+ Somewhere a Grandiose Carnival Was Going on in the Sky +

[vitaelamorte]

Who: Everyone!
Where: The grounds of the Mansion
When: March 9-16
Rating: PG-13 (warn if you go higher)
Summary: The Red Queen has thrown a carnival for everyone!
The Story:


From Friday, March 9, through Friday, March 16, the gardens and grounds of the Mansion will be a sprawling a carnival. The masked, unspeaking vendors will be selling trinkets and running free game booths. Carnival rides, exhibits, and foods represent all of the various cultures of those currently residing in the Mansion.


Of particular note, and perhaps incongruously, everything is decorated with red hearts.

Use this log for any and all of your carnival needs!

Comments

[postictal]

"You wanna finish this one off?" He's...not sure he can finish, honestly, and some instinct left over from the weeks he and Jay switched off ducking into gas stations for whatever shitty not-meal they could scrape together, that would get them by for another day, urges him not to let something like that go to waste.

He's still got a good third or so of it left, and he's officially reached his limit. He's never had this much sweet anything in his life, and he's starting to feel it.

[deadshapes]

"Sure. I got like four stomachs."

That's a total lie. She can practically hear Bea chiding her, telling her she's gonna make herself sick. Screw it! YOLO or whatever.

"We should do this again sometime, dude. I bet I could figure out how to make these. It can't be too hard."

She's going to make funnel cakes or light the kitchen on fire trying.

[postictal]

"Uh, if you're sure." He's privately of the mind that something like that would be a terrible idea on par with driving into a gasoline-soaked house full of zombies blaring eighties music, but sure. She can do what she wants; he's hardly got a track record that would suggest he's in the position to judge.

"Are you...like, a cook, or anything like that?"

[deadshapes]

"I am rapidly becoming more sure."

This is how all of her bad ideas start.

"Me, hell no. I mean, I know how to make ramen. And cereal. Does that count?"

[postictal]

"...sure. Why not?" He's no better. This won't be fucking disastrous or anything, surely. "That's about on par with what I could scrape together in a dorm room or on the road, so yeah, that's...that's gourmet, right there."

Funnel cakes sound intensely complicated and a bad idea for elementary cooks to set about making on a whim.

That sounds like the kind of batshit idea that's doomed to failure.

[deadshapes]

"No no no, you wanna talk gourmet, gourmet is when you dump Froot Loops into the ramen, because you skipped breakfast and that feels weird and it's 11 pm and you're like 'well shit, I gotta eat something.'"

It really, really didn't work out very well, but whatever. College was weird.

"Dude, you and me. Setting kitchens on fire. We're gonna do it."

[postictal]

"Oh, jesus," Tim mutters, because that sounds a little too Brian for his tastes, but you know what? He can believe it. He can believe that she's done it. He can believe that she'd do it again.

But, hell. Why not, right? Won't be the stupidest thing he's done.

He shrugs.

"All right, all right. Fine. I'm in."

[deadshapes]

She throws her arms up, almost dropping the rest of her funnel cakes in the process.

"Hell yeah, lawlessness in the pursuit of flavor! FLAVORTOWN, WONDERLAND, POPULATION: TWO!"

[postictal]

He snorts despite himself. He's gotta hand it to her for being one in a million - she's got exuberance, if nothing else, something to compliment his near-complete apathy.

"Flavortown, huh?" A pity he isn't up on his most recent memes; he'd make a Guy Fieri joke if he could.

[deadshapes]

"Flavortown! Where the flavor is mostly sugar."

She gives a sage nod.

[postictal]

He shakes his head, one corner of his mouth quirking upward very, very slightly. It's not much, but for him, it might as well be full-bodied laughter.

"Okay, buddy. It's on."