#event: subversion pt2

[isolaradiale]

Please note that this does not begin until Friday, December 20th at 12:00:01am EST. No starters, info posts, or ads can be made before that point. This is just an information post for preparation's sake!

We previously teased that we'd be doing something different for the December event, and this is it! Because everyone is busy with the holidays and there are likely event reruns some members would like to do but can't since they never win the polls, we decided to try a period where you can choose whichever event you'd like to write during the three week event period. We're posting this in advance so you can think about what you'd like to pick!

There are, of course, some rules and caveats for this:

Most events are available to be chosen but not all of them. This is because some of the staff who wrote those events are no longer with us. You can find a list of eligible events at the bottom of this post!

You must choose a single event to receive event participation with on any single blog. You're more than welcome to thread with others doing other events so that they have people to write with, but you can only claim participation for a single event during this period!

There is a flat reward of a free unlock for everyone who participates regardless of whether or not the event you pick gives an unlock. This is so everyone receives an unlock regardless of the event chosen. Picking one that gives an unlock will not give you two, you will still only receive the single unlock. You must write at least 300 IC words for your chosen event to be eligible to claim the unlock.

The usual rules on the EVENT RERUN GUIDE still apply! Your character will see the city in the state that it was in during that event, and will believe everyone is going through the same thing.

A more complete post will be made on Friday with any questions that have been asked in the interim. So if you have any questions about how things work, please send them to the masterlist (not the Discord server) before Friday!

Below you can find a list of eligible events along with links to their information posts:

COVET

SUBVERSION (PT1 + PT2)

THE FANTASIA WAR (PT1 + PT2)

DREAMSCAPE

EMPATHEOREM

CUPID SHUFFLE

SECURITY BREACH (PT1 + PT2)

SHORE

MASKERADE FESTIVAL

SHINE BRIGHT

OPTIMIZATION

CANVAS (PT1 + PT2)

LATESUMMER NIGHT'S SOIREE

MISTIFIED

CREW CALL

SUBSISTENCE (PT1 + PT2)

A CROCUS AMONG US

DOWN YOU GO

FRAGMEMORIA (PT1 + PT2)

THE CHALLENGER'S PATH

DATA CORRUPT (PT1 + PT2)

HOMECOMING (PT1 + PT2)

SPIRALE GAMES

ENDLESS AURORA

PHANTASM AMALGAM (PT1 + PT2)

COLOUR THEORY (MID-EVENT UPDATE)

ALTERNATIVE ALLEGORY

[sneakthieflupin-blog]

|| Here’s an uncapped Subversion Part II plotting call! Just click that like button, and I’ll pop into your IMs!

[lystsyn-blog]

her ‘other’ self is almost like witnessing a window back through time.

viewing the world from behind the eyes of another is not a wholly unfamiliar experience for vira, of course; skydwellers and primal beasts were never meant to bond, let alone become one. luminiera’s thoughts seep through the cracks sometimes, when she becomes unfocused, and vira gets to see the world as her companion does; in sharp focus, with eyes meant for battle and battle alone, quickly identifying (and wrestling with an urge to dispose of) threats.

she was built a weapon, and though she has outgrown her purpose -- the marks of the astrals remain on her, as they always will. now that vira is also her -- or rather, her host -- they are her scars, too; burdens from before she was born are hers to bear.

( but she was born nobility, so she supposes this was always the case. )

but there is an unfamiliar factor in it all; rather than be memories of someone else, they are of herself, but different. different in the sense that she can feel that unbridled viciousness and pragmatism that characterized her days as lord; it is like looking into a dark mirror of her current self, without luminiera’s calming influence and allies at her back. there is who she would be if she had stayed cut off from the world; cold, distant, and deluding herself into thinking she was content with it.

living a ghost of a life.

but even she deserves saving. if not for the moral duty of a knight that vira bears, then purely for her own safety; for luminiera’s safety, too, as she is reminded of the primal beast curled around her shoulders. she has another to say goodbye to as well, though her thoughts are now closed off to vira; she chooses to remain within herself, withdrawing to spare her partner the weight of another’s anxieties.

