MEMORY SHARE ※ 1

[wildestmods]

MEMORY SHARE

It's during a pause in their day. A nap. An idle moment looking out from the gardens at the landscape passing by below. Taking a moment to catch their breath after a jog in one of the castle's larger magic rooms.

The squad is suddenly connected. Mental pathways locking together, they're forced into one another's innermost beings. Thrust into one another's memory palaces where the mind collects and stores everything that makes them who they are. The core of their beings are only a few steps away and no one can prevent the link.

To make matters worse, it comes with no explanation or no ability to pull out and stop. Once they're through the first memory, perhaps they can find a way out, but they're already witnessing some event from their host's past. And, if they left, who knows whether or not they'd end up accidentally invading another memory palace?

And if they were there, who was in theirs?

[ooc: So, how this works: the memories can either be viewed in spectator mode or the guest can be experiencing everything themselves. The person whose memories are being shown, the host, can watch as their current self or take the form they had of their past self. They can also be invisible until the memory is finished. They can talk about the memory with the "guest" that's visiting.

They cannot control the first memory shown, the player decides that, but they can sometimes control any other memories they'd like to show people after. Of course, there's also always the option of an extreme emotional reaction bringing up other memories unbidden.]

Comments

Tim Drake

[the_hit_list]

With the caveat that Slayride happen after Dick’s decision to out them a little.

Come on, we’re going for a slayride [CW: violence, death]

[the_hit_list]

An SUV stops at the end of an alley on a dark, snowy night. The unseen driver calls for Robin, offers an escape. Any port in a storm, right? A figure in red and black and yellow - Robin - lunges for the car, and the memory's perspective swings wildly with the dive. From the floor of the SUV, he looks up to see the Joker in the driver’s seat.

Something looking like a green cloud of perfume is shot in the teen's face. That horrible smiling clownface stares intently, with a visual weight that lets it dominate the image as the memory fades out with Tim's consciousness.

"Voices singin' let's be jolly!" The memory starts up again with sound only, with the scene coming back into focus slowly. If the song wasn't enough to make you run for the hills, that voice like Rodney Dangerfield doing Caligula would make you consider sacrificing your hearing as a life choice. Blobs of bright light resolve into a battery-operated strand of Christmas lights. Along with industrial tape and the seatbelt, they're used to truss Robin up like a Christmas roast. A mercury glass ornament is serving as the apple - taped into place, of course, so the only way to talk would be to let the glass rip his mouth and tongue to shreds.

The clown talks to him like they're old friends. As if he's not tied up and being held in a stinking hot SUV - literally stinking, it smells like rotten meat in this sauna. Joker offers a truce, saying that he's going to let Robin go. The kind words don't relax Tim, and the 92 degree heat of the SUV doesn't seem to be effecting Joker's white skin at all.

"A little present from me to you," he says as the SUV plows into an old man crossing the street. The real danger is now apparent, and Robin finally reacts under the mask when the man hits the hood.

But then, it immediately escalates. The first time a comedian tells a shocking joke to the audience, they'll repeat the punchline to make sure everyone's laughing. Joker feigns concern and backs up the car to help the man. Tim flinches as he feels the SUV shake as the wheels run over the man's body.

"See if he's okay, willya?" The white-out lenses don't hide how much Robin wants to refuse, but Joker's hand is on his injured shoulder. He turns, and the perspective swings again. A couple sit dead in the backseat, half-buried in Christmas presents, wearing matching Joker grins and eyes wide open. Their faces are still wet with tears.

That's how the comedian de-escalates any negative reception to risque joke. Hit the audience with something even more audacious.

When the audience feels safe, that's when the comedian will return to the joke. Joker calls in the hit and run himself. While "distracted" on the phone, he hits a second victim. A young woman. He updates the call with the new accident's location at Tim's heard mumbling into the ornament gag, "Son of a bitch".

For the first time, the smile falls off the Joker's face, and that is a face that will haunt nightmares. He's furious that Robin isn't playing by his rules. There's likely nothing Tim could have done to avoid angering the clown, in reality. There are no rules. The SUV jumps the curb turning a corner, hitting at least 3 more pedestrians - it feels retaliatory. Be careful about whiplash; Joker's moved onto talking about fast food.

Extremely sharp eyes may notice Robin's bound hands doing something behind his back.

The SUV quickly finds a McDonald's ripoff and pulls into the drivethrough. Joker fires off a complex order without pausing for the employee to catch up. He guns it up to the window instead, berating the teen girl and demanding to speak to her manager. Who he shoots in the head.

Robin's still tense, but his expression hasn't changed. He's hating Joker more with every second, but the mask and the gag help with that. You can't let the Joker see your fear. That's when he gets bored.

The motion behind his back hasn't fully stopped, either, but it's the tiniest little twitches. Timed to the SUV's movement, too.

The smile's back in full force as the clown takes a toy car out of Robin's hands. Just a prank, he says, to instill false hope. "Like that line I fed you about letting you go."

If it were possible to look crazy, it's the way he's looking at Tim now. The exact expression a starving fisherman who's just speared a catfish.

The gag is ripped off in one rough pull. Something of a Christmas miracle that the ornament doesn't shatter. Joker wants another Robin to beg for his life. "How about it, Boy Wonder? Tell me your Christmas wish, as if I couldn't guess."

Robin says nothing. He's been trained to not engage the Joker as much as possible, and he knows you have to keep him interested to keep him from just shooting you in the head. If he begs for his life, that's his swan song. If he's quiet, then Joker hasn't broken him yet. He's still interesting.

But Joker's spotted something in the distance - a bunch of kids sitting on Santa's lap at an outdoor Santa's village. "Now there's my Christmas wish come true."

He points the SUV at the group. Santa. Five kids. Four parents. Tripling the death toll if they don't get out of the way. He lays the responsibility on Robin. "Last chance, Junior. Sure you've got nothing to say for dear old Santa Claus?"

Like it's Robin aiming the car at him. With the pedal pressed down to the floor. Like he's the one murdering them. But Tim's a quick thinker, and doesn't miss a beat. "You can't fool me. There ain't no Sanity Claus."

And Joker... laughs. And turns the SUV down another street instead.

He praises Robin's appreciation for the Marx Brothers. It's a weird moment, reminiscent of him calling himself 'Unca Joker.' Like he's on the cusp of liking the little rat, except for the whole mortal enemies thing. That is... until Tim names the wrong Marx Brothers movie. Joker is annoyed, and suddenly the ride is an trivia argument about an 80-odd year old movie. The clown is caught up in setting the scene where Robin's movie quote is.

Robin's bare fist catches him monologuing, and there's an audible crack of some jaw or face bone snapping at the impact.

He rips down the rear review mirror and slams that Joker's fat face, too, before diving into the backseat. Robin props one of the corpses up in front of himself, and it takes the punch meant for him. Chunks of teeth scatter everywhere.

Tim grabs the Joker and slams his head against the ceiling light of the SUV, so hard the plastic shatters. He frisks Joker with almost manic efficiency. Sprays him in the face with his own gas. Joker flees the still rolling SUV onto the highway.

Through the open rear door or open driver's window, the Joker can be seen getting hit off the side of the highway by a truck. His shrieking laughter can still be heard after he goes over the side.

Police arrive. And Batman. The memory is scratchy on the between. He hears Joker laughing as he falls from inside the van. With the bodies. And then there's everyone, and they're getting the bodies out to check their vitals. From the sheets, there aren't any.

Robin is sitting on the hood of the Batmobile. His knee is hugged to his chest - it's not something you see a lot of superheroes do in public. Show that kind of vulnerability. His voice is steady and blunt, though. "Any point in hoping they found his body on the street?"

"Doesn't look like it." Batman makes no outward sign of checking if Robin's okay. If Tim was injured, he would have already included it in his report.

"Thanks, Santa. And here I thought I had been so good this year."

"I'm proud of you, Tim. You took the worst that the Joker could give, and you beat him. That may not make you feel better about his victims, but he won't be hurting anyone else for a long time."

"That's something, I guess." Tim is referring to Batman being proud. He's less optimistic about how long it will take Joker to hurt someone, but the memory of Robin doesn't delay getting into the Batmobile.

