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🤡🤡🤡
✖ THE CARNIVAL
Ⅰ. ARRIVAL & THE TEMPLE
You can read all about your character's arrival in the game lore.
You can see the lights of the Ferris wheel from the water, and by the time you pull into port you can smell popcorn, cotton candy, grease, sawdust. Music drifts on the air, interspersed with screams from the rides.
The carnival is in town.
Not just any carnival, either - the carnival. The one to end all others. Every circus you ever read about or saw in a movie, with striped tents filled with acrobats and sideshows, midway games complete with carnival barkers in straw boater hats. But it's also every shitty fair that ever rolled through your hometown, with unreliable looking men with greasy mullets smoking as they jockey the Wild Mouse, the Gravitron, the Zipper, the Corkscrew. There's a constant stream of 80s hair metal playing underneath the roar of the rollercoaster tracks, blending somehow with the traditional piping organ of the carousel.
Experienced Travelers will know by now that every island has its own temple, and this one is no exception. It’s not in the carnival proper, though; if you step away from the lights of the midway and tents, you’ll notice dozens of old wooden circus trailers, arranged in a circle, growing tighter together the closer to the center you walk. The trailers are functional living places, with built in beds - sometimes one, sometimes two - and a small table and an old wood burning stove with a cooking top just big enough to boil a kettle on. There’s a toilet, but if you want a shower you’ll have to go outside and find a tent set up at the outskirts of the makeshift trailer park where there are tent showers set up, locker room style.
The clearing in the middle of the parked caravan is completely empty except for a solitary midway game: a towering high striker. It must be at least twenty feet tall, surmounted by a round, red bell. A wooden mallet is leaned against a sign next to the game that reads, predictably, TEST YOUR STRENGTH.
Step right up.
Ⅱ. HALL OF MIRRORS
When it comes to amusements, the Hall of Mirrors has always been second-fiddle to the Haunted House. But the line for the former was shorter, so here you are. The guy working the door has weasel eyes and is smoking. He gestures for you and whoever is behind you to enter together; "No singles. For safety."
The lights are a dull neon, cycling from deep blue to cyan to purple and back again. You find that your outstretched fingers will bump against smooth, clear glass as often as not. The mirrors reflect the maze back into itself over and over, disorienting and strange.
Some of the mirrors are convex, some concave, and as you pass them your reflection warps and bends alongside that of whoever you're stuck inside the maze with.
At some point you will realise that the reflection looking back at you isn't quite right. It's still you, sure, but it's not how you really look, not on the outside.
Looking back at you from the cold glass is how you perceive yourself. Perhaps that's stronger, perhaps uglier, perhaps as a sniveling child or an ancient hag. And this reflection is going to follow you from mirror to mirror as you desperately try to find your way out.
One of you spots an exit sign, bleeding red light. Only catch is that it's behind a pane of glass. And another. And another. You could break your way through all of them, certainly, but it's not as if there's anything laying around for you to use to do so. Just yourself, which might work in action movies but tends to cause a lot of physical damage in the real world.
Above the glass someone has placed a sticker that reads, “who are you really?” in black sharpie. Answer it, and the glass will swing open. Don't, and well...
Guess you'll have several years worth of bad luck.
Ⅲ. THE CAROUSEL
CW: childhood trauma
Old fashioned organ music and a million flashing lights draws you to the carousel. It's a vintage delight: huge, with ornate animals carved out of wood and lovingly hand painted. There are horses, of course, but also lions and leopards and birds and rabbits and wolves... any animal you could want! In fact, you'll see an animal that looks perfectly YOU. You just have to climb up on it for a ride.
When it stops and you step off, you will be younger. You will in fact be the same age you were when a formative event happened to you.
You're a kid at a carnival! How fun! Well, maybe you're not that young, and it's probably not very fun at all considering that now your trauma is fresh.
The only way to become your proper age again is to get on the carousel and get it to run forward. Depending on your age, you might not be able to figure any of that out, but surely one of the other Travelers can help you. You'll definitely need someone to man the carousel controls. Oh, and be careful not to knock it into overdrive...
Ⅳ. COULROPHOBIA
CW: clowns, suffocation
Who can possibly resist the big top? Not you! You're ushered into the tent and you take a seat in the stands, where you have an excellent view of the huge ring before you. The excitement in the air is palpable, and even if you're the grouchy type you'll find yourself a little bit thrilled.
