rollcharisma | PSL / MEME CONTINUATION

((ooc: continued from here))

If I trusted anyone to responsibly handle explosives, it...might be you? But that doesn't mean you should be setting off fireworks in a residential neighborhood!

[Armin is a little stunned as he enters what he assumes is a restaurant, but what looks like nothing he's ever seen before. The modern surroundings are enough to bring him pause at the front door, but he's being swept away by a hostess only moments after entering. He tries to protest as she, seeming rather mindless, guides him along to his table. Not that she's pulling him, or anything like that, but whether by virtue of being too polite, or by some otherworldly force, he's compelled to follow her.

[The strange hostess leads him to a table, then begins to walk away. Armin almost takes a seat, but...]

I'm sorry. [To Aubrey, who is seated at said table.] One second-- She--

[He turns back, reaching for the hostess as she hurries away.]

Excuse me? Miss, this table's already been taken--

[But, the hostess is gone, and this is the table she's brought him to. Normally, he'd very much just...walk away at this point, but! As if his hand is being forced by some unknown entity (the Hell Denny's at the end of the universe), he...feels he doesn't have any choice but to sit where he's told to.]

I'm so sorry - I think...I'm supposed to sit here. Would that be alright? I don't mean to intrude.

Edited 2023-09-19 04:48 (UTC)

((ooc: continued from here))

:(

(ooc: therapy is getting handcuffed at the 24/7 limbo wal-mart)

[Their lesson must have gone either very wrong or very, very right.]

[It’s strange; as usual, Aubrey doesn’t remember the details. There’s a scene, it feels realer than anything; then a sense of closure, the impression of an aftermath, but details come up short. What matters now, though, is that she’s in a knockoff department store, and its inscrutable liminality reminds Aubrey that she has a mission. This environment, it seems, doesn’t.

[She wishes Eren were here. If he didn’t recognize karaoke, surely he’d get kick out of, say, automatic doors. The sheer overwhelm of stepping in a building and getting bombarded by advertisements and price tags, registers and brands… it’s stupid, it’s mundane (or at least used to be), and it’s the exact kind of everyday inanity Aubrey kind of misses and definitely wants Eren to experience.

[There’s barely anyone here, too. Not no one, unlike the diner, but faceless people stroll idly by, pushing empty carriages… carriages. And nary a worker in sight.

[Wait. Wait. Oh, fuck yes, she can do this now—]

[Smash cut, if one will, to the wreckage of Aubrey’s attempt to scour the aisles in “style”: a crash, weird blue-lined cases scattering like dominoes, and a cart rammed headlong into a pop-up shelf that Aubrey, herself a little dazed from the last-second jumpoff, swears was not there five seconds ago.]

So what if I want to ride a carriage like a scooter?! [For lack of other sound, this is audible through half the store.] If I crash, no one gets hurt but me. I’ll even pick up the stupid mess, even though no one’s real to care about it!

[Alas, her protest goes ignored by the quote-unquote-not-real security guard who’s got her wrist in a very real vicegrip. Aubrey sounds more than a little petulant, but why does this place have to hate fun?! Why’s she getting dragged to the back of the damn store? And what’s with these fuckoff-huge black… boxes? They’re lining the stands and the back walls; she’d think they were screens, all turned off, if not for being way, way too thin to actually be functioning technology. What is this, some scifi shit?]

What, are you taking me to fake-Othermart-jail? You know that won’t—

[The guard answers by slapping a handcuff around the grabbed wrist, which hurts. It snaps snug to Aubrey’s skin on contact, tight—and before she can spit a profanity-filled protest, the other cuff is hooked to someone else.

[And with that, away steps the guard—leaving Aubrey to recognize, immediately slammed with embarrassed mortification, exactly who she’s been locked to.]

Ar…min…! [oh god please kill her] Hi…!

[”Aubrey. Please.”

[She can’t stop thinking about it. She wondered, after Reiner, if she might see Eren again; she hasn’t. His voice, instead, found her; those desperate, haunting words. And she can’t bend or will or beg with the world enough to make it show her more.]

[Reiner hadn’t seen him. Bertholdt barely recognized him. Armin… Armin wanted to talk to him again. Soon. God, let it have been recent....]

[The Aubrey that steps in the diner is a frazzled one. Her bow remains but her hair’s unkempt, her eyes (still contactless) wild, and she opens and closes her scarred hand around nothing, pained, over and over.

[The hostess approaches; Aubrey ignores her.]
Armin? [Is he at a table again? The counter? Please. Please. Maybe she’s skimming the place too fast to notice.] A-Armin, are you here?

[This world’s got a weird sense of humor. It’s the question room again, random-rolling ceiling and all, but… different. Themed. And it’s not Eren she’s standing across from.

[Well, this’ll be embarrassing for everyone involved. The look Aubrey gives Armin as the numbers fly is mildly bemused, and she hopes it conveys “oh my god, I’m sorry you’re about to experience this.” At least the first question dings with something… maybe less incriminating?]

Thirty-two. “Would you ever marry for money?”

Edited (forgot the title smh) 2023-10-21 03:00 (UTC)

[In Eren and Armin’s memory, they talked about the ocean. Armin was thinking about it, too, when he summoned the rain. Aubrey swore she’d show them both; the world hasn’t given her the chance. Or maybe she hasn’t intended it enough.