When Robin moves, he leaves Tim behind on the hood of the car, finally free from the memory that he’s been forced to relive in agonizing real time. He stares at the snowy highway. The second time was worse, and Bruce’s encouragement doesn’t help him get moving this time.

Elle Bryant

[millenyal_pink]

Elle's First "Kill" cw: violence, murder, mistreatment of animals

[millenyal_pink]

Elle is in Feline in some sort of cell or cage, surrounded by lionesses. She isn’t used to her senses yet. Everything is overwhelming. It’s dark. There’s some kind of roaring crowd on the other side of the cage door. It smells like fear and blood. She doesn’t know what she’s supposed to be doing, yet. Find Roberta’s sword, retrieve it, and get it back to the Duchess? She’s beginning to think that this isn’t a well thought out plan.

She’s already taken leadership of the lions, for now (she’s a fair bit bigger and reeks of Rage.) She needs to be sure that they won’t be in the way of— whatever it is that she’s supposed to be doing. She’ll figure it out.

The cage is dark and stinks of hunger and desperation. She looks around and has the horrifying realization that these lions have been starved. They pace around the cage and eye each other (and her) warily. Who knows how much longer before it’s every cat for herself?

Elle stands still in the middle of the room and wait.

An indefinite amount of time later, there’s a loud creak as the cage door lurches and begins to raise. She can hear the squeaking metal of the mechanism. It seems to be a primitive technology.

The roaring crowd gets louder. The smell of death and violence becomes much more potent as she stalks out the door, and the light is blinding.

Her eyes adjust to see that she’s in a coliseum filled with a screaming crowd. They seem to be drunk off of booze and food and bloodlust. The sounds almost hurts. She wants to be somewhere— anywhere— else. There isn’t a cloud in the blue sky above.

But no, she asked for this. She has to see it through.


In the center of the dirt is a woman dressed in leather armor with a sword and shield.

Elle leads the lions forward. The woman— somehow she knows it’s Roberta— makes eye contact. Does she know what Elle is? Who she is? Why she’s here?

Her sword is short and wooden like a child’s toy.

Roberta glances down at it, then back to Elle. She must know, then.

Elle is frozen with indecision. What is she supposed to do? Fight Roberta? Protect her? Let her fight the lions alone?

The coliseum quiets as the crowd holds its breath, waiting for the first move. This is their show.

One of the lions steps forward, but Elle’s immediate growls has her stepping back again almost immediately.

Roberta kneels. Elle approaches her, confused.

“There’s only one way this can end, child,” Roberta tells her.

A deep feeling of horror begins to crawl its way up Elle’s throat. What is she talking about?

Roberta lowers her head in submission.

There’s a pregnant pause as Elle puts the pieces together.

“No!” She snarls. She isn’t speaking any language a human should be able to understand, but somehow Roberta does.

She shakes her head with eyes full of pity. “It’s okay. This is how my story goes.”

That gives Elle pause because— this has all already happened. Elle is just a trespasser in Roberta’s memories. She can’t change the outcome of this any more than Roberta can.

The horror fills her mouth and runs down her spine. She mewls pathetically.


The lionesses are breathing down her neck, still starving.



Roberta drops her shield, then her sword. The ground is already stained in blood, but Elle hasn’t moved. Whose blood is that? She wishes it were her own.




Elle pounces.



The rest is just flashes of

blood and

flesh

and a droning crowd and a blue, cloudless sky.


I’m sorry is all she can think. The tears in her eyes are almost a blessing.

I’m so sorry.

The lions and crowd and body fade until there's nothing but an empty, bloodstained coliseum.

Elle stands away from it all, her eyes turned away like she couldn't bear to watch but didn't think she deserved to look away.

KON-EL

[konman]

Apokolips, cw: torture, gore, war

[konman]

It clips along at a good pace, a bit of a montage. Kon and his team Young Justice wear red armbands with the word P and an Asclepius symbol. The armbands of medics. They fight out in the wreckage of blown up ships, on the ground of planets about to be hollowed by Imperiex's forces. They're trying to rescue the casualties from Imperiex's forces that have lingered behind, or from scavengers.

The people they rescue are mangled, enough to turn the stomach. This is war, after all. War is ugly, war is revolting, war is not what Young Justice expected when they volunteered, when they fought desperately to be on the front lines with the other heroes, insisting they were old enough, mature enough, skilled enough. They were relegated to the rear, to being medics and transport to casualties.

Whoever's viewing the memory can share his thoughts. Kon doesn't want to be on the front lines anymore. He doesn't want to be here at the rear, either. He just wants to go home now, even though he doesn't have one anymore now that the Cadmus project has disappeared. Kon wishes he had a mother to go home to, so he had someone that could pet his hair and tell him it's going to be okay.

It's even worse because of some of the people they bring in. There are flashes of older memories, of times he's fought besides the other heroes in bright colors that they're transporting. It is worse because they didn't just meet these people in war, they've known them for years. Kon has known some of them his whole, short life.

They are allies, mentors, role models, friends. There's a flash of Kon and Green Lantern, Kyle Raynor, teaming up. Kon is younger in that memory, just a fifteen-year-old boy, with a fade haircut, and a leather jacket. He doesn't have many hobbies besides fighting bad guys. He hasn't been taught the little human things like having hobbies.

"You can, like, draw and paint and stuff? That's so cool. I can't do anything except be Superboy."

"Have you ever tried?" asks Kyle.

The older hero patiently teaches Kon to draw.

But now GL's contorted in agony with his chest partly open and ribs unnaturally shattered and sticking out past flesh, trying to put on a brave face as he's bandaged up.

Now Wonder Woman's beautiful face is completely bandaged with blood soaked bandages as he and his friends transport her to the ship. His teammate, whose costume has a W symbol on her chest mimicking Wonder Woman's breast plate, is trying to work past her distress over the injuries her mentor has sustained.

At one point Kon's friend Steel has been captured and is being flown to a nightmare planet. They see it down below, fire shooting out of many great furnaces. Hell is real. Kon holds Robin as their teammate Lobo flies the ship after Steel.

He and Robin get in a fight. But the group rallies under Robin's leadership. They try to fix the ship. They try to rescue Steel, since they're there anyway.

They try.

But they get captured. One of Impulse's time duplicates - a version of him shifted sideways in time, a part of him - is vaporized in front of them. The main Impulse curls up on the ground, catatonic, over feeling his own death.

"Bart, wake up. Bart, come on, wake up! Please wake up."

Kon's eyes are brimming with tears as he takes Bart in his arms.

His fault. It's all his fault. All of this is his fault.

He and the two others he's with go down under a wave of parademons after that. Kon desperately tries to protect his unconscious friend but Bart's wrenched from his arms.

They're strapped down in a nightmare lab, visors put over their eyes, causing them to keep dipping down into nightmare after nightmare, like they're drowning, unable to surface. The memory shows the nightmares.

Kon, completely restrained.

"This is all your fault!" Robin cries out, dangling from two chains. "You did this to us, Kon! You got us stuck here. They're all dead because of you!"

Some kind of hell hound, something monstrous, is set on him.

"No! No, stop! Please! Rob!" Kon cries out, as the monstrous thing tears his best friend apart. Robin's screams are shrill and haunting.

"ROB! ROB! I'm sorry!" The screams wrench out of Kon. "I'm sorry!"

He breaks down into despondent sobs and then turns to his captor, Granny Goodness, tears streaming down his face. "Kill you! I'll kill you!"

New nightmare. His ex, Tana is alive again, but then she's not as she's burned alive in one of the fire pits.

"Tana! Tana, no, not again!"

It's nightmare after nightmare until his team breaks free. Robin, so staunch, so moral, so against killing, jumps on Granny Goodness, screaming, "I'll kill you! I'll kill you!" and Kon knows it's his fault he's been driven to this.

But they fight their way out, all desperation. They get back to the ship, they get back into space, they get back to their side. They collapse in exhaustion when they get back to base. Their various frantic mentors rush towards them, embracing them or placing hands on shoulders. Red Tornado, their team mentor, checks in with each of them.

It's over.

Except it won't be for some time.

He visits the Kent farm afterward, visits Ma. Finds out Pa has disappeared. Superman shows up...actually cries. Pa is missing, possibly dead.