It's a little surprising when the lights go up to the sound of screaming guitars. Mist belches from hidden foggers, and flames shoot from near the center of the ring. The lights stutter red, blue, green. The whole thing is a lot more rock show than it is Ringling Brother's.
At any rate, even if the ringmaster looks like a reject from a trailer park metal band and the music is liable to burst some eardrums, it's still a circus. There are trained horses and riders, contortionists, and a score of talented trapeze artists. It's all sparkling and impressive and terrific fun.
The trapeze artists take their bows, clearly ready for a break. And if a break is needed at the circus? You know what happens next, don't you?
SEND IN THE CLOWNS!
The clowns spill into the ring, all sorts of them! There's Harlequin and Pierrot, Auguste and Tramp. There's Bozos and Ronalds and Clarabelles and Krustys. Hopefully no Gacys, but there's so many of them that it's hard to know for sure.
One of these clowns - the one you hate the most, of course - approaches you in the stands. With comically exaggerated movements, it leans close to you and whispers...
Well. It whispers horrible things to you, really. It recounts to you some instance in your life where you delighted in the suffering of another, a moment where you really and truly were happy that somebody else was hurt. It's not a moment to be proud of, for sure, but as the clown tells your own secret shameful joy to you, you start to laugh. Really laugh - soon you're bent over double, tears running down your face, absolutely howling with laughter.
Your stomach hurts, and you're running out of breath. Very soon you won't be able to breathe at all.
Eventually, one of your fellow travelers won't be able to resist asking you, "What's so funny?"
The only way to stop laughing is to tell them. Otherwise you're going to pass out right where you sit, a creepy clown leering over you the whole time. Maybe your fellow traveler will be nice enough to drag you out of there if that happens, because if you're left alone? Everybody knows clowns get so much scarier alone in the dark.
It wouldn't be a party without some jams.
You can read all about your character's arrival in the game lore.
You can see the lights of the Ferris wheel from the water, and by the time you pull into port you can smell popcorn, cotton candy, grease, sawdust. Music drifts on the air, interspersed with screams from the rides.
The carnival is in town.
Not just any carnival, either - the carnival. The one to end all others. Every circus you ever read about or saw in a movie, with striped tents filled with acrobats and sideshows, midway games complete with carnival barkers in straw boater hats. But it's also every shitty fair that ever rolled through your hometown, with unreliable looking men with greasy mullets smoking as they jockey the Wild Mouse, the Gravitron, the Zipper, the Corkscrew. There's a constant stream of 80s hair metal playing underneath the roar of the rollercoaster tracks, blending somehow with the traditional piping organ of the carousel.Experienced Travelers will know by now that every island has its own temple, and this one is no exception. It’s not in the carnival proper, though; if you step away from the lights of the midway and tents, you’ll notice dozens of old wooden circus trailers, arranged in a circle, growing tighter together the closer to the center you walk. The trailers are functional living places, with built in beds - sometimes one, sometimes two - and a small table and an old wood burning stove with a cooking top just big enough to boil a kettle on. There’s a toilet, but if you want a shower you’ll have to go outside and find a tent set up at the outskirts of the makeshift trailer park where there are tent showers set up, locker room style.
The clearing in the middle of the parked caravan is completely empty except for a solitary midway game: a towering high striker. It must be at least twenty feet tall, surmounted by a round, red bell. A wooden mallet is leaned against a sign next to the game that reads, predictably, TEST YOUR STRENGTH.
Step right up.
Notes:
1. Please remember to mark threads appropriately with Content Warnings when necessary.
2. These prompts are a jumping off point - how they affect your character and their development is up to you.
3. The island temple is accessible to all. The High Temple is only accessible to new characters this month - it will re-open to all others next month.
4. The Test your Strength game can be played by anyone. How well your character does is entirely up to you, but the game does not necessarily measure physical strength.
5. These residents of the island are normal humans. Killing them is possible and will affect the colour grading of your Scrywatch depending on the situation.
