entrancelogs | and in the end if i don't make it on the list [ open ]

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and in the end if i don't make it on the list [ open ]

Who: Tim Wright and YOU! ...and guest
Where: It's a Wonderful Wonderlandland
When: January 19th - January 23rd
Rating: PG-13 probable
Summary: Tim's ideal world is simple. Incredibly simple. Except for the part where it's impossible.
The Story:

19th - 20th ; fantasy ; give me a boost over heaven's gate

Once he gets over how he has to shade his eyes against the diamond reflection of a too-bright sun, of the pumping lights and blinding colors of what looks like what might've been the end result if Lisa Frank took a couple tabs of acid and decided to start her very own apocalypse, he figures, correctly, that there's probably more to it than this. He prowls the edges of the bubble of increasingly absurd imagery, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It does.

He turns a corner, and there they are.

Sarah's hair falls back in a dark curtain as she laughs at something Seth just said. A little further - he can swear that's Jay there too, squirrely as ever, and the broad shoulders of a silhouette that couldn't belong to anyone but Brian.

But most startling, terrifying, unnatural than anything else, than the fact that they're there at all, is the way they all laugh and grin and joke freely and without abandon.

It's in the way they all look happy.

He doesn't breach that perfect world just yet. If this is his chance to watch what the world might have been without him, then why would he spoil it a second time? He can see them all like this, like they were meant to be, and no matter how thickly the nostalgia might build in his chest, how blindingly the ache of longing might tighten its stranglehold around his throat, he doesn't draw any nearer.

He simply settles down on the grass, draws his knees up beneath his chin, folds his arms around them and...watches.

21st - 23rd ; but i'm a missile that's guided to you;

Of course it wasn't real.

Apparently music is how you're supposed to destroy the things, but he's kind of lacking the instrumentation and an additional pair of willing voices for the sake of the three-part harmony that's supposed to be the kicker here. And, frankly, in his adrenaline-soaked, survivalist state, he doesn't have much of an instinct for memorization of lyrics from the Top Ten Hits From the Nineties listings in an off-brand version of a world not unlike his own.

It's kind of hard to be scared of zombies at this point, though. He'll give Wonderland that much; it sure knows how to desensitize.

He's not doing too badly, all things considered. You'll find him perched just alongside a sluggish river of viscous, rainbow-tinted water, having deftly dug a trench out from the sparkling earth and filled the bottom of the ditch with knitting needles, points up, to catch any one of the slavering horde that decides he looks interesting enough.

It's not a permanent measure by any means, but it's only until he can figure out how to get the busted karaoke machine he's been tinkering worth to start working again.

wildcard ; you're the one habit i just can't kick

[If you want a closed prompt with either Frisk or Tim, let me know here or at arrpee! Just because this is initially a Tim log doesn't mean I can't toss Frisk in if you wanna do something with them! I will match prose or brackets!]

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really? i hadn't heard. i only knew about the one.

[He rubs his chin.]

...i guess that lucifer guy has a club or something, but i wasn't sure if that counted. never been.

[He highly doubts Tim has been either.]

could use a better variety of bars. doesn't all have to be booze. could have a waffle bar. taco bar. soda bar. ice cream bar.

[Heh.]

oh hey, got friends coming.

[He points. There's two zombies shambling toward them in the distance, but they're headed right for Tim's makeshift spike trap.]

[He shrugs. It'd be nice to have a weapon to make sure they keep their distance, but the most he has is a couple sharpened, giant knitting needles that he didn't bury at the trench's bottom, impromptu pole weapons for keeping the snarling things at bay.]

[He jabs out with the pointed end when one of them draws near, aiming for its legs. It topples forward with a meaty squelch, impaling itself on the spiked bottom.]

This won't kill them. You know that, right?

[Sans drags himself back to his feet as the zombies stumble closer, making a face when Tim wrangles it into the spike trap.]

nah, you're just getting a sorta gross collection. they'll probably make a nasty meat bridge after awhile.

[Might take long enough that the event will be over before it becomes a real problem.]

hold on, i got an idea.

[He's pretty worn out already, but this won't be a particularly big expenditure of magic. He holds out a hand and a line of sharpened bones springs up out of the spike trap, all of them glowing a faint, light blue. The handful of zombies that are already impaled down there start to sizzle and crumble where any of the bones touch them.]