both of them, led on by the application in vira’s hands, are drawn to the city of yesteryear. hopefully there, in its ruins, they can give their mirror-images another chance, and spare themselves from an unfortunate fate.

the city is frantic, but they arrive outside the limits of spirale without incident. there are others here, most likely saddled with the same task; some travel in groups, taking refuge in companionship even as the dark cloud of their limited time hangs over their heads. despite luminiera’s warmth, vira finds herself feeling distinctly alone; vulnerable for it, as well, even though lyst sin is a comforting presence at her hip, as always, with a grip made for her hands and her hands alone.

-- but maybe, there’s someone she can find, too. scanning the scattered residents figuring out their own directions, she spots him; garbed in gallant red, looking decidedly ridiculous holding a smartphone, but familiar.

...even if he’s an absolute pain of a man, most of the time.

“ lord of flames, ” she calls, and her voice carries clearly, as it always does. 

“ do you, too, seek your doppelganger? would you be bothered if i were to accompany you? we seem to be heading in the same direction, after all, and i must confess that i would like the company of an... ally. ”

@idealflames

[fairyknight]

CARRYING THE TORCH (SUBVERSION PT2 DRABBLE)

● It wasn’t like she had never wondered what it would be like. What if she had been born into a life that was much more ‘normal’ than the one she’d led? Adopted when she was young, raised by a mother that loved her, treated like just another woman on the street as she went about her day to day business. Even if she had to hide her vampiric features, it would still have been a happier life than the one she had led.

So what happened now felt cruel. Not only had she been given a taste of what that life might have been, but she had been forcibly ejected from that tiny sliver of happiness she found. What she had been, if only for a moment, was cursed to end. Even now, Tristan was overwhelmed with jealousy towards that alternate self, at times enough to want to end her misery early.

Tristan was jealous, but she had already decided on her answer. I’m not going to torture her. Had she been herself from back then, back from the Lostbelt, she probably would have. Nothing would have made her happier than to see her alternative self suffer. As thing were, they had changed. She couldn’t return to that life anymore, as much as there was a part of her that wished to.

If she did, she would disappoint her Master. She would disappoint her mother. And she didn’t want to see any of them sad. She didn’t want to be looked at like a monster. Not anymore. Not when she didn’t need to be like that.

And so the fairy lurked in the shadows of a familiar apartment. She assumed that, being based on her, the duplicate would not agree to go of her own volition. Whatever was destabilizing them certainly wouldn’t have helped things either, and so she had opted to go the least messy route. “Light’s out.” As soon as the door to the bedroom full of fashion designs and half-finished works opened, the Servant struck the woman wearing her face with a punch meant to knock her out. 

There was a bit of blood, and that blood’s presence was enough to whir her instincts to life. But she resisted while standing over the student with her cellphone in hand. “Sorry. There’s no such thing as happily ever after. Not for you, and certainly not for me. But... You had some good ideas. At the very least, I’ll try and take those goals of yours and carry the torch... For both of our sakes.” She left the felled woman with this words before the weight of her finger came down on her phone. 

“It’s stupid. Being a Servant is stupid!” A life after death? It was already too late to make amends, to change, to be a better person. Yet here she was trying nonetheless. To what ends? For who? Baobhan Sith didn’t know. She just knew she was tired of being looked at like she was some sort of creature. That she wanted to be seen as a person too.

[chalicearrow-blog]

“Are you all right? Have you succeeded in saving yourself?”

[sakyuu]

“Why should I trust you?”

It had been a time-consuming trek through Yesteryear to find his older self. Dune had started to prepare for looking underground when his search for tools led them to cross paths on opposite ends of a desolate street. Dune understood the copy if he wanted to clear his head in the fallen city’s destructive solitude, but beyond that use for his search he didn’t care in the slightest.

“Would I lie to myself?”

“I would,” he answered with a shrug of his shoulders. “From what I’ve seen of your life, so would you.”

Dune smiled pleasantly at his copy. “I wanted to give you a choice, but you don’t really have one. Now, give me a good fight.”