6. Any food found on the midway is safe to eat, and is consumable by non-human entities.
7. Have fun!
Ⅱ. HALL OF MIRRORS
When it comes to amusements, the Hall of Mirrors has always been second-fiddle to the Haunted House. But the line for the former was shorter, so here you are. The guy working the door has weasel eyes and is smoking. He gestures for you and whoever is behind you to enter together; "No singles. For safety."
The lights are a dull neon, cycling from deep blue to cyan to purple and back again. You find that your outstretched fingers will bump against smooth, clear glass as often as not. The mirrors reflect the maze back into itself over and over, disorienting and strange.
Some of the mirrors are convex, some concave, and as you pass them your reflection warps and bends alongside that of whoever you're stuck inside the maze with.At some point you will realise that the reflection looking back at you isn't quite right. It's still you, sure, but it's not how you really look, not on the outside.
Looking back at you from the cold glass is how you perceive yourself. Perhaps that's stronger, perhaps uglier, perhaps as a sniveling child or an ancient hag. And this reflection is going to follow you from mirror to mirror as you desperately try to find your way out.
One of you spots an exit sign, bleeding red light. Only catch is that it's behind a pane of glass. And another. And another. You could break your way through all of them, certainly, but it's not as if there's anything laying around for you to use to do so. Just yourself, which might work in action movies but tends to cause a lot of physical damage in the real world.
Above the glass someone has placed a sticker that reads, “who are you really?” in black sharpie. Answer it, and the glass will swing open. Don't, and well...
Guess you'll have several years worth of bad luck.
Notes:
1. Yes, characters can bash their way out of the maze, but it is real glass and will cut anyone who isn’t invulnerable. There is a first aid station run by extremely unreliable carneys on the premises, so hopefully they can patch themselves up enough there.
Ⅲ. THE CAROUSEL
CW: childhood trauma
Old fashioned organ music and a million flashing lights draws you to the carousel. It's a vintage delight: huge, with ornate animals carved out of wood and lovingly hand painted. There are horses, of course, but also lions and leopards and birds and rabbits and wolves... any animal you could want! In fact, you'll see an animal that looks perfectly YOU. You just have to climb up on it for a ride.
When it stops and you step off, you will be younger. You will in fact be the same age you were when a formative event happened to you.
You're a kid at a carnival! How fun! Well, maybe you're not that young, and it's probably not very fun at all considering that now your trauma is fresh.
The only way to become your proper age again is to get on the carousel and get it to run forward. Depending on your age, you might not be able to figure any of that out, but surely one of the other Travelers can help you. You'll definitely need someone to man the carousel controls. Oh, and be careful not to knock it into overdrive...
Notes:
1. If your character does not get back on the carousel and ride it in reverse, they will revert to their actual ages at the end of the month.
2. Please be especially mindful of content warnings with underage characters. A reminder that the game does not allow explicit sexual content with minors.
3. You do not have to regress your character to childhood - if a very formative event happened at age 20 for example, you can choose that route instead.
4. Speeding up the carousel while it is moving forward will result in, you guessed it, aging your character UP. Obviously you can ride it backwards again to fix this, or again the aging will be reversed at the end of the month.
Ⅳ. COULROPHOBIA
CW: clowns, suffocation
Who can possibly resist the big top? Not you! You're ushered into the tent and you take a seat in the stands, where you have an excellent view of the huge ring before you. The excitement in the air is palpable, and even if you're the grouchy type you'll find yourself a little bit thrilled.
It's a little surprising when the lights go up to the sound of screaming guitars. Mist belches from hidden foggers, and flames shoot from near the center of the ring. The lights stutter red, blue, green. The whole thing is a lot more rock show than it is Ringling Brother's.
At any rate, even if the ringmaster looks like a reject from a trailer park metal band and the music is liable to burst some eardrums, it's still a circus. There are trained horses and riders, contortionists, and a score of talented trapeze artists. It's all sparkling and impressive and terrific fun.
The trapeze artists take their bows, clearly ready for a break. And if a break is needed at the circus? You know what happens next, don't you?
SEND IN THE CLOWNS!
The clowns spill into the ring, all sorts of them! There's Harlequin and Pierrot, Auguste and Tramp. There's Bozos and Ronalds and Clarabelles and Krustys. Hopefully no Gacys, but there's so many of them that it's hard to know for sure.
