∎ ETRAYA MODS ∎ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
etrayamods) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
etrayamemes2024-11-11 03:04 pm
etrayamods) wrote in etrayamemes2024-11-11 03:04 pm
Entry tags:
TDM 005
 ⏵ arrival ⏴ Arrival goes as anticipated. Characters awaken in a sterile hospital bed in a clean, white room to the hum of machines under the unnatural lighting common to well-kept institutions. Every bit was designed to be comforting and calming, even with the jarring undercurrent of this situation. The first face they see is Aurora's: her smile appears to be warm, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. She might offer a quick explanation, or leave characters to figure it out for themselves depending on their approach. The door to the room swings open, revealing a hallway that stretches out ahead of them. There’s noise from outside and strong pumpkin spice scents coming from the lobby. Ah, muffins and tea. Grab one and head into the crisp, sunny fall morning ahead.  ⏵ potluck ⏴ Cutthroat Iron Etrayan Bake-Off As you step out of the arrival holding area into the main thoroughfare, the entire street has been turned into tents and chef stations to accommodate the activities of thirty people at once. There’s seats, trailers, and robots bustling about to make sure everyone is ready. A couple of cheerful robots in aprons and colorful sweaters approach and redirect you as you step towards the cooking area. There’s gas ranges, ovens, grills, blast chillers, mixers, and set walk-ins and pantries with just about every ingredient you can imagine. There are cameramen (also robots) patrolling the area to capture all your best moments and to broadcast them directly to your fellow citizens’ devices. Your instruction? “Make your signature dish. You have one hour, chef.” It can’t just be straightforward, can it? The land itself is held together with pure chaotic energy. If you’re lucky, all goes as planned. If you aren’t… well…
* All kittens disappear at the end. ** These however, stay.  ⏵ share a meal ⏴ As all the cooking concludes, you will be invited to plate your meal into one of many casserole dishes, regardless of what was made. A ladle will be tucked into the corner and placed on the table with a folded bit of cardstock declaring the chef’s name and the name of the dish. A helper camerabot will come around to each participant and ask for their thinking and their process. Even if you got away without having to cook, even looking towards the table of dishes will spur a helper bot to start making you a plate with one of everything. The helperbot will insist that it is rude to not at least try what their peers have made. In fact, if you are to fill out the score card for each person, you really must taste everything! The robots can’t try the food, so it’s up to you. The cards look like so. The grading system is opaque. Is it meant to be numbers? Stars? Letter grades? Well, you’re the judge. You figure it out. Chef: ___________ Dish:_____________ Judge:___________ Overall Rating:_______
 ⏵ tummy ache survivor ⏴ No matter how well your compatriots cooked or baked their dishes, there are… factors. You see that carrot? It’s really just condensed chaos in the shape of a carrot. No matter how powerful you are, these particular ingredients may not mesh with your being. …And even if it is truly a carrot, do all the chefs know the proper cooking temperature of chicken? Even chickens are aliens to many. (Optional) Roll a Die
Please direct all questions to our mod queries comment! |
no subject
Tommy manages to flip himself around when he’s tugged down towards the ground. His feet are technically on the ground now, but something’s off about it. He doesn’t feel weighted to it, like the motion hasn’t stopped. ]
Something doesn’t feel ri- ugh. Noitsokay. I’m good.
[ There was a split second where his equilibrium reoriented and the world spun. His face tinged green, but it cleared in a blink. He shook his head and let go of his new best friend’s hand.
Immediately started drifting away. Tommy was half a foot off the ground when he gave up on trying to stay on tiptoe and snagged the hand back. ]
I didn’t have any potions! I had robot tuna casserole like everybody else. This sucks.
[ It’s the closest he can get to an apology. He needs help and doesn’t expect from a stranger. ]
Can you - this is gonna sound stupid. Can you get me over to a tree or…
[ His question tails off, but abruptly. The gap between the confusion and the hard right turn of a tangent is quick, and Tommy’s staring at Billy with a sharper look in his eyes. He looks - not unfamiliar. ]
Who are you?
just sending it but lemme know if it doesn't work :')
Dude, you are so not good, don't give me that.
