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!]
dorkypantsuit: (&iii)

[personal profile] dorkypantsuit 2017-01-13 02:47 am (UTC)(link)
"Ah." Psi comments in understanding, his smile softening a bit.

"Yeah, that part sucks. It's how you know it's working though." He offers with a shrug, for some people the burn was part of the appeal. Psi was more or less ambivalent to it at this point in his life.

"First time I tasted it I think I almost hacked up my collapsing and expanding air sacks."
dorkypantsuit: (++ii)

[personal profile] dorkypantsuit 2017-01-14 03:25 am (UTC)(link)
He thinks for a second. It's still hard for him to remember the human equivalent to perigees.

"Ah. I guess about a month or two?" he says, squinting as he tries to remember. Honestly he couldn't recall offhand when the liquor had gone from 'really foul' to 'only kind of terrible' for him. Two months sounded about right though. He was certain it hadn't taken any longer than that at least.

"The older yellow-bloods liked to tease me about it back home, so I'd keep trying it just to spite them."

Of course, in retrospect they were probably only teasing him to get him to drink in the first place. When you were a dumb kid though you didn't think about stuff like that, you just wanted people to respect you.

"It doesn't bother me anymore. Though most of what we have here is for humans."

Considering the high percentage of human workers here it made sense. Didn't bother him much most of the time.
Edited 2017-01-14 03:26 (UTC)
dorkypantsuit: (++ii)

[personal profile] dorkypantsuit 2017-01-15 09:12 pm (UTC)(link)
He laughs, Lars rudeness somehow novel outside of a work setting. It reminds him of Silver, but he doesn't want to think about that right now. He focuses on answering Lars instead.

"It works, just doesn't taste as good." Human alcohol was all made to taste like various fruits and etc. It wasn't the sort of diet his palate was built for. He shifts offering Lars a clawed gray hand as he re-introduces himself.

"Troll, hatched and raised. And no, not the under the bridge kind either."
dorkypantsuit: (++ii)

[personal profile] dorkypantsuit 2017-01-15 09:47 pm (UTC)(link)
He actually knows what snakes are, mostly because of the snake people that they've managed to meet at the carnival. Instead of being offended he just laughs again, shaking his head no.

"Humans are evolved from apes right? Trolls are evolved from insects."

His wings hum to life briefly behind him as he explains that. He'll always be very proud of those things, even if he doesn't need them to actually fly.

"So we hatch, from slime pods."
dorkypantsuit: (Default)

[personal profile] dorkypantsuit 2017-01-16 05:38 am (UTC)(link)
"Excuse you, I'm the best looking carny here." So not even the point, but hey, Psi has his principles, and that he is sexy af is one of them. He's not even saying it to hit on Lars, just because he needs to defend his honor. But, he does stretch his wings out again so that Lars can get a good look at them.

"Some people in our species are born with wings, but this is actually a reward for being such an awesome supervisor."