"Go talk to him, Kon. I'll put on some tea," says Ma Kent. A pause. "Fall's coming early this year."

Kon gets changed into some borrowed clothes - probably Clark's from when he was younger. When he meets Superman on a hillside, he's changed as well into a button-down flannel shirt. They are both shaken. Dead-eyed. Washed out. They have fought in the same war, they've both seen things.

Kon sits with Clark on the hill.

"You'll find him. I know you'll find him. I mean, you're you. You're..."

A long pause. Kon buries his head in his arms and leans them on his drawn up knees.

"When is it going to stop feeling like this?" Kon asks.

Clark leans his head on his knees as well. "When you find out, let me know."

Fall came early that year.

Sarah Kerrigan

[zerg_rush]

Highly ethical science [CW: Too long, see below]

[zerg_rush]

CW: Human experimentation, mind control, gross gooey stuff, medical abuse/neglect

The Terran Confederacy are wonderful people who used Kerrigan and some of her fellow telepaths as subjects in experiments to see if the zerg, a ravenously expansive alien hivemind, could be controlled. This went about as well as you might think. Here's an excerpt. (~1000 words)

Alloran

[takenalive]

[takenalive]

From Book Eight, in which Alloran's snakebit and free for about two minutes that he uses to beg children to mercy kill him. A bit under 1500 words, cw snakebite, brainslugs, and attempted suicide. Extremely pathetic.

Listen... my name is... what is my name? It’s been so long. And the poison... yes, that’s it. My name is Alloran-Semitur-Corrass. I was once a war-prince.

From Book Fourteen, in which Visser Three yells at some horses infested by alien parasites because turns out using horses to infiltrate Area Fifty One doesn't work. ~1000 words, cw he kills a horse and acts like it's someone else's fault. Very stupid.

Fools! Idiots! Incompetents! Weeks have been wasted setting up this effort. First we lose that clumsy fool, Korin Five-Four-Seven, when he was bitten by a snake. And now we’ve lost poor Jillay Nine-Two-Six!

From no actual book, a typical scene of Alloran drugged and restrained at the Yeerk Pool while the Visser feeds, and being taken to be reinfested. ~800 words, cw brainslugs and Alloran's life as a host being terrible.

We might need a higher dose on the counteragent, or earlier application. He's coming out of it more slowly than I like. Unless he's faking. Are you faking it, Andalite filth?

Ange Ushiromiya

[unsealthecatbox]

Memory of Being Deceived -- No Warnings

[unsealthecatbox]

A small Ange recieved a small piece of paper at school......wrote "I wish for my family to come home" on it, hung it on a bamboo branch, and fastened that to her bed post.
Then, she clapped, and made her wish again so that it would come true...
Having wished with all her might, Bern appeared to her in the land next to illusions, the world of slumber.

"............Hello, Ange. Is that your wish?"
"Ye,...yeah. .........Who.........are you......?"
"I will not tell you my name. This is the world of slumber, a world like the receding tide. .........Even if you hear my name, it will not remain in your memory."
"........................"
"Well then, your wish. .........I wouldn't mind causing a miracle and granting your wish."
".........Really...? Really...?!"
"Yes. Really. ......However, magic is something that will not be granted unless you wish for it strongly and work hard for it. ......I hear that's how it works. According to Lambda. It's such a pain."
Ange was not able to hide her surprise at this witch, who showed up in the world of her dreams, claiming that she would grant her wish.
However, she felt that the witch wanted something in exchange for the miracle.
......But, if her family would come home, Ange thought that she would accept any undertaking.

"I'll work as hard as you want me to, Witch-sama. Please hear my wish...!"
"......I understand. If you follow my instructions every single day, if your desire for that wish to be truly granted reaches the heavens......at that time, I will definitely pay you another visit, and grant your wish."

Although, that could be 1 year from now, 5 years from now, or perhaps 10 or more years from now.
In that regard, I guess I'm about the same as Lambda. ......In the end, I'll grant it, so it's not exactly unkind. *giggle*giggle*......

"Then, Witch-sama. ......What should I strive for......?"
"Today, you were told by your foster mother, Ushiromiya Eva, to think of her as a replacement for your mother, and that you could count on her for anything, right...?"
"Ye, ......yes."

Eva......had said that to Ange today.
We are connected because we are aunt and niece. But, we are also connected in that I have lost a child, and you have lost your parents.
And we cannot trick ourselves into thinking of each other as replacements for our lost family.
Even so, I think of you as my own child.
So if you......could allow that, then I'd like you to think of me as your mother, and I want you to rely on me for whatever you need.
Eva had hugged Ange as she said that.
To the young Ange, Mom was Mom, and Eva definitely wasn't. ......However, she understood the the meaning of those words, and the affection verging on sorrow.
But as would be expected from a child her age, she needed some time to accept this......

"Yes. ......Eva oba-san definitely said that."
"If you wish, from the bottom of your heart, for your real mother to return......then you musn't give the position of mother away to somebody else so easily. If your real mother loses her position as your mother, then she will never come back home."
".............................."
To the young Ange, that seemed very logical.
If she accepted someone who wasn't her mother as her mother, then when her real mother came back, there would be no place for her to return......

"......Okay? For your real mother's sake, this is important, right...?"
"Ye, ......yes, Witch-sama. ......Eva oba-san is Eva oba-san. I will certainly never call her Mom. I won't think of her as Mom."
"Good. .....And Eva oba-san said something else, right?"

Right now, we cannot forget the scars on our hearts, and together we have forgotten how to smile.
However, I believe that this would surely sadden my child and your parents.
......Wouldn't it be alright if we could remember how to smile, if only a little bit at a time?
Of course, we can't do this right away.
We have to remember our forgotten smiles bit by bit.
That's why.....I've decided that from today on, I'll try my best to practice smiling.
..............................That's weird...isn't it?
Ange-chan, if you ever remember how to smile........please show me too.
I feel that if we do that, we'll be able to remember how to smile even more.

"Yes. ......Eva oba-san definitely said that."
"To one who wishes for their family to return, such as you, pain and sorrow strong enough to lift that wish to the heavens are necessary. ......Until that day, you mustn't show your smile."
"I mustn't, ......show, .........my smile."
"Yes, that's right. ......I'll be watching over you. If it seems like a smile is going to come upon your face, even once......I will accept that as a sign that you don't care if your family comes back or not anymore. I promise you that the miracle of them coming home will never happen."
"......I, ......don't want that. I certainly won't smile...! Until Dad and Mom and Onii-chan come home, I will certainly never smile...!"

"You mustn't feel happiness. You musn't feel joy. .........You must never forget the sorrow of losing your family. ......And stay away from the demon who will try to make you forget that, who will try and decieve you. .........Ushiromiya Eva will try and crush that resolve many times with her sweet words. But you must never listen to them, alright...? Eva is a demon who will try and steal away your family for all eternity. *giggle*. No, she actually DID STEAL THEM AWAY."
"M, my resolve won't be broken...! Until my wish is granted, I certainly will not listen to Eva oba-san's words...!! So please, grant my wish, Witch-sama...!!"
"Yes. As long as you continue to keep your promise, ......then in the end, I will definitely appear before you and grant your wish. ......It's alright. I will definitely not ignore your pure-hearted resolve. ............*giggle*."

The next morning.
Ushiromiya Ange clearly announced it to Eva.
They were, ......the magic words that would bring forth the miracle of her family coming home.
And, the words were a curse that the cruel witch had made her say.
From that day on, ......those words stole the smiling faces from Ange and Eva...for all eternity......

Dan Sagittarius

[hallelujahjunction]

OTA | [cw: references to sex]

[hallelujahjunction]

Someone will find themselves in the bedroom of a small house, watching as a half-clothed Dan Sagittarius and a brown-haired woman make out in a queen-sized bed. Dan's not much younger than he is now. The angle of the sunlight through the shades indicates that it's sometime in the mid-morning.

He places kisses along his partner's neck, and she giggles as he hits a sensitive place behind her ear. "I'm so lucky I ran into you in the parking lot," she says.

"I think I'm the lucky one, this time," Dan says, without a trace of his usual accent.