[ It's said in the speed up way of needing to be in motion that he tries to shake off and doesn't quite. Especially not when the other teenager lets go and is already back in motion so he's also really quick to clasp hand, one hand moving to his arm to ensure his safety as he huffs a laugh, ]
Tell me about it. I feel like I'm a second away from sprinting halfway across the platform if someone looks me in the eye. I'm not even a sprinter. Not close.
[ He's an investigator. That's what he is, there's not a physical bone in his body (that probably all went to another twin....) He swallows: ]
Or a trash can-like object? Yeah.
[ He tries to smile helpfully, encouragingly, but before he can move another step the other is looking at him and something in him feels... Seen. No, that's not quite right. It's something else. It's why he starts: ]
I'm - [ A beat, like he isn't sure how to answer. Like it's a question for himself as well (it is) and then answers: ] William Kaplan.
no subject
The “trash-can like object” joke clicks and he barks out a laugh. ]
I promise not to puke in your direction. I got over it.
[ His thoughts shift from inner narration to visualization. Aurora explaining the alternate universes - the first time he saw Wanda Maximoff - the curve of her jawline. His jawline. This Billy’s jawline. Well at least Uncle Pietro didn’t have another kid. A cute guy at a party, with a straight-haired Billy in a starry shirt in the background of the memory.
Fuck. Why? How? Where’s the right one? What if it’s “Mother” that everyone was babbling about?
It’s not a happy train of thought, but there’s a desperate undercurrent of wanting it to be happy. The sort of self-squashing hope someone struggles with when they’ve been kicked in the teeth too much. He settles on sardonically amused. ]
Nah I’m the sprinter.
Billy.
no subject
Say that when I let go of your hands and you float away again.
[ The sass is there, but overlapped and overwhelmed by flashes of thoughts he can't begin to fully understand. Wanda Maximoff. Pietro. Those are the only names he can cling to in the wave of someone else's understanding - of an unhappiness that premeates it all. Even when he settles on something else, even when he seems to catch up to the present... The younger teenager blinks, confused and processing. ]
I don't understand.
[ What he's thinking. What it all means. Nah, I'm the sprinter, he says and it's really all he needs. The speedster and his mindreading brother, Mister Bohnerific had said. He swallows and before he can thinks about it, before he can stop himself (which means, yes, letting go of his hand thanks diceroll 2/20). William - Billy? - is breathing out: ]
You're Tommy.
no subject
[ He has to ask? Tommy’s almost insulted and doesn’t try to anchor himself a third time. Sure, he had to convince himself too; that’s different. Billy’s a nerd. He’s supposed to figure it out. Maybe not quicker, but with less steps, and come up with a plan to wish them both where they belong.
He folds his arm over his chest as he gently bobs, slowly gaining altitude. Tries and fails to wait his twin (?) out. No, not twin. This Billy didn’t steal his face. ]
I’m not going to barf on you. See I can still say it when you let go. So do I pass whatever test that’s supposed to be? I don’t care how sick I am, I can turn my head before you get Exorcisted. Is this about me not staying at your parents’ place? It was too weird, okay? They were always there with bagel bites and sweater vests trying to not be concerned.
[ Which was great - legitimately, truly great - for Billy, who needed that kind of support. But it wasn’t real. They had no reason to give a shit about Tommy, and he felt like he was on eggshells the whole time. Families like the Kaplans existed in Hallmark movies and the Upper West Side.
If this - fuck it, if Billy doesn’t want to help him, he’ll find somebody else. ]
tw for body disphoria, just in case
[ He knows he's Billy Maximoff. He knows because there's such a large part of him that has felt wrong and out of place and like this body isn't his own. That woke up in an ambulance three years ago staring at a stranger, living a stranger's life. That knew something was wrong and that Tommy was missing. But he's also William Kaplan. The past three years is all he knows. Right now, he feels a lot more like William than he does Billy. ]
[ The fact the other can say it so easily I'm Tommy, feels like he's being pulled into an undercurrent. ]
I don't - [ He swallows something down. ] It's not a test.
