellscape and maybe!Attic. He’s not about to turn down free novelty entertainment. When it comes time for the show, he’s prepared, snacks in hand and dibs on the best seat in the house. Any nearby neighbors will have to deal with the occasional scoff or commentary re: the play’s questionable science or poor dialogue.

At least, at first.

Once it becomes clear the genre at hand is pure cautionary tale, he goes quiet. The similarities start out vague, no worse than your typical morality Aesop about the dangers of science and untempered invention. A year ago, hell, a few months ago, and it would have been funny. Now it’s a reminder. One where every less than coincidental little parallel serves to deepen the sick, cold weight growing at the pit of his stomach. At some point, it stops mattering how different the details are. It’s still meant for him. A showcase of every single flaw—arrogance, curiosity, the total inability to think about the consequences—which almost ended the world.

You don’t care if people get hurt. You were supposed to help me. You were chosen because you have no morals.

When the lights come back on, he remains seated, taking unsteady breaths through his hands. As someone approaches, he pulls himself together and looks up with a shaky laugh. ]

Geez, is that the best they've got? I’ve seen better sci-fi on the WB.

[ The weak attempt does little to stem the rising bitterness and regret now brought to the surface. ]

[ III. ARRIVAL(ISH) ] NETWORK - UN: NCC1701

[ Hello dudes and dudettes of Deerington. Have a video clearly taken from a break room in the hospital. The man on screen leans casually in one of the chairs, feet propped up on a nearby table. Despite the location, there’s nary a lab coat to be seen. ]

Let's talk brains.

See, the difference between an unconscious brain and one that’s fully awake is pretty significant. The specifics vary based on [ He gives a wave of his hand ] a whole bunch of factors which aren’t really important right now. What is important is that these changes are visible. The right kind of scan could help see if our neural topography matches what the party line is selling. Or if there’s anything else hinky going on upstairs.

I know all that because I was—am—a neurologist in the waking world. This is kind of my specialty. And I was thinking, hoping, that some of you out there may be interested in helping to figure this out.

[ A pause. ]

Don't all rush to volunteer at once.

[ III. WILDCARD ]

[ Have a different idea or want another prompt? Let me know! Topher can be found in various places around town, including the hospital, comic book store, and restaurants.

If you want to talk it out, I can be reached via PM or at solarias ]

audio; un greywaren

[inbello]

What makes you think that the machines aren't rigged to show you something to convince you that whoever brought us here is telling the truth?

[ Of course, Ronan himself believes that this is likely a dream, but he's aware that other people are a harder sell on it. ]

Yoshiya "Joshua" Kiryu | TWEWY/Kingdom Hearts

[lusito]

all the world's a stage

[Maybe the play that's taking place is perfectly fine, or maybe it's a play depicting your personal darkest fear or anxiety. Either way, a particularly dramatic line is delivered, and that's when suddenly, somewhere to your left--]

Really? That's the line read they want to go with? Honestly, where did they get these amateurs? I've seen better acting in a children's Christmas pageant than this...

[Joshua appears for all the world to be bored here, making the exaggerated gesture of yawning at the show here. Which is probably super inappropriate given whatever dark and terrible secret may or may not have been exposed about you, but he doesn't seem to have a care in the world about that.]

ring around the rosie

[Unlike a normal human being who would get on the horse to ride a carousel, Joshua can be spotted... sitting on the very top of the roof to the carousel attraction. How the hell did he get up there?

Either way, he seems to be just people-watching, letting the occasional turn of the carousel guide where his gaze turns toward. However, it seems that even just sitting on the overhanging roof isn't enough to completely shake off the effect the carousel has, so after enough turns he may end up seeing the death of one of the riders here taking place... or maybe it's some sort of fabrication of his own. Regardless, unless it's his own death (which gets a rather indifferent sort of shrug in response to seeing), maybe he can help you out? Or you can yell at him to get off the roof here.]

wildcard

[Anything and Everything you want can be done right here! Feel free to hit me up via PM of this journal or over on wailords if you have any questions!]

ring around the rosie

[miragesplit]

[ For as much as the riders don't seem to care about someone sitting on top of the carousel, it's fairly noticeable to a passerby. And hard to ignore when it's so familiar, even if Riku looks different than the last time they met.

