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Prismatic Mods ([personal profile] prismods) wrote in [community profile] prismaticrap2019-03-05 11:10 am
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▶ TDM OVERFLOW .001


Lisa Frank's LSD Fun House
anytime, anywhere on the moon Iris | top

Everything is darkness except for dim lights sparkling in the distance, a faint gleam that greets you as you start to unfurl from your dormant state. Your body is hemmed in by shards of crystals, gently sparkling and possibly pricking your skin. The surrounding landscape is dyed in the pinks and purples of the dusk filled with crystals protruding from the ground, some as large as a skyscraper. Throat parched and skin dry and aching, you grope your body in alarm to make sure your possessions are still in place. This is far from home— perhaps a dream? You pinch your skin and slap your cheeks, yet nothing seems to do the trick. Searching for answers only rewards you with an endless expanse of purple dust as far as the eye can see. You have four options: one, panic; two, soil yourself; three, admire it all then soil yourself; or four, go into survival mode. Eventually, you’ll realize that you’re not alone.

A ⬤ As you traverse the near-barren landscape, you feel something sting your skin. It's small and subtle at first, then you finally catch sight of it: an elegant, crystalline mosquito buzzing around from the corner of your eye. However, a pest is still a pest. After a while, marks near your welts begin to form strange patterns on your skin, mimicking ancient runes. Each rune has with it a particular side-effect that may hinder you on your journey:
The Mark of the Enchanter: Hallucinations, hallucinations galore. Your character will see everything and anything their imagination can conjure and will have difficulty separating reality from fiction.
The Mark of the Destroyer: Limbs start to cease their function, causing you to stumble or try and get around one-handed. Other certain body parts may be affected as well. Look at the bright side: you can stop worrying about jiggle physics and hiding your fear boner.
The Mark of the Sinner: Your hunger, your thirst, your fatigue and your desire are at an all-time high. Your impulses are rabid and uncontrollable. Maybe you experience only one of those symptoms. Maybe you experience them all. All you know is that you want relief now.

These effects will eventually clear up with a bit of accidental or purposeful physical contact with another person, making you wonder if there was anything wrong with you at all.

B ⬤ Hunger starts to gnaw at you vigorously. Perhaps you consider hunting the moon's creatures to sate your hunger. That's when you see it: a thick, meaty, juicy meal on legs. No, we're not talking about Alex Louis Armstrong. A wild silver-white pegasus runs across the purple landscape, its hair billowing in the wind as its hooves smack loudly against the ground. Try and shoot it, and you may find your efforts curtailed by its legendary rage. Eyes aglow and wings beating up a storm, this pegasus is no dainty horse. Two thousand pounds of pure muscle swoop down and charge at you, all blades and ammunition deflecting off its impenetrable skin. Taming appears impossible; it will buck anyone away and leave a sizable horn- or hoof-shaped hole in them for their efforts. Hunting it, however, should be easier. Relatively.

C ⬤ Or you may decide that you'd like to take a drink in the prismatic waters. A small pond can be found just a few miles away from where you first awoke, but gazing into it reflects what appears to be a window into your own world. You see the faces of loved ones or at least someone very close and familiar to you gathered around your prone body, shaking it frantically as though to try and rouse you, yet your image lies frozen and unresponsive, not even a whisper of life running through you. Did you die in your world? Is this your afterlife? The questions start to pile up along with the gnawing dread that you may never return home again.


Camp Nowhere
anytime, anywhere on the moon iris | top

Time moves strangely when you're trapped on a moon with no sun to guide you. Hours feel like days, and days feel like weeks. Travelling has rendered you weak and tired. Luckily, a few crystal formations in the shape of a cavern may offer you a small place refuge as you decide to nap. You notice a few artifacts left over from previous explorers.
D ⬤ A comm unit abandoned within the cavern will display the former owner's idol obsession. As you tap the buttons indiscriminately, a holographic screen will appear, and you will see a fabulous recorded concert featuring three bubbly young ladies in animal print, singing to you about something called Cordis, a cat, and a bag of gems. Does this make any sense to you? Probably not, but the beat is catchy. You may even find yourself tapping a foot along to it. Don’t worry. We know it’s plastic love.