[ Finally, looking back up, there's a spark of concern and panic as he realizes that yes Tommy is floating again and that outweighs (momentarily) the confusion at his words that knit his brows. A hand goes to grab him in the same, too quick and without thinking way, trying to ground Tommy once more if he let him. ]
[ But there's something heavy and confused settling in his stomach. There's a wishfulness in his heart: He wants this to be real even if it doesn't make sense. Something in him tells him it's Tommy in the same way he's known he was always out there even if the words the other speaks feel wrong, they're not about him. ]
[ The other boy's thoughts, his own thoughts, the experiences of the last few hours - days? - on the Road are enough to set his emotions on edge. His eyes sting and he doesn't know what to say for a few moments before he starts: ]
I don't know what you're talking about. I - I barely know who I am? William or Billy. Three years ago I died and I came back —
[ A pause as he forces out: ] I don't remember anything. I'm learning now, but -
[ It's the truth. The only other person in the world who he willingly told this truth was Eddie. He wouldn't normally speak about it, not this way. Not with anyone. Not even when Agatha bombarded him. But it spills out as he falters a moment. Closes his eyes and then looks up at him earnestly: ]
One of the only things I knew for certain was that Tommy was out there and I had to find him. [ He swallows. ] And that you're my brother.
[ Well, the last part is a newer revelation, but he had been so intrinsically drawn to this being Tommy he knew he must be important. ]
no subject
[ Too much to unpack and also not enough at all. Billy’s never mentioned dying. Okay, they went to hell. Actually, they went to hell twice, if the first time counts. Tommy thinks it does. Sooo not the point. Point is: they weren’t dead.
Tommy lets himself be towed back down. Doesn’t really move aside from that. More like … reconfigures. What was a show of annoyance folds in on itself, and his arms stay crossed more out of an effort to not hug Billy. The straight line of his shoulders slumps in a curve, chest concaving until he’s almost hugging himself.
Because it hits too close to some of Tommy’s quiet doubts - I barely know who I am. I don’t remember anything. He’s Tommy Shepherd. He’s Tommy Maximoff. Most of his memories are after he turned 13 and blew up his school. He thought that was normal. Little kid memories fade, don’t they? He’s never asked anyone about it, though. They’d think he was nuts.
Besides, he remembers his parents, and he remembers Mephisto.
He’s also the Scarlet Witch’s son, and she made the whole damn world believe something else about themselves. It hurts his head to think about. So he doesn’t. Easy.
But he never has to stand in front of himself and see the pain those doubts cause. And he never died, shit. ]
You know the important part. I’m your brother. It’s like the one thing everyone agrees on. The rest of it - you can’t get stuck on some William or Billy existential divide that doesn’t exist. You’re Billy and that’s short for William. Problem solved: you’re just you. The history of you doesn’t matter, and anyone who says it does only wants to use it against you.
[ Back to what’s important and not Billy overthinking himself into an ulcer. ]
I’m going to need names so I know whose ass I’m kicking. About the… dead thing. I get that you’re okay now. Ish.
no subject
You blew up a school?
[ He breaks out, after a moment, blinking at him. That sounds bizarre, but maybe so does reading your brother's mind out of the blue. There's a lot of weird things going on. Where Tommy tries not to think about it, William (he is still William) cannot stop thinking about it. ]
[ You're Billy and that's short for William. It's right. It's such a laughably easy way to look at it, but his eyes continue to sting. His stomach rolls. He can't describe that William - the original William Kaplan is dead. That whatever happened he - Billy? - took over his body. That he'd built up a facade of who William was and lived as it day after day for his parents, because otherwise he'd have to try do something like... what? He's some bodysnatcher who isn't their son. It'd hurt them, it'd hurt him. ]
[ He only knows how to be William; Billy as he was or who he is was buried for the witchcraft loving fanboy from a good home that was a good kid. He can't say that, even now, even to the person who feels so intrinsically important that he can't look at him. Connecting the pieces of William and Billy being the same simply wasn't where the puzzle was at yet (because this a TDM afterall). ]
I know the important part, you're my brother. [ He agrees out loud, even if he struggles to agree with the rest. He wipes at an eye with his free hand and almost laughs, the small smile tentative as he breathes out: ]
There's no ass to kick. Unfortunately. It was a car crash. Wanda had a town under her control and we were driving home... My parents got distracted watching the spell go in itself and lost control over the car.