The copy laughed emphatically. “I never thought I’d be threatened by a fake. Amazing!” From his side, he drew out a knife that caught the light of the sunset brilliantly. “But if you really are me, you’ll find out soon how much better I’ve gotten since then.”

Dashing forward with a passionate but human speed, he charged toward Dune with a familiar bloodthirst in his orange eyes. Dune gladly took the challenge, knowing that the inhuman speed on his end made it unfair. His fights against powerful beings made it unfair. There was nothing wrong with playing dirty under multiple threats of death.

While the copy relentlessly tried to lurch in to striking distance, Dune sped just out of his reach around and around a large section of the street. He smiled, quick feet moving as if in a graceful but frantic dance. The one thing he had to worry about was the height and power difference, and tiring the copy out was going to make finishing it uninjured more likely.

The copy said nothing, but he started to bare his teeth halfway through. His wild eyes looked at his younger self with growing contempt, frustrated by being unable to lay a hand on someone for once. A child, no less.

“Aaah, that’s better.” Dune’s smile grew with his audible satisfaction.

“Be quiet!”

His breath grew labored as their dance drew out, his feet slowing later on. Dune could handle it better --- his physically ambitious city exploration kept up his endurance. He allowed the copy in close enough for a strike, and when the knife lunged his way with a vicious “Haaaa!” Dune’s arm shot up to block the copy’s forearm with his. Immediately his free hand shot up to drive his fingers into the copy’s eyes like knives of his own, and the copy inhaled harshly as he reeled backward. Overwhelmed, he dropped to his knees, a hand clutched over his eyes and a death grip still on the knife. As if that would make a difference.

“What an inferior clone you are,” Dune mused, striding forward. Proving the genuine blindness, he was able to get close enough to stomp on the turned hand with the knife, twisting it further with an ugly and violent sound, forcing the weapon to clatter free. Again, the copy only reacted with a sharp inhale, barely a shift from his already uneven breathing.

The silence confirmed they were somehow the same. They’d learned it the same way, for the same reason: to never give the people that hurt them the indicator of weakness they wanted. Even if the copy’s vision was damaged, or if anything had broken in his hand or wrist.

“You… can’t… replace me,” the copy said in a low voice, nails digging into his face around his eyes in frustration.

“Enjoy your happy life,” Dune said with a note of cheer, then spinning to deliver a powerful kick to the side of the copy’s head. The copy dropped to the side from the force, head roughly striking the ground. His hand fell weakly in front of him.  

Already, Dune had his phone out. He opened the new app as instructed --- he’d gotten over the grudging feelings of having to play along with another inane plan during the long search. Now he wanted it over with, so he brought the copy in view and tapped his image on the screen.

Without further ado, the copy was gone where his fingertip had been. When Dune lowered his phone, he was just as gone from the cracked and earthy concrete where he’d been before.

Dune let out a small exhale. Leaning over, he picked up the nice knife his double had left behind. He turned it over, glancing over the smooth metal before tossing it aside. Unlike his copy, it wasn’t the way he fought. He could admit he visually appreciated it, but that was as far as the connection went. It could rust here.

A happy life for that bitter serial killer? A happiness he’d acquired? The acrid taste of those words burned his tongue, but as he turned to leave, he still managed to give a quiet laugh to the vast emptiness of Yesteryear’s nameless street.

[crimsonverses]

                  Evening was only their waking time, Crow wakes up truly afternoon. He is a nocturnal being, after all-- naturally he’d start walking around the city at such times. Only to have his eyes play a little magic trick. Crow squints off into the sunset to find... copies of ShinganCrimsonZ running off into another ward--- Cotes ward. Crow snaps a photo (blurry, to say the least, unlike the other ones talent in taking pictures) and moves to the chatroom with his bandmates, fingers typing like a maniac about how he just found some fakers

                  [ Crow at 5pm in ShinganCrimsonZ chat ]                   > (CROW ATTACHED AN IMG)                   > Dude what the fuck!!                    > Did y’all see another me?! Why is there two Roms and Yaibas and Aions!!!!                   > !!!!!!!!                   > What the fuck!!! What the FUCK!!!

