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PRISON WORLD #1: Spidermarvel (tw violence, harassment, discrimination)
Characters: Ensemble cast, any/all characters of Xistentia!
Summary: F.A.T.E.S. has alerted the population of Xistentia that the enemy has created something new, a Prison World where others refugees of the Multiverse are being brainwashed into destroying each other.
Date(s): July 29-August 5
Warnings/Notes: None, please mark your subject headers with content.
It's New York City in 2017, and Enhanced humans came into public perception after the great Battle against alien invaders 5 years ago. Unlike the Hulk or Thor, rumor has it that most of the Enhanced superpowers in New York developed because of ambient radiation-- hard to say whether that was from the alien weapons, or the nuclear bomb that other humans themselves sent to try to level the city. There's blame to go around. People still find Chitauri tech littered about the city.
In another life, you might have been once an orcish princess or a steampunk scientist, but these days, you're someone different. The new identity and the new body fit you like a glove. You know your friends and your prospects same as you know your own life.
There's one place in New York City where Enhanced and purported allies can be out and about in peace: a speakeasy named Pax Sanctum. It sounds like some hippie shit, but inside, you have green ambient light, sleek white bar, bottles of every liquor type you could want. Rumors vary about peace enforcement here. Some say there's an empath scanning the place constantly, others that there's someone who can manipulate time itself. Older patrons know that the location has moved twice in the past three years, without incident, but no doubt with good reason. Regardless, the bouncers descend quickly whenever a conflict seems to get heated.
And it so rarely does. The ambience is light and sexy. Now and then, you'll find a pyrokinetic showing off lighter fingers to an impressed crowd or an animated debate about current events compared to historical parallels. One level down the stairs, there's even a dancefloor where you will occasionally find dance battles between equally uncoordinated Enhanced and non-Enhanced. It feels like the kind of place where you can let your guard down.
The week's password is Arachnid— there's a Spiderman fan in management somewhere, evidently. Tell the bouncer behind the big metal door.
At 11:42PM on Wednesday, August 2, an explosion rocks the club.
Boom! Glass explodes, people hit the floor. The origin seems to be the dance space at LG 2. An electrical fire erupts immediately, filling the air with a thick, cloying smoke. It's not clear whether the attack was from an Enhanced or a non-Enhanced-- but the fear instantly kindles. People of both kind scramble to form groups of their own, and fight for the two exits. Soon, the sirens of police and fire services begin to echo in the distance, promising interrogations for those who linger. How many people here are un-Registered? And say, didn't you see someone acting a little suspicious right before the blast? Is that them there? And what will you do, when you come across someone bleeding?
Or better yet, when the first punch is thrown, by a couple of angry, drunken survivors right outside there in the nightclub's back alley?
After the explosion, what started as a single incident of violence sends ripples throughout the social fabric of New York City in the weeks after. Police report that the rates of Chitauri-influenced weapons on the street doubles, and even mundane weapons are being bought off the black market at even greater rates than that. Further, every day the news seems to sensationalize stories of stressed Enhanced losing control of their powers... and the Mayor is beginning to make examples out of them, with harsher sentences, rushed proceedings. Whether or not you're Enhanced, the streets are a dangerous place to roam.
Maybe you know that someone's been watching you for days, even weeks. Maybe you noticed— this person you may have known forever, but started acting a little oddly just a few days. Maybe you figured it was sickness or stress, especially after the August 2 explosion. Even people who didn't care about politics at all are starting to take notice now, choosing sides, storing up water... even weapons, the likes of which mankind had never seen before the era of the Chitauri and Enhanced. But this is when it happens: when someone comes to you and offers you the device, the innocent-looking cellular phone, that will change your whole identity.
Or maybe you just stumble upon it yourself. Seemingly a lost phone, a free phone, sitting out innocuous.
You pick it up, and immediately, your mind begins to morph inside your skull, disorienting. Your body doesn't change, but you remember who you are. The phone screen lights up, then unexpectedly projects holographic text into the air in front of your face: Activate Portal to Xistentia?[1]
You pick No. Not right now.