no subject
Talk about using history against you. Whatever. He owns the risk of bad boy on the team. Tommy huffs quietly, and his voice loses some of the cocksure pride it always carries, but he’s not ashamed. ]
I didn’t mean to. So, yeah, I broke in at night for a dumb prank. Powers don’t come with a manual. I figured out how to go through walls and I thought it’d be funny to mess up the hallways or flood the bathrooms and get a day off. I didn’t know what happened if I sped other stuff up too long. It goes boom.
[ He knows a brave face when he sees it, and maybe the extra detail is a trade. Or a distraction from something worse, with no one to blame. Tommy can’t ask him anything else about his dying. If Billy starts to crumble again, he really will hug him. Tommy’s not sure if that’s…allowed. Or if Billy won’t let him go again, this time with a shove. Honestly, it’s 50/50 that Tommy’d tell him to get off if it was the other way around.
He doesn’t remember Wanda having control over a town, but it’s not like he cared about the news before he went all superhero. Or that he started paying attention to Maximoffs in the news. ]
Why does it matter? It was years ago. I was 13. You know all this. You don’t get to just bring it up whenever it pops in your head.
no subject
You can go through stuff? That's so cool. [ Said like a kid who barely knows or can use his own power, but he nods. ] At least it sounds like you didn't get hurt...? Did anybody find out?
[ Eventually, they'll figure out their timelines are different. Probably. Not that it matters, brothers are brothers across universes. Even when there's oddities popping up. I was 13 Tommy says and there's some spark of mental alertness at the similarity but as for the rest... ]
I don't know about it, though. [ He takes a breath. ] I didn't even have a face for a name before I met you five minutes ago.
no subject
Uh, yeah. That’s how - right. If you don’t know about the school, you don’t know about juvie.
[ That’s the first good news out of this. Billy can know about juvie. Tommy did it, and he got railroaded, but he doesn’t get to know what the place was like. Juvie makes it sound bearable. Tommy’s seen pictures of some that are colorful, have carpeting, lounges and crafts like it’s summer camp. Those are his now. Everything else - heavily armed guards, power dampeners, barbed wire, medical probes - like it never happened, even if he can close his eyes and be back there in white scrubs that smelled like bleach that did nothing against the freezing cold of the cinderblock cell that echoed despite being so tiny that it felt like it was shrinking in on him and there was nothing to do but wait until they needed him for another experiment.
He blinks it away. If Billy doesn’t know, then he won’t half to look at Tommy like that. Like he did when he broke Tommy out, like who the hell am I trusting. He knows Billy trusts him now, but none of the Young Avengers really trusted him then. This is Billy: Then. ]
I met you a year ago. We were 16. But I don’t know if that means anything. I’m used to a different face. My face. ‘Cept you’ve got black hair and hazel eyes, and I’ve got white and green. You still look like me - I dunno. Could be the hair.
[ He waves a hand several inches above his hair to mime the additional volume. ]
Hang on. If you’ve never met me, how did you know my name? We didn’t know we were twins until after we met. We were freaked out enough being doppelgängers.
[ And he loops back to shapeshifting. Because Billy’s story doesn’t match. ]
I need you to say something that only Billy’d know. Doesn’t matter what. Something constant that curly can’t wreck.