He's seen what the carousel does and is hesitant to get close but he doubts Joshua is going to make it any easier. So time to go yell up at the roof. ]

I guess I shouldn't be surprised to see you here too. [ Though this isn't a normal dream world. It makes him wonder... ] Are you just visiting?

amma crellin | sharp objects

[weaned]

𝕊𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕖.

( if there was one thing lacking in wind gap, and the idea that there might only be one thing was the worst sort of joke, it was culture. sure the high school put on the calhoun day play every year --with the same damn script every year-- and they managed to scrounge together enough kids to put on a musical once a year, bye bye birdie or something equally palatable to the easily offended majority, but real culture? not unless you happen to be a believer in the south rising again.

so when a smiling local offers amma a ticket, she accepts it eagerly. it's free, after all. declining it would be impolite.

the seats are wide and plush, and she runs her hands along the soft velvet, idly chatting with the woman beside her, who seems just as excited to be here. things like this, she thinks to herself, must not happen very often around here. the longer she waits, the more eager she becomes. by the time the lights finally dim around her, she's leaning forward in her seat.

until a little girl appears onstage, clad in a white nightgown. eyes blank and unseeing. a little girl that amma has never met, but knows almost as well as she knows herself. ) Marian? ( she hisses the name under her breath. as if the little dead girl might realize this was a mistake and disappear. )

Mama always loved me more than you. ( the little girl intones solemnly, lips curling into a sneer. ) You were a replacement. Always second best. ( amma doesn't notice the way her fingers tighten around the edge of the seat, knuckles whitening )

That's not true. You were a mistake. I'm the one she got right. ( she looks first left and then right, to those seated beside her, as if searching for confirmation, but everyone around smiles pleasantly, completely unfazed. )

camille appears next, face a mask of disgust as she explains, in monologue, how she never wanted another sister. could not even bear to look at amma, must less be around her. last, of course, is adora herself. wringing her hands as she looks, not into the audience at large, but directly at amma. )

I knew it the moment you were born, the very first time I held you. I knew you were a monster. A murderer. I thought I could heal you, that I could fix you. But you only spread your sickness to the rest of us. I should have killed you when I had the chance. When you were small. ( she droned on and on, the horrible words burrowing into amma's skull, pounding in her brain until she was on her feet, hands clutched to the sides of her head and eyes squeezed shut. screaming at the top of her lungs. ) STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT! JUST MAKE IT STOP!

ℂ𝕒𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕖𝕝.

( the carousel itself is a riot of colors, and the laughter of those who climb aboard is intoxicating to amma, who has a constant need to be at the center of everything. the music is brassy and deafening little loud, which makes it all the more obvious when it starts to fade. to change. the laughs swirling around her twisting into something ugly and evil. a sound she's heard pass her own lips more than once.

it isn't her own death that she sees, but the gruesome aftermath. a bloody mess like those she'd created and helped to clean back home. a hand flutters first to her mouth, then to her chest, eyes wide and frightened. ) What...what is this?

𝕎𝕚𝕝𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕕.

( if there's something else you want to do, go for it! if you want to plot something out, or have any questions, you can reach me at absentia.

carousel.