Your mind is flooded with memories of your past, your true homeworld. Your true identity crashes into the false memories that this world brainwashed into you, disorienting, heavy; rapidly, your life here begins to feel like a dream. Luckily, you don't forget the helpful details of passing as a native. Nonetheless, the revelation probably comes at a bad time; in the middle of your workday or on the bus, somewhere public, where people are here to see you... as well as the daemon that's now trying to give you a whole infodump about Xistentia and the battle between F.A.T.E.S. and D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. It might be a good time to find somewhere private to go and get that portal out.
Or maybe you're staying because you have unfinished business in this world. Friends or even enemies who might also need to be awakened and helped. Luckily, your cellphone-- or daemon— tells you that there are others in this world on a similar mission from Xistentia. Maybe you can contact them through your daemon.
You pick Yes.
A portal of glowing light opens in front of you, smelling of ozone, churning with atmosphere. Step through, and you immediately find yourself with the unsettling yet painless sensation of being pulled through space and time. The very molecules of your body supercharge and come apart, shot through the multiverse, and come out on the other side arranged back in your original configuration.
You land facedown on a sandy beach. Your daemon is still with you, but chances are, it no longer looks like a reassuringly ordinary cellphone. It tells you:
"The date is August 12, 2017, F.A.T.E.S. Standard Time. Local Population: 333. Welcome to Xistentia. The city is due East."
One minute, you were in Xistentia, a refugee from your dying world. Charged with studying D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. the enemy of the entire Multiverse or rescuing others from its clutches. You're lying on a stone table, some kind of magic machine in the Telexistence Temple, surrounded by other people from a variety of worlds, all of them anticipating the same unknowns as you are.
The next minute, you're a resident of New York City, totally immersed in your new identity; strangely fixated on keeping your cellphone in hand, but there's nothing strange about that in 2017. For a few days, you were part of this world, completely convinced of a life as rich as your original.
And this is the moment you're back. Suddenly you remember everything, lucidity hitting you like a thunderbolt. You suddenly realize your memories were false, your diet, perhaps even the shape of your body. It's deeply disorienting, and it probably throws you off in the middle of whatever you're doing, whether it's filling a takeaway cup with soda or delivering a speech to a packed auditorium. Suddenly, the false identity you were given sinks into the background; you can still remember enough details to fake it (and maybe take it), but you know who you are.
Hopefully no one here will notice you literally just lost your mind.
The research part of the mission turns out to be pretty easy! All you need to do is carry your cellphone around wherever you go. You're easily mistaken for someone playing Pokemon! Go or texting avidly wherever you walk. The screen shows you nothing but code gibberish, with the occasional flicker when you're near someone else from Xistentia or an awakened person. It's a good excuse to get out and about.
And maybe also an accidental cause of getting in trouble. After all, whether or not you're a part of it, there is a war brewing between two groups of people, and many of those who haven't taken a side are nonetheless on-guard for danger at any given time. You're as likely to come across verbal harassment as violent revenge, or someone using advanced Chitauri-influenced weapons to knock over a liquor store or throw their weight around.
If you visited this world the week before, in wraith mode[2], you've recovered those memories too. It might help you recall some of those who now need rescuing.
Or maybe you're going at it blind. In any case, you equipped with a pre-activated daemon in hand, as well as you're own. Your duty now is to find world-hopping refugees that D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. has trapped here, and match the naive device to its new owner with some form of consent-- whether by trick or explanation. How hard can it be? It's 2017. Everyone needs a cellphone.
Small complication: the entire city is fraught with war and paranoia. And maybe the naive daemon in your hand keeps blinking at you signals that ID someone on the wrong side...
Your daemon will show you the way home. And dump you on back on a familiar beach amid a screaming chaos. You're welcome!
Summary: F.A.T.E.S. has alerted the population of Xistentia that the enemy has created something new, a Prison World where others refugees of the Multiverse are being brainwashed into destroying each other.
Date(s): July 29-August 5
Warnings/Notes: None, please mark your subject headers with content.
SPIDERMARVEL PRISON WORLD
She was really nice and bought me a churro.