@goldenbass @azuredrums @violetstrings 

[yanagichiri-blog]

         A predator stalking its prey.

Exercising caution. Serenity. Steady breathing and focused eyes, analyzing a quarry and waiting for a moment to strike. How appropriate, then, that he’s in a forest. Home territory, or something similar to it. It only makes sense that his target would be drawn to this place as well.

When it comes, it’s easy. He’s the one with the combat experience. He’s the one who knows how to aim a bow. Fujin Yumi responds with ease, and a gust of wind soars straight through its mark.

A scream of pure pain ricochets off the trees. His other self crumples, a death grip on his thigh as blood dies his pants red. Takumi closes the distance in a heart beat, sprinting through brush like he didn’t just loose an arrow through himself. Another one is drawn by the glowing green line as the prince looms over his own writhing form. Through the pain, it takes the other to recognize he’s there, but as soon as his moans of agony die down, his face blanches and he tries to scramble away.

     “N-No--!” The other Takumi whimpers. “Don’t-- don’t hurt me! Don’t kill me--!” It’s a cry that almost falls on deaf ears, a merciless glint pervasive in the original’s eyes. He doesn’t lower his weapon, but he doesn’t advance either.

     “I can’t kill you, but you have two options,” he announces, voice so level it barely sounds like the same man. “you can either give up and let me seal you away, or I keep poking you full of holes until you’re too weak to resist.” His eyes narrow. “Give up. I’m not against hurting you more. I’m sending you to some place better.” There’s shock and horror on his double’s face, but soon he’s indignant.

     “As if I can trust you, you bastard!” He glares through his wincing. “Shooting at me like this, looking at me like I’m an animal! What the hell is wrong with you?!” This, at last, gets Takumi’s irritated mask to break, full anger blossoming.

     “Oh, shut up! You have no idea how much I hate this!” The arrow he has disappears on a whim, and he points an indignant finger at his double. “I don’t want to do this either, look at myself and face myself and try to convince my shitty, stubborn self to listen to what I say!” He grits his teeth. “I know how I am, how we are, and I know I’m the real one, so just shut up and let me do this for you!”

A silence settles between them. Takumi can’t tear his eyes away from the blood dripping through his other’s fingers. He has an expression that’s still furious, but there’s an undercurrent to it that feels menacing.

     “And how do you know... How do you know that what you remember is real?” 

Takumi pauses, alarmed. Those are words he hadn’t expected.

     “... What?”

     “We have the same memories, you know? Well, some of them...” The copy makes a crawl to get closer, enduring the wound in his leg. “I know... I know you couldn’t remember all your battles. You just remembered feeling angry, frustrated, betrayed... You couldn’t remember the battle at Suzanoh. You couldn’t even remember your own death.”

     “But I... I remember more. I’ve got it all in here.” He taps his forehead, leaving a red oval in the center. “I remember everything. I remember what we did. Doesn’t that make me the one who should stay? Doesn’t that make me the origi-- AAAAAHH!!”

Fujin Yumi’s arrows of wind leave a clean hole through the other’s shoulder. He watches, furious, as he writhes, nearly spits out of anger.

     “I told you to SHUT UP!!!” He yells. “They said our copies would be crazy, and they were damn right! You’re going to go to the other place whether you like it or not!” He holds no sympathy as tears prick his mirrored eyes, instead fishing out his phone, intent on waiting until he bled out.

Though his teeth are grit, the doppelganger smiles. The look in his irises changes. Becomes blank.

     “You’re only mad... because I’m right.” He whispers, loud enough for Takumi to hear as he mashes on his phone. Glimmers of light come too late around the double, allowing him to utter his final words.

     “You’re only mad... because you can’t... remember...

      Anankos...”

And then, in the woods, there stood only one.

The phone and bow clatter to the brush as the prince falls to his hands and knees. He’s wide-eyed, his limbs shake, and the back of his skull throbs like a hammer strikes it.

He doesn’t know that name.