[Sans sorta grimaces again. They're dead already, and too much of a threat, but it's still...uncomfortable. He never actually likes hurting things.]

still gross, but that should, uh...keep 'em from pulling themselves out at all.

[They won't move very well once more body parts start falling off. Yikes.]

[Well.]

[That solves one problem.]

[A sidelong glance in the skeleton's direction doesn't completely smooth away the unease that little flex of power produces, less in regards to what he can do than it is in concern that he might be taxing himself over something that's already meant to be a temporary measure.]

[That said, he has no idea how to broach the topic where magic is concerned, especially considering that their track record with each other's issues is, by now,
not great.]

...how's your singing voice?

[He gives a drawn out and completely exaggerated sigh, scrubbing at his face. Man, he already had his jam sesh with Alphys and Mettaton, and that was bad enough. Partially because watching heads explode isn't all that much fun.]

we'd need a third, though, huh?

[Just absolutely not answering, since he is about one billion percent convinced that Tim already knows the answer. He nods at the karaoke machine.]

is it broken?

One of them got a hold of it and clawed it up pretty bad, yeah.

[He's not much of a singer himself, he's pretty sure. He hasn't tried. What's the point, if it won't do anything but make him feel exceptionally foolish?]

Still, don't really gotta relocate just yet. I'm sure I will eventually, but... [He's gonna make do with what he has while he has it.]

well, i got nowhere to be right now. and those bones'll stick around for a good while. at this point i'm just waiting for the event to end. that offer for a lift still stands, if it gets hairy around here.

[Thank goodness the network still works, too.]

i could...try and help with the karaoke machine if you want? don't have the best track record at fixing machines, but...

[He shrugs.]

What's the worst you can do? Break it more?

[He snorts, and shoves the thing over with the toe of his shoe.] Have at it.

[He doesn't mention the offer for a "lift." All told, he'd rather deal with the zombies. Maybe that's too extreme, but at least that's not liable to generate a reaction he knows will rip down his spine and freeze his lungs.]

[Neither of them have forgotten, he's sure.]

don't challenge me. i'm way better at breaking things than i am at fixing them.

[Machines, promises, trust... He snorts and sits down to start looking it over. Tim doesn't respond to the offer, but Sans didn't really expect him to. If Tim wants outta here, he'll say so.]

this would be easier with a screwdriver...

All I've got is a lighter.

[If that was a window to jump in with some kind of excoriation or denial or reassurance...Tim doesn't take it. He's not here to pat anyone's ass or dig into insecurities, particularly now.]

Lighter and...a knife. Not that either does a lotta good here.

[He was more kind of hoping for a chuckle. Maybe just a snort.]

could sort of use the knife as a screwdriver if you don't mind maybe blunting it. d'you know which part is damaged?

[It'd be ideal if they could fix it without having to crack it open at all, but things are rarely ideal in Wonderland.]

Wires, I think. Not sure if a screwdriver's gonna be much help there.

[It's not like he carries spools of copper or some other conductor just...on hand. Maybe he should ask if Mr. Robot Army is around. Too bad that robot army of his isn't present in this ephemeral recreation of something something Gravity Falls.]

need to get it open first. any luck it's just some loose wires.

[There's no real way to just magic it open, though. Sans gives it a few firm pats, since sometimes all you need to do is bang on a broken machine to get it working again.]

[No dice. He gestures toward a spot on the back.]

think you can pry this part open with your knife?

[Better idea: instead of breaking the knife that might be the only sentimental piece of garbage he still possesses, he instead just picks up the thing and digs up against the cracked, plastic casing, straining with fingertips braced at its ridges.]

[Eventually, it pops loose, and he hands it back over.]

It's already pretty broken. Must've loosened it up some.

don't hurt your--

[The back snaps off and Sans winces slightly, hoping Tim didn't pinch any fingers.]

alright, that's one way to do it.

[Sans peers into the machine's innards. Some wires have definitely been knocked off of their connectors.]

i think i can fix this. at least, the result'll be less shocking if i dig around in there instead of you.

[He winks and starts trying to mess with the wires.]

I guess bone's not a great conductor, no.

