lostcarnival | the terrible horrible no good very bad week

Entry tags:

the terrible horrible no good very bad week

Who: Strange & OPEN!
Where: mostly the carnival, with a Wismuth prompt
When: D17 and onwards
What: Strange has had a run of shitty days/decisions and is coping like a champ (he's sulking)
Warnings: mild drug & alcohol use, Strange's general asshole tendencies

sulking at the training grounds
Over the past few days, Strange learned that the closest thing he could call to an enemy was back and she had poisoned his best friend, found out his other close friend was kidnapped and enthralled, got dunked in a lake, got his emotional support gem stolen, got dunked in the ocean, made a kid cry, discovered he had a fun new phobia of sentient pineapple beasts, got gum in his hair, and received harsh truth bombs from at least two different people. And only half of this is his fault! (Maybe five-eighths. Strange'll fight it if anyone says three quarters.)

To top it all off, apparently the entire universe is in danger of ending and Creation's decided to fix that by giving people fun magical powers but apparently the universe doesn't think he's good enough! Like what the hell, Creation? As if his self-esteem wasn't already weirdly low thanks to the fact that he got beaten up by plants and the previously mentioned harsh truth bombs.

So, Strange is coping with pyromania. At least four of the practice dummies are currently on fire and have been on fire for the past half hour or so. Strange is in the process of casting a spell to set a fifth ablaze. Anybody who remotely approaches the training ground is getting an amazing death glare courtesy of Strange, as well as a grumpy "What?"

sulking part 2
Alternatively, there's an abundance of purple smoke hanging out near the top of one of the game trailers in the gamer's circle. Can smoke sulk? Undecided, but there's certainly something sulky about this smoke. It's definitely lingering around the top of the trailer and not moving in a manner that's reminiscent of sulking.

welcome to the plot
For the most part, Star Guardians need to sleep too. As does Strange But considering that Strange lives a comfortable life as the man with the world's most erratic sleep schedule, his is variable as hell and he's wide awake at around ten pm, when most people should be getting ready for bed. He's wide awake as he bangs on the trailer door of each inhabited trailer, hoping that someone's in.

He doesn't waste any time. Whenever anyone answers their door, Strange bluntly asks, "Did you get those odd powers like what Noa has?"

Fuck it, he knows about pillars, he can still be useful.

wismuth
Staying at the carnival and not getting out of bed just sounds like a really good plan right now. Except Strange is a nightrunner and when you're rooming with the deputy nightrider, you can only wallow in self-pity for so long. Scrying can only do so much so he's hitting the pavement. As he walks the streets (wearing a slightly ridiculous baseball cap), Strange keeps his senses open for any sort of magic: guardian, harbinger, fae. He's already gotten his ass whooped twice, any sort of large spikes of harbinger magic he is staying the hell away from. But it's the smaller things, the after effects that he can at least try to dispel.

And so, that's why Strange is standing next to an ATM that's currently spitting out cash, muttering something while debating if he's actually got to put his mouth on that thing or not. Thankfully, the machine sputters to a stop and the spell breaks before Strange has to actually kiss the box.

"I don't even know what this is," he complains, to anyone listening. Foggy modern AU memories can only go so far and did not extend to ATMs. But look at him go, stopping the horrible...money spitter outer machine. Greatest magician of the age, everyone.

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"I'd probably have my daemon again," Strange muses, putting his hand to his chin in thought. He can't really think of any other animals that would fit him. The Pokemon he spent the most time with in Alola were ghosts and while Strange desperately wishes his hypothetical familiar would be a raven, a part of him already knows that it wouldn't be. No, his familiar would most likely be the huge, floppy, ridiculous seal that he had in Greysol.

"Though I imagine she'd be smaller. None of these 'familiars' I've seen have been larger than a housecat and those that were originally larger have shrunk in size as well. A four hundred pound seal simply wouldn't do!"

Though there's another amusing mental image: one of the Guardians getting led on by a talking horse or a talking elephant, but actual size. It'd be downright ridiculous! Just as ridiculous as a tiny, cat-sized talking seal would be.

"Hmm, I forgot about daemons," he says with a hint of regret. He does kind of miss his daemon. Having her near made him feel less homesick for home and family. She was a comfort he could lean against and feel at peace. Yet the panther would be kitten sized no doubt and he hates it, "She would be far too cute for my liking. Morticia was gorgeous as much as she was powerful."