[ Like Mom made us, or his stupid action figures, or some “LOTR” quote that they’re all supposed to get but only Teddy and David do. There’s gotta be something to make Tommy stop wondering if he can beat the Skrull out of him. ]
no subject
[ He repeats in confusion, not quite startled by the idea but surprised. It sounds... different, harsher than his life at the Kaplans had been. There's a pang of guilt at the idea, like it feels wrong. Like Tommy shouldn't be and then the thoughts swim. Tommy's life in Juvie isn't right and that singular word bounces around in his brain like an obstruction he can't get rid of: Experiment. Without thinking his grip on his brother tightens and he almost feels the itch of untapped power in his free one - almost. ]
What -
[ The words don't come. His jaw sets and he tries to focus. It's not right. He's 16, not a year in the future. Maybe that could be it? But there's small details, or big ones. His own eyes being more of a dark blue that turn gray withstanding. He stops the urge from patting his own hair. Mouth twisting as he looks away. He tried to avoid looking at him once more. This isn't right.. ]
It's like I said. The only thing I knew when I came back was the name. Tommy. I could sense you - I couldn't find you.
[ He tries again, but he still doesn't look at him. Eyes closed as he tries and fails to hear the other's thoughts. He doesn't think he's his brother and he thinks that's right, but also wrong. There's similarities and yet - ]
When I woke up? I knew I was in the wrong body. I could feel it... so I've researched everyday for three years to find out who I could be - I. That's how I found out about the Westview stuff. I met a guy who lived through it he told me some
stuff.
That Wanda made a life there. Her and Vision had kids? Tommy and Billy. And that the same day I died, that's the day the Westview stuff ended. Wanda broke the spell and their twins disappeared.
- And that's it? That's all I know, but the pieces just make sense.
[ He shakes his head and still doesn't look at him. ] I know it sounds insane, especially to everything you're saying? Thinking? But it's true.
no subject
[ Involving Vision in the story helps. Everyone leaves that part out. Heck, even Tommy forgets that Wanda had them to have a happy little home life are Mr. and Mrs. Vision.
He’d be mollified, if Billy had only said that. But Wanda didn’t break the spell, Mephisto did, and Billy… ]
And what do you mean, sense me? You mean one of your tracking spells?
[ But that can’t be it. If Billy could sense people, he’d go full Jedi and be completely insufferable with a blue lightsaber running around Manhattan.
You blew up a school? He’d asked about it, and Tommy hadn’t thought anything of it. Thought he was confirming what he remembered. But he doesn’t remember. And Tommy’s an idiot. ]
I never said I blew up my school, did I?
[ He didn’t. And Billy couldn’t know. Tommy takes a step back in the air, as far as he can without yanking himself free. Billy’s not a telepath; he’s a witch. Fuck you if you’re in my head. ]
no subject
[ He doesn't say anything, partly to shove down the emotions that broil over. The problem with being a telepath that almost exclusively works on empathy is you get your own mixed emotions and thoughts and someone else's. And in this case, he doesn't need either to roil in Tommy's distrust. ]
I've tried a few tracking spells. It's not like that.
[ But he can't explain it, doesn't know how. He doesn't have any of the answers the other boy is looking for other than the pieces don't line up. Similarly shaped? But the edges are different, different enough that they might almost fit in but they don't. They don't fit and Tommy asks his question as the rest reverberates as a practical yell in his skull. ]
[ Tommy takes a step back and he visibly flinches before he does, his hands slackening in their grip before realizing what he was supposed to be doing and he doesn't look at him. He can't look at him. ]
No. [ He forces it out, hollow and hard. ] This thing just happens. Whenever someone I'm close to or someone has an intense emotion... or both... I hear it in my head.
I can't stop it. And I am a witch. Mostly. I'm learning.
[ He closes his eyes to stop the stinging, to stop the urge to snap, to do something, because he still feels - ]
Look. I don't have the answers you're looking for. I'm - I didn't even know Wanda and Vision had kids before like - time on the Witches Road is weird? It's been a couple of days maybe?