[mildlyconcussed]

[ memory is nothing but a bruise against camille's brain. it's tender to the touch, stinging sweet while it's fresh, and it all muddles down to sepia tones and a coppery tang in the back of her throat when she wakes up as she frequently does between the late morning and early afternoon; parched. for reprieve more than anything, though she will never get it. and being here is like beating a hammer into an already dead and dulled-to-dust tendon for the patellar reflex.

camille remembers too much when she'd simply like to be less. if she so much as twitches, it's hardly with feeling, or at least enough of it. it's only because she's being forced to remember through remnants of should-have-been's and the ghosts of yore, eyes roaming careful on this carousel as not to idly stare too hard at the bobbing and weaving back of amma... lest she imagine that mildly tangled mane brushed into pigtails, girlish in pastels and creams than florals.

her steed of choice is far less erratic than her sister's, which is only for the best considering how that 750ml of vodka she'd downed two-thirds of is beginning to simmer in her gut at low heat, but it matters none when she sees amma's shoulders jolt in what she can only recognize as utter shock. then the muttering begins. ]

Amma? [ slipping off the wood, her steps are long-strided, ring-adorned fingers finding solid purchase at amma's slim bicep. ] What's wrong?

[ what does she see that camille can't? ]

Billy Hargrove | Stranger Things

[driving]

[ arrival ]

[ He's not scared, and even if he was he wouldn't tell anybody, but he definitely isn't. Nope. This was just like any other day, except for the fact that he woke up somewhere entirely unfamiliar.

If he pretends he's just had a wild night of partying, it makes him feel a little bit better.

What'd make him feel even better than that is finding someone else to pick a fight with. That's always Billy's go-to distraction when there are certain realities he wants to ignore. ]

What're you looking at? [ He says it to anyone who makes even the slightest amount of eye contact with him, a sneer on his face as he clenches his fists. ]

[ ring around the rosie ]

[ Billy's never been fond of this sort of ride, not even as a kid. He's been a daredevil since the day he could walk, and on the rare occasions that he actually got to go to the fair he ran straight for the thrill rides.

The carousel? That's a baby ride, and he wants nothing to do with it...except for the fact that he does kind of want something to do with it, for a reason he can't quite explain. Maybe it's all these damn kids laughing and playing - why do THEY get to have all the fun, anyways?

Not that this lame-ass ride is fun.

But all this does nothing to dampen the urge he has to get on and ride. He can't be caught riding this thing by himself, so he turns to the nearest person. ]

Not scared of a horsie ride, are you? [ There. Now that he's re-framed it as a challenge he's free to ride it without too much shame. ]

[ wildcard ]

[ Anything you like! Feel free to hit me up at dandymott! ]

arrival

[acidwashjeans]

Hargrove?

[ This is not what Steve expected to find in the grocery store carpark, walking back to his car with with a brown paper bag full of groceries in each arm (with actual vegetables, because he's pretty sure Mike is going to get scurvy if they keep eating pizza like they've been doing).

God damn his entire life.]

Quentin Coldwater | The Magicians (tw depression, suicide)

[volunteertomatoes]

i. The world's a stage;
[ Quentin isn't laid back by any means, even after having come along way since the first time he entered Brakebills University. He's still a tightly wound nerd, still raw nerves of anxiousness and self-loathing, but he's far more grounded. At least in the sense that he's taking to this creepy town pretty easily. Honestly, at this point it's par for the course. He doesn't like it, and he's definitely going to chase leads to try to get the fuck out, but he knows better now than to run himself ragged. Plus, there's a theatre, and he's going to drive himself more batshit than he already is if he doesn't at least try to shut off his mind.

Even if he's by himself, he makes a whole Thing out of it. He's got snacks, a drink, he's ready to go--because if anything, this can remind him a little bit of New York. Sure, he was full of suicidal ideations when he was frequenting New York instead of Fillory and Brakebills, and he still is, but it was slightly simpler times.

The problem is that the entire play is about those suicidal ideations, and all about how the main character does nothing but fuck up. He's given so much when he doesn't deserve it, he's selfish, and Quentin feels nothing but white-hot shame bubbling up inside him. Halfway through--around the time the main character starts monologuing about how many suicide letters he's written, all with Quentin's exact cadence and tone--Quentin can't stand anymore and leaves. ]

Fuck.

[ It's quiet, to himself, and he pushes his long hair out of his eyes, dragging his hands down his face afterwards, just trying to get himself under control. He's visibly shaken, but doing a damn good job at knitting himself back together fairly quickly. ]

Are they always like this?