E ⬤ There's a small cooler-like container of preserved powdered food bags labeled with only the word “Edible” that can be safely consumed. Although the powder tastes as bland as you’d expect, it’s oddly filling, sating either hunger or thirst. But who will be the first — and the bravest — to try eating them?

F ⬤ A strange, pointed instrument is among the effects found in the cavern. It's silver, long, and thin with a curved end and a light. When you grip it with warm hands, it seems to vibrate enthusiastically and comes in three settings indicated by a frowny face, a neutral face, and a happy face. What could it mean exactly? No one knows, but you can fiddle with it to your heart's desire. Just don't ask yourself where it's been before. You don't want to know.


Interstellar Action Force Assemble
prisma, iris | top

Over a day has passed when a group of people find you worse for wear. Some are full of uncertainty and fear while some are full of curiosity and excitement. They claim that they are scientists from the planet Prismatica here to investigate the sudden appearances of rainbow crystals in the skies. That means you and the others they’ve located within the area. You are all a surprising find to them, and they are quick to load everyone in their transport vehicles for examination and questioning.

You all may have your usual inquiries — Where are we? Who are you? What's going on? Why are the pegasi so ill-tempered? — and the Prismals are almost too eager to answer. They do have questions on their own, so it’s only fair to trade. They tell you about their world as they poke and prod you, trying to understand what you are and how you came into their land. If they’re not trembling in fear, some of them may ask you odd and invasive questions in return, such as what the rate at which your body achieves thermoregulation is, how long your refractory period is, and if you would be willing to submit various kinds of body fluids to them. It's up to whether you wish to comply or protest.
G ⬤ If you react violently, you will be restrained and nerfed with a specialized neurotransmitting gun that releases a numbing agent through the top of your spine. They came prepared, so have fun with that! In any case, conscious or not, you’ll be brought into one of the transport vehicles. If you choose to peacefully cooperate, you’ll be provided any necessary first aid and a refreshing drink to help you recuperate after the rough time you had for the past few days. Each transport vehicle has a few small rooms to rest in, but due to the limited space, you’ll have to snuggle up with someone else on that bunk bed. Unfortunately, the moonshine fruit the ship is also carrying in its cargo has an extremely sweet smell that’s been permeating through certain areas of the ventilation system… Taking a whiff of it may inebriate you for the rest of the trip.

H ⬤ It’s a bumpy ride as terrain vehicles draw over various crystal formations until you see a large dome-like structure up ahead. Within its confines lies the seat of the Prismatica's government, Prisma. It’s a bureaucratic wet dream: skyscrapers practically touch the upper surface of the dome, windows glimmer with a prismatic sheen as daylight hits them, and small ships can be seen flying to and from its spaceport. The scientists, members of the Lunar Scientia, usher you into their facilities for tests. Arrivals are likely to twitch, tremble, and panic as Lunar Scientia fellows take and broadcast every embarrassing, unfiltered detail about you — height, weight, age, strange odors, estimated frequency of sexual activity —- to one another. These scientists will ask you politely to undress, too, but understand if you don't want to. They're especially fascinated by the readings of pure Chroma inside you, whispering among one another excitedly about the possibility of the new arrivals being a new moon species. What should they call them? Moonborne? Moonblessed?

I ⬤ At long last, the questions and physical examinations are done. They’ve decided to call the arrivals as the Moonblessed. They’ll take you under their care until they understand more about you. You're allowed a very refreshing hot shower and a warm meal for your efforts. Don’t worry, the meal was imported from their planet. “Planet?” you might ask, but you won’t need to wonder for too long. The ships are preparing for their next destination: the nearby planet Prismatica, where you will be dwelling for the time being. You're free to explore the government center until then.


Wildcard
Lunatia, Prismatica | top

It only takes a couple hours for the ships to reach their home planet. The ships drop the characters off at the city of Lunatia, where they will be given their communication devices and a plastic card they can present to certain landlords at any residential district for their subsidized (read: absolutely free) lodging. Officials at Prisma instructed the newcomers to await further instructions from the government, but you have a lot of time to kill before then. Why not explore in the meantime? Learn the ins and outs of the world, get a job, transform under the full moon, and explore the many mysteries of planet Prismatica!