One of these clowns - the one you hate the most, of course - approaches you in the stands. With comically exaggerated movements, it leans close to you and whispers...Well. It whispers horrible things to you, really. It recounts to you some instance in your life where you delighted in the suffering of another, a moment where you really and truly were happy that somebody else was hurt. It's not a moment to be proud of, for sure, but as the clown tells your own secret shameful joy to you, you start to laugh. Really laugh - soon you're bent over double, tears running down your face, absolutely howling with laughter.
Your stomach hurts, and you're running out of breath. Very soon you won't be able to breathe at all.
Eventually, one of your fellow travelers won't be able to resist asking you, "What's so funny?"
The only way to stop laughing is to tell them. Otherwise you're going to pass out right where you sit, a creepy clown leering over you the whole time. Maybe your fellow traveler will be nice enough to drag you out of there if that happens, because if you're left alone? Everybody knows clowns get so much scarier alone in the dark.
Notes:
1. What happens if you really do get ditched with the clowns? Great question. Maybe they make you one of them. Maybe they eat you. Maybe you just wake up in the Big Top dressing room and see all the clowns smoking cigars and taking their floppy shoes off to film Clown Foot Erotica.
ii.
And the prize he'd chosen? A pair of boots. Okay sure, they were pretty hella cowboy, like to an absurd extent. And yeah, some of the cowboy clowns wandering around had been wearing them, so they were basically cowboy clown boots. BUT. They were boots!! And they were lady boots!! (The carny had given Deadpool quite the look as he'd requested them, but Deadpool had yoinked an obvious humanities grad student down and asked them a question about cultural gender expectations and then walked away, leaving the carny to quite the lecture. Take THAT!)
It had taken a little bit to find her, but finally he noticed Saxsice about to go into a hall of mirrors. He'd rushed up and shoved some other loser out of the way to be the partner that went in behind her.
"HEY! SEXY!! I GOT YOUR BOO-FUCK!" He shook his head, having run right into a mirror. They'd gotten separated by mirrors just that fast.
He started trying to get to her, naturally slamming into mirror after mirror and swearing as profusely as her. Then he sees her pausing to reach out to a mirror, and that gives him pause himself.
"You okay? Is that mirror talking shit?"*
An interesting note is that Deadpool sees nothing wrong with the mirrors. What he sees in the mirror is Deadpool. That has interesting implications - namely that he sees himself as Deadpool and nothing more than Deadpool - but if that depth is to be explored, it'll have to be pointed out to him at some point.
*((OOC: Do we want to assume that they can see each others' changed (or not, in Deadpool's case) image? I'm cool either way!))
no subject
"You all good there, DP? Don't get a concussion, this place ain't worth it." She's trying not to look at his mirror to see if there's any differences, but he can absolutely see hers, woeful as it is. Because what use is a hall of mirrors that you can't go through alone, if not to improve relationships by revealing innermost weaknesses?
Saxsice lights up a little at the sight of the boots, making grabby-hands. Her reflection, meanwhile, just peeks upwards with red-rimmed eyes under snarled hair. "Oooo, gimme, gimme!"
[ooc: hell yeah let's make this a hall of FEAR-ror. nope, that doesn't work at all, nvm, you get my meaning.]
no subject
The upside of running face first into mirror after mirror is that he breaks his nose. Well, okay, that's not the upside. The upside is that his nose bleeds. Okay, that sounds like not an upside either, but it IS! Because he bleeds on the mirrors, so he actually starts to get a grasp for what's a mirror and what isn't through evidence of his pain. See? It's all tactical and shit.
"I'm good, I'm good. This carnival just sucks. It made me barf. Nobody makes me barf my own vomit. Plenty of people make me bleed my own blood, so I'm not exactly Ben Stiller, but vomit? No!!"
If she does happen to catch his reflection, it might be interesting to note that while it is indeed Deadpool, it is Deadpool. As in, the man standing with her boots just has the Deadpool mask, but is wearing red and black flannel and black jeans because he blew off his costume two islands ago and there aren't exactly super hero costume shops around here. But the reflection is Deadpool in full costume. It's him, but not the present him. This makes sense if you think deep thoughts.
