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death to bakerstreet
Jamjars give people opportunities to place their favorites into alternate scenarios of circumstantial bonding, alliance, animosity, teamwork and sexuality! Some encounters are innocuous and some epiphany-spurring, and whether you're interacting with a castmate or engaging in cross-canon CR, there are opportunities for creativity and exploration only made possible through this format. If you are fucking lazy or don't want to deal with activity-checks or want to do a miniature test drive, just meme it. Just... fucking meme it.---
I
✿1. Horror: Your characters are taken from their own worlds and thrown into a terrifying situation! Things are creepy, resources are scarce, and ensuring your own survival is paramount.
✿2. Sex Game: For whatever contrived and nonsensical reason, your characters are forced into a world where they gotta bone. Aside from smutstuff, you have the opportunity to play out how very awkward it is to navigate these agreements and encounters before and after. Lasting bonds can form from something you didn't expect! But so can eternal regret.
✿3. Slice of Life: Characters are forced to live together in familial units. They have an opportunity here -- in spite of being stuck -- to relax and slow down and do some fun, ordinary things. Picnics, dates, school, etc.
✿4. Fantasy: Characters are forced into guilds and roles, given weapons and are made to utilize their powers in coordinated units to complete missions.
✿5. Scifi: Characters are thrust on to the frontier of spacial colonization! Characters on a spaceship! Characters being drafted into an Imperial Earth Army to fight/conquer foreign entities! Characters being in a world where they are assessed, identified, tracked and policed by artificial intelligence! And so on!
✿6. Reincarnation/ New Identity: Your character has been reborn at this game, or given a new identity. Work out their karma or help them come to terms with having to live a new life.
✿7. Asylum/Prison/Institutionalized Identity: Characters are locked up and put under heavy surveillance. Slowly they are institutionalized and disintegrated from ordinary social rules of engagement. They could be told that they've been identified as mentally dysfunctional, or they could be in prison! Are they pleading their innocence, or do they know they're guilty as fuck back in their world?
✿8. Assignment-Based/Mercenary/Survival: Characters have to put their skills to good use as drafted mercenaries. Help your captors assassinate, spy, sabotage, infiltrate, steal, and terrorize for points that will lead up to your freedom or the freedom of others.
✿9. Your Choice!: Do whatever!---
II
✿1. First Impressions: You never forget your first impression of someone. Unless it was entirely forgettable.
✿2. Oh Hey Again: I kind of know you!!!! Hi!!! I hate this place but love familiarity hi!!!
✿3. Event: SOMETHING IS HAPPENING and your characters have either run into each other or sought each other out to stick together during it!
✿4. Living Quarters: Surprise, your characters are in the same house! Or room! Or building! Either way you have to share space and facilities with this person. Enjoy!
✿5. Mystery: Who Did It? Why Are We Here? Characters are disappearing, people are dying, whatever is happening it is FISHY!
✿6. Canon Update/Respawn/"But we know each other, I swear!": One character comes (back) to a game and does not remember previous CR. A relationship or friend or even hateship is forgotten. How will this be dealt with?
✿7. Begrudgingly Working Together: You are so fucking annoying but I guess we have to fight Monster of the Day Together/Get Unstuck-UnLost Together/Find Our Way Back/Help Each Other Out.
✿8. Is This a Date: Gee, you guys sure are doing a lot of things that people on dates do and you're having a lot of fun [sweats]...
✿9. Violence: Characters beat the shit out of each other or help each other out of a gory situation with terrible traumatic injuries or something!
✿10. One-Sided(?) Crush: How do you get their attention? Or, alternatively, how do you ignore that this person obviously is crushing on you and it's totally awkward
✿11. Protecting/Saving: Your character's chance to be a hero or a damsel!
✿12. Network Post: Mandatory bs.
✿13. Inbox: Hey, can I talk to you for a second? In private?
✿14. Your Choice!: Do whatever!
no subject
He also knew, even though part of him wished otherwise, that there would be no other end. As soon as he had found out what was going on in that circus, they were all dead. That was his role as the Queen's Watchdog, and he wouldn't throw that away simply for the sake of her kindness. Yet, still. Looking at her now, he can see that fury lit up on her face once again, and he finds he has to look away with a frown.
His hand drops, even though the danger here is still palpable to him. He deserves this, doesn't he? He wants to pretend that maybe if her timing hadn't been so bad, she might have had a happier end, but even just thinking about that moment makes his face a shade paler.
If she was a ghost, very well. This was a spectre that fully deserved to be here. But it makes his face set coldly as he forces the fear and surprise away. ]
Seeing the dead is something of a shock.
[ He's blunt and cold, and where the circus members had remarked on his proper way of talking before, it seems even more noble now. ]
Are you real?
no subject
(She hasn't seemed to realize the flaw in her reasoning, that Ciel could not possibly have been there before her if they really were both dead.)
Still, the question just makes her look sad.]
Real as the day I was born. [Does it really matter...?] You're dead too, aren't you? S'why you're here.
[And if they're both dead, then... why is he looking at her with such a flat expression? Shouldn't she be the one looking at him in such a way, for murdering her whole family? (She's not capable, though--she's too emotional. She always has been. And she's too emotional here, too, because somehow she feels like crying.)]
no subject
...No. I'm still alive.
[ She had seen that cursed mark in his eye, though he doubts that she would remember it, considering everything else, but so long as it was there, it was proof that he was still alive. His death would mean that Sebastian failed, that their contract was null and void, and so he would be free. The idea of that came with conflicting feelings, because he wasn't sure which he wished for.