She places a finger to his lips, laughing. "Sorry, just-- your voice- it just kills the mood."

Dan waggles his eyebrows at her and walks more kisses along her collarbone, continuing to make her giggle, then starts to slip out of the bed, clothed only from the waist down.

"Where are you going?" she asks.

"Making you breakfast," he says, placing a kiss on the top of her head. "Be right back."

"You're an absolute dream, you know that? You'd better not run off while my back is turned. I need you to meet my mom." The woman laughs and flops back into her pillows. "Oh my God. Is it possible to fall in love on one date? Ugh, I'm sorry, I sound like a schoolgirl, that's way too much."

"When you know, you know. You stay beautiful and rested, and I'll grab you a pop tart," Dan says, closing the bedroom door behind him as he starts to investigate the house. He bee-lines for the kitchen and throws a pop tart into the toaster, but from there he heads towards the purse on the counter. He pulls out the money clip - fourteen dollars - and tucks that into his pocket, then grabs a trash bag from under the sink and heads to the bathroom.

In the bathroom, Dan starts to grab things and shove them into the trashbag. Toilet paper, a stick of deodorant, a bottle of hand soap, toothpaste. He opens the cabinet door and sees bottles of pills, and holds up a cell phone to it, taking a photo with the sound off.

He texts the photo to someone and dials a number. A child's voice answers on the other side: "ibuprofen's in the big white bottle, antacid has the blue cap."

"Nothing we can sell?" Dan whispers.

"No, no painkillers or anything. Just over-the-counter stuff. So much for you buying me a pony for Christmas, huh?"

"Gotta go," he whispers. He grabs the ibuprofen and the antacid and shoves them in the trashbag, then throws in a pack of razors from under the sink. He ties the bag and slinks out of the house, grabbing a laptop off the counter on the way out.

Right as the front door closes, a burned pop tart pops up out of the toaster.

"Oh boy," the real Dan says, rubbing his hand over his face as he watches this whole thing play out. "Not my finest moment."

Miles Morales l Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse

[scansorial]

[ooc: place holder basically but. If none of these prompts work for you, let me know and we can come up with something else! I've taken him from getting his own proper suit (aka pinching one and customizing it from his dimension's Pete's Spider-Cave or whatever. So he's basically taken from being on his way to help deal with Kingpin and get the other Spiders back home. Anything up to that point is fine!]

Miles is tasked to take over as Peter is killed

[scansorial]

[ooc: cw cartoon violence because Fisk.]

[It's dark. There's rubble all over from the fighting. Miles rushes over to a man with bright blue eyes revealed under the ripped and torn mask of his superhero outfit - familiar to some here, perhaps. It's similar enough to Miles's one, just different colours. Red and blue instead of his black and red. Miles checks on him, asking if he was okay, if he could get up.

'Yeah. I always get up.' he reassures the younger teen, even as he is clearly in a lot of pain and took quite a beating. The coughing is not the most reassuring either. He tells Miles he has to get up there, that they don't have much time. He tells Miles to use the override key to stop the collider, to swing up there and use the key, blow it up. He tells Miles to hide his face, not to let anyone know who he is.

He talks about what is at stake, that if that machine, this collider turns on, everything and everyone Miles knows will disappear. He asks Miles to promise to stop it. Miles agrees. He starts climbing, as Peter reassures him that it is going to be okay, that he would come and find him.

Miles hides as he hears talking. That is decidedly not Peter's voice. It's Kingpin. He finds Spider-Man, unmasking him. Saying it isn't always about the money. There's another with him, the Prowler, in his black and purple outfit, with those claws. Peter says he knows what Kingpin is trying to do. That it won't work. That they are gone. Whoever 'they' are. Fisk is in a rage at hearing that, in denial, as he beats Peter in response, slamming his huge fists into Peter.

Miles accidentally knocks some debris as he shifts in his horror, drawing attention. He freezes for a moment, knowing Kingpin heard that and probably saw him before he runs off.]

Filbo Fiddlepie -- Content Warnings for All: Body Horror

[ahelpingpaw]

Welcome to Snaxburg

[ahelpingpaw]

"Filbo, why are your sashes stuffed into the latrine?"

Filbo, who had been busy sewing new ones, turned to look at Lizbert when she asked that question. She had arrived, bringing a sack presumably full of the latest hunt. "...m-maybe they fell in there" he mumbled. As if. He knew exactly who in town had done it. That had been such an infantile thing to do to him -- not that everything else had been any better. Beffica had resorted to every trick: name-calling, snooping into his hut, being contrarian, and now she apparently had gotten into his hut to take his sashes to throw them into the outhouse.

This was outright harassment. Still...Filbo didn't want to talk about it. Not when there were a million other fires going on in Snaxburg. He could see how tired Lizbert seemed to be sometimes, she letting her guard down around him. Lizbert sat with him, her gray fur a little messy after coming back from hunting Bugsnax.

"So what happened while I was gone?" she asked. As the mayor deputy, Filbo was technically in charge while she was out hunting. Problem was...

"Everyone is waiting to talk with you" Problem was that nobody trusted Filbo to do a thing. No matter how hard he tried, everybody just told him it was all fine, and then when Lizbert arrived they'd talk with her. It was as if Filbo was just there to fill space.

Filbo couldn't blame them, everyone had their issues and a lot of problems to deal with, but...sometimes he really had to wonder if it was that everyone hated him. Maybe that was it.

"They didn't even tell you?"

"Um...not really. But I did look around. The sauce crop isn't growing well, Triffany's leg isn't healing well and I kinda think she argued with her husband again, and we're running out of Bugsnax"

Well, at least the last one was easily solved, Lizbert had returned from hunting. Grinning, she extended the sack towards Filbo. "Since you're working so hard how about you get first pick? Take whatever you want!"

That was remarkable, usually Lizbert's girlfriend got the best stuff. That could only mean Filbo had to look especially downcast today, for her to offer this to him! Still...Filbo didn't like eating Bugsnax very much, but she had never told Lizbert that.

Something about eating a critter that was staring right at you seemed a little iffy. Despite how he felt, he continued devouring them.

There was nothing else to eat, after all -- unless you count the sauce.

Filbo didn't really take a good look inside. Getting his paws into the sack, soon he took out a strawberry -- a very large strawberry, the size of a human head, with googly eyes that were still blinking. He could hear the Bugsnax's soft crooning. 'Strabby Strabby Strabby'

Lizbert frowned. "That's all? Filbo, there's better stuff in here"

"I know! But I like these"

"...if you say so" It was pointless to argue with Filbo. Still, Lizbert patted him on the back. "I have told you since we were kids: you should think of yourself more. Think about what you want, and try to get it. You'll be happier once you do"

Ever since Lizbert defended him while he was being picked on in school, she had been so encouraging to him. Even after all these years that hadn't changed at all. Giving him a smile, Lizbert left, swinging the sack over her shoulder and walking away to deliver food to everyone else in town...

...leaving Filbo behind with that. Bugsnax were amazing. They were really filling, so much you didn't even need three meals a day. Not that it stopped almost everyone from wanting as many as they could get!

"...welp. Down the hatch, am I right?" Shrugging, Filbo opened his mouth and, with two swift bites, ate the Strabby. That it was still alive didn't matter, nor the effects of consuming Bugsnax were of any importance once they popped up a few seconds later.

His right arm changed. Blue fur was replaced with strawberry rinds, swelling almost instantly, turning crimson red. Little seeds and leaves peppered the many strawberries that now formed his arm, better strawberries than most out there.

When you eat Bugsnax, your body changes. It's just cosmetic, was the conclusion Lizbert had gotten to, and the scientist and the medic in their group had confirmed there were no ill effects!

"Still pretty neat!" Filbo commented and continued sewing, as if the transformation of his limb was no big deal. And it wasn't really. If Lizbert said it was all okay, then it was all okay.

That was all there was to it.

Counselor Aiden Price

[myagents]

[prompts down below]

Locked to Bunny (cw: homelessness)

[myagents]

Well, now that he knows that these odd dimensions where memories get put on display are a thing, Price is not surprised to see a continuation of the previous memory share.

What surprises him is that Bunny is here again, as if it's important that he of all people witnesses this. Averting his glance, he tries to focus on the memory.

