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

[postictal]

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!]

Comments

[shrinkage]

"Howdy, Tim." Because in Wonderland it's not actually exactly nice to meet anyone, really. He holds up the working machine with a lopsided smile.

"Got any other buddies around here? Rumor is we need three. I'm a tenor, if it helps." He's not, that would require him to have tone and be able to carry a tune. Had he either of those, his life would likely be a very different one.

[postictal]

"I have no idea what I am." He'd make a joke about how he doesn't have nearly enough friends to make a trio, but he had to go and accidentally make friends with entirely too many people and ruin them with his own problems, so he can't even say that in good faith.

"Or where anyone else is. Kinda set this whole thing up as a short-term measure," he says, gesturing loosely at the makeshift stake pit. "Didn't really plan in the, uh...long-term."

[shrinkage]

That'd also open up this cheerful idiot to identify himself as Tim's brand new friend so bravo Tim's way ahead of the curve there.

"Well, if this were a video game we'd have two choices. Camp or keep moving. And you already made a pretty defensible area," Ray says. He smiles at Tim (uh oh that's a friendly smile). "Maybe between us we'll see someone passing through like you saw me. We'll be a team!"

[postictal]

A pity that Tim isn’t the smiling sort by default. Or maybe it’s a blessing; honestly, the shape of his face doesn’t feel like it lends itself very well to joviality. That might end up spooking people more than it does appeasing them, or making hjm seem any more innately approachable.

“Won’t last us long in an actual crisis.” Moving on seems the more agreeable option, though Ray’s exuberant use of the term “team” nearly makes him wince.

“You, uh...sure. Team.” That’s not, you know, terrifying on a few levels. “I guess we’ll hsve to be. And, uh, moving on, too.”

Except, right, there’s that little hitch.

“...you gonna actually make the jump this time, or am I gonna need to pull you out again?”

[shrinkage]

"Oh, yeah! That's a great plan. I'll totally get it this time."

Does he sound convincing because he doesn't feel it. But he also doesn't blanch at Tim's lack of enthusiasm, either-- Ray's always had more than enough to make up for anyone's lack. Ray holds up the karaoke machine and more cheer than any one person has the right to have in this world.

"Why don't you go first and I'll toss this to you, and then I'll follow?" It's a suggestion that's both about the karaoke machine and also about Ray probably not making it the second time either...

[postictal]

A sigh, but he acquiesces, though not before yanking one of the oversized knitting needles from where it’s buried in the trench and offering it out.

“It’s not much, but it’s a weapon,” he says with a pointed glance in the direction of the not-terribly-distant zombie hordes. “Good idea to carry one.”

In fact, he’s going to arm himself as well, with one of said bizarre fucking knitting needles, and he’ll pkant it at the bottom of the trench as an impromptu vault pole, arcing over the spike pit to land on the other side with a stumble.

[shrinkage]

He takes the needle without protest, and once Tim's on the other side, balanced and settled Ray heaves the karaoke machine over.

He follows, a flailing mess of limbs save for the one arm jutted away from his body. It's a good thing too because he lands back and winds up in a pile of himself without getting impaled. It doesn't take too long for him to hop back up, shaking his head.

"I'm good, I'm good." A little dizzy but, he's on his feet and reaching out for the karaoke machine again. "And I had an idea. I can do it while we move, just-- lead the way?"

[postictal]

He catches it, thank fuck, which is for the best considering he really does not want to make Ray have to fix it again. It’s sircived a lot for a cheap little machine, and he doubts it’ll last another tumble.

Debatably more important is the fact that Ray himself has managed to clear the jump without any pierced limbs. Tim’s almost set on helping him to his feet, but he manages a hell of a lot better than last time. Props to him for that, Tim supposed.

“What’s up?” he says, obliging by cutting an unerring line between two slowly converging hordes.

[shrinkage]

"What if we could fake a three-part harmony? You, me, and recorded me?" Ray follows dutifully, almost as if he prefers to have a lead to follow while his brain works on other things.

So, needle tucked in his armpit, karaoke machine in one hand and microphone in the other, he makes one last crappy joke:

"Any requests?"

[postictal]

Either he’s deluded or that is genuinely a good idea. Regardless, there’s not harm in trying, right? Except for maybe the suffering they might be inflicting in their ears.

“Worth a shot, I guess. And - I dunno, just pick something.” But if it’s the Four Non-Blondes, he’s going to hit something.

[shrinkage]

He's keeping up and thinking up a song and so quietly behind him Tim will hear probably the worst choice ever, cheerfully sung like the nineties anthem it is:

"Mmmbop ba duba dop ba du bop..."

Blame Lisa Frank.

[postictal]

Unfortunately, Tim actually knows what this song is. His pop cultural knowledge is remedial at best - except when it comes to music. He might not've had a great deal of time to catch up on all that which he was never exposed to, but what little time he did have was devoted to music.

Regardless of taste.

Perhaps more fortunately, Tim subsequently does not possess the sense of shame or guilt in regards to taste. Really, his most prominent gripe is that he has to sing at all, which he's certain is bound to sound terrible.

"Oh god," he mutters. "Just - just tell me when I go in."

[shrinkage]

Ray's rhythm is spot-on but his tune is pitchy and reedy. Still, it's technically satisfactory, which he looks surprised about. A few steps above the melody, he makes sure to record a good chunk of the song as they go.

Eventually, Tim can hear two Ray voices, how lucky for him.

"OK, I think we're ready. Can you carry the melody?"

[postictal]

It’s , uh, passable harmonizing at least, so his sincere hope is that something of this fits the requirements to get thse zombies to leave them the hell alone. Possibly destroying both zombie skulls and living eardrums in the process, but hey, you can’t habe everything.

Tim grimaces, but. Hell. What other choice does he have?

“Guess I’m gonna have to,” he mutters.

Without further ado, off he goes. Tim and the Two Rays, with their smash hit covers coming to an iTunes near you.

It, uh, doesn’t sound awful? He can at least carry a tune. Nominally.

[shrinkage]

Move over boyband of the day, Tim and the Two Rays is coming in hot!

Again, Ray looks way happier than he really should. They're singing together, and he managed to do a smart guy thing and it seems like they might actually make it out of this alive. And maybe also he made a new friend? Great priorities over here, for sure.

"You sound really good!" He just has to take a break from the singing. Support is important! "I think it's working!"

[postictal]

He breaks off in time to watch one zombie’s head go up in a plume of greenish fluid and a collection of...things that Tim thinks he would honestly rather not put a name to. Yep. It’s working. In all its gory glory.

He breaks off, lips pressing together.

“It...sure is, I guess. And no one’s ears are bleeding, so I guess we can call this a win.”

would you be opposed to fading at this point??

[shrinkage]

"Go us!" Ray throws up a hand for a high five. You gotta celebrate the little victories, you know. Like finding a way to survive Wonderland zombies.

Sure we can wrap here!

[postictal]

Good thing Undyne has since taught him the importance of a sincere high five. Tim only grimaces a moment before acquiescing. Fuck it. They’ve earned some celebration, or something.

High five, champ.