"They're all yours, as promised!" He starts to hand them over. "Although only if you share them with your daughter there. I hate to see kids crying, especially when it's obviously because they're staring at non-booted feets wishing they were booted feets."
no subject
The Deadpool-but-fully-costumed reflection gets a thoughtful "hmm", but Saxsice is...definitely not a deep-thinking type. At all. It'll hit her eventually, probably that night when she's trying to fall asleep and then suddenly sits upright like ohhhh, it's a metaphor for how his identity is solely that of the mask!! But for now, she just sits down and starts untying her sandals. "Didja go on all the roller coasters? That's where barf comes from, man, all the uhhhhh centipedal force."
One sandal is kicked off, then Saxsice frowns up at Deadpool, baffled. "I don't have a daughter." She almost, dumbly, mentions that she does have a son, but stops herself, looking over at the mirror instead. The girl is still huddling there, hugging her knees to her chest. "...oh, uh. Some weird carnival...creepy mirror thing." She shifts so her back's to the mirror and starts working on untying the other sandal. "Just tryin' to freak us out is all."
no subject
"You know, centipedes do make me barf. I mean, all those legs. That look like hair. It's like walking hair worms. With teeth!!! Oh yeah, and I went on the roller coasters too. But it was the carousel that did it to me. Do NOT ride that one. The dude running it thinks backwards is forwards and that he's Doctor Who."
When she denies the daughter, he peers at the reflection, which he still hasn't realized isn't a real person yet because these mirrors are really clean. Like, we're talking spotless. This isn't carny levels of clean, because that is kinda grungy. This is first time part time job clean, like when you try really hard because you think getting fired is super easy and that adult stuff is super hard. This is before you realize that they don't fire people usually, they just cut hours until you quit.
This has been another episode of TOO REAL FOR RP. Let's get back to the funtimes.
"Wait, is it your son then?" He squints at the reflection. "Sorry! I didn't mean to apply strict gender norms! He can do whatever he wants, because his mom helped me fight some mantids when I wasn't THIS HIGH to ride the roller coasters and has eight boobs. I support you!"
When she clarifies, he blinks. "Ooooooh. I get it now. That's like a reflection of the real you. It's a metaphor for just how badly you wanted boots. It all makes sense. Well, even though it's not your kid, I support you too. By getting you some really baller clown cowboy boots. It is the symbol of our friendship and will remind you that you aren't alone and barefooted!"
He glances at his reflection and grumbles, "That's not fair. Mine isn't any kinda deeper truth at all. It's just me. Ugh, you're so lucky."
no subject
Then she laughs, getting to her feet and looking -- oh, looking up at him, that's weird. "Not used to you bein' so tall, DP." Then, after a beat, glancing sideways at the mirrors: "Dunno if you want a deeper truth. Kinda depressin' seein' myself all...gloomy and helpless and stuff."
His reflection gets a long, thoughtful look. "...you're wearin' a costume there. That mean anythin'?"
no subject
Deadpool laughed aloud suddenly, because such narration kind of deserved that.
"Oh yeah, I'm normal sized now!!! And by normal, I mean tall, and with great muscles, and muscles on top of muscles that shouldn't exist but do because Rob Liefeld. Isn't it cool? Wanna poke one?" He holds out his arm with an odd muscle lump that looks cool but is in no way anatomically correct.
He glances at her reflection. "That you looks like she's in perpetual need of a long, comforting hug that lasts just a little too long and makes you think sex stuff but doesn't go there and then you just feel all awkward and uncomfortable because I mean you were thinking sex stuff and that's not bad and is actually kinda fun but you didn't get sex stuff so you wonder if you should have been thinking it and maybe it was just a hug after all but why was it so long? If you're an adult, that is. She's a child. You don't do that to children. But you're an adult and it's your reflection and you have eight boobs so. I dunno. It's confusing. I wonder what'll happen if you/she gets it?"
And then Deadpool is hugging Saxsice because what are boundaries when you've ridden someone bareback? As he does so, he looks at her reflection to see if anything happens.
"Eh, it's me. That's what I wear all the time, when I'm not here and able to get new costumes when I blow myself up. Honestly, if I could kill my reflection and gank his costume, I would."
no subject
That was a really long sneaky monologue that was actually just a sneaky way to lower her defenses so she doesn't try to deflect the hug on account of her being tough and cool and not needing comfort. Because while she is tough and cool, everyone deserves a hug sometimes. Saxsice sort of freezes in it for a split second, her breath catching a bit, before she slowly hugs back. "Yeah, uh. Ditto what...what you said."