I don't know. [ It feels like the mantra of his life. He doesn't know. He doesn't know anything and everytime he gets a step closer something else happens. ] Maybe. We're not quite right, but you thought I was Billy? And I thought you were Tommy? That has to mean something, like magick.
no subject
He’s always had the safety of his own head. No one gets to know anything Tommy doesn’t want to tell them. It’s the only thing that’s been completely his to control and now it’s just - not. Just casually. No just accidentally, no heads up, like Tommy’s thoughts are so trivial that he doesn’t merit a courtesy warning before getting violated. ]
You could if you wanted to. You think it’s easy to stay slow for the rest of you? Control doesn’t just happen.
[ The hand barely touching Billy’s starts to vibrate, and Tommy’s fingers slip through Billy’s, with nothing more than a warm tingle. The decision is snap, but deliberate. He needs to be out of range and doesn’t care if it takes forever to drift away. ]
I could’ve blown your hand off. I didn’t. You have to try, you idiot, because if you go around calling yourself a Maximoff, you don’t get the luxury of asking for understanding. They’re never going to trust you if you screw up.
[ The advice doesn’t stop. Billy can be anything he puts his mind to. If he woke up one day and wanted to know what people were thinking, instant telepath, and he’d never know what he’d done. Mind-reader or not, he’s Billy-shaped. ]
You don’t “think” I’m Tommy. Stop lying to yourself. You’re the one in my head, and I’m not the one mixed up about it. Look me in the face and tell me I’m not Tommy Shepherd. Or Maximoff. You can’t. Because I am and I’m not lying.
no subject
[ His eyes no longer burn by the time the other boy pulls his hand from his. He feels the tears, angry and conflicted at once, before he turns his attention upwards - briefly.
Fine. If he didn't want to be near him. That was fine. William had thrown away his identity for the sake of others before, he'd do it again now. (It's not fine). He takes his own step back, feels the blue tinge of power at his fingers, sparking and dying out because he isn't Billy Maximoff. Not the one Tommy expects or wants or needs and - So, the power tries to show itself and it dies off and his mouth is dry.]
You don't think I know that? [ He finally bursts out, the quiet anger sizzling. More Billy than William, more the hurt and the pain and the lost. He's still and sharp and he doesn't care that he's crying even though he hates more than anything that he's a goddamned empath. ] All I've heard is about what a monster Wanda Maximoff is. How she controlled and tortured a town and then did all these horrendous acts. That if it weren't for her I wouldn't exist - [ and the Kaplans would be happy, they'd be better off. He tries to swallow it down] - and I wouldn't have these powers that have already hurt people I care about. Because I'm so much like her.
[ He uses Agatha's words there, something he can't get out of his head. The thing that set him off, but not quite. Powers he can't control, powers he doesn't even know the beginning of. Powers he's not entirely sure he wants anymore, but he can't say that. He's hurt and lost and lost some more. ]
[ He doesn't look up. There's no use saying that's not what he meant. That it hadn't taken being in his head to know he was Tommy. That it was something else. The other wouldn't trust him and he pulls his hands from his sides to tug his hoodie back over his head to look away - to hide his face, something. ]
You already don't trust me. And you know who you are, I don't.
[ He says it in the same rooted manner. In the stillness of a vacuum as he takes another step back. Somehow fully on the precipice of accepting his identity of Billy Maximoff and yet so wholly so fully on the ground as well. He can't be Billy Maximoff, because that's not the one this Tommy is expecting. ]
no subject
And whoop-de-doo she made them. That’s what moms do. Call it IVF. Same deal. Alternative conception. Conceived with her mind.
They’re her kids. They’re alive because of her. They got their powers because of her. Without Wanda, what would they be? Nothing. They’d be like a hundred millon other suckers who hope to grind out 45 years of drudgery and retire to a trailer in Florida on Social Security.
They owe Wanda a defense. If Billy wants to sound like he’s ashamed of being like Wanda Maximoff - of being one of the most powerful people in the universe - let him. He deserves to fucking wallow in it. He thinks Tommy doesn’t trust him ? Tommy knows what that blue energy can do, can’t run three feet off the ground, and he didn’t worry for a second. How’s that for trust? ]