   No.

        Yes?

There’s only... emptiness... FuLlness... silent agony, desolate fury, Inner cONFliCt, and the StIng from a TRAITOR. from RUIN.

betrayal.

                     A Dark EnIgmA d r e a d, anger, pain, madness madness MADNESS      A NAME... a FaMily, His family, his people, his dreams, HiS GOAls. HIS truST          scattered into dust. DYING. DEAD.

b e t r a y a l .

kill them a l l      kill the t r a i t o r           k i l l                KILL

                                                    K  I  L  L

A scream of pure pain ricochets off the trees.

[braveryfated]

Alrighty. I briefly mentioned it in the drabble I wrote, yet Haruka has had a run in with a copy of herself in canon before. Said copy tried to kill not only herself, but her friends as well. Because of that entire ordeal, she's incredibly worried that her copy's going to start attacking people. If someone were to approach her, she would try to get them away from her.

But honestly? Her copy's the complete opposite of what she thinks will happen. In reality, she's more scared of Haruka and will run away if she saw her. However, as her stability deteriorates, the more likely she may try to find a weapon or something to fight back, thinking Haruka's trying to harm her.

So, in a sense they're both afraid of each other.

Anyway... In regards to starters, they'll either be with normal Haruka trying to find her copy- or helping others find theirs, the copy trying to hide from Haruka, or both of them just yelling at each other in fear. I'll leave this uncapped for starters and if you have a preference, please let me know.

[isolaradiale]

We previously teased that we'd be doing something different for the December event, and this is it! Because everyone is busy with the holidays and there are likely event reruns some members would like to do but can't since they never win the polls, we decided to try a period where you can choose whichever event you'd like to write during the three week event period.

There are, of course, some rules and caveats for this:

Most events are available to be chosen but not all of them. This is because some of the staff who wrote those events are no longer with us. You can find a list of eligible events at the bottom of this post!

You must choose a single event to receive event participation with on any single blog. You're more than welcome to thread with others doing other events so that they have people to write with, but you can only claim participation for a single event during this period!

There is a flat reward of a free unlock for everyone who participates regardless of whether or not the event you pick gives an unlock. This is so everyone receives an unlock regardless of the event chosen. Picking one that gives an unlock will not give you two, you will still only receive the single unlock. You must write at least 300 IC words for your chosen event to be eligible to claim the unlock.

The usual rules on the EVENT RERUN GUIDE still apply! Your character will see the city in the state that it was in during that event, and will believe everyone is going through the same thing.

HOW PARTICIPATING IN MULTIPLE EVENTS WORKS

As a preliminary reminder: you can only claim participation for a single event regardless of how many you participate in. Participating in multiple events is more to help others get interactions as most members will be choosing different things.

Characters are sent to a different digital reconstruction of the city depending on which rerun you're doing. Areas unique to the event are recreated in this space too.

Characters will not remember being in multiple events at the same time during the event period. You can't have a thread in Subversion and then hop into The Maskerade Festival and have your character recall being in Subversion right before that. They will remember all of the events after this event period is over, however.

Because the event reruns take place in a digital space, there is no 1:1 timeline with the outside world. Reruns have no tangible effect on the city where business continues as usual. Just because your character feels like they spent a week in an event does not mean a week has passed in the city proper. Just keep in mind that events do canonically last two to four weeks depending on the event, so your character couldn't spend more than that amount of time (from their perspective) in a single event rerun.

Below you can find a list of eligible events along with links to their information posts:

COVET

SUBVERSION (PT1 + PT2)

THE FANTASIA WAR (PT1 + PT2)

DREAMSCAPE

EMPATHEOREM

CUPID SHUFFLE

SECURITY BREACH (PT1 + PT2)

SHORE

MASKERADE FESTIVAL

SHINE BRIGHT

OPTIMIZATION

CANVAS (PT1 + PT2)

LATESUMMER NIGHT'S SOIREE

MISTIFIED

CREW CALL

SUBSISTENCE (PT1 + PT2)

A CROCUS AMONG US

DOWN YOU GO

FRAGMEMORIA (PT1 + PT2)

