as stolen from bakerstreet 1. post with your character--name, fandom and any particular preferences go in the subject line as usual. 2. you can either roll or pick a scenario (or scenarios!) from the list or leave your comment blank. 3. reply to people! 4. Have fun and be mindful of your partner's preferences.
OPTIONS:
1. games: from classic ring toss to the shooting gallery, here's your chance to win a prize for yourself or for that special someone. Some say the games at a carnival are rigged, but maybe, just maybe, you'll get lucky!
2. food and drink: the sweet smell of funnel cake and the familiar briny aroma of popcorn draw you over to the food and drink tent. there's cotton candy, candied nuts, and cheep booze, all here for your enjoyment.
3. classic rides: the carousel, the ferris wheel. all carnivals need these classic rides for kids and adults who aren't looking for the excitement of the faster-paced rides. snuggle close to your partner and see if you can see your house from the top of the wheel.
4. something more exciting: this is for thrill-seekers. here you'll find the tilt-a-whirl, the gravitron, the screamin' swing--all the rides designed to make you lose your lunch. hope you didn't have too much cotton candy!
5. freakshow: do they really have a bearded lady in that tent? it's time to find out. buy a ticket and see the greatest oddities the world has to offer.
6. tunnel of love: or perhaps tunnel of mild boredom. the red-tinted lights and quasi-romantic music are meant to make this ride a great makeout spot, if the chemistry is there.
7. hall of mirrors: you and your partner entered, thinking it would be easy to get out again, but dead ends abound in this wacky mirror-maze, and each mirror seems to show a more and more distorted image of each of you.
8. fortune teller: whether one of the creepy machines or the even creepier women dressed up in a culturally insensitive costume, you cross someone's palms with silver and get your future told. will it be happiness forever with your partner, or will ill tidings be bound your way? optional: use to get your fortune!
9. wildcard!: i know i forgot something, probably several somethings, so here's your wildcard for whatever else you can fit into this meme.
There's a part of her, still raw and on edge, that wants to jerk away from him. Something that hisses angrily in the back of her mind like a threatened reptile, something that's seeing him as a threat to be as far away from as she can. She smothers it in her head, reminding herself that whatever that was in the mirror wasn't Grant.
She leans into his hand, eyes half-closed behind her glasses and set on his face. In her mind's eye she has a clear picture of his fingertips on her face, drawing lines over her nose and across her forehead then sliding down to draw on her throat-
She swallows hard. "Grant?" Her voice sounds hoarse to her own ears.
He shakes his head. Not opening his eyes, not trusting himself to speak, he stays silent.
He doesn't hear anyone approach or pass them by. Maybe no one wants to snicker at the asshole having psych break in the middle of a house of fucking mirrors. A carnival of all places.
Finally, he croaks, "Not sure I want that redpop-float anymore."
Fuck. Fuck. "The kid. Gamzee. Gotta find Gamzee... The fuck did that little shit say he'd go...?"
She cups his face in her hands, mutters soft shushing sounds under her breath. She says nothing at first, everything implied with her touch and her shushes. You're safe. It's okay. Nothing will hurt you.
She presses her lips to the corner of his mouth, murmuring, "I'll text Peter, his brother is probably with Gamzee and 'Rezi. I'll have him bring them and then we can go home."
He shudders, and opens his eyes. The plants a kiss to her forehead. The kisses her mouth when she brings it close. Text peter. Alright. Just this time may--
"NO!" he says, suddenly. "No, it's fine. Kid was excited as shit, Rezi too. And we ain't gotten to--" have our date yet. He can't ruin it all because he's had a moment of going screw-loose.
He rubs his eyes.
"Let's just get out. Let's go see the fucking freakshow instead."
She bumps her nose against his when she kisses his lips again. Brings his hand to her lips again to kiss his palm. He's not the only one having issues after what they'd just gone through but she's always been better at hiding her issues.
"You sure? We don't have to go befriend the bearded lady if you're not feeling up to it." Another kiss on his knuckles. "I can go win you something fuzzy throwing darts at balloons."
Slowly, so slowly, he eases just enough to offer the barest of smirks back. A thank you unspoken. "What you mean I can't motherfucking be friends with the bearded lady and get something fuzzy won for me? You underestimate me."
There, that's more like her Grant. She grins, tracing her thumb along his cheekbone. "Are you sure you're up for the challenge? I hear she's very picky about her gentleman callers."
"Sister, prepare to be schooled all about the wicked news. The carnival ladies? Only reason they ain't making to flock already is because a motherfucker would have to put on his paint first and he can't be bothered," he laughs and gives a wink. "I'll get her number for you. She can teach you her beard growing secrets and we can run away with the circus. The kid will never be happier"
For the first time in what feels like hours Justine laughs, a shrill cackle that will probably cause any others in the maze to jump. "You're so good to me. I can be the first former cop, ginger bearded lady and you can be the pimp clown. Gamzee and Terezi can go to clown college. Our ten-year-plan is all set before us."
