currently open prompts, might make some closed ones for people

[laidtocrest]

WHO: Sylvain (laidtocrest) & you?
WHAT: Various and sundry TDM-adjacent prompts and/or a catch-all so everything can be caught.
WHERE: Various places. Some ice cream themed prompts so probably at least one place is the ice cream parlor? But I can come up with other things.
WHEN: August
WARNINGS: Will be updated with warnings.

A. Why should the bank vault oversharing just happen in July?

[Sylvain's steps slowed as he entered the building, as he'd gotten used to the gray of the city, and it wasn't as if he'd never seen color before, but it's still quite...well. A Thing, caps intended, to go from gray to teal and pink and over-saturated colors that shouldn't go together, but it does.

He's still trying to decide what he thinks about the situation. Food, potentially tasty. Music, strangely familiar? But, while he weighs his options (does he want the normal looking chocolate ice cream, or the weird pink ice cream that doesn't seem like it's strawberry), why not small talk?]

So...what'd you get from the bank?

B. The real reason why I'm writing this, tbh.

[Sylvain's sitting in a car. No engine. No fuel. He's got a cup of mostly eaten chocolate ice cream with him. He had taken it to go. This had been a mistake.

He's sobbing, leaned over the steering wheel, carrying on like he just received some horrible news - like someone had died (again) - just very emotional right now. Lots of feelings, so many feelings that he had to immediately hide in something (badly) and start sobbing again.

This car isn't going anywhere, much like his life.]

C. I was going to make a darker joke for this, but then decided against it.

[Regardless, in a sudden nihilistic spree Sylvain's in the process of strategically looting pilfering getting neat shit from a store, which really does bring up the question of where their waste goes, huh? He's suddenly got questions about toilets which is terrible, because he was in the middle of doing something.

Back to that something. That something is this: a shopping cart, a generic store, and going through rows of balls. He considers two basketballs, weighs one, weighs the other, considers the texture of them, puts one into his shopping cart, he reconsiders, and switches it back again as he feels like Dimitri would prefer the one that hurts more if they accidentally clock each other in the face with them. Makes it feel more...real. True to home.

Other things in his shopping cart include two lacrosse sticks, because even if Sylvain has no idea what lacrosse is, he feels like Dimitri might feel better with them for...reasons. They're shaped in the right way, in certain respects.]

Probably says something I'm getting stuff to hit each other with... [Philosophical questions, he and Dimitri can explore the world of sports together, somehow, even if they don't understand most of these things.]

D. Wildcard...?

[PM me if you want a prompt, or surprise me.

I'll also err on the side of caution and admit that I'm possibly walking into another workplace disaster on Monday, so I might be slow? Might be okay. (Much Happened last week, caps intended, I don't mind telling the shitshow story but this isn't the venue for it.) If I am slow and you want to know what's up or plot/handwave, go ahead and give me a nudge and we can work something out. It's cool.]

Comments

B

[fourhope]

[Hooo boy, It's not been a great month to be an empath. Sure preternatural senses have been dimmed ever since arriving in this cursed City - but nowhere near enough to skate through this completely unaffected. Honestly, he's been quite the hermit for the most part this month because of it. It's honestly a lot to take in. And yet, groceries only last for so long and he refuses to live on protein bars on principle.

A choice that he's starting to regret as he walks near an abandoned car and feels his chest positively throb with feelings. Strong enough to bypass the usual dim cotton layer that fills his senses unless in close proximity. It stops him in his tracks, but all he does is take a moment to press against his heart for a moment before continuing to the car where he feels the emotional pull. Face pale, he quietly knocks against the glass of the car to try and get the strangers attention.]

Excuse me? I'm sorry to intrude, but are you alright?

[He obviously knows the answer, but also does he really? Given how things have been in this place, he could also be way off base. Also, it's just good manners.]

[laidtocrest]

[He's deep within his tainted chocolate-laced breakdown, head against the steering wheel, lost to the world. All he can think about his how much of a failure he is, how much he's disappointed a lot of people, how much-

There's a voice. Sylvain jerks up his head, accidentally honking the horn, and then he startles again, staring at the wheel, as up until a few seconds ago he didn't even know that the thing he crawled into could make noise. That this was an option. Where he's from, things only made noises if they were something like a cow and you pushed it over.

Inanimate objects usually didn't make noise. What the shit. But maybe this is an improvement? Instead of being straightforward miserable, he's now miserable and highly confused.

Sylvain looks back at the stranger, and tries to remember the question.]

Uh.

[What had he been asked...oh, right.]

Yeah? [That's a terrible lie, and he knows it, it wobbles, and it's quickly amended.] No. I haven't been alright for a while, so you'd think I'd be used to this sort of thing by now.