THE CHALLENGER'S PATH

DATA CORRUPT (PT1 + PT2)

HOMECOMING (PT1 + PT2)

SPIRALE GAMES

ENDLESS AURORA

PHANTASM AMALGAM (PT1 + PT2)

COLOUR THEORY (MID-EVENT UPDATE)

ALTERNATIVE ALLEGORY

[nohreason]

it’s taken him this long to track his clone down.

perhaps it’s the strength of his bitterness, ever-present and unrelenting, that forces him to keep following his clones trail. after their first brief encounter, leo regrets not handling the matter with more force from the get-go -- brynhildr is clutched tightly in hand even now, and this time he will skip right past the formalities.

it’s exactly what everyone expects of him anyway. a little diplomacy on the surface, a substructure composed entirely of violence and bloodthirst beneath. it’s far from the truth of what he views as himself, but this whole clone nonsense is starting to make him doubt his self-perception on a new level. is he such a horrific person? or does he merely look worse by comparison, to both this clone and his foreign counterparts?

these questions are unsuitable for mulling over while tramping further into these murky woods. he should have called for help of some sort, but the thought of calling zero right away for help with this seemed... a step beyond embarrassing. he can’t quite bring himself to face him, not untl this business is finished. for good.

that said, for all the apparent lunacy that’s transpired, his clone isn’t as bright as he makes himself out to be, else he’d not be hiding, barely covered, behind a withered old evergreen smothered by its larger evergreen brethren some tens of feet off in the distance. it’s hard to judge the exact distance, but he closes it within moments. his other self does not run.

<<I should kill you.>> leo huffs a bit. the armor isn’t doing him any favors here, but he’d rather not be caught out without it, not under these circumstances. <<I won’t, but I should. I’ve thought about it in great length, actually, while I ran after you like some half-mad fool trying to keep up.>>

there isn’t any response from himself, the other leo. so he continues.

<<Don’t you have anything to say for yourself? Or are you as out of breath as I am?>> nothing still, and the silence slowly moves him to anger. <<I suppose I understand why you ran. I wouldn’t have given up a life like that either. Not that you’re actually giving it up, you know. Which I was trying to explain before you took off like a fool.>>

this elicits a response, and the other-leo peeks up and around the deadened tree. <<Pardon me for not caring about your sob story of a life. I have my own problems to worry about.>>

that strikes a nerve. <<Oh, of course. Like your ridiculous idea of an education, or spending time with zero talking about trifles over tea -- >>

<<At least I had a life. At least I was enjoying myself.>> other-leo hesitates a moment before delivering the finishing blow to his chest. <<I like him quite a bit, thank you. At least I showed it better than you did.>>

there’s an anger boiling deep within leo’s chest that has been a long time building, though for what he’s not quite sure. it almost bubbles over at that. <<Showed what? He knows how much I appreciate him and his work for me. I’ve trusted him with my life -- what else is there to say?>>

the other-leo laughs, a short barking sound. perhaps he’s closer to madness than he lets on. <<Oh, yes, of course. You’ve an explanation for everything, don’t you? I’ve the life you never had and you’re mad about it and can’t even admit to it.>>

<<This is a stupid conversation. A waste of time. I should just knock you out and -- >>

<<You’ve everything to be envious of in me.>> the other-leo’s expression is dark, yet surprisingly placid. a sky before a storm. <<You’re so easily angered by just that. I didn’t even have to bring up Azura, but I’m sure you wished she would be so kind to you. You’d like loving parents too, but that time is gone, isn’t it?>>

<<I will strike you with Brynhildr. Do not test me -- >>

<<But keep clinging to your Zero. Pretend you’ll find a way home for everyone. Keep trying to be responsible and calm when you know you’ll fail. Lie to yourself a little longer -- >>

<<Enough!>> he’s not sure when he had decided he was tired of listening to such delusional ramblings. perhaps it really was jealousy that spurred him, a heat of the moment sort of anger that he couldn’t quell. either way he’s not used brynhildr properly, having just bludgeoned his clone directly into unconsciousness.

using it properly might have killed him, after all.

a sigh escapes him as he moves to seal this irritating version of himself that will never be, with a life and future he’ll never have. the emotions welling in his chest -- envy? sorrow? bitterness? he’s not sure. but at least for now, he’ll not be forced to confront them. not until he’s ready.