[ He's spotted someone nearby, and he's doing anything it takes to distract himself at the moment. ]


ii. Carousel;
[ It's been a while since he's relied on the whole coin trick, but he doesn't have a deck of cards on him and he's trying to think something through. It used to be one of his tics--moving the a quarter, making it dance and letting it travel from knuckle to knuckle. Quentin's hand go through the motions, but his mind is zoned out, staring at the colourful carousel.

He's debating if he wants to go on it and feed his inner child when he notices a little girl looking at the coin he's dexterously rolling across his fingers. With a shift, a flourish, and some excellent slight of hand, he maintains eye contact with her as he seemingly makes it vanish into thin air, brows raised. 'Where did it go?' he seems to say without actually saying anything, and once the girl comes a little closer, he leans forward to take the coin right out of her ear. She gasps and Quentin decides to give her the quarter altogether. He even finds himself smiling as he watches her trot off to who he assumes to be her mother. ]


iii. Wildcard;
[ Feel free to run into Quentin around town, probably with a fantasy novel in his hands. If you want anything specific, hit me up at weallfloat! ]

ii

[endlessflask]

[ Eliot has very little interest in the carousel. After his own shit show at the theatre, he's more than fine avoiding the general merriment. But he is wandering by, just to see what the fuss is, and oh look someone's doing magic tricks and -

Oh.

Look.

There's an instant wave of relief over Eliot. Yeah, he has no idea what the hell is happening but Quentin is here. Everything else fades away. ]

Quentin!

[ By the grace of his long legs, it doesn't take long for Eliot to close the distance between them. Eliot is sure that this won't be as fleeting as the last time they saw each other, a brief flicker before the monster took hold again, but Eliot's not taking chances. He takes Quentin's face in his hand and presses a firm kiss to his lips. ]

I've honestly never been happier to see you in my life.

Jack Kline | Supernatural

[sinnabon]

[[ ooc; S14 SPOILERS. canon point is 14x8, right while cas is trying to send jack from heaven back to his body. also going to pretend for now that his grace issue is fixed, so he doesn't start, you know, dying again, womp wooomp. ]]

» ＡＲＲＩＶＡＬ；

[ heaven had been bright, almost blindingly so, seeming as if the light came from everywhere and nowhere all at once. jack remembers his mother's smile, her laugh, how warm and safe her arms felt around him, but when he wakes, it's cold and dim, but not the way the bunker was. it's wrong. there's no sam and dean, no castiel, no shelves full of books on demons and angels, no tables littered with knives and guns. nothing in the house to guide him, he takes to the city.

jack, a blond boy looking about nineteen or twenty years old, can be found roaming the streets later in a sleep shirt, pajama pants, and socks only, hair ruffled and skin still looking a little sickly. he's ends up in the busier parts of town, peering into shop windows with lips parted and brows knit, confused but curious. eventually, after bambi here stops staring starry-eyed at every passing thing, he'll stop someone on the sidewalk to ask - ]

Excuse me. [ his voice is a soft, polite thing, and his smile innocent and warm. ] Do you know which direction Kansas is in?

[ does he think he's going to walk his pajama wearing ass all the way from Maine to goddamn Kansas? possibly. ]

» ＴＨＥＡＴＲＥ；

[ there's no compulsion needed to get jack to the theatre for the play. firstly, he has nothing better to do, and besides that, he's only ever seen movies, either on his laptop or in a local theatre the few times he, dean and sam had taken a free day to go. but a play? that's entirely new, and jack has a constant hunger new life experiences. he shows up early, takes a seat in one of the front rows, and eagerly awaits curtain rise.

for the first few scenes, it's nice. interesting, engaging, jack watching with a small, contented smile on his lips and his brows lofted with interest. but, the more and more familiar the story and characters start to get, it doesn't stay like that way. the mother dies in child birth, and her spirit comes to point an accusing finger at the boy, you killed me, she screams at him in bitter anger. you're evil, every part of you is, there's no escaping it, the entire cast tells him. you're a burden, the men that care for him seethe, all you do is cause pain and suffering.