His younger self is crouching, almost laying in an alley completely covered in snow. In a container near him, smoke from an extinguished fire. What was burning is barely recognizable as two teddybears, ruined from the burning but visibly new, like they were bought recently. In front of him, an ashtray he stole from a bar with only a few coins in it.

Shaking in the snowstorm, with still forming tears freezing in his eyes, he reaches for his phone. The battery is dying but he has to make one last call.

“Please, please pick up...” he prays aimlessly, through several rings. “I’m going to die here...”

At last, he does receive an answer. A cold, merciless one, from his cold, merciless case worker.

“Aiden, I swear to God, I’m calling the police.”

“Please call them.” he begs feebly “Call someone...Anyone...”

“...Why?” the man asks flatly, completely unfazed.

“I...I think I might die, now.”

“...You’re faking it, aren’t you?”

Aiden stays silent. He wants to cry, he really, really, really wants to. He just doesn’t manage.

“I know you hate me, but...Can you please...Can you please be nice to me?”

No response.

“Just for this time, please...Please just comfort me while I--”

And then, he loses consciousness. Current Price's expression darkens, thinking about how those cruel words could have been the last he heard before dying. He inevitably thinks about how his death was confirmed by Carolina, wonders what last words he is going to hear.

He sighs deeply, gestures to Bunny in resignation.

"Go ahead, say what you want to say."

It couldn't be worse than that, he would add, but in light of recent events Bunny's presence is way harsher. Bunny may not have ruined his life the way the case worker did, not yet, but to Price he's exactly like him.

aziraphale

[oldbookshop]

open; idk if it's cw worthy but we got christianity-based religious lore

[oldbookshop]

The Garden of Eden is, as one might expect, a veritable paradise. Massive, really, dense with foliage, with animals, pools and waterfalls, fruits and vegetables, the whole lot; shielded from the harshness of the surrounding desert by a very large stone wall.

And by him. Technically. It's supposed to be. Principality Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate and all. (There are no doors in any of the gates. There are, insofar as he's ever seen or heard about, no other guardians. But it's what they're called and what he's called, and it's certainly not his place to question.)

Aziraphale is, technically speaking, meant to be back up on the bordering wall at his station. What he's doing instead, feet on the ground, wings sort of interdimensionally tucked away so that the humans won't see them, flaming sword in hand, is dithering. Watching Adam and Eve finish their journey across the Garden and to his Gate-- to the large hole that's been knocked in it, passage out into the world for their exile.

He'd maybe told himself he was just going to watch. See them off, as a professional courtesy, do his job.

The thing is, though-- the thing is that as an angel stationed to guard Eden, who's spent a lot of time both looking out over the desert and in over the Garden, he can't help remembering how many vicious beasts have a habit of prowling about out there. Which was never a problem as much as a fun little curiosity before, with the most important things safe behind the wall. Now it seems terribly important.

And the thing is, the humans got into that bit of knowledge and picked up a sense of modesty, which is all well and good, whatever they prefer, except that their clothes are made entirely out of fig leaves and don't cover all that much. And while it's plenty hot during the day, the desert outside does a nifty trick where it actually tends to get quite cold in the dark.

Which all seems like quite a lot to be managing for a young couple new into the world and already starting a family? He hasn't got any reference, really, but it does seem very... a lot. Dangerous.

And the thing is, the thing is, is that he is still Guardian of the Eastern Gate, which they're about to leave through, and of the Garden behind the Gate, which they are technically still standing in. They can't stay. That's not in question. But they aren't gone yet, either.

He'd maybe told himself he was only going to see them off, and it turns out he'd maybe been telling himself a bit of a lie, because all those things that he was thinking about turn into a sharp anxious spike as the humans get within a few feet of the whole in the wall, and that spike turns into Aziraphale hurrying forward.

"Please wait!" He realizes belatedly, seeing the way they step back a little bit, that someone coming towards them with a weapon and a purposeful stride just after they've gotten in quite a lot of trouble is probably a bad look, so he puts his free hand up for a moment in an 'I mean no harm' sort of gesture, which at least seems to reassure them that he's not there to chase them out by force.

Aziraphale comes to a stop, and then just sort of holds the sword up and shoves it towards Adam, who'd looked poised to exit first.

"Here you go, flaming sword, don't thank me," he says, almost rapidfire in the manner of someone who's already very much made up their mind, but who also doesn't care to risk drawing this out.

The thing is, in the very final balance of things considered, that he loves them. Like he loves the Earth. From the moment he first saw them. They've done something wrong, yes, and they've been punished. There's no keeping them here, no squirreling them away where they've been forbidden from returning. But he doesn't see how that ought to impact his regard, or forbid them from access to even some small measure of-- of comfort.

Someone would have told him if it had to impact any of that by now, surely.

"And don't let the sun go down on you here."

Adam nods. He takes the sword, careful as he can.

Aziraphale glances up, briefly, feels the spike of fear that only Heaven and the Almighty can create in him when it comes to hypothetical consequences. But ideally, of course, no one will ever find out that he's done this in the first place. Better all around. It should be fine. He steps back and turns away, intent on heading back up to his post on the wall.

He'd like to watch the humans set off properly all the same.

((i'll probably default to brackets for replies but idk, can match format))

Holly Short

[darvit]

Holly's No Good Very Bad Night [cw: kidnapping]

[darvit]

~1000 words. Holly comes off a near-disastrous LEPrecon assignment and needs to complete the ritual. She finds the necessary magical hotspot, but unfortunately, she's not alone. The first time she meets the titular Artemis Fowl.

As the Holly in the memory falls unconscious, things get... hazy. She has a vague awareness of being stuffed into a duffel bag (such an undignified way to treat someone, Frond's sake Artemis) but from there, she only knows that she must have been carried back to Fowl manor.

Present-day Holly, her eyes once again mismatched, sighs where she appears sitting on the ground at the foot of the oak tree. She has no idea what this is, why this memory is being relived, but she's familiar enough with the concept of 'magical nonsense' to just accept that it's what's happening. "I still can't believe I let them get the jump on me..."

Cammie MacCloud

[tr1xx]

Sleepless Night

[tr1xx]

~900 words. Cammie wakes up from a nightmare and one of her friends, Kazu, takes his turn to comfort her to try and get her back off to sleep. Unfortunately, sleep doesn't come easily tonight, and they have to find a way to occupy some time. So, British Sign Language Lessons it is.

They're not the last signs Cammie teaches Kazu, that night. She feels bad about keeping him up, even now, looking back on it, but he didn't seem to mind so much. None of them ever seemed to mind, so much. She spent so long hiding her nightmares from them before the day she finally couldn't, and then after, they were always so nice, and...

This isn't Cammie's first rodeo, with sharing memories. She isn't surprised. And it's a good memory. It really is, it's a quiet little memory she holds dear to her heart. Still, it stings, and she just hopes whoever ends up seeing this doesn't notice the way she looks ready to cry.

CT

[liesdontfindyou]

Where it All Began [cw: prison, threat of electric shocks as containment protocol, coercion]

[liesdontfindyou]

~1900 words. CT, at the time known as Specialist Diaz, is brought in for an interview with the Counselor of Project Freelancer. They want to give her an offer she can't refuse. Turns out being set to go to prison for a long, long time limits your ability to say no.

When she's escorted out, Diaz is taken back to her cell, where she starts to read the contract in full. CT wishes she could grab her past self and tell her not to do it, to tell them no, to stay in damn prison if it meant they wouldn't get wrapped up in this mess, but... she can't. And, really, she wouldn't want to change things, because someone had to notice what was wrong.

It's just a shame that noticing what was wrong wasn't enough to bring them down without people getting hurt.

Kaworu Nagisa

[diedforyoursins]

ota | cw: animal death

[diedforyoursins]

The scene is what looks like the very recent ruins of a city block. Rubble and broken glass litters the ground, some buildings completely demolished while others are still partially standing with rebar protruding from the jagged edges of walls.

Kaworu is seated within what clearly used to be a church, now open to the morning air with the roof and several walls missing. He sits at a piano, miraculously untouched in all the destruction but for a layer of dust. There's no sheet music, and the song he's playing – Beethoven's ninth – sounds less memorized than learned by ear, if anyone is familiar enough with it. Still, it's pleasant to listen to, if a bit unsettling in this scene.