[sneakthieflupin-blog]

“A copy?”  Lupin the Third knew this game well. People paraded around as him on the daily back where he came from. But according to this, the rules of the game were a little different. Instead of his ‘copy’ imitating his lifestyle, the double firmly believed he was born and raised here.

And here he thought all of this was just some dream---and it only confirmed what he already knew was true; Lupin doesn’t dream. Turns out all of it was real. Only now, this game had gotten out of hand, and Lupin was tasked with finding his double and bringing him back.

But did he really believe any of this?

Maybe. But not because he trusted the voice, per se. No, he figured that his very existence in this world alone was proof enough that anything was possible.

Lupin tapped on the app the voice mentioned.

He woke with a start. Like a switch, something clicked. Something he couldn’t understand, like something in a foreign or dead language. Suddenly, he had the urge to get creative. Maybe go on a hike. Maybe jump off a cliff---all for some sort of cheap thrill.

He shook his head hard.  ‘Weird...’  Eyes searched the room, locking on neatly folded clothes laid out on top of a dresser on the northern wall. Must be his. He got out of bed and began to dress himself, almost routinely so. Maybe this is normal? He felt off somehow.

He got dressed, admiring himself in the mirror. At least dressing himself in these clothes felt natural. Now what? He moved from room to room, eyes scanning everything they could. Soon, he found himself in the kitchen, eyeing a coffee maker.

Fingers ran over buttons, reading the labels, before a switch was flipped in his head. Like clockwork, he changed the filter, spooned fresh coffee grounds into it, then poured water inside and turned on the pot, waiting patiently for it to brew. Soon, he held a cup of coffee, brewed blacker than the night, steaming from the top.

Confusion riddled his face. What in the world...? He furrowed his brow, trying to comprehend that sudden burst of energy and the results of it. Why was everything so confusing right now? Without so much as a sip of the brew, he set the mug down, a hand raising to his head.

His head was spinning. What was happening? He tried to convince himself that this wasn’t new to him. Tried his damnedest to tell himself it was normal life. But somehow, nothing made sense. Why? He shook his head again, this time heading straight for the door. He paused to tie on his shoes, and grabbed his jacket before heading out.

“Golden Ward, huh? Looks like he’s on the move,”  Lupin stated, looking rather unconcerned. Then, a serious grin spread across his face, brows angling downward with determination. Lupin rose to his feet, allowing them to carry him towards the door.

He threw open the door, stepping outside. Time to wrangle himself a copy!  “Looks like a new game has begun! So, let’s get started on this, shall we, my dear doppelganger?”

[nightmxre-eyes]

@therubestyidol

Running. Running and running and running, non stop. She didn’t know where her weird ass copy ran off to this time, but this was getting tiring, and she wished this could be done with already. As if this city couldn’t get weirder, this only made things worse. It was insane, something out of this Earth, it had to be out of HER Earth!!! Mae was afraid, she was upset, she was- she was just--

“SHIT!!!”

And she bumped right into someone in her rush. Again. Either there’s just too many people in this town, or the feline was getting clumsier with each day here. “Crap. Crap, sorry, didn’t mean to...” she grunts as she gets up, holding a hand out to the girl.