soon, the supporting characters are pointing guns and weapons at the boy on stage. The main character cracks, red light flooding the stage, eyes burning like something supernatural, and the other characters start to choke, to writhe on the ground in pain, to scream and die, bloody. Jack's surging up from his seat, shouting (because his theatre etiquette is terrible). ]

Stop it! [ He yells, and his voice seems to go multitonal, echoing, as golden light erupts from him like a telekinetic blast, knocking over a few of the actors and set pieces. ] That's not how the story should go, I wouldn't—

[ I wouldn't? The character's name isn't jack, and while the actor might be young and blond and scrawny, it isn't him on that stage. jack becomes acutely aware of anyone else in the theatre who might be staring at his back now, letting on who exactly these dark voices, the dangerous power and lurking evil ought to be attributed to. turning, he looks back over his shoulder, eyes fading out from a bright, golden glow near identical to whatever was going on with the actor on stage. woops, sorry, definitely not satan spawn here, everything is fine, you guys?? ]

H—He wouldn't do that. He loves those people, they're his family. [ Jack pleads with the audience with a desperate kind of emotion choking his voice, shaken and starting to panic. they don't understand, he needs them to understand. ] This story is wrong.

» ＣＡＲＯＵＳＥＬ；

[ the music plays, bright colors and swirling lights dancing, and jack thinks of his mother. he's never seen a carousel himself, never been on one, but maybe kelly kline had. he'd spent so much time as a part of her, intertwined with her mind, with her soul, in the womb, and it's all a blur he can't right make sense of now. perhaps if he was more angel than human, he could, but such as it is, when jack clamors his way up onto a horse that looks half mermaid (it seemed like the most unique and interesting one to him (seahorse, geddit)), the nostalgia that had him pacing his way over is, like so many other things, centered around his mother.

the ride begins and jack is one of those kids laughing and clapping his hands. while there'd been a hint of sorrow, watching a mother beaming a smile at a toddler a few horses up ahead, that seems to be entirely lost now, as this boy kicks his feet and tosses his head back, giggling. a simple concept, but it's a joy, isn't it?

until it isn't.

until the music shifts, the lights flicker, and the funhouse mirrors decorating the carousel darken and tint, images twisting into visions of something else. what jack sees there is more a memory than a premonition - himself in the bunker as a blood drips down from his lips and his nose, a violent cough shaking his shoulders, before he's falling, and as jack eases down from the seahorse, brows knit, the ache in his chest and burn in his throat comes on in a harsh wave. the first cough is abrupt, like a bullet to the back, jerking his whole upper body, and the string that follows it has his limbs going weak, jack having to grip the horse behind him to stay upright. ]

No— [ it's a raspy, wheezed gasp that comes out as he struggles to suck into his lungs, dizziness hitting him swiftly, advancing much faster than it had before. soon, he'll be collapsing onto the ground, shoulders shaking and unable to catch a breath between coughing fits. ]

» ＷＩＬＤＣＡＲＤ；

[ hit me, fam ]

Theatre

[magnitudes]

( Sarissa just likes theatre. Don't tell a fucking soul, but the girl's a bleedin' heart for the arts.
(Not that anyone would need to tell anyone about it, Sarissa's entirely good enough at giving the game away for herself.)

But she sees a kid; pale, blonde and lanky, not wholly dissimilar to the sort of awkward that she went to high school with, save for that brazen... American-ness. He stands, starts getting upset, and she doesn't need to be paying a whole lot of attention to the specifics. The sounds of distress are familiar, strike something painful in her, and she's standing up to gentle cuff the back of his neck and his bicep and start hauling him out.

(She's all of 5'4", but here she is.) ) No worries, folks. Just my little brother, gets upset sometimes.

( She says, very Australian-ly. ) Come on, mate. Let's get outta here, yeah?