This is this TDM's overflow. Feel free to move your threads from there and continue tagging!
heymisterj: (pic#12908192)

Harley Quinn | DC comics preboot

[personal profile] heymisterj 2019-03-05 05:11 am (UTC)(link)
[ ooc: post on tdm 1.0 here. ]



LISA FRANK'S LSD FUN HOUSE

A.

Could do without the bugs, ya know!

[ Not that Harley's talking to anyone in particular. Just whatever powers-that-be that might be listening, or anyone close enough to hear her complaining about the tiny, crystalline mosquito that's landed on her arm and apparently doesn’t have enough respect for her black and red harlequin outfit not to stick its little mosquito nose through it.

She'd slap the thing if she wasn’t convinced it would shatter. And, well, it's annoying but she doesn’t want to be responsible for breaking a bug that looks like it's made of crystal. That seems like a waste somehow.

It's not long before her arm starts itching and she pushes up her sleeve, still scratching absently and only pausing when she realizes that there's more than just a red bump; little marks start appearing, eventually creating an actual symbol.



Now what in clown hell does that mean?

Unfortunately, Harley has a hell of an imagination. And, on top of that, she’s experienced enough to make most peoples’ skin crawl even without that imagination. And when she starts seeing things — little things to begin with: florescent spiders, and rats with neon-orange beady eyes, and, of course, the disembodied head of Dr. Joan Leland, who's perhaps the biggest bitch Arkham has to offer, laughing incessantly —Harley almost doesn’t bother questioning it.

She’s seen weirder.

But, slowly, the pink and purple surreal landscape seems to change. To flat white walls and heavy steel doors with equally heavy locks on them. And before she knows it, she's sinking down against what she thinks is the back of that door — it's actually a rock — feeling like she can’t move her arms, believing and seeing that she's wearing a crisp white straight jacket. Visual and auditory hallucinations (the sounds of people screaming and making a fuss from their own cells is more than familiar to her) have her convinced she was back in Arkham. And, not for the first time, she wonders if there's really much of a difference between being a psychiatrist and a prisoner in that self-proclaimed madhouse. ]


I ain’t gonna break, Joannie. I don’t know nothin’!

[ Because, of course, that floating head, now changing colors, from pink to blue to purple is asking questions, just like the real Leland always did. Thinking she can get Harley to break and spill important information about the Joker’s whereabouts. Harley can’t put her fingers in her ears, but she never could when strapped down in the real Arkham, and does what she usually did: scrunches her eyes closed and starts screeching cliche 80s songs to drown out the questions.


C.
[ Harley thinks the cool, clear pond would be a nice place to rest and take a break as she settles down from the hallucinations that had gotten her pulse well above resting state.

She doesn’t really believe in an afterlife — and certainly, if one exists, she’d be headed downstairs — but more thinks that life after death is something that people make up to feel better about dying. After all, contemplating simply not existing anymore is a difficult pill to swallow. But Harley took that medicine awhile ago.

Part of it is practical Harleen talking: life is truly meaningless, except for the bits of meaning people ascribe to it on their own. It's no wonder Harley had eventually lost her marbles.

The images in the water, though, those put a very different spin on things. She’s never had an out-of-body experience, not even when she’d been shoved through a window and left for dead, but she imagines that one would be a lot like this. Looking down and seeing her lifeless body. There's no floaty feeling, like she's hovering above herself. In fact, she doesn’t feel any connection whatsoever to that body. The one a group of clowns are shaking and trying to get to wake up. Dear Bugsy, who's as burly as he is stupid. And darling Squid, usually smart enough to stay out of the fray. Except when he isn’t.

Do they genuinely care if she's dead? Probably not. She’s seen the way they look at her, snickering behind her back. Like she's pathetic, like she's just another brainless peroxide blonde. But with the way they're nudging her and urging her pond-self to get up, Harley can almost believe that they actually give a shit about her. Wouldn’t that have been nice? A cute little clown family.