As he plays, a boy that looks about his (apparent) age peeks around the corner. He's plain-looking, darked-haired and wearing the same school uniform as Kaworu, and for some reason he's holding a small, thin kitten. The boy gawks at Kaworu, who doesn't even seem to notice him at first, eyes closed serenely as he plays. But as the song finishes, he suddenly speaks up.

"Do you know this song?" he asks, to the other boy's evident confusion, and continues, "I heard it while walking through town. Do you know what it's called?"

"...It's the Ode to Joy," the boy responds after a moment, tentative. Kaworu gives a thoughtful hum in response, finally looking over at the other boy with a smile.

It seems off, somehow, to anyone that's gotten used to him here. Lacking in the warmth his normal smile usually has. There's something sharper about this, even if it appears perfectly pleasant at a glance.

"That uniform... You go to First Junior High?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Well, then." Kaworu gets up with all his odd, fluid grace, hands slipping into his pockets. "Take me there." At the boy's obvious confusion, he clarifies – as much as anything he says ever actually adds clarity to anything – "I'm lost. I was never meant to be in a place like this."

The boy remains uncertain as Kaworu steps alongside him. "Are you...new here?"

"Sort of. And you? What are you doing here? Are you lost as well?"

"Uh–"

"Why are you holding a cat?" Kaworu finally asks the obvious question with a curious expression. The boy seems to only just then remember that he's carrying it at all, and after a moment of hesitation, he sets it down and starts to walk away. The scrawny, dirty little thing immediately starts to approach again, mewling loudly, and the boy frowns.

"Don't follow me," he scolds it. "I can't take care of you. Go!"

The look Kaworu gives the kitten could be called thoughtful, but there's something unsettlingly cold about it – even moreso, to people used to his typical gentle demeanor. He steps over and picks it up, long pale fingers around its tiny neck and ribcage.

There's a quiet moment, and he offers it a smile before squeezing tight.

The kitten yowls, pained, and the other boy is frozen for a moment, stunned, before he's grabbing at Kaworu's sleeve and shouting for him to stop. The sideways glance Kaworu gives him is dismissive at best, and he shrugs as he loosens his grip on the kitten's now limp body.

"Well, it's dead now." He tosses it aside into the grass, and the other boy seems breathless is his horror and disbelief.

"W-why... How could you do that?!"

"You said you couldn't take care of it."

"What?! B-but you didn't have to kill it...!"

"No," Kaworu agrees, and turns that thin, cool smile on the boy instead. "But it would have died. If it has no mother to feed it, and we both left, who else would take care of it? It would have slowly starved to death on its own. This is kinder."

The boy lets go of his sleeve, stepping back and giving him a disturbed look. He's quiet for a long few moment before he asks, "Who... Who are you?"

The smile turns to a smirk.

"My name is Kaworu Nagisa. I'm the Fifth Child. Haven't you heard of me, Shinji Ikari?"

((ooc: Will probably default to brackets for replies, will match if you prefer the prose!))

[Bunnymund]

[bringinghopewithme]

Origins - OTA [tw for imminent animal death and fantasy genocide]

[bringinghopewithme]

[The memory is underground. Not even in a cave - it's a huge, vast cavern with the air of a cathedral, a holiness and beauty that bypasses any expectation of what a cave is supposed to be. Soft green moss covers every stone. Flowers bloom from the floor to the ceiling. Whole forests of evergreens grow in the underground world, through which a river runs with a rainbow of colors. There's a waterfall somewhere in the distance.

There is no darkness here. Instead, the warmest, kindest light shines, like sunlight through the leaves of a great green tree, on the most whimsical little world that was never seen by mortals.

There are rabbits everywhere. None is larger than a hare. Most, in fact, are smaller and daintier, cuter than wild rabbits with their big jewel-toned eyes and ornamentations of flowers and carved gems.

Despite their size, it's undeniable that they're people. Walking and talking in groups and pairs, carving stone and leaning on farming tools, painting with tiny brushes, clustered around flat stones cleared of moss with chalk in paw to share (and argue about) architectural designs, magical sigilry, mathematical formulas, lyrics of half-written songs, and on, and on.

The cavern, winding on into the earth in tunnels all illuminated with the light of dawn, is a society. There's nothing less than a city of prosperous, creative, happy little rabbits flourishing somewhere beneath the surface of the Earth.

Bunny towers over them all, and his body language is tense, totally at odds with the utopian atmosphere. He sighs out, loudly, already furious, already stressed.] Not this again.

Jennifer

[poor_unlucky_girl]

[prompt(s) down below]

(tw: implied kindapping)

[poor_unlucky_girl]

The Jennifer in the memory is about nine years old, her hair is cut very short and she's wearing boy's clothes. She's locked in a cold basement, unkempt and smelly from the humidity. Sitting on a bed, she can only spend time rereading the letters that that girl slipped through that window near the ceiling.

'9 January From W to J
...Oh my poor, kind Prince.
You're worried because that man sometimes seems crazy, right? Well, don't worry.
I know where he hides that awful thing of his. So, let's run away, together.
You can leave it all to me. Everything will be all right.'

'20 January From W to J
My Prince,
Please don't worry. I'll do anything for you. Just... pledge your love for me.
That's all I ask.'

A noise distracts her from reading the last letter - not that she doesn't know it by heart by now, it has their important promise written on it. It's her, it's Wendy.

"I came, just like I promised. It looks like he went somewhere. Stay right there. I'll help you out."

While waiting for her to come, Jennifer toys with the handle of a closet and a little teddybear that was sitting on top of it falls off. Romantic as she is, she takes it as a cue to bring it with her. Once Wendy unlocks the door and retrieves Gregory's gun - his 'dangerous thing' as she calls it - she exhorts Jennifer to follow her into the rose garden.

Wendy smiles happily. She tells Jennifer that she want to make a trade, the brooch for the bear. They decide to name the bear Joshua, as that man always calls Jennifer. As for the brooch, well...Jennifer still has it after all this time.

"So, let's renew our pact."

They take each other's hands.

"Everlasting
true love
I am yours."

Dick Grayson

[circusbat]

CW: Parental death

[circusbat]

The circus is always a lot. A lot of sound. A lot of colors. A lot of scents--not all of them great. It's understandable to feel a bit overwhelmed with it in the moment.

But the eye is immediately drawn to a trio of people walking through the crowd: a man, a woman and a pre-teen boy. They wear matching leotards in green and red with yellow capes, standing out against the punters. The young boy is the spitting image of his father, both with black hair and blue eyes, but it's the woman's smile that people may recognize more, even if they can't quite place it at the moment.

The boy's excitement becomes clear a moment later as the conversation becomes clearer. "...We're going to the World Series?" he says, just as they're all three stopped by another trio: a mother, father and their much younger son.

"Excuse us." The second man smiles as the performers stop. "I'm sorry for interrupting, but this is Tim's first time at the circus. And we were wondering if you'd let us take your picture with him?"

It only takes a moment for the performers to agree and soon the kid is seated on the pre-teen's knee, just staring at him as the older boy grins, winking. "Come on, Tim. Say cheese!"

The picture taken, the young performer puts the kid down and ruffles his hair. "Watch me on the trapeze, Tim. I'm going to do my act--'specially for you!"

Things progress in a flash of color and the blink of an eye, until the ringmaster is announcing the first family of the trapeze, the Flying Graysons! Which may be the first time that the watcher puts together that the young boy must be Dick.

The first tricks are easy, done with a net spread out below as Dick joins the act, including doing a quadruple somersault! Something the ringmaster assures the crowd that only the three people above them can do. After several passes, Dick and his mother bow from the platform while his father waves from his bar. The net is taken away as Dick descends from the platform, now that the more experienced Graysons are taking front stage.

Dick watches from the ground, grinning at the first couple of passes, where his parents test the waters before his father calls out a few words in Romany, which the memory translates as a code for a specific set of moves. Mary waves, starting her swing.

And then it all goes wrong. The memory is silent as the sound of a snapped rope resounds through the tent and Dick screams as his parents fall.