10th Doctor | Doctor Who

[borntolove]

GLASS

There's some kind of weird time distortion and of course, a certain someone can't help but poke their nose into this. Though the partying might distract him just a little ~

Deerington Public Library

Books! Books are the best weapons! And even more so when you're finding yourself a bit lost. Just a tad. Okay so - someone's time sense isn't exactly picking up on what year it is - no big deal. Don't mind as someone seems to be eye scanning quickly though titles - looking for something like 'History of Deerington' and such.


Ring Around The Rosies
While in the garden, The Doctor comes across something rather strange and has to lick it. It looks like blood but what species? Huh - weird why can't his taste tell what type and speices of blood this is? As Ten licks his chomps.

Hair of the Dog

The next best place to pick up information besides the library is the local bar. The Doctor is going to take a seat, order a drink and see what he can hear. Not that he's not up for conversation and maybe some playful flirting.

Deerington Hill Elementary

There's something strange about those statues that The Doctor doesn't like - as if they're alive but they feel like stone. Don't blink. Blink and you're dead.

Nightmare prompt RING AROUND THE ROSIE

The merry-go-round, well, can't harm to have a little fun can it? Don't mind as someone cheerily goes off to sit on a mounted horse and smiles brightly, even laughing a bit.

Nightmare Prompt

[ukusvdovy]

Natasha wasn't so sure about this whole merry-go-round thing, but as she got closer, she really just couldn't resist giving it a go. Honestly, it could be so much worse, but the kids that just ran off seemed to be having a ball with it.

After a cautious once-over, Nat slipped in beside the man who seemed far too jovial. Not that it was a problem to be so chipper. She gave him a quick glance and decided it also wouldn't hurt to acknowledge him. The redhead offered a friendly smile.

"I don't think I've ever indulged in carnival rides." Or carnivals, for that matter. "I haven't seen you around before." As the ride stuttered into motion, she clasped the metal rod spearing the fibreglass horse on which she was seated for support.

Reaver (Fable)/Lagun CRAU - TW: Anything is possible, fair warning

[dragonstomper48]

(OOC: Two things. One, I'm probably not apping Reaver into the game. This is just a lark because it's TDM time and someone enabled me. Maybe down the road, maybe. Two, Reaver is one of the most depraved creatures in the history of modern gaming, meaning that almost any TW is possible in a thread involving him and the dark carnival revealing his 'worst secrets.' So, please be aware when tagging him and let me know what kind of content you want via PM or PP. I'll be updating Trigger warnings for the scene.)

All of Life's a Stage and I am a Dark Comedy

Oh ho! A carnival! How positively, delightfully banal! I do hope that they have cotton candy and other such confections, so that I can partake in the plebeian repasts of the common folk! That would be positively charming in a nostalgic sort of way, I should say.

[The man saying this was entirely too loud, and the sarcasm positively dripped from his every word and pore. He stood easily seven feet tall, dressed in a dandy outfit from the 1800s steampunk genre, elegant and fur trimmed. A full foot was added to that height by the nearly comically tall top hat he currently wore. He had a pistol braced quite obviously at his hip that looked both very ornate and very well made, even if it was from clearly another era.

From the beauty mark on his cheek to the cut of his aggressive chin, from the austere and rigidly erect posture he bore to the roguish smile forever plastered on his face, he was the picture of confidence. It oozed out of him like the cheap, overly masculine cologne that filled the air in a way only those of former eras before reguar bathing ever bothered to wear. He laughed far too openly and his voice was practically jovial as he turned to whoever was about to go into the tent, his lips curled in a smile that could have been a sneer.]

Tell me. This sinister decor, do they mean to show us some horror meant to chill our bones? Do tell me that they will at last try to make this entertaining. Ever since my last dwelling's failures in keeping me entertained, I have become ever so bored and I could use a good scare.

this is the worst thing for her so obv i'm here for it

[tagartist]

[ Chloe was really not into the whole entertainment factor, but lo and behold, this town had a way of dragging her out even when she was at her most miserable in order to force her to have a "good time" or whatever the intent was. She's already wondering what sort of torment this stupid thing is going to come with, but gets distracted by it when she's cringing at the sound of some douchebag who didn't seem to understand that inside voice counted even in outdoor public facilities.

