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oddsandends2023-09-25 08:09 pm
phaiinein) wrote in oddsandends2023-09-25 08:09 pm
118th ♫ | asking myself over and over – "have i won? has a new me been reborn?"
 |
Oh, you didn't agree to come here? You want to go home? There's a weird rule in your resident ID about murder? Well, I guess there is one teeny tiny catch... Welcome to the murdergame meme: Airlocked Gaiden edition! This is a meme-ified version of the Airlocked sequel/Round 6 AU cooked up by myself and Jess made available for everyone to goof around with. HAVE FUN, GANG TL;DR: we still have airlocked brainrot Downtime
2. Social Link Go! Well, if you're going to be stuck in here for however long, you might as well get to know the people stuck in here with you. You've got plenty of rooms to explore together and there's enough to do to keep you occupied. How do you plan on passing time without killing each other? 3. Vending Machine Woes Somewhere in this place there's a mysterious vending machine that spits out all manner of bizarre items and occasionally dispenses items that belong to you and the other people trapped here. You've got a fat stack of tokens and nothing to lose. 4. The Corners of My Mind So as it turns out, your lovely hosts have been fiddling with your memories. Maybe you're just discovering this now or maybe you've had a particularly upsetting memory regain you're dealing with. 4. Wildcard! GO WILD AND BE FREE (or as free as you can be here, anyways) PUTTING THE MURDER IN MURDER GAME
2. Murder WELL APPARENTLY, YES. Are you a killer or are you being killed? Either way, someone's not walking away from this alive. 3. Body Discovery Rise and shine, murdergame! It's a brand new day and someone's dead. Better get investigating! 4. Trial You know how this one goes. Line up all your evidence and sniff out the killer -- or sit there and sweat and hope no one works out you're the murderer. Will they go down with a confession or put up a fight? 5. Afterparty You've survived another trial, but more of your friends have died. Even without the executions, trials are a stressful enough affair. It's time to destress and lick your wounds and support each other. 6. Mastermind It's the end. It's time to uncover all the mysteries behind this murder game -- and find out just who trapped you here. Are they really an unconnected party, or is the mastermind someone among you...? 7. Freedom Just as it says -- you're finally free, but at what cost? Have those you love been returned to you, or are you still reduced to just those who made it to the end? Are you on your own, or is anyone here to help you? And more importantly, how the hell are you going to get home? |
no subject
[Tran shrugs. The other offer was making out in the library.]
no subject
Here it was... well. There is no way to avoid things ending in blood. Again. He swallows heavily as his mouth fills with spit.]
So is this an attempt at wining and dining? You didn't even bring wine.
[He picks up the beignet. His finger tips hurt from the heat. Good. He tears it open to observe the structure of the pastry. Not bad. Fluffy, but still some firmness. Finally he sighs... like he was about to get a shot, and pops the first half in his mouth. His tongue burns.
At least that's something]
no subject
[It's said dryly, because Tran's been there and wouldn't do it to someone else. He also doesn't think the wine would trip whatever switch it is that would make Vince give in, so there's that.
Insteas, he watches Vince eat and tries not to look like he's about to learn foward and lick powerdered sugar off Vince's fingertips. Somewhere deep in his brain, Tran does know what boundaries are and how to respect them.]
cw: imagry similar to emoto and disordered eating
... no. Of course not. The pastry is ash in his mouth. The pleasant texture of the flake returning to sticky dough as he chews. His stomach rolls, threatening to reject it the more he tried to focus on the sensations.
He resists the urge to spit it out into a napkin. If it was actually badly made he would have. This isn't the first fumbling offering he's done exactly that with from amateur cooks. But it's not badly made. Not professional, but acceptable. So he swallows.
Still, he doesn't bother hiding his pained expression, even as his words are neutral]
It could be worse. Pastry is a difficult medium to work with.
cw suicidal ideation sort of
[He learned from someone who learned from someone who worked at Cafe du Monde for a summer, so it's not like he went to pastry school or anything. Technically, theoretically, he could have made something he actually knows how to cook semi-professionally. Serving "ethnic" food to unsuspecting people is always a bit of a crapshoot though. Potential insult to his adequate pastry skills? Acceptable. Insult to his own culture, however much he tries to shed it? Less so.
Then, almost a non-sequitur:]
You know I wouldn't mind if you killed me, right?
dead plate spoilers
I'm not a killer.
[His champion title would say otherwise. The fact that he did, in fact kill a person and attempted to kill another.
That was different. Do you call a shepard a monster for putting his beloved sheep on the block? No. It was not the same. There was purpose]
no subject
[Tran looks up at the ceiling and then back at Vince.]
I thought you should know.
no subject
[It was never about the killing. It was always about the eating.
It only occurs to him now that Tran might be offering him an exit from this place, more than it being any kind of... intimate thing.
Huh. He wonders for a second if that says anything about him, that it wasn't his first assumption. But the thought flits away just as fast. No. He suspects he was closer to the truth the first time. His mouth waters]
I'll... keep that in mind.
cw a really extended animal slaughter metaphor
Something about Vince reminds Tran of Jay Byrne, who asked to photograph him nude and touched him like he wanted to reach inside and wrap his fingers around Tran's heart. Who felt his heart beat and maybe wondered if eating it would give him something undefinable, unknowable. So that's something. That's as vivid and gripping as the image of Jayne Mansfield's decapitated head flying through the air.
That's something real.]
Good. Nobody else here knows what to do with lamb.
no subject
You're no lamb.
[Doesn't mean he's not a sheep. Honestly Vince has never cared for the idea of untouched, pure flavors. Not that he remembers the difference in the literal sense: his tongue has been dead since childhood. But the idea of it isn't appealing.
A lamb knows nothing. A lamb doesn't know any love other than it's mother's teat.]