He reaches in his pocket to pull out a wallet, where he places a few credits to pay for his meal, then starts to gather up his work. It's an excuse to keep his eyes away from her, because he still can't look at her directly. He hates that, thinks himself a coward, but when he looks at her, he remembers that last, hateful look, and then the memory of Sebastian ending her life in a flash. ]
This place is strange like that. The past doesn't stay where it belongs.
no subject
... She watches him pay almost as if in a daze, processing that. He's alive. He's alive. After everything he's done, to her and her family and her home, he's...still alive.]
Wh...y.... [Her voice cracks, and then, almost childishly--] That's not fair!
[It's not fair at all... she knows that she wasn't a saint by any sense of the word, but neither was he, and it's in contemplating the injustice of the world that she feels tears finally gather at the corners of her eyes again. It's finally hitting her, all sinking in, and she still can't take it.]
no subject
[ In comparison to that frightened vulnerability that he had shown at her appearance, he's steeled himself considerably with those words. They're just as cool and impersonal as when they had last spoken, when he had last seen her, but seeing his expression now, it's different. That coldness she had seen the first time had been tired, incredibly so, because her timing couldn't have been worse. Having to relive an old, painful trauma had left him exhausted, to the point that Sebastian had needed to carry him out of that burning mansion.
But now, as he tucks his files into a small bag, he stands on his own two legs. He's still short, so he has to look up to her, but his presence seems much larger. Yet, it's not quite that he's looking down at her. Rather, this look carries the quality of being the mask of the nobleman. Whatever he's truly thinking doesn't carry on his face. ]
Tell me, why isn't it fair? We both did what was necessary to survive. You kidnapped children like lambs to the slaughter. Of course that would draw the attention of the Queen's Watchdog. Did you think you could outrun being caught forever?
[ He states it impassively, but not maliciously. It's as if he's reading off facts from the papers he had been reading a moment ago. ]
I told Joker the same thing. You aren't wrong. You fought to protect what you loved, and there's nothing wrong with that. But that fighting couldn't be ignored.
no subject
This was always the inevitable outcome. He was always going to victoriously destroy them, and they were always going to deserve it. She knew that much. She's not surprised by that.]
I... know that... [It's hard to get the words out, and they're thick with the tears that she's struggling not to shed.] I'm no angel, I know... [She's really anything but, and she deserved everything they got.
They....all deserved everything they got...?
No, that can't be right. His matter-of-fact tone almost makes it worse, and she somehow wants to scream, hands balling into fists.]
Don't you write them off that way! Don't you act as if their lives didn't matter! [She's not eloquent, and not calm--she doesn't have the words for what she wants to say, the words to talk about how even as they did terrible things, they were not bad people. But it doesn't matter. She doesn't think he would listen to her anyway.] You--
[Queen's...Watchdog? She knows, vaguely and distantly what that means, but staring at him like this, tears slightly blurring his tiny figure, it's almost impossible to comprehend.] You're...Smiles.
[Even so, even now--or maybe with everything else gone, she's really nothing more than a puppet with cut strings, blindly repeating what she thought she knew was true...because the reality of the world is nothing she can comprehend after all.]
no subject
[ It is a stark contrast, because in comparison to Doll trying desperately to keep her composure and to find words for what she had suffered, Ciel's words are full of clarity. On the surface, he's perfectly the picture of that cruel nobleman that his family was famous for. They were the fangs that delivered justice, so as a person, they had to be unyielding. That's what Ciel always thought, and what he wanted to portray.
And yet, underneath all of that, his heart is still pounding in his ears. She's a ghost of his past, one of the many corpses that built the foundation for his gilded throne. A part of him wants to allow his composure to slip too so that he can express the guilt that weighs much more heavily upon him than anyone could guess. But if he allowed that, he wouldn't be able to move forward.
He doesn't have anything to say to the rest of what she says. He's not in any position to pass judgement on the worth of lives. The justice he delivered was cruel at times, but in his heart, he agrees with her. Their lives had mattered just as much as his own, but they were at odds in a deadly game, and he had won. He doesn't want to gloat on that at all, but he doesn't know what to do. If Sebastian were here, he would just leave her with Sebastian as his sword and shield, but alone...
Ciel makes a difficult noise, like he's conflicted, but then reaches into the pocket of his jacket. He pulls out a simple handkerchief, just the sort that a gentleman of status always carries, and after a moment's hesitation, he extends it for her to take. It's an awkward gesture that doesn't capture any of what he's feeling at all, but by now, he can show some kindness. It's not much, because he can't afford too much, but it's quiet and simple. ]
...I'm Ciel Phantomhive. That's all.
no subject
She didn't like being alone.
Here, she wasn't alone--he was standing right in front of her--but he had might as well be a thousand miles away, if the words on his lips and the expression on his face were to be believed. She doesn't even seem to notice as the tears well over, sliding down her cheeks. What she does notice is that handkerchief, and it infuriates her.
How dare he pretend as though he cares about her grief, when he clearly doesn't care at all?
He offers the handkerchief, and she slaps his hand away, a sharp, angry gesture, matching the angry and distressed tears on her face.]
Y-you're right... you're not Smiles at all. [Her voice is choked up, but she manages to spit out the next line strongly--] You're not my friend at all.
[And maybe she's trying to convince herself, because she really, really doesn't want to be alone--and this was all she had left.]