And then said douche bag is turning around and she has to breathe deeply through her nose when he starts talking at her. She's been avoiding the whole talking and social interaction thing for a reason and the idea of doing it with someone she doesn't know is entirely off the table. ]

Yeah, well, you came to the right place. Congrats. [ She's going to try very hard to step around him now. ]

Reserved for Hana

[onerthes]

[Her memories were gone and she was miserable and confused. Sure, the doses of whatever Angela had given her were enough to deal with the flu she'd been experiencing, but that didn't change the fact that all that Vira-Lorr could remember were the last day or two. People had been trying to help but she was disconsolate, struggling with the fact that they were all faces, disjointed from the context of anything she could understand.

To top it off, there had been sightings of a pale rider in the area, which had only added to her nerves. Ghostly riders everywhere made her nervous, and so as she was starting to get cleaned up at the end of a shift at her new job at the Red Sparrow, she could only try not to think about everything going on, even if she could swear she felt eyes on her from around every corner.

Turning down a dark hallway in the early morning hours, she could swear she saw a figure in the gloom and frowned.]

Hello, is someone there?

Anthony J. Crowley | Good Omens

[1926]

[Arrival-ish?]

Crowley had been around the block more times in 6000 years than he cared to keep track of, but this was probably a first for him. At least a far as he could remember. He didn't care to remember the unimportant things. This seemed like it would be important if it had happened to him, so he'd go with a big 'nope'. He was somewhat frazzled to find that he'd lost all connection to Hell and couldn't feel Heaven at all. He could sure feel Satan, though, terrifying as that was. He'd just avoid that like the plague, thank you.

The gift basket had given him a rather ironic gift of food. Whoever this Sodder was, they had more of a sense of humour than The Almighty. Crowley walked around town idly, tossing the apple up and down in one hand. He'd taken a bite, but hadn't dared further just yet. It wasn't until he saw that shiny black paint job that he actually smiled.

"Oh, you beautiful, beautiful thing." He found the Bentley parked just outside his appointed flat. Not a scratch. Not a smudge.

[The World's A Stage] (SPOILER WARNING FOR THIS PROMPT CW: DARK THEMES, EMOTIONAL MANIPULATION, SUICIDE INSINUATION)

[This prompt is located in the comments to act as a 'cut'.]

[The World's A Stage Prompt]

[1926]

[The World's A Stage] (SPOILER WARNING FOR THIS PROMPT CW: DARK THEMES, EMOTIONAL MANIPULATION, SUICIDE INSINUATION)

The demon parked the Bentley outside the little theatre that showed up outside town. Maybe it was nostalgia that made him step inside, almost expecting to see the angel there. It was one of those expectations that you hoped for but knew wouldn't come true. However, if they came true, you knew something was very, very wrong. Yes, it was that last one. The very wrong bit.

Standing in the middle of the stage was the angel. Unkempt feathers and all. He couldn't believe his eyes. The serpent was so focused on Aziraphale, he didn't stop to notice if anyone else was in the room with him.

"You're a pathetic excuse for a demon, my dear." The apparition said shortly.

"What?" Crowley knew this already, but he didn't expect it from his best friend.

"Oh, come now. You honestly think I could be friends with a--a vile demon like you? You were a failure as an angel. You fell. And you're a failure as a demon, Crowley. It's all you're good at. You have to know this already, don't you? Might as well throw in the towel and accept that you can't even keep track of an infant, so why do you think you're capable of anything worth while?"

"Aziraphale, I--" He was cut off by the angel apparition again.

"Just give up, Crowley. It's rather pathetic to watch. I'll even fetch you the Holy Water to get the job done."

"You're not him." The demon hissed, turning his back on the stage. "I don't know what you are, but the Aziraphale I know seems t'think I'm alright." Crowley was already walking to the exit.