PRISON WORLD: SPIDERMARVEL
It's New York City in 2017, and Enhanced humans came into public perception after the great Battle against alien invaders 5 years ago. Unlike the Hulk or Thor, rumor has it that most of the Enhanced superpowers in New York developed because of ambient radiation-- hard to say whether that was from the alien weapons, or the nuclear bomb that other humans themselves sent to try to level the city. There's blame to go around. People still find Chitauri tech littered about the city.
In another life, you might have been once an orcish princess or a steampunk scientist, but these days, you're someone different. The new identity and the new body fit you like a glove. You know your friends and your prospects same as you know your own life.
Pax Sanctum Club
There's one place in New York City where Enhanced and purported allies can be out and about in peace: a speakeasy named Pax Sanctum. It sounds like some hippie shit, but inside, you have green ambient light, sleek white bar, bottles of every liquor type you could want. Rumors vary about peace enforcement here. Some say there's an empath scanning the place constantly, others that there's someone who can manipulate time itself. Older patrons know that the location has moved twice in the past three years, without incident, but no doubt with good reason. Regardless, the bouncers descend quickly whenever a conflict seems to get heated.
And it so rarely does. The ambience is light and sexy. Now and then, you'll find a pyrokinetic showing off lighter fingers to an impressed crowd or an animated debate about current events compared to historical parallels. One level down the stairs, there's even a dancefloor where you will occasionally find dance battles between equally uncoordinated Enhanced and non-Enhanced. It feels like the kind of place where you can let your guard down.
The week's password is Arachnid— there's a Spiderman fan in management somewhere, evidently. Tell the bouncer behind the big metal door.
The Explosion
At 11:42PM on Wednesday, August 2, an explosion rocks the club.
Boom! Glass explodes, people hit the floor. The origin seems to be the dance space at LG 2. An electrical fire erupts immediately, filling the air with a thick, cloying smoke. It's not clear whether the attack was from an Enhanced or a non-Enhanced-- but the fear instantly kindles. People of both kind scramble to form groups of their own, and fight for the two exits. Soon, the sirens of police and fire services begin to echo in the distance, promising interrogations for those who linger. How many people here are un-Registered? And say, didn't you see someone acting a little suspicious right before the blast? Is that them there? And what will you do, when you come across someone bleeding?
Or better yet, when the first punch is thrown, by a couple of angry, drunken survivors right outside there in the nightclub's back alley?
After the explosion, what started as a single incident of violence sends ripples throughout the social fabric of New York City in the weeks after. Police report that the rates of Chitauri-influenced weapons on the street doubles, and even mundane weapons are being bought off the black market at even greater rates than that. Further, every day the news seems to sensationalize stories of stressed Enhanced losing control of their powers... and the Mayor is beginning to make examples out of them, with harsher sentences, rushed proceedings. Whether or not you're Enhanced, the streets are a dangerous place to roam.
NEW CHARACTERS: SAVE ME
Maybe you know that someone's been watching you for days, even weeks. Maybe you noticed— this person you may have known forever, but started acting a little oddly just a few days. Maybe you figured it was sickness or stress, especially after the August 2 explosion. Even people who didn't care about politics at all are starting to take notice now, choosing sides, storing up water... even weapons, the likes of which mankind had never seen before the era of the Chitauri and Enhanced. But this is when it happens: when someone comes to you and offers you the device, the innocent-looking cellular phone, that will change your whole identity.
Or maybe you just stumble upon it yourself. Seemingly a lost phone, a free phone, sitting out innocuous.
Daemon Activate
You pick it up, and immediately, your mind begins to morph inside your skull, disorienting. Your body doesn't change, but you remember who you are. The phone screen lights up, then unexpectedly projects holographic text into the air in front of your face: Activate Portal to Xistentia?[1]
Unfinished Business
You pick No. Not right now.