He's trying not to imagine a seal swimming around Strange's head but it's there now implanted in his forethought, "Knowing Guardians your tiny daemon would be surrounded by bubbles and sparkles."

The more he thinks about it the more he's kind of glad he didn't get chosen for either side especially the sparkly one.

"I wouldn't mind it," Strange admits, with a shrug. "It was damned awkward to try and get Siobhan through buildings half the time. Something smaller would be best for ease of transportation."

While his daemon could swim through the air at times, the fact remains that seals are not the most graceful creatures on land. If Strange was going to be saving the day in sparkly outfits, all the better to have someone who can actually get around with him.

"Besides, seals aren't necessarily gorgeous." They're kind of awkward looking. "I can settle for 'cute.'"

"I don't know where I would fit Morticia either. She could at least make an impressive appearance in one of my performances. As convenient as tiny would be it would take away from who she is. Yours might actually look better smaller."

Cute would suit Siobhan. Morticia would likely claw someone calling them 'cute'. It's hard not to imagine a seal swimming around Strange while he attacks or transforms. It's then he realizes how much he doesn't want to see Strange transform.

"All I can suggest is if another Harbinger appears and you do get picked as a last minute entry please pick an attire that is worth looking at," because while he hasn't seen Lambert's yet he has seen others.

Peridot, utterly oblivious to the potential danger that Pumpkin is in, shakes her head in a wobbly fashion.

"Not someone tinier, I'm asking what would happen if YOU did it? What would happen, how... How would that even WORK? Think about it, you need the mirror to teleport but if you teleport through it... then there's no mirror left to teleport through!"

Veeeeeery slowly, Strange gets to his feet and starts walking over towards Pumpkin. It's less of a walk and more of an amazingly stoned shuffle because Strange is amazingly stoned at the moment.

"It'd still work, though. I use the mirrors as a doorway, to go from one point to another. After I've gone through the first point, it doesn't matter what happens to it."

But even if the first point comes with him...then he'd have both points at the same place? Would it just be a loop or something like that? What the fuuuuuck, this is blowing his mind.

Strange, who has seen Lambert's sparkly hot pants, heavily agrees. "The same goes for you, Mister Mykk. I don't know if the Guardians have any control over the outfit they pick or if it's all subconscious nonsense...but either answer leaves a lot to be explained."

It either means that people choose these deliberately ridiculous outfits (which Strange doubts) or people's subconscious throws them in feathers, glitter, sparkles, and high heels. Okay subconscious, you do you.

"If the glitter is required, then I think I could pull it off better than most. I already sparkle when the light hits me a certain way, why not add to that?" Strange has mirror eyes and does not own a pair of sunglasses. The likelihood that Tyki's been around him when his eyes reflect the sun in an odd way is pretty high.

He does admit he's had some curiosity about some of the more discrete modern wear given how much he can flaunt his appearance and get away with it. Plus, blending in allowed him to sample the local populace as a whole more intimately.

"I do so hope that it is not choice for some of the people here. Some of it is almost unnecessary," he replies with a dry tone. Unlike a few in his family, he would prefer if his heels stayed as high as they were and not any higher.

That causes Tyki to laugh and not in a mocking way, "Hahaha, maybe you're the secret weapon Creation needs all along. Harbingers can't attack if they are blinded! It would require you to sacrifice a little more of your dignity though."

Pumpkin, perhaps sensing that something is amiss, sits up a little bit and wags her vine tail anxiously, making an inquisitive noise at Strange. What's up, Magic Man? You look a little bit off! It's freaking her out a little bit!

Peridot, on the other hand, is very insistent on pursuing this line of conversation further, and keeps slurring at him as he shuffles away from her. "No. No. Listen: If you use the mirrors as a doorway, and YOU are the mirror-- Then YOU are the doorway. So how can you go through yourself?" she babbles. "I'm jusss saying, it's a natural contradiction of logic! It's--" she breaks off into a fit of her awful, nasally goblin laughter. "It's a PERIdox, Strange. A peridox. Do you get it?"

Edited 2018-02-26 19:18 (UTC)

Yeah, sorry Strange. Lambert doesn't exactly trust your smooch magic interacting with magical girl nonsense.

"What?" Lambert frowns, looking around, and realizes what he's talking about. While he's happy not to be the center of anyone's attention, it's also a little disconcerting -- like if Strange didn't look at him, he'd just disappear. So of course the next thing he does is deliberately try to step in front of passing pedestrians, waving at their faces.