[But when she thinks about finding Eren peace, the memory rolls in like the tide. The beach she finds herself on is familiar yet not; where she remembers umbrellas and stray castles, there’s only sand. Sand, a shoreline—and, arranged neatly in a picnic basket, slices of watermelon. Looks fresh and juicy. It’s a memory Basil immortalized. Snacks like that taste better shared…]

[As Aubrey takes her shoes off and ties her jacket around her waist, she notices she’s not alone. Someone’s already here, standing in the water. From the back, the figure’s only faintly familiar. Has she seen clothes like that before? But the hair, short and blonde… No, too tall. But maybe…]

[Leaving the basket for the moment, Aubrey steps tentatively towards the shore.]

Armin?

[Aubrey’s not sure when she falls asleep, but she dreams, vaguely. No specific actions (or nightmares, for that matter), just… faces. Lost friends. People she never got to see enough.

[Eren might see them, too; last looks. Mari, gentle as always; Hero, Kel, Sunny, dark and broken; Basil, horrified; Basil, scared for his life; Basil, a horror himself—]

[She wakes abruptly, vision blurred by tears. Ah… it was bound to spill sooner or later.]

[Aubrey finds herself upright again, still on a couch, Eren still sleeping on her lap—breathing, warm. But someone else has joined them: Armin, upright but leaning and sleeping. The rest of Eren is on his lap, now.

[It’s a precious sight. Aubrey wishes desperately that she could take it in, notice nothing else, but she’d recognize the wallpaper in the periphery anywhere. She covers her mouth and chokes back something inhuman.]

[It’s his house, now. A quiet living room—and kitchen, and dining, and entry. Small place. Every detail is crystal clear; an overwhelming green tamed by the soft light of morning (or is it evening?), plants on the bookshelves, plants from the ceiling, on the tables, by the windows. All immaculately cared for, blooming and thriving—even as, outside, there’s a chill. It seeps through thin walls, a reminder that the house is not as cozy as it looks.

[He had lots of happy birthdays here, anyway. Right in the middle of Februrary.... The winds outside had nothing on them.]

[Aubrey could almost think she’s been tossed back for real, Eren and Armin with, but one detail is glaringly amiss: the television. Numbers roll like static; a familiar sight, albeit never before vertical. She’s not sure if it’s a mercy or a cruelty that a question won’t land yet. Maybe it’ll be a good distraction....]

[It's a portion of Shiganshina again, but the tree is nowhere in sight. All one can see of the town is what might as well be a two-dimensional backdrop behind Armin. In front of them is a canal with a bizarre (to Aubrey, most likely) ship that uses cables and a belt instead of sails. Armin's pants are rolled up to his knees, his bare feet in the water. Eren is curled up beside him with his head in Armin's lap, where Armin's hands gently run through soft, loose hair.]

Well.

[He smiles at Aubrey.]

How has loving you changed me?

The answer's pretty easy, actually.

[Idly, he turns his hand to stroke Eren's cheek with the back of his knuckles.]

You gave me back my hope. I think you did that for all of us.

[Reading from a little card:] “Power of friendship: Your friend tells you that they committed a crime. They explain that they are having trouble sleeping at night and feel you are the only one they can trust with their confession. A few days later, you read in the paper that someone else has been arrested for your friend’s crime. What do you do?”

[Dry glance up.] Hey, nice to meet you.

Edited (link broke. off to a good start lads) 2024-01-03 19:59 (UTC)

[It’s been how long since they started with one of the world’s little games? It’s a nice one, at least. And god, may it not leave Armin coughing up petals again....]

[She smiles at him, faint and tired, but light all the same. Eren’s not with her, but he’s in the arms of someone else he loves and who loves him. Despite how Armin last saw them… they’re holding on.]

Hey, Armin. [On to the prompt, then.] You know, despite what you’ve said… I think you’re one of the most true people I know. You know what you value, and you know what you’re fighting for. [Maybe it’s presumptuous, but…] I don’t think any of that is a lie.

And your ocean-blue eyes are pretty beautiful, too. [Small cough. Sometimes the clichés are true.]

[It’s sudden. The light dies, and the pinky hooked in Aubrey’s is someone else’s. It’s familiar; she clasps at the hand, with the finger in her other now gone.]

Sunny? [What happened.] Eren? [What the hell happened?!]

[Life is funny.

It's growing up with a semblance of hope in a world you don't understand and watching the cracks form in the people around you. It's pretending those same etchings aren't crawling under your own skin, even as a dagger pierces the neck of a man who could've been a real father in another life. It's watching those red, deep red, crimson red drying into black form on the weathered outlines of your palm.

It's watching a boy become a legend and-

It's watching a boy become a liar.

It's funny because he can almost grasp long lost days in his mind, but they get fuzzier. Less vivid. Less real when the gurgled sputtering of a corpse is able to drown out memories of laughter. Of fun. Of sleepovers and quiet nights under blankets. Of shared toys and stick fights.

It's so goddamn funny.]

Oh! I didn't expect to see you here - it's been awhile.

[A feigned smile, a softness in his tone - a mask to the marred reality they're both living in. This chance meeting through the town doesn't feel like a kind stick being through by fate - it feels like a war cry. Like a sword etching more cracks between them all, like-]

I take it you're looking for Eren?

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Denny's prompt for @headhooligan

tfln continuation for @badcandy

hi welcome to wall mart