Your mind is flooded with memories of your past, your true homeworld. Your true identity crashes into the false memories that this world brainwashed into you, disorienting, heavy; rapidly, your life here begins to feel like a dream. Luckily, you don't forget the helpful details of passing as a native. Nonetheless, the revelation probably comes at a bad time; in the middle of your workday or on the bus, somewhere public, where people are here to see you... as well as the daemon that's now trying to give you a whole infodump about Xistentia and the battle between F.A.T.E.S. and D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. It might be a good time to find somewhere private to go and get that portal out.
Or maybe you're staying because you have unfinished business in this world. Friends or even enemies who might also need to be awakened and helped. Luckily, your cellphone-- or daemon— tells you that there are others in this world on a similar mission from Xistentia. Maybe you can contact them through your daemon.
Escape to Xistentia
You pick Yes.
A portal of glowing light opens in front of you, smelling of ozone, churning with atmosphere. Step through, and you immediately find yourself with the unsettling yet painless sensation of being pulled through space and time. The very molecules of your body supercharge and come apart, shot through the multiverse, and come out on the other side arranged back in your original configuration.
You land facedown on a sandy beach. Your daemon is still with you, but chances are, it no longer looks like a reassuringly ordinary cellphone. It tells you:
"The date is August 12, 2017, F.A.T.E.S. Standard Time. Local Population: 333. Welcome to Xistentia. The city is due East."
OLDER CHARACTERS: RESEARCH & RESCUE
One minute, you were in Xistentia, a refugee from your dying world. Charged with studying D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. the enemy of the entire Multiverse or rescuing others from its clutches. You're lying on a stone table, some kind of magic machine in the Telexistence Temple, surrounded by other people from a variety of worlds, all of them anticipating the same unknowns as you are.
The Moment of Lucidity
The next minute, you're a resident of New York City, totally immersed in your new identity; strangely fixated on keeping your cellphone in hand, but there's nothing strange about that in 2017. For a few days, you were part of this world, completely convinced of a life as rich as your original.
And this is the moment you're back. Suddenly you remember everything, lucidity hitting you like a thunderbolt. You suddenly realize your memories were false, your diet, perhaps even the shape of your body. It's deeply disorienting, and it probably throws you off in the middle of whatever you're doing, whether it's filling a takeaway cup with soda or delivering a speech to a packed auditorium. Suddenly, the false identity you were given sinks into the background; you can still remember enough details to fake it (and maybe take it), but you know who you are.
Hopefully no one here will notice you literally just lost your mind.
Do Your Research
The research part of the mission turns out to be pretty easy! All you need to do is carry your cellphone around wherever you go. You're easily mistaken for someone playing Pokemon! Go or texting avidly wherever you walk. The screen shows you nothing but code gibberish, with the occasional flicker when you're near someone else from Xistentia or an awakened person. It's a good excuse to get out and about.
And maybe also an accidental cause of getting in trouble. After all, whether or not you're a part of it, there is a war brewing between two groups of people, and many of those who haven't taken a side are nonetheless on-guard for danger at any given time. You're as likely to come across verbal harassment as violent revenge, or someone using advanced Chitauri-influenced weapons to knock over a liquor store or throw their weight around.
Rescue Rangers
If you visited this world the week before, in wraith mode[2], you've recovered those memories too. It might help you recall some of those who now need rescuing.
Or maybe you're going at it blind. In any case, you equipped with a pre-activated daemon in hand, as well as you're own. Your duty now is to find world-hopping refugees that D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. has trapped here, and match the naive device to its new owner with some form of consent-- whether by trick or explanation. How hard can it be? It's 2017. Everyone needs a cellphone.
Small complication: the entire city is fraught with war and paranoia. And maybe the naive daemon in your hand keeps blinking at you signals that ID someone on the wrong side...
Get Home
Your daemon will show you the way home. And dump you on back on a familiar beach amid a screaming chaos. You're welcome!
Footnotes
- Daemon will take/resume its true form in Xistentia, as soon as the character lands on the beach.
- Wraith mode refers to existing characters who had played in the TDM, able to be seen and heard only by the other refugees.
- Updated plotting thread for new characters is here.
- OOC plot post is here. IC network infodump for existing characters is here.
john murphy | the 100 | ota!!