The memory cuts out there, the lights going black as the adult Dick appears, jaw and hands clenched as the sound of two bodies hitting the ground can still be heard. He closes his eyes, then reaches up and rubs at them. "I...could have done without that tonight."

[OOC: As seen in Batman (1940) #441...or close enough.]

Bumblebee

[talk_radio]

Cybertron TW: War, decapitation, using a severed robot head as a weapon.

[talk_radio]

The city might have been beautiful, once. What would've been a shining metal metropolis had been torn apart by years of constant battle. The fog of war is lit by flame and gun fire.

"Where's B-127?" says a large red and blue mech, his voice tinged with a slight, almost paternal concern. He's quickly answered by what appears to be Bumblebee leaping off a building and using another mech to break his fall. A winged robot tries to take out the red mech, but Bumblebee kicks the head of his makeshift landing pad into the attacker, knocking the enemy over.

"Sorry I'm late. Hit a little traffic," Bee quips, in what definitely doesn't sound like his usual hodgepodge of radio clips, before someone in the distance shouts a warning. Bee turns his head, and his optics widen. "Uh, Optimus?"

Many more robots appear, each marked with the same purple logo the mechs Optimus and Bumblebee had been fighting. "Decepticons, attack," orders the blue one in a monotonous robotic tone.

"Autobots, fall back!" Optimus shouts. "Get to the tower!"

While the Autobots retreat, a purple mech gestures in their direction with a massive arm cannon. "Destroy the launchpad! Let none escape!" A squadron of winged Decepticons transforms into alien jets, speeding towards the tower the Autobots fled to.

As the Autobots reach the roof of the tower, Optimus continues to bark out orders. "Cybertron has fallen. Get to the escape pods! There are other Autobots scattered across the galaxy! We must reach them if we hope to survive."

Bumblebee stops near him. He's not a fan of leaving the planet to the Decepticons, and he's not quiet about it either. "Optimus, this is our home. We have to fight for it."

Jets scream over the launch pad. "We will fight on," Optimus reassures, "but we must find refuge first." He raises his arm as hologram of a familiar planet to many appears over it. "I've found a planet that's well hidden. Earth."

He rests his hand on Bumblebee's shoulder. "You will travel there and establish a base for us. Once we've gathered the others we'll join you. You must protect the planet. If the Decepticons find it then our people are truly finished. Now go!"

On Optimus's orders, Bee runs towards a pod. The Decepticon jets fire and missiles fly down and hit their mark, rocking the tower.. "Good luck soldier! I'll buy you some time!" Optimus shouts, before the pod closes and Bumblebee is sent flying into space.

For a moment, before he's too far away to make out any detail, Bee can still see Optimus still fighting from the window of his pod.

Need

[hasapoint]

sword memories

[hasapoint]

[Because this is mind palaces, Need will be appearing in conversation in a more human form.]

You're afraid of deep water
There's a great, sweeping, sunny view of the ocean. Out on the water distant boats with triangle sails are visible, but here in the bay it looks like wild coastline. A young woman with an unevenly shaved head is sitting under a tree and working on a stack of arrows, using a pot of glue to attach the fletching. Need is propped against the trunk besides her. With a completely different sheath and hilt, she's not readily recognizable on sight. The young woman is asking, "What do you mean you don't know how to swim?"

:What do you think it means? I never learned!: Need grouses. :Some of us don't grow up living like seals, you know.:

Her bearer works on a few more arrows, frowning in thought. "You lykeblades learn things from us, don't you?"

:I don't like where this is going. Yes, we do, but you do realize I'm a sword? You don't take swords into water. Especially salt.:

"You're a magic sword that doesn't rust, and not a heavy one either. I am not letting you go into eternity not being able to swim," her bearer declares, picking Need up and starting to wrap twine over her quillions, binding sword to sheath. "That's a basic life skill! You're going to have people in the future who'll need to not paddle at the surface and drown, and anyway, you made me learn to ride a horse."

:Horses are everywhere. The ocean isn't,: Need argues. There is, maybe, just the hint of apprehension. :You're - damn it, you're not listening to me. Why do I keep picking children with no respect for their elders?:

"Because we're your favorites." When Need has no response, the girl smirks.

Sometimes your bearer has sex on top of you while an angel watches
There's a spacious limestone cave with an entrance full of thorns. A fire smoulders and the smell of baked fish lingers in the air. On a bedroll besides it, by the light of a candle melted onto the cave floor, a man in torn white clothing is dressing the injuries of a striking blonde mercenary. There's enough space in the cave for two horses to be present without crowding. Well. One's a horse, a huge gray monster, deeply ugly and powerfully built, with an intent and watchful air that'd be more remarkable if not for the fact that the other 'horse' is an angel. Literally, an angel in the shape of a horse - there is a strong conviction, somehow, that it is a divinely-sanctioned spirit being. Its luminous whiteness makes it somehow set apart from the scene.

Need's been wrapped in a blanket and slipped under the bedroll. The mercenary and the man in white converse about the psychic gifts they both have, and as he bandages just under her breasts he switches to Mindspeech, saying :You know, my lady, just because you've always been afraid of something, that's no reason to continue to fear it.: The mercenary looks at him and after a deliberate pause pulls him closer to sit besides her. They kiss, and slowly, wincing at various minor injuries, start to pull off their clothing.

The angel horse looks judgemental. Need has no comment.

Nog

[ferengineer]

Re: Nog

[ferengineer]

The Nog that enters through the office's doors isn't the confident, somewhat serious officer that the other campers are familiar with. He's younger, nervous, and somewhat diffident. His arm shakes slightly as he holds it out towards the human behind the desk, a man in a Starfleet uniform.

"You wanted to see me, Commander?" Nog says, both excited about and dreading what the man has to say.

"Nog. I've given your request a lot of thought," Sisko says as he makes his way around the desk.

"I appreciate that Commander," Nog answers, folding his fingers together, still a bundle of nerves.

"But, I'm afraid I'm going to have to turn you down, the commander finishes. The reply hits Nog like a ton of bricks. It's clearly not what he'd wanted to hear.

"Turn me down? Why? Did I do something wrong?" Nog grasps at straws, trying to figure out how to convince Commander Sisko to change his mind.

"It's not anything you did, Nog. You're just not Academy material." The commander's voice has an air of seeming finality to it as he tosses a clinking bag Nog's way. "Here. This belongs to you."

"Can't we talk about this?" Nog asks desperately. This can't be happening.

"There's nothing to talk about. We both know you'd never make it through the Academy. You couldn't handle the workload or the discipline. You wouldn't last two weeks."

"That's not true!" Nog cries, "I'm a hard worker! I proved that to you!" Nog had done the inventory like Sisko had asked. He'd gone above and beyond to finish it. Why even ask him to do it if this was always going to be his decision?

"It doesn't matter, and I'm not going to put my reputation on the line just to satisfy some whim of yours," Sisko says dismissively.

Is that it? Did Sisko really think this was just some joke? "It's not just a whim. I'm serious about joining Starfleet."

"I don't have time for this, Nog. Now whatever little scheme you had, you can forget it. I'm not giving you that letter." Another dismissal. Nog isn't nervous now. He's mad. This was something he'd needed and any hope of getting it was being ripped from his fingers because Sisko refused to take him seriously.

"It's not a joke or a scheme," Nog says with a hiss, barely managing to contain that anger, "I want to join Starfleet. I want it more than anything I've ever wanted in my life."

"You're a Ferengi," Sisko says, moving closer. "Why would you want to be in Starfleet? Where's the profit in it?" he growls, shaking the clinking bag in Nog's face.

"I don't care about profit!" Nog snaps. He doesn't. It may be a betrayal of everything Ferengi society stands for, but he doesn't.

The bag hits the desk. Sisko grabs a now fearful Nog by the arms, shaking him. "Then what do you care about? Come on, Nog, tell me! Why's it so damned important that you get into Starfleet? Why are you doing this?"

"Because I don't want to end up like my father!" Nog shouts, almost spitting the words out. That too feels like a betrayal. Despite everything he loves Rom, but he'd do anything to keep from becoming him.

Sisko pulls back and releases Nog. He's quieter, calmer, and thoughtful now. "Your...father."

