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ph_logs2023-09-15 10:07 am
restingslasherface) wrote in ph_logs2023-09-15 10:07 am
Gonna Get A Good Grade In Therapy [Open]
Who: "Slasher Face" Jean and YOU
What: General stuff between and around events; prompts may update as more fire
When: September
Where: Jean's apartment, the library, Around (search parties)
Warnings: Discussions of & flashbacks to violence are likely, ongoing struggles with trauma
Sick Leave [Jean's Apartment]
The few days immediately after the parade, Jean has to take off work at the library; conflicting duties, need to help with the search parties and also rest up, you know how it is. You might catch them there of a morning, or an evening as the sun is setting, washing out that bloodstained wolf suit or sitting out front working nicks out of their claymore while they sharpen it. They seem to have a lot on their mind.
This prompt is also very open for other wildcards at their home.
You Are Being Rescued, Do Not Resist [Search Parties]
Jean cleans up their own messes, and joins the search parties for the reviving dead after the parade. That's it, that's the prompt, tag into it if you'd like to chat with Jean while they're searching, if you'd like to be found by them, whatever, I've had one cup of coffee and there's only so much prettying up of this idea I'm about to do. Y'all are lucky I worked in the meta comedy of complaining about the prompt that I myself have written and was under no compulsion to include.
Back To The Grind [Library]
When Jean does return to their day job, they're oddly subdued. No manic bouncing, no popping out from behind corners. A lot of yes ma'am, no ma'am, that edition is currently check out ma'am and then getting right back to work. But a regular patron - or a friend to Jean, perhaps - may notice a different slight change in habits. On their breaks, and indeed Around - when they're sitting on benches in town, out for coffee, in their apartment if you're over - Jean's started checking out fiction books for the first time. They're a fast reader, tearing through novels over the course of a day and night, and though most of their selections remain information about the island and this world a pattern emerges in their entertainment selection. A plurality of their choices are romance; all of their selections prominently feature Women That Can Kill You, or were chosen because Jean thought they'd feature such.
Mind you, it's still Jean.
There's yet another notebook. They are taking notes in their tiny handwriting. Very. In-depth. Notes.
Wildcard
Fuck me up
What: General stuff between and around events; prompts may update as more fire
When: September
Where: Jean's apartment, the library, Around (search parties)
Warnings: Discussions of & flashbacks to violence are likely, ongoing struggles with trauma
Sick Leave [Jean's Apartment]
The few days immediately after the parade, Jean has to take off work at the library; conflicting duties, need to help with the search parties and also rest up, you know how it is. You might catch them there of a morning, or an evening as the sun is setting, washing out that bloodstained wolf suit or sitting out front working nicks out of their claymore while they sharpen it. They seem to have a lot on their mind.
This prompt is also very open for other wildcards at their home.
You Are Being Rescued, Do Not Resist [Search Parties]
Jean cleans up their own messes, and joins the search parties for the reviving dead after the parade. That's it, that's the prompt, tag into it if you'd like to chat with Jean while they're searching, if you'd like to be found by them, whatever, I've had one cup of coffee and there's only so much prettying up of this idea I'm about to do. Y'all are lucky I worked in the meta comedy of complaining about the prompt that I myself have written and was under no compulsion to include.
Back To The Grind [Library]
When Jean does return to their day job, they're oddly subdued. No manic bouncing, no popping out from behind corners. A lot of yes ma'am, no ma'am, that edition is currently check out ma'am and then getting right back to work. But a regular patron - or a friend to Jean, perhaps - may notice a different slight change in habits. On their breaks, and indeed Around - when they're sitting on benches in town, out for coffee, in their apartment if you're over - Jean's started checking out fiction books for the first time. They're a fast reader, tearing through novels over the course of a day and night, and though most of their selections remain information about the island and this world a pattern emerges in their entertainment selection. A plurality of their choices are romance; all of their selections prominently feature Women That Can Kill You, or were chosen because Jean thought they'd feature such.
Mind you, it's still Jean.
There's yet another notebook. They are taking notes in their tiny handwriting. Very. In-depth. Notes.
Wildcard
Fuck me up
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"Are you telling me the libraries you used to be in charge of guarding had no fiction in them? Or just not this kind of fiction?"
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Something pained flickers across Jean's face, so, so fast, the briefest moment of the professional mask slipping and a distant horror creeping over them before the mask is back where it belongs.
Keep smiling, Jean.
"...But now I'm catching up! I expected more pictures but, hahahaha, hahaha, I guess I'm used to company literature, diagram for everything! A lot of these seem to have been imported in an earlier time, guess that makes sense though. Whole world of people to write books..."
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That squint leaves his eyes as he purposefully softens his expression. Even his voice takes on a sympathetic tenor, tinged with nostalgia. "You know, I have been alive for a very, very long time. I can remember eras when reading and writing were only learned and practiced by very few, and when even the paper on which texts were written was a scarce and precious resource. I remembering watching that change. And I remember how the world changed because of it. How do you think it changed, Jean?"
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"...Well. I'm not a student of History and that was Malkuth's Floor, but I'd guess an explosion of extelligence and information retention. Inventions and techniques could be recorded, helping to ablate the loss of knowledge and need for re-invention that the deaths of their creators or masters might represent. Bookkeeping gets easier, a massive boon for administration...gosh, I guess that would have been a requirement for the rise of corporations or whatever immediately preceded them, they can't have just emerged ex nihilo, hahahhaha, nothing does that. Increased administration means megaconstructions become so much easier since you can organize labor efficiently - generously assuming managerial competence, of course." Big smile! Jean's having fun with this thought exercise. "And if everyone can read that opens up new industries for books! Like these! A whole new market opened up for entertainment, education, one that needs workers on every level...wow..."
They look down at the smut they're taking notes about. "...This really changed the world, huh. Neat!"
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"Indeed. The world was never the same. But one consequence of such record-keeping and information-sharing capabilities is that it became harder to control a populace who could learn things for themselves--who could think for themselves. Ideas are powerful, are they not? What if people began to believe that they should be allowed free and total access to that wealth of knowledge? I don't think your corporations would be so keen on that. It doesn't seem so, from how you have described things."
no subject
They are no longer as they are, as they've been. The manic light in their eyes fades, and their smile dies. Their boundless energy coils, and tenses.
They are no longer as they are.
"Let me tell you a story."
Low, hard, fast, words clear and precise and made of pain.
"There was an army, and its name was Ruin. Its weapons spat in the face of Humanity and divinity alike, and knew no equal. Horrors that could not be bowed to this army, and lent it their strength. Its soldiers could never die, and not once did they taste defeat. Scum, horror, corporation, gods, all fell before it in their multitudes, and from their despair did the army whose name was Ruin forge weapons and armor even more terrible than ever known. It stole the Light of its conquests and drank their knowledge, learning many forbidden secrets, until finally only one for remained. The Head of the City did not send an army. It did not send horrors that cannot be. It sent an observer, an arbiter, and an enforcer, and with a wave of its hand the Head broke Ruin, and shattered it, and said: begone. And Ruin was gone from the City, and knew defeat."
"The pen is nothing to the sword."
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"Is this a true story, Jean, or a legend?"
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"I don't want that."
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"What do you want? If there was nothing standing in your way. No rule or stigma. What do you desire for yourself?"
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...Something hit a nerve.
no subject