[ it wasn't just the windows, the other year, and it wasn't only an explosion outward.
when john murphy came to, he was buried the only unharmed thing within a five foot radius, amid a massive pile of rubble. the main lobby of Grand Central Station, that he'd just been running through, panicked and scared and despairing, had just imploded around him, as he'd clutched his head and screamed. from that day forward, john would never return to his screaming mother and their shitty apartment, nor his dad's grave to leave flowers or quietly talk. his face was on the news, inside police stations, on the covers of newspapers. it was joseph kavinsky that found him hiding out in a sewer entrance a few weeks later, scrubbed the grime off of him, and found him a hide away apartment in an abandoned building to squat in, undisturbed.
he doesn't make it out much now, not without his hood pulled up, a pair of sunglasses, and a mask that looks like he's expecting a plague to hit any moment now. there's still a warrant out for him, and plenty of prices on his head underneath what's legal, from various places. angry survivors, gangs, labs, private militaries, anyone who could use a scared kid with a lot of unstable power. but even so, he has to eat, and joe can't do everything for him.
catch john out in the chinatown market, stocking up on food and necessities, or passing through a park late at night. maybe a mugger thinks he's an easy target, and you just happened to catch this kid covered head to toe throw a grown man against a tree with one an outstretched hand, before he glances left, and right, and dashes for the closest subway entrance. maybe he's watching you practice your powers from a distance, or you're just looking for a place to squat in his abandoned building. ]
[CLOSED TO KAVINSKY] hovel hangouts;
[ john hates the drugs, everything about them, but they keep his powers tapped down. they make him feel drained, and listless, give him headaches and weird dreams, everything feels distance and blurry. like being on sedatives. but, he needs them. joseph, despite watching him at the worst of times, supplies him with what he needs, and to improve the mood, adds in some stupid gag relaxation gift.
last week, it was a little desk zen garden and a book of buddhist mantras. the week before, it was aromatherapy candles. this week, it's a daniel craig body pillow, and john's staring at it like daniel craig literally just showed up in his living room/kitchen/bedroom, just... hanging out. ]
Why Daniel Craig? I don't even like James Bond that much... [ john murmurs, reaching out to grasp the thing and flip it upside down, only to notice that the back has daniel craig's ass on it. lord. time to turn the pillow case inside out, then. despite how dumb his gifts are, and despite how much john will never use them, he keeps all of them, most piled around the mattress layered with sleeping bags and blankets against the back wall. a reminder of the fact he got them at all. not that he's planning on letting john forget that, with how he's going around lighting up all the candles from a couple weeks ago, now. ]
Joe. Smoke signals are the last thing I need right now. [ he stretches out his arms, waving him over to the mattress he's seated on. ] Come on, leave it.
[ come here and take daniel craig's place, please. ]
LUCID - GET TO THE COPPER;
[ when murphy finally comes to, it's in the middle of an enchanced fight, and he nearly gets himself killed. it's a quick retreat, trying to follow his false mind's memory of the subways to find a hiding spot, to curl up and go insane in.
there's a lot that this world's given him that murphy needs to sort through, not least of which being the telekinesis that has yet to leave him. when they get back to xistentia, that'll be gone, right? right. of course. hopefully, because this shit is just too fucking much for him.
what he concentrates on, instead of all the what-the-fuck spidermarvel land has slapped him with, is getting his daemon operational, getting a few of the newbies out, and going the fuck home. so if you're one of those he finds, murphy's not very subtle in his approach. you'll have a cellphone slapped to your chest, or what looks like a cellphone at the moment - surprise, it's your daemon. ]
Open it up. Listen. Follow it. [ whoever the fuck you are. ] When you get to the beach, start walking for the city. Good? Great.
WILDCARD;
[ yo yo yo ]
around the city;
So if you wanna', like, stop being Creepy McGee and hang out a little closer it's cool with me.