"Hey-- you!" They stop as they're accosted, gazed jerking up and focusing on Lambert for the first time, then frowning a little, shaking their heads, and moving to walk around him. It's eerie, and he turns to Strange, brows raised.

It's Pig who speaks up. "You can transform back if you will it," she says, simply. "It comes from your Spark."

Strange stops moving for a second as he listens to Peridot. Whoa. He's the doorway? That's so deep. His mind just gets blown even further as he thinks about the mirrors back home and how they served as doorways to faerie and holy shit, did that mean he could be a doorway to faerie as well, what the hell, man, this is freaking him out.

He just kind of stares off into the distance for a moment, contemplating the nature of mirrors and doors before Peridot's pun hits. Oh. A peridox. Heh, that's pretty good. It's a very delayed giggle, but Strange does giggle a bit at that.

"Do you have any of that ale left?" he asks, in between puffs on the joint. "Or any water around? I want to try something but I need another reflection."

Strange has apparently forgotten the fact that Peridot has a sink.

"I'm afraid I've sacrificed most of my dignity simply by being me." Strange knows that he's a giant trainwreck and is working on embracing the fact that he's a giant trainwreck. After all, maybe then people will stop judging him about chickens or setting things on fire or other things that were complete accidents okay, he is trying his hardest.

"It's my modesty that I'd be worried about! I haven't any mirrors on my legs, so those shall thankfully remain covered, but I've some on my chest and back. I doubt Creation would want me to run around shirtless, so I'd have to make do."

Nobody wants him to run around shirtless, including Strange himself.

As he watches Lambert interact with the pedestrians, Strange frowns. This entire thing is getting more and more aggravating. And the fact that Strange can't magically piece out an explanation as to why Lambert can't be seen by others is even more aggravating. Pig explanation doesn't help at all.

"And let me guess, once Lambert transforms back then people will be able to see him? How convenient," he grumbles, glaring at Pig as if it's somehow her fault all of this is happening to begin with (it isn't. But short of yelling at all of Creation itself, Strange desperately wants a target.). "Most people aren't lucky enough to switch their magic on and off!"

The sink would not be much use to him anyway, seeing as it appears to be full to the brim with absolutely nothing. But. Glitter. The whole entire damn thing. The faucet on the sink works, presumably, but running it would almost certainly end in a soggy, sparkly disaster.

The dragon picks up the ale bottle and squints at it blearily. She stares at it for a bit too long, having forgotten what the heck she's supposed to be doing with it in the span of time between her grabbing the bottle and lifting it up to eye level.

"Unnnnnnnnnnnnn... There'zabout... An amount. This amount. Left," Peridot says vaguely, once she remembers what she's supposed to be doing. "Why? Whadd're you gonna do with it?"

Hinawa hugs herself and shakes her head. "Knowing how to fight wouldn't make me any more willing to do it. Especially not against people I know. Haven't we had enough of that already?"

"Pour some on the floor," Strange remarks, as he starts walking towards Pumpkin. "I'm going to do magic."

This is a bit worrying, especially since Strange's eyes are literally glimmering with excitement. As he approaches the gourd-dog, Strange starts making kissy noises as he bends down to try and pick up Pumpkin. Coooome on, little vegetable thing. It's just magic, it's not going to hurt.

Yeah Pumpkin's no fool. She takes one look at that expression on Strange's face, lets out a terrified whine, and jumps off the chair to scamper off and go hide... Ssssomewhere else in the trailer. Fleshy, however, remains right where she is, utterly unfazed. She blinks at the magician innocently.

"I'm not going to pour it on the floor," Peridot protests. "And you can't do magic on Pumpkin! She's... She's..."

Abruptly, her face falls dramatically. She's the only thing Peridot has left of home, now that everyone else is missing.

Oh god this is teetering on becoming sad again--

Dammit Pumpkin, stop being smart. Strange turns his glance from the gourd, over towards Fleshy instead.

....that'll do. Awkwardly, he reaches over to pick up Fleshy while still trying to comfort Peridot all the while. Because in his attempt to awkwardly pick up the weird flesh creature thing, Strange caught a glimpse of Peridot's crestfallen expression.