[herbalremedied]

     It was a strange set of circumstances.      When Baizhu awoke to the sound of his phone alarm, he did not expect with it a flood of memories he was certain were not his. Scenes of a different reality, of a man frail and weak with a face that was his own cutting flowers from a garden, entered his mind all at once and sent it in a confused tailspin. Though as he managed to access the voicemail detailing the hows and whys and objectives to the situation, one thing became very clear:      Whatever this was, it was the work of The Stars. And he had to find the man in his memories, the him from another reality.      Pondering his choices, he realized this would not be an easy task alone. Just as the one from his memories was ailed and fragile with illness, so too was Baizhu, nor was his Vision of any help to him at present. One person sprung to mind, and while they were not enemies, they weren't exactly allies either, although Baizhu decided they could be, just for this occasion.      Enlisting the help of Childe was something he likely wouldn’t have considered in any other set of circumstance, but there in these alternate memories, he recalled a young man that mirrored him — one his alternate self took kindly to, and perhaps it could be the first step in tracking him down.      Now, they crunch their steps through the snowfall, far from town. The winter air whips his braid around, and Changsheng, no match for the cold, tucks herself as far into Baizhu’s shoulder as she’s able. Drawing his arms to himself for warmth, he scans his surroundings then his phone. This should be the place... Yet there’s no one in sight.

     “ Supposedly... He is nearby. Do you see anything? ”

@doublemasked​   planned  thread.   ||   ( SUBVERSION. )

[chalicearrow-blog]

This meeting suited a forest. Even if his double only carried a camera, seeking to calm a racing heart by taking photos of the new terrain. Even if the meeting was completely amicable, Hajime even offering a small smile.

His double accepted the offer as the truth --- he only wanted to go back to the less chaotic home he knew. He would face it if it meant defending the life he built, but this one belonged to someone else.

“I can’t understand what you’ve been through, but I wish I could take some of that weight with me.”

“Thank you.” It was an impossible sentiment, but the thought meant something to Hajime. “Good luck.”

“You too.”

Hajime raised his phone, centering his double on the screen. The double grinned as if the model for a photo instead, and then the action succeeded in sealing him away.

Lowering it, he stared at the empty spot with an equally empty expression. Was it sealing him? Did even a peaceful him that had never experienced the Battle Royale have to accept that threat? He closed his eyes. A happy life… he could hope his self-preservation hadn’t interfered in that, and had truly saved them both.

His eyes burned. Opening them, he found more than the mist interfering with his vision. Another him had enjoyed a life without carving one of his own out of the Joker. Another him had never had to fight, over and over again, with his sole survival ensuring complete destruction. He had been able to connect with others without the same struggle against his inexperience and doubt. He had been fully human, always, and someday he would die like one.

Hajime was happy for that version of himself, even if it drew out the grief over his own situation that he’d refused to confront. Putting a hand over one side of his face couldn’t hide the heavy tear streaking down the other cheek. He stood like that silently, unable to wish his life had been the same, but the wide chasm was painful anyway.

The calling sounds of bugs and the soft shaking of branches under animal feet filled the silence. He wanted to live, like this. If he wanted it to end, he wouldn’t have tracked his other self down. It meant bearing the burdens of his own life, but the person he was was someone different. It was the only self he had. It wasn’t only his, either: he had to live for others.

He lowered himself to his knees, his free hand pressing into the dry dirt trail. “Forgive me for living a life without knowing the debt I owed you,” he said quietly, to Hikaru Jo, Noboru Shima, and every other Undead that just participated in the battle as it was. He couldn’t let Kanai off without poor feelings, but in the end everyone fell to allow the victor to survive.

He owed too much to Mutsuki Kamijo, and in the end, to Sakuya Tachibana. He owed his humanity to Haruka Kurihara for taking him in. He owed Shin Kurihara for trusting him with the photo he kept with him always. He owed every human that had died in the chaos to keep standing in their place.

Amane and Kenzaki were more than that. Their unconditional affection couldn’t be stripped down to a simple sacrifice for his life or his happiness. Amane wanted to understand and love every part of him, even if she was afraid of Joker’s face. Kenzaki would do anything for him, did do everything for him to save the dear friend he saw in the destructive force. Both had cared to an unbearable extent, but neither had been in his other self’s life at all.

“I’m sorry for living a life without you,” he whispered, and settled his head against the ground as the tears washed over his fingers.

[luxidens]

immediately when the message registered, she tapped on the app to find out where her copy had fled to. archimedes ward. of course, she’d be there, she was her after all. there was one place she would hide out in. ❝  savior’s respite.  ❞