mossbuds: (dick zipper)
Lars ([personal profile] mossbuds) wrote in [community profile] lostcarnival2017-01-10 06:09 pm

ITP: LARS DEALS WITH STRESS POORLY (A SHOCKER)

Who: Lars and YOUUUUUU
When: S1:D41 morning, afternoon and late night
Where: 1) home trailer, 2) ferriswheel, 3) misc right
What: Lars gets his first changes! And also, loses his mind a little! He's shaken up by changes, and also the events from the Matrix finale.
Warnings: As always, Lars's potty mouth. But also, booze?????

BTW i will mimic format- so if you wanna do prose or action either's cool


➨ 1. Holy Fuck Not This Shit (closed to Strange)
Lars wakes groggily, feeling exhausted. His sleep schedule's all fucked up—he hasn't been able to sleep well since the shooting at the Big Top, and not having work to drag his ass out of bed just makes the problem worse. Miserable as he is, on top of sleepless nights, it's so easy to just stay in bed all day. But even for Lars, it's been a lot of sleep.

Having concluded his 13 hours of recent sleep around 2pm, Lars finally pushes himself up. He then realizes his mouth feels—weird. He moves his tongue in his mouth, which feels too full, and finds his teeth feel... thinner. Horrified and suddenly very awake, Lars lurches forward, parting his mouth a little bit to touch his teeth—which are all thin, long and sharp, doubled in number.

In response, Lars lets out a pretty long, shrill scream.



➨ 2. Drown Your Sorrows (or Don't)
It has been a pretty dang shitty couple of weeks. Besides having his second harrowing near death encounter with Steven, wherein he was almost shot one or nine times, that which Lars has been anticipating with dread for several weeks has finally occurred. After following up the horrifying discovery of his first transformation with an undoubtedly infuriating exchange with his annoying roommate, Lars has decided to finally get the hell out of the trailer, for better or for worse.

Overwhelmed with despair, anxiety and this momentary anger, Lars decides to follow some very stupid advice, because he's completely at a loss. He doesn't have any friends here—besides Steven, who Lars wouldn't want to unload on (he has trouble opening up to even his best friends; he wasn't about to make a kid listen to that), and he doesn't have any sufficient distractions for his rapid firing Gen X brain. So after a few cursory inquiries, Lars gets to the cook house. And with entitled confidence, he swipes a bottle of liquor, but does wait until he's positive he won't really be caught.

He shoves into his bomber jacket side, zipping it, and squeezes it in place with his elbow as he storms out. Kind of following another thread of advice, Lars heads for the ferris wheel. It's currently unmanned, since it's off week, and Lars abuses his POWER OF KEYS!! to open up the gate around it and clamber into one of the low hanging carriages.

There, he shoves himself down on the seat, scowling. He fishes out the bottle, grumbling as he screws off the cap of it, his head a dumb echo chamber of self pity—and naturally, follows that up with a swig of what appears to be some heavy, brown liquor. His eyes immediately go wide and he sputters, only managing to swallow half his swig before he spits the rest out gracelessly. This dissolves into a bunch of coughing and a hard, full body shudder as Lars winces his eyes shut, hiding his mouth behind his sleeve as he attempts to recover.

Whyyyy do people drink this shit, actually?????



➨ 3. Panic! At the Center Stage
Having failed miserably at unwinding his tension that day, and having woken up rather late, Lars is wide awake and anxious around midnight. He made it back to his trailer earlier in the night, but is feeling restless again. He gets up, grabs his bomber and abruptly departs again.

He decides going for a walk—a sober walk (not that he'd even gotten drunk) at night in the crisp air might soothe his brain a little bit. Well, maybe. So he just anxiously strolls about at a quick, unrelated pace, his arms shoved into the pockets of his jacket with stiff, uncomfortable posture. As he's walking, he feels himself actually begin to get worse—he increases the pace of his steps to a jog as he feels his heart race for no reason.

He squeezes his eyes shut as he begins to run, veering away from the center stage in a hurry. He stops somewhere near the misc right, winded, and rests his palms on top of his knees as he hangs his head. Once he kind of catches his breath, he hiccups a little with a small sob, chin dimpling. He straightens up, putting his hands over his face as he takes a deep breath, trying to get himself to calm down so he doesn't cry in public like a complete fuckin' baby.

[ooc: for reference, he looks like this!]

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