[ Her eyes drift up from the instrument now, falling on John where he's trying (and failing) to hide. Being Enhanced didn't give her heightened senses like others. No, she's just become a lot more aware of her surroundings in the last few years because of it. Kind of have to be, when anti-enhanced sentiment seemed to be at an all-time high. ]
I even take requests!
no subject
maybe he feels, sometimes, like this is the closest he can get to living with them again. he only really does this at night, though. too many people during the day, too many cops too. no one usually pays him much mind at night. except, it seems, for this girl. he stares at her for a long while after she talks to him, looking like he's about to bolt the opposite direction (and that's what he should do, really - his picture was all over the news a year back).
but john's been starved for human connection, and it's just one girl, right? so long as she doesn't see his face completely, it's alright, isn't it? ]
Didn't have anything in mind. [ john shrugs, as he paces over, hands stuffed in his jacket, and takes a seat a few feet away from her. ] I just liked listening. You're really good.
no subject
There again, she's learned not to let her hopes get too high since becoming an Enhanced. He probably understands that. ]
Aw, shucks, [ she laughs, smile widening at the compliment. ] I'm not all that. Good to know I still got it though, even after dropping off for a bit. [ She pauses the song she'd been playing for a moment, switches to something new to better suit the quiet mood. ]
So, what's a guy like you doing in a park like this in the middle of the night?
no subject
maybe a little of both. it's been a long time since he'd really talked to anyone like this. just... normal. ]
Guy like me? [ john snorts, small smile curving the corner of his lips. ] Why, I don't look like I belong with the other creepers?
[ he definitely does, he thinks, but then again, the girl doesn't look like she belongs with park hobos and creepers either, so maybe she's out of her element and either hasn't realized it, or doesn't mind it. ]
Just getting some air. You?
no subject
But you're young. Got a full head of head. Don't mouth breathe. That's already deducting like major creep points.
[ Rose feels like she belongs here perhaps more than she actually does. Her self-esteem, even in this universe, is a work in progress. It's easier to play guitar alone in a park after dark than it is to interact with other people. ]
But I just wanted to get away for a little. The city can be a little... confining.
the one for me;
and then the next moment, he's running up across the floor, jumping up on the bed. whack. the whole mattress surges when his feet connect. he manages not to trample murphy. squashes him instead, flumping down on top of him, flat tummy and bony hip, half-falling and half-climbing him. the rough pads of his fingers are under the hem of murphy's shirt immediately, hiking underneath, spidering up his ribs.] As for Danny-boy? I had a feeling, [he says.] Like in another life, you like 'em tall and mean and straight-passing. Murdery. With some secret tortured poet going on, tragically hung up on vagina.
[he smiles like a knife, his hollow eyes brilliant by candle light.]
You don't think so?
no subject
Oh yeah, a sex hotel. [ he starts, sarcastically, interrupted by giggles and cries of protest as he tries to squirm his way away from the tickle assault going on right now. ] I'm sure that'd be full of people who wouldn't turn me in for a freakin' twenty if they caught half a look at my face.
[ john attempts a distraction - darting in to catch kavinsky's lips, kissing him firm and hot, teeth dragging at his lips and mouth opening to invite him in, as his hands sneak around to try weaving in joe's fingers, holding them and thus barring them from tickling. after a moment, he leans his head back, brows drawn. ] Tortured poet, though? Have you ever seen me read poetry? No. I don't think so.
[ nah, man. nah. ]
I think I'd like 'em average height, and mean, and covered in dumb tattoos, and hung up on acting like an idiot. [ aka, you. the answer is you, you dork. ]
cw racism
and a mutual understanding that's a lot more solid here than it ever was in the other world. kavinsky tightens his arms around the other boy, leaving off the attack of fingertips. he mumbles a few nonsense syllables through murphy's hair with his mouth, feeling the strands slip past his lips. he hums a couple bars of amelodic nothing.] Hey. The fuck are you saying, [he says,] I pass for straight? [he sounds playfully shocked. flattered. he leans back on his elbows and looks at the other boy in the eye. smiles like a jack-o'-lantern.]
You know I'm above average height thanks to the influx of fucking Mexicans dragging down our national average.
no subject
I never said that. [ :'> bitch please, you're so queer it hurts. there's a lot of things he could point out about joe and how non-straight passing he is, but instead he just sneaks his hands up under the hem of his shirt, fingers running over the curve of his stomach and he grins impishly at him. ] No one straight has a dick with a cape inked to their calf.