Her reflection, of course, is slowly fading back to normal. You solved the mirror puzzle, DP!
"...is there a metaphor there? About, uh...masks?" She's almost there. Almost.
no subject
"Shhhh, just let it happen, narration."
As for the hug, sometimes a person rambling nonsense at you is all you really need to let your guard down. Heck, it had worked on plenty of people that he had stabbed and shot and mutilated and burned and drowned and...well you get the idea...over the years. Why not someone who needed a hug? He watched as her reflection faded back to normal by degrees, and was it just him or did the little sad Saxsice watch him the whole time?
"I mean, my whole life is a metaphor about masks. I think. I wear one all the time because the alternative is killing you in your nightmares."
no subject
She snorts, waving a dismissive hand at the mirror. "I coulda told you that, didn't need to get therapy-ized by a piece of glass. Next you're gonna tell me my dad wasn't in my life enough or somethin'."
Then Saxsice leans forward to frown at Deadpool's reflection. "How come the huggin' thing didn't work on you?" Then, completely blank, she ventures: "Kill people in their nightmares? Like...the tooth fairy?"
She might have a completely fucked up idea of what the tooth fairy is.
no subject
Sometimes, just like the insane sages of yore, Deadpool could spit truth like it was no thang. (Or perhaps this isn't the truth, who knows, but it sure sounded cool.)
"I think the inner you is a hottie too, by the way." He winks at her fading reflection. It's...probably a problematic kind of acceptance, but it's meant in good faith?
"ME on the other hand, my shell IS the real me. Because I'm doing it right." Point? Missed. Irony? Unacknowledged. Lesson? Unlearned. See, Saxsice? You're definitely faster on the uptake than Deadpool.
"And the Tooth Fairy is a very dangerous creature." His tone is now very solemn. "I mean, she steals teeth. Who the fuck does that? That is fucked UP. But I meant like Freddy Krueger. BOOGA BOOGA!" And he whips off his mask and makes faces at her.
no subject
Then she crosses her arms, tapping the toe of one cowboy boot on the ground -- it's great for tapping, super resonant and echoey, 10/10 choice. "Can't be that simple. Your wrist thingy's still uhhhhh purple. We know what that means." She isn't positive what color it actually is, that's just an educated guess.
Wow, jumpscare Deadpool, not cool. Saxsice recoils minutely, scrunching up her brow and then swatting him on the shoulder. "Stop that. You don't wanna scare me in a place like this. Ever seen a golden retriever run into a slidin' glass door? It's exactly like that."
no subject
He peers at her, her comment about her smarts making him pause. "Hmmmm. I dunno. I think you're smarter than you let on. Maybe your reflection will tattle on you. HEY! SEXY REFLECTION!! Are you really smart? Let me know before you fade away forever!!"
With a glance at his watch, he nods. "Oh this thing? I just like to make it color coordinate, and purple is my favorite. Very Halloweeny. Besides, how would it change over a mirror thing? I think we need to save more hapless teenagers that want to stare at your boobs to do that. And the only one who wants to stare at boobs here is me! Well, unless you're into boobs. But even then, I dunno if you're into YOUR boobs."
Head tilt. "Huh. You aren't scared of Freddy? Well...I mean...when talk about your reaction that way, you're kinda selling it. How is that not a hilarious image?"
no subject
Said reflection also just shrugs at the question. Maybe she's smart, but she's a mute mirror-lady, too. Saxsice waves her younger self away, though she pauses to add: "Yeah, younger me, you are totally into boobs too, cause you're equal opportunity and uhhhh, that pan thing. That thing where you like pans, but they're a metaphor?" She shrugs herself, looking back at Deadpool. "Whatever that's called. And are you sayin' we should find more teenagers who need reassurance by flashin' them? Cause I'm game if you are."
Then she leans back, giving his unmasked face a thoughtful look. "Is...Freddy your secret identity? Kinda bland, but you do you. And nah, if I didn't have super healin' powers with the werewolf thing, I'd have terrible acne scars too. Real pizza face as a kid. Never even heard'a witch hazel."
no subject
Deadpool blinks and flails at her. "Wait, really?! You're frying pansexual too??? OMG!!! I love to fuck frying pans!!! We can be pansexuals together! Have orgies with different brands and shit!! But no teens, we gotta keep this legal."