"I'm not going to do magic on Pumpkin," Strange grumbles. Granted, he's not going to do magic on Pumpkin because he can't reach Pumpkin but still counts. "But I will need some kind of reflection in the trailer just for ease. Come onnn," he whines slightly, looking back over to Peridot. "You like magic. I know everything's horrible and Creation's an ass, but we're magicians! Shouldn't magicianing make things feel a bit better?"

That is not a word.

"We have," Strange admits. He'll cop to that much. The carnival can't go a few stops without someone being brainwashed or enthralled or turned into a vampire. Everyone might as well start tallying up those they've tried to kill or succeeded at killing, it's getting to the point where people should have lists.

"But we can't do anything about it."

"Just being you? No, that can't be true," he says in an overly sarcastic tone. He's affectionately teasing as usual now that his spirits are partially lifted again. At least they can't just shove Strange aside. Despite the massive trainwreck the results do have sometimes good outcomes.

"I don't know. I sat in on a couple of those movies and if we are going for a more modern feel you might be required to take your shirt off at least once. Depends on far Creation is willing to go."

Leave the shirtless advantages to those that don't have to follow this 'respectable magic' rule.

"If those movies were anything like some of the books on the moon I read, I'd need to be a dashing romantic hero before I take my shirt off. And as I am neither dashing, nor romanceable, I think we're safe."

Strange reaches up to run a hand through his hair. As he does so, he very deliberately shows Tyki his wedding ring. Which granted, Tyki knew that already, most of the carnival knew Strange was married. But still, it's a good quick reminder.

Fleshy's expression doesn't even change a lick as she's picked up. She just blinks at Strange again with those much too large bright blue eyes of hers, and then lifts one of her weird three-fingered hands and plaps it softly on his face.

Peridot stares at him for a lengthy moment, her eyes welling up with big, ridiculous dragon tears. She looks extremely torn, but in the end, relents.

"Fiiiiine," she creaks slowly, sniffling; she drops her head flat down onto the trailer floor, still clutching the ale bottle in one paw. Everything she says is taking twice as long as she would usually take to say it, like each word is a massive effort. "Just find something to pour this in, so I can still drink it afterwards." SNFFFFFFFF. "You're not going to do something mean to Fleshy, are you?"

Edited 2018-02-28 01:24 (UTC)

As Fleshy places her hand on his face, Strange looks over at her. There's something that looks like it could be a bonding moment but is actually Strange's brain short-circuiting a bit because there's an alien? With her hand on his face? Whhhhhat the hell is he supposed to do about this?

But Peridot wants him to get something to pour the booze in so score! He's gonna do some magic. Very slowly, Strange shuffles towards the kitchen: he's gonna get a bowl. "Of course I won't do anything mean! I'm not a mean person!" says the man who's routinely kind of awful to the rest of the Steven Universe cast.

Strange takes a puff of the joint, contemplates offering it to Fleshy, but then decides against it. Here's hoping that Peridot actually has a bowl in her kitchen somewhere because Strange is straight up rifling through her stuff.

Now that Lambert was back on his feet, that meant some of Syrlya's temporary nightrider duties were relaxed. And since Strange could only imagine how stressful that was, he managed to coax Syrlya out for a few hours at Wismuth. This is purely to relieve stress! At least, that's the explanation Strange is giving. Truth be told, he hasn't really seen Syrlya loosen up. The man seemed to be all business all the time—he was pleasant, of course! But outside of their magic duel all those months ago, it seemed rare for Syrlya to actually have fun. Strange intended to change that.

"It's a combination entertainment center and restaurant," Strange explains, as he holds the door open for Syrlya. "Peridot and I went to one a week or so ago, these things are quite..." And then Strange trails off, looking at the interior.

This combination entertainment center and restaurant is a Chuck E Cheese. As such, it is swarming with children under the age of ten. An animatronic rat plays the guitar near the back of the store, a six year old girl is crying for some reason, and a ball from the ball pit goes soaring through the air in front of them, landing somewhere that is obviously not the ball pit. This is obviously not what Strange expected and he's looking at the chaos with a small quizzical frown on his face.

"In my defense, the advertisement didn't say there would be so many children." There's a pause before that lack of an attention span kicks in. "Oooh, they have skee-ball!"

There are so many children, Syrlya's actually boggling a little. He's never seen so many of them in one small, crowded, place--and they are loud. He looks aside to Strange, now a little incredulous about what kind of 'stress relieving activity' he's been dragged into.

"They have what?"

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Page 4 of 10

the terrible horrible no good very bad week

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for syrlya: fun in wismuth

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