"I'll braid it. Gamzee can stick the bows in, and Rez is in charge of picking them out. You will have the most miraculous ginger beard in all the motherfucking land," he says. He gives her hand a squeeze and starts to walk, making sure to keep her close this time.
"I'll be the goddamn queen of bearded ladies. Her Royal Beardedness Queen Justine Pyrope the First of Her Name." She sticks close to his side, leaning into his arm and occasionally bumping him into the wall while they walk.
Ah, the fine art of complete and utter denial of the horrifying experience they have just endured.
"Oh! Your majesty!" Grant gives a bow, the rises up again, grinning fondly.
Truly Gamzee would be proud of them.
They pass all sort of mirrors, distorting and misshaping them. He watches carefully for sign of the other him. Finally they reach a wide flat mirror, nothing distorted, just them.
He's not so sure though. He reaches out tentatively with his free hand, to touch the mirror. His fingers aren't mirrored with claws for the moment.
When they reach the final mirror Justine self-consciously touches her throat. There's not a mark on her, even the soreness has vanished, but still she keeps expecting to feel something there. Either something gradually tightening around her neck or the slightly weight of a pendent...which is entirely silly because she rarely wears necklaces at all.
Suddenly she doesn't like how confining her hoodie feels. She pulls it off over her head, surprisingly relieved to see her own reflection still staring back at her. "Are you ready?"
"Yeah..." he says, quiet. What else can he really say. What does a person say after witnessing a demon version of themself killing the demon version of their girlfriend? How does a person make up for that? The dark part of him whispers, What keeps him from being that?
With her at his side, hand in his, they finally find the exit. He says, "Let's go find the kids."
"Yeah, sounds good." Justine moves toward the exit door, giving his arm a gentle tug before pausing. She turns to him, her face a mixture of thoughtful and...searching? She studies his face carefully, blue-green eyes darting over his features like she's looking for something, any sort of hint of the monster she'd seen in the mirror that had been so alien but familiar at the same time in her boyfriend's face. She finds none.
"Hey," She touches his cheek, runs her thumb under his eye as lightly as she can. "Love you, asshole."
She looks at him and his heart pounds just a little. It's always been a risk he faced, "you look like your old man, kid", "you look your mother did, wherever did she go", and he knew Gamzee might get the same "You and your brother, so alike", one day. He kind of hoped he'd never have to worry about looking like himself. He wasn't the monster and he didn't have to be. She wouldn't ask him to be.
He stares back into her eyes, such a beautiful blue. The blue of a shallow ocean, somewhere tropic. He cups her face and kisses her hard. He's not sure if he just thinks it, or if he breathes it into here ear. "Beloved, mine." But the words at least are true.
And they step back out into the world of the carnival.
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She leans into his hand, eyes half-closed behind her glasses and set on his face. In her mind's eye she has a clear picture of his fingertips on her face, drawing lines over her nose and across her forehead then sliding down to draw on her throat-
She swallows hard. "Grant?" Her voice sounds hoarse to her own ears.
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He doesn't hear anyone approach or pass them by. Maybe no one wants to snicker at the asshole having psych break in the middle of a house of fucking mirrors. A carnival of all places.
Finally, he croaks, "Not sure I want that redpop-float anymore."
Fuck. Fuck. "The kid. Gamzee. Gotta find Gamzee... The fuck did that little shit say he'd go...?"
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She presses her lips to the corner of his mouth, murmuring, "I'll text Peter, his brother is probably with Gamzee and 'Rezi. I'll have him bring them and then we can go home."
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"NO!" he says, suddenly. "No, it's fine. Kid was excited as shit, Rezi too. And we ain't gotten to--" have our date yet. He can't ruin it all because he's had a moment of going screw-loose.
He rubs his eyes.
"Let's just get out. Let's go see the fucking freakshow instead."
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"You sure? We don't have to go befriend the bearded lady if you're not feeling up to it." Another kiss on his knuckles. "I can go win you something fuzzy throwing darts at balloons."
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Ah, the fine art of complete and utter denial of the horrifying experience they have just endured.
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Truly Gamzee would be proud of them.
They pass all sort of mirrors, distorting and misshaping them. He watches carefully for sign of the other him. Finally they reach a wide flat mirror, nothing distorted, just them.
He's not so sure though. He reaches out tentatively with his free hand, to touch the mirror. His fingers aren't mirrored with claws for the moment.
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Suddenly she doesn't like how confining her hoodie feels. She pulls it off over her head, surprisingly relieved to see her own reflection still staring back at her. "Are you ready?"
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With her at his side, hand in his, they finally find the exit. He says, "Let's go find the kids."
And then thinks, maybe he already has the answer.
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"Hey," She touches his cheek, runs her thumb under his eye as lightly as she can. "Love you, asshole."
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He stares back into her eyes, such a beautiful blue. The blue of a shallow ocean, somewhere tropic. He cups her face and kisses her hard. He's not sure if he just thinks it, or if he breathes it into here ear. "Beloved, mine." But the words at least are true.
And they step back out into the world of the carnival.