Awww. He almost has a sad at being called bland. Almost. Deadpool knows what he is under the mask. Also, he knows that Freddy was a classic to the Olds...of which he was one, but we don't talk about that. Look, he's a Boomer, okay. We don't talk about it.
"You know, I never would have thought Freddy being the secret identity of a super hero...or villain...or whatever I am would be considered bland, but here we are. Nikki Minaj questions vaccines and Freddy Krueger is bland. Oof."
no subject
Then Saxsice beams, bouncing on her heels and making some more good boot clicking noises. "Sure am! Love me some, uhhh cast iron and a good old wok now and then. When I'm feelin' kinky, y'know?"
Real question, in Saxsice's AU OC world do Boomers exist? No, because it's a utopian society full of hot werewolves, duh. Still, she frowns a little, repeating to herself, "Freddy Krueger...oh, it's a movie! I get it now, I'm puttin' it together. I think you're one'a those, ant heroes or somethin'." Anti-hero, she means, not Paul Rudd.
no subject
Deadpool goggles at her. Not that he wants to judge. People got their universes that they are from and stuff. But a universe without Nic Cage? UNHEARD OF. Like, Nic Cage was in his universe TWICE, both as Nic Cage and as Ghost Rider.
(Does that count? Is that Fox?)
"Do we have another Ghost Rider?"
(Well yeah, Robbie Reyes from Agents of SHIELD)
"Ah, but another Johnny Blaze?"
(Hmm. Okay. Fair point. Continue.)
"Oh dude, woks are the kinkiest. The things you can do with those massive bowls!!"
Wait, you don't have Boomers, Saxsice?!? Hmm...this could devolve into Boomer hate SO EASY, but instead we'll just all kinda wonder what their generation is called in the Werewolf U. If no generation boomed, what's that world like? Does this mean no Mitch McConnell fucking up Congress forever?
"Oh no, the Ant Heroes are the Pym Particle types." Because even though he can read her narration like a champ, it's more fun to respond directly to what she said. "They dress up like ants and wasps and yellowjackets and shrink and grow and sting people and shit. It's really kind of kinkier than a wok when you think about it.
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But then she says, "I don't watch a lotta movies. Kinda not much fun when everythin's greyscale." Oh, okay, false alarm, she just has terrible taste and hates fun.
Then she snorts, bemused, if not completely comprehending. "I once ate a bee when I was all wolfy. My whole snout swelled up, I looked like Scooby-doo. Very undignified." Maybe that's enough soul-exposure, because the mirror that previously held tiny-Saxsice suddenly swings open. "...huh. Secret passageway."
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But.
"WAIT. You see everything in black and white and you think that makes it less fun?!? You live in a permanent noir!! Is your life narrated by some gravelly voice that sounds like a down on his luck private dick in a trenchcoat? I mean. Seriously. You could be the best movie critic of all time, since you can judge in black and white. You have truly missed your calling in life, Sexy. All this doggy style you're getting up to, and you could be big time!"
He looks at the mirror swinging open for her. "WHAT. All it took was admitting you ate a bee?! I mean, not that I'm complaining. I was just expecting something deeper. I mean, you've said you like frying pans as much as I do, and you've had a hug, and...and it's the bee that does it. Huh."
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Saxsice waves a dismissive hand, rolling her eyes. "You're sayin' that cause you get to see all those big-budget movies with their super-saturated colors and explosions and stuff. Explosions do nothin' for me. Just big old blobs all over the screen. Booooor-in'."
Then, turning towards the dark passage revealed by the mirror: "Mmmmaybe the bee was, uh...symbolic? Cherry on top or somethin'? The hug was definitely more fulfillin' than rememberin' the bee."
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"That's what I'm sayin'!!" Being around Saxsice was extremely toxic to G's "All the stuff that tricks you into thinking a movie is good is wasted on you! You see right through to if it's good despite the eye popping colors. Although if I was you, I'd drop acid before the colorful movies and just let the acid fill in the blanks."
He rubs his chin in thought. "Huh. You got symbolic bees. You are a woman of mystery and boobs. I like it. You still owe me eight boobs by the way, since those boots are made for walkin'...right out of here."