[A shock to his system wouldn't be terrible in and of itself, right? Har har. Fingertips heal; they're expendable. A knife that's more than a memento and less than a talisman, whose purpose is doubly pointless and extremely pointed - that, he finds, he's much less willing to give up.]

[So he doesn't.]

Got an ETA?

thankfully.

[Phalanges are good and thin as well, much better for poking around wires. He only sort of half knows what he's doing, though. The last time he had to put any sort of machinery back together like this was in college. Physics isn't really all that hands-on.]

uh...dunno, a few minutes? i can get these pretty easy. it's just a matter of whether this is the issue, or it's something deeper in that we can't get to.

[There's a sudden burst of static from the machine's speaker and Sans jolts a little, startled.]

...alright, taking that as a good sign.

Good for the machine. Not so good for us.

[The sound has drawn a fresh trio of zombies near, moaning st the apparent promise for an easy meal. Tim shifts back, hefting an overlarge knitting needle in one hand as an impromptu pike.]

You get it working, and I’ll keep them off you.

damn.

[He glances up long enough to see the zombies coming, then goes back to work.]

just don't touch those bones, okay?

[Hopefully that trench will catch most of these ones.]

[The primary issue is that even if he does manage to fix it, that won't change the fact that they're still one voice short - and he doubts that either of them will be exceptional at "harmonizing" except in the loose sense. Hopefully actual vocal capacity doesn't factor into it any, or he's pretty certain they're fucked.]

[A few swift jabs at the zombies' legs tangles them into the network of stakes and bones, but the outraged snapping and snarling is drawing more and more attention.]

[Fantastic.]

That gonna take long, or should we think of a plan B?

[It's starting to get noisy, which is less than ideal. Even impaled and with their body parts dissolving, these zombies still can make noise--which is just going to attract more of them.]

uh--not too long, i think. i mean...we'd need a third person if we wanted to actually deal with any of them permanently.

[He manages to affix another wire to the proper connection and some sparks pop and jump. The screen flickers and comes to life, though it's also just displaying static.]

we could always use this thing as a noisemaker, if you don't mind abandoning it. set it up somewhere, head in the opposite direction. or...well, i could take it, be a decoy.

[He gives a sort of lopsided grin. It'd be a real pain, but the image of a flock of zombies trying to follow a teleporting noisemaker is kind of amusing.]

do you know where we could easily find a third person?

I don't know where anyone is.

[He could start sending mass texts, but he's not really one for those - and everyone else is doubtless pretty wrapped up in their own harmonizing bullshit. That'd be the simplest solution, but it'd also lead to the most complications, with countless heroic types, he's certain, perfectly willing to be that revered third voice.]

[The problem being that it's stuff like that which simply attracts more attention.]

You know what? Toss the thing, and let's get outta here.

okay.

[Neither does Sans. It's a moot point.]

you sure? i could just...teleport it somewhere else. you've got a good set-up here.

[Tim was doing fine until Sans came along. But--no. Not a productive line of thinking. Put it aside.]

i can lure them away. you don't have to leave.

This wasn't supposed to be a permanent set-up anyway.

[He's not, like, emotionally attached to it or anything. It was a stopgap, nothing more, and it's probably a good plan to move on to a more defensible position anyway.]

Look, whatever you plan on doing? Do it quick, so I can get outta here.

[Before these things start forming a bridge with their own corpses.]

[Sans pauses long enough to consider the remaining wires in the machine. Alright, then.]

in that case, i have an idea.

[He connects one last wire, and now in addition to static and a horribly flickering screen, there's also garbled lyrics pouring out of the machine.]

there's this pile of rock candy rocks back...that way? [He points somewhat northward.] might be safe. otherwise there's a town that way.

[He points toward some buildings in the distance.]

guess i'll see ya when the event's over.

[With that, he stands up with the karaoke machine and teleports to the opposite side of the river. As soon as he lands, he cranks the volume all the way up to max. The air fills with unholy electronic screeching. The zombies that have already spotted Tim aren't easily distracted, but a good handful of others are immediately attracted by the noise.]

[He teleports again, a little further away from the river, and the plan seems to be working. Zombies are popping up from behind trees and such to investigate the sound. There weren't that many in the area to begin with, but at least most of them are now heading for Sans.]

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postictal - 2018-02-05 04:13 (UTC) - Expand

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