Ｃａｓｓｅｌ Ｓｈａｒｐｅ. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
patheticvillain) wrote2014-06-11 05:00 pm
patheticvillain) wrote2014-06-11 05:00 pm
thirty-seven ➢ psychic spam & voice
[Open season to any psychics around: a bad dream. Or a memory, but fantastical enough to masquerade as a simple dream. It's about justice, and games, and a carnival death. It's about entertainment, and about despair.]
[He kills the girl in the memory-dream. He remembers doing it, and he remembers feeling ashamed and weak. She had his secret. She knew, somehow, the worst thing he'd ever done in his life, the worst sin he'd ever committed - and she was going to tell.]
[He lured her to the roof, and he walked her off the edge. And they found him out. Of course they fucking found him out.]
[There was no escaping judgment, of course. Nobody before him had, and it was vaguely satisfying to realize that nobody after him would, either.]
[A deck of cards, taller than him, boxing him in by suit. Fluorescent green spades and clubs, fuschia hearts and diamonds - they make his eyes hurt. He's staring down four aces, lashed by his ankles to the floor as the cards fan out and begin to circle him. They're on tracks; he can hear the tracks but not see them. What he sees are the sharp edges of the cards whizzing past himm, circles getting tighter and tighter. He can imagine them cutting pieces off his skin, chunks out of his flesh, slicing bone, as they come closer and closer--]
[And then they're here, and they do, and it hurts more than anything's ever hurt before, and he's laughing and screaming and dying--]
[And he wakes up. Sulkily turns on the network and speaks plaintively, too shell-shocked by his own mind and memory to censor himself.]
I dreamed about that goddamn bear again. Let me into the pub.
( ooc; cassel is a super high school level gambler from dangan ronpa! he was also super murdered by monobear. feel free to pick up on that if your character has psychic powers. more info here. )
[He kills the girl in the memory-dream. He remembers doing it, and he remembers feeling ashamed and weak. She had his secret. She knew, somehow, the worst thing he'd ever done in his life, the worst sin he'd ever committed - and she was going to tell.]
[He lured her to the roof, and he walked her off the edge. And they found him out. Of course they fucking found him out.]
[There was no escaping judgment, of course. Nobody before him had, and it was vaguely satisfying to realize that nobody after him would, either.]
[A deck of cards, taller than him, boxing him in by suit. Fluorescent green spades and clubs, fuschia hearts and diamonds - they make his eyes hurt. He's staring down four aces, lashed by his ankles to the floor as the cards fan out and begin to circle him. They're on tracks; he can hear the tracks but not see them. What he sees are the sharp edges of the cards whizzing past himm, circles getting tighter and tighter. He can imagine them cutting pieces off his skin, chunks out of his flesh, slicing bone, as they come closer and closer--]
[And then they're here, and they do, and it hurts more than anything's ever hurt before, and he's laughing and screaming and dying--]
[And he wakes up. Sulkily turns on the network and speaks plaintively, too shell-shocked by his own mind and memory to censor himself.]
I dreamed about that goddamn bear again. Let me into the pub.
( ooc; cassel is a super high school level gambler from dangan ronpa! he was also super murdered by monobear. feel free to pick up on that if your character has psychic powers. more info here. )
dream spam????
Pretty.
[He sounds as arrogant and blase as ever. Dream-Bond still has his humanity turned off.]
Bit thick, though. How'd you get her up here?
yeAHHH!!!!!!!!!
Persuasion.
And drugs.
Who the hell are you?
no subject
[He smirks, leaning over the edge of the roof to peer down, and whistles.]
What did she do to you?
no subject
no subject
Sorry, what was that? You really ought to enunciate.
What did she tell?
no subject
She was going to tell on me.
no subject
[He likes that anger, but not quite enough to stop poking. He leans over the edge of the roof, looking down and whistling.]
Must be something terrible, whatever you did.