"That's right, my father." Nog answers, breathing heavily now. "He's been chasing profit his whole life, and what has it gotten him? Nothing. And you know why? Because he doesn't have the lobes. And neither do I."

"And a Ferengi without profit-" Sisko starts.

"-is no Ferengi at all." Nog finishes.

"The 18th Rule of Acquisition," Sisko adds quietly. He forced Nog into this admission, but a part of him appears uncomfortable with the answer.

"My father is a mechanical genius. He could have been chief engineer of a starship if he'd had the opportunity," says Nog with a hint of pride, "but he went into business like a good Ferengi. The only thing is he's not a good Ferengi. Not when it comes to acquiring profit. So now all he has to live for is the slim chance that someday, somehow, he might be able to take over my uncle's bar. Well, I'm not going to make the same mistake. I want to do something with my life. Something worthwhile."

"Like joining Starfleet," Sisko says, finally understanding.

"I may not have an instinct for business but I have my father's hands and my uncle's tenacity. I know I have something to offer. I just need the chance to prove it," Nog pleads.

"Alright," Sisko says with a nod, "I'll see that you get that chance."

Nog hardly dares to believe it "You're going to recommend me to Starfleet Academy?"

"I'll send the letter first thing tomorrow morning," the commander says just before Nog embraces him.

"Commander, I don't know how to thank you!" The hug is brief as Sisko is, unfortunately, required to deflate some of Nog's excitement.

"Whoawhoawhoa. Don't thank me yet. You still have a lot of work ahead of you."

"Don't worry," Nog says, once again holding out a hand. "You're never going to regret this."

This time Sisko takes it, and the two share a firm handshake.

"I'd almost forgotten just how scary this was," another Nog says, this one clearly the version from now.

Mio Amakura

[remaininghalf]

[prompt(s) down below]

cw murder

[remaininghalf]

A rhetoric 'What the heck is that?!' echoes through the newly opened dimension. Mio preemptively grabs the Camera Obscura, but there is no ghost or supernatural presence, just a painful memory waiting to haunt her.

The first detail of the memory that she perceives is the constant stomping of dozens of staves, those bell sounds getting louder and increasing in pace. The image she sees is one of her own hands, wrapped around the neck of a girl near identical to her.

"Why haven't you killed me back then?" she whispers "I've been waiting, waiting, waiting..."

Henry Townshend

[wisdomreceiver]

[prompt(s) down below]

cw blood

[wisdomreceiver]

The displayed memory is extremely recent. Henry is navigating a horrific environment, an apartment complex whose walls seem to be made out of flesh. Reaching the door for Apartment 303, he takes a key. It has a little doll attached to it. Opening the door, he's welcomed in by a huge trail of blood.

His neighbour Eileen Galvin, beaten and bloodied, is lying on the ground. She was just about to go to a party, and if her dress leaving her back bare was a cute fashion choice before, it now somehow facilitated the plans of a madman. Onto her skin, the number: 20/21.

She speaks feebly, her hand reaching for a small child standing in front of her.

"Hey kid… Thanks. Did you...Find your mommy…?"

Stacia Novik

[credit_not_blame]

Mother, mother

[credit_not_blame]

It's not a single memory, instead it's two of them run together. The first takes place in a suburban breakfast nook on a fall morning. Stacia, visibly younger but still clearly a teenager, is stirring a bowl of oatmeal. The other occupant of the kitchen is an older woman with ashy blond hair who looks enough like Stacia to be a relative. She's packing a bagged lunch at the counter while the Stacia of the memory watches her, clearly weighing something in her mind. The woman turns around and the expression vanishes behind a smile.

"Thanks, Mom," she says as the woman deposits the bagged lunch on the table next to her, as well as a kiss on Stacia's forehead before turning to leave the breakfast nook. Stacia turns in her chair.

"Mom? I had a weird dream last night, can I talk to you about it?"

"Of course, sweetie," her mother said, returning to the table and sitting down across from her. Stacia began to spin a story of a dream involving what was clearly werewolves, watching her mother's expression as she did. That expression went from polite interest, to concern, to -- was that genuine fear? -- and then a sort of distracted confusion. Stacia falters, then dismisses the dream herself as unimportant.

Then the breakfast nook is replaced by a living room late at night, clearly in the same house judging by the decor and by the fact that Stacia (older than before, but not quite yet at the age she is now) and her mother are facing off in a confrontation.

"You knew," Stacia hisses, hands balled into white-knuckled fists. "You knew this whole time, and you never said anything. You never warned any of us what could happen if we got scared or angry--" Her voice cracks and she swallows hard to restore it. "Aren't you at least sorry for that?"

The woman stares her down, chin lowered -- not in shame or guilt but almost as if to protect her throat.

"I won't apologize for protecting my family," she says. For a bare moment, Stacia looks like she's been slapped before fury rises in her face and she turns on her heel.

"If Dad asks, I'm at Mila's place," she says as she storms out of the room and slams through the front door.

Stacia of the present makes a face.

"Well, I guess this sure is a choice of a memory to show off to other people," she says, glancing at her companion. "At least you didn't get dumped into something violent and traumatic and bloody, I guess."

Dwight Fairfield

[dwitch]

The Woods are Lovely, Dark and Deep (cw - drugging, violence, blood, death)

[dwitch]

[Agreeing to this work retreat had been a mistake. If he'd been smart he would have stayed home. Used the time to keep looking for work somewhere else, anywhere else, before this sinking ship of a company finally went all the way under. Hell, maybe PizzaWhat would have taken him back. But instead here he was, spending his night in the woods, sitting around an oversized fire pit, the only idiot who wore his office clothes and not enough bug spray.

When Lazar makes a spectacle about breaking out his so-called "family recipe moonshine" there's a buzz amongst his co-workers. Finally, the one thing that would make a trek out into the woods worth it, booze. Even if it was yuppie moonshine.

Dwight holds back on joining the crowd getting their drinks, caught up in excitedly exchanging pet stories with a guy from HR; only to feel the prickle of eyes on the back of his neck. His boss hardly paid him any mind at work, outside of when he screwed up, but now Lazar kept looking at him over the small crowd, almost expectantly. In hindsight, that should have been a warning sign.

And so should have Lazar coming over to him directly, practically pushing a red solo cup into his hand with a sour look when Dwight expressed disinterest. All it took was pointing out it didn't look good for him, turning down his hospitality, for Dwight to meekly accept. He should have known when Lazar continued hovering over him, should have poured the cup in the dirt and said 'fuck this job, and fuck you'. He doesn't; instead taking a sip that earns him a satisfied smirk and a clap on the back.

"Down the hatch, Dwitch."

That first sip is his last clear memory of that night.

It sets in slow at first. Like a fog rolling in, seeping over the memory. The taste is forever seared in his mind though. The moonshine isn't much better than what he imagined rubbing alcohol would taste like, but he keeps politely sipping at it because it did a job of calming his nerves. Too good a job.

The memory warps harder as he starts to feel drowsy, his co-workers turning into dark phantoms of themselves as suspicion twists what little he remembers of that night. Occasionally, out of the corner of his eyes, they briefly shift into something more monstrous. Every smile and bit of laughter starts to feel mocking, leering, the chattering conversations turning overwhelming as drowsiness turns to dizzyness.

Had they known what was done to him? Had they been in on it? If they had been, did they just think it was a prank, or did they actually mean to-...

The memory gets choppy, fragmented, until it just stops. Everything going black. He doesn't remember hitting the ground.

---

As light comes back to the world, anyone being forced to relive the memory is shoved out of Dwight's perspective. Now laying in the dirt near the unlit fire pit a few feet away, he groggily tries to claw his way back to consciousness. Unharmed but left alone at the campsite. By the looks of the site, everyone else had packed up long ago. Sunlight peeks through the trees, and there's still a fog over the memory but it's more literal now.

Behind them, someone can be heard shuffling around, pacing back and forth through the weeds and brush at the edge of the camp, muttering incoherently to themselves. Another version of Dwight; still wearing the same clothes but he looks like he's been living in them out in the woods for months. Holding himself as he paces, he chews mindlessly on his thumbnail. Either he doesn't notice the scene taking place around him or he's purposely avoiding watching it.]