[ bro, it's pretty gay. or at least bi. as for his height, murphy snorts, eyes rolling. ]
Whatever helps you sleep at night, or feel secure in a crowd of tall guys. [ murphy squirms himself up more, legs tangled up with kavinsky's and nose nudging at his cheekbone. ] You're at just the right level for arm rests or shoulder pillows, so I'm not worried about it.
no subject
Hey. [it's a little bit sudden, a little bit quieter than kavinsky usually is. he's tugging on murphy's fingers now, looking lazily over the pale horizon of the other boy's jawline at where their hands are mingling on the pillow.] Hey, do you still think about-- like. Do you remember, what it was like when you didn't have powers? Before, like. [kavinsky stops before he does something stupid, like ask about murphy's family, about how it was to be able to go outside, get to school, think about college— all the shit kavinsky doesn't want because he can take it for granted.
that's for murphy to say, if he wants to talk about it at all. this conversation feels queer too. idly, he wiggles murphy's captured forefinger.]
no subject
All the time. [ he admits, quietly, and curls in closer. in this world, murphy isn't afraid of telling kavinsky these personal things. doesn't half think the boy could use it against him some day. in this world, he trusts him completely, perhaps too much, but kavinsky is what's left of the joy in his life. the only one who really sees him at all, the only person he can be himself with. ]
I was kinda a shitty kid in school. Bullied some people. Did a lot of detention time. [ typical shitty kid stuff. some poor, inner city punk. the typical public school 'leave no child behind' poster boy. ] Mom wasn't impressed, but Dad always made up for it.
[ his family wasn't perfect, but they loved each other. no they're around any more for that, if they'd even still look at him the same as he is now. ]
im assuming k doesnt know what became of murphluffle's parents in this verse yet
the problem is, he doesn't usually want to be optimistic for anyone. isn't usually trying to help anyone. find a path, determine the possibility of hope. maybe it's why they wound up together— falling in with a hopeless mutant trapped in a shoebox-sized apartment and further, effectively imprisoned by his powers, is only something a boy does when he has issues with planning for a long-term, happy future.]
Do you wanna go find them? I mean, not right fucking now—
[politics. powers. and they're comfortable. it smells stupid nice in here. kavinsky wiggles his fingers and recaptures the nearest one he can reach, of murphy's hand. pinning it, then digging a digit of his own in between it and its fellow, challenging the other boy to try to trap him fast and squeeze him hard, stop him from getting away when it's time.] You know.
that works!!
Nothing to find. [ he knows he's more transparent than he'd like to be, especially drugged up like this, especially with kavinsky around, and the way joseph tends to see straight through him regardless. he has those sharp eyes, the way they lid a little when he's considering him, small quirks at the corners of his full lips, when he's making some assessment in his head. ]
It's okay. I'm glad Dad never saw this. Hurt Mom enough. [ dad was gone before the incident, mom was already a wreck, but it was grand central station that put her over. john had to spend the funeral hidden behind a massive angel statue, scrubbing at his eyes and hating himself. he catches a thumb, leans down, bites at the knuckle with dull teeth. ]
'Sides, I got you now, right? [ eyes peer up through the unkempt bangs that have long needed a cutting, the way murphy wears it all loose and wild. he pounces, hands going to joseph's cheeks, thighs over his, trapping him in. ] How could I ever leave this precious l'il baby face behind, huh?
no subject
I dunno. You probably can't. Baby face would starve without a teat to suck on.
[gross. but wilfully gross? it smells pretty in here, and murphy's pretty when he's stoned and sad. well he's always pretty, but.] Grandparents? [he asks.] Forty-year-old adult brother from mom's previous marriage. I dunno. We could find 'em together. [his eyes flick unsteadily around murphy's face. earnest, unblinking sincerity would be too much, you see.] I'mma take your ass to Jersey some time. [once murphy's control has gotten better, he means, but doesn't say.]