Actually, if she's really was dead and this technicolor hellscape is the afterlife, it wasn’t all that terrible. It's a little freaky, to be sure. But what isn’t freaky about everyday life? ]




INTERSTELLAR ACTION FORCE ASSEMBLE

G.
[ It's no big surprise that Harley doesn’t react well when she's found by a group of scientists. She's exhausted, hungry, thirsty, and looks half dead on her feet. But she fights anyway. Ever since her first day at Arkham, when Joan had hinted at the after-hours scientific experiments that took place there, Harley has been wary of anyone who came bearing “help” in the name of progress. She, herself, had been different, of course. She’d genuinely wanted to help her patients. But her experiences have been that most doctors and scientists either wanted to use you or get their time with you over with so they could bill the visit to insurance.

There's probably no privatized insurance company here, but the general sentiment is still the same.

Which means that Harley fights — kicking, screaming, scratching, biting, and spitting — when they attempt to offer her aid.

It might not be the most rational of responses, but she's rarely rational. And her experiences over the past few days had hardly been so either.

She isn’t terribly surprised when one of the scientists injects her with something and her body goes numb and then limp. ]


Call me a rainbow crystal all you want. Flattery will get you nowhere. ] [ It's said even as she's being scooped up and brought into one of the rooms, which has an already-occupied bed. ]

When it wears off, maybe you’ll feel more like cooperating.

[ That's what she hears from one of the scientists as she's deposited on the bed.

Harley thinks her voice sounds slightly slurred to her own ears but she manages a -- ]
Fat chance [ --before she's left alone with whoever's already been occupying the bed. ]



WILDCARD
[ I’m more than happy to write a starter for any of the other prompts I didn’t include. Or to set up something unrelated to the prompts. Or feel free to hit me up with a wildcard prompt of your own:D ]
smileslie: (window)

A.

[personal profile] smileslie 2019-03-12 10:44 pm (UTC)(link)
[While the glittering spectre of her ex husband that keeps flitting in and out of her line of sight is annoying as fuck, Mandy's already woken up tangled in the sheets from beautiful nightmares of him enough times that she's almost able to completely ignore him.

Almost.

But even she still has a breaking point, and the fact that this neon coloured world isn't dissolving into the gritty darkness of the one she knows is real, the knowledge that she's very sure she didn't take anything that was being passed around backstage as tempting as it had been to blur the edges of the metaphorical funeral for so many things she'd loved, a niggling worry about Curt itching at the back of her mind much like the bug bite on her neck she can't stop picking at--all of that would be enough all on its own to push her towards the edge.

But when her subconcious decides that it would be just fabulous for the horrifing daydream of Brian to start crooning in her ear--I'll use you and I'll confuse you, then I'll lose you, still you won't suspect me-- it's almost too much. She can feel herself shaking now, and getting a cigarette is sudenly the most important thing in the world because it will give her mouth and hands something to do besides try to reach for this man who had never been real even when he was sharing her bed. She fumbles in her bag, the sounds of plastic and cellophane clattering together as she digs around doing nothing to even muffle the hallucination murmuring those sweet lies that had mde her give up so much for nothing]


Bloody fucking hell Brian, do you have to make my nervous breakdown all about you too? [she tries so hard to make it sound like a joke, just to herself, as she finally gets hold of a cigarette. But then her lighter refuses to catch, and her attempts to get the flame with trembling hands just results in her dropping it as well as her handbag to the ground. And she's actually about to cry in frustration and exhaustion and fear when she kneels to collect her things, but then she hears another voice. A woman's voice. The lyrics aren't familiar, but any music is enough for her brain to grab to like a lifeline, hoping it will drown out Brian's siren song. She looks up from her own mess to the sight of someone who looks like they're having an even worse trip]

Hey [her voice is far softer than she'd like, like she's turning herself down in response to the ideaof the man who had always made sure he'd be the loudest in the room. Still, Mandy forces a smile--that, at least, is something she can still do without a thought. It'd be silly to ask if the other woman is all right and might earn her claws to her eyes, so Mandy settles for the next thing that comes to mind] ..want a smoke?