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etrayamemes2025-05-30 09:20 am
etrayamods) wrote in etrayamemes2025-05-30 09:20 am
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TDM 008
content warnings for this TDM include: gambling references, mild horror themes and suggestive content  ⏵ arrival⏴ Arrival does not happen as Aurora usually plans for it. Newcomers generally find themselves waking up within the hospital, are given a brief overview of their situation, and sent on their way. Now? They wake up immersed in a game within The Gold Saucer. But it doesn't quite feel like a game: whether it's snowy mountains, riding a chocobo as you listened to the wind quickly pass by your ears, or in the middle of a battle with a beast, it feels utterly real. It's only after the game concludes - either by winning or losing - that you find yourself back in the main game area. A bot, dressed as personnel in this lavish playground, approaches each arrival with an earpiece allowing them to communicate with those in their same situation. It also serves to inform them of their goal: collect enough gold saucer points (or GP) by playing the games to acquire a card fashioned to their own likeness from the game counter. Then, they must trade it for someone else's. Seems simple enough, right? Hopefully the cards aren't too expensive...  ⏵ the gold saucer ⏴ The Gold Saucer is an ode to the very idea of fun. It’s huge, labyrinthine, colorful, and lively. Everywhere you look, there’s something to do. At the same time, it’s also impossible to tell what time it is. There are no windows to the outside, there are no clocks. This place is beyond such a thing. There are games everywhere you look, ranging from the pseudo-gambling to sports to pixelated video games in cabinets. Yet no matter which boxing game, pinball machine, or skeeball machine you look at, the same creatures and themes arrive. Cactuars, chocobos, the fiercest Behemoth, the cuddliest Moogle… For those from the realms of Final Fantasy, this will feel natural- homey even. Everyone else will simply understand that there is a fairly strong central theme here about magic, machines, and monsters. It’s hard to tell how long you spend here, and it seems to sit outside of the very concept of time. Still, there are many restaurants, lounges, and vending machines. There are shops and costume rentals. There are even little pharmacies with headache remedies if the partying gets out of hand. And when you grow tired, there is a hotel- though it is made up like a haunted house, you can count on getting some semi-restful sleep.  ⏵ playtime ⏴ At first, stepping through to play any of these games may make participants wonder if they have been teleported somewhere else entirely. But on closer inspection, all the skies above are merely well-constructed interiors with painted ceilings. After all, it always seems to be daytime during these games. Snowboarding - Race to the bottom of the mountain, but avoid obstacles and complete as many tricks as possible! Chocobo Racing- Race on Chocobo-back around a treacherous outdoors race track which can either be taking place in a desert, a swampy forest, or upon an island beach. Work in tandem with your rented bird and against your competition by throwing hazards in their way or utilizing buffs garnered on the track. Different colored birds will yield different advantages. Yellow - Good All Rounder Red - Fast, but hard to steer Blue - Slower, but very easy to steer. Much easier to pick up items from them. Green- Resilient against traps and sabotage Colosseum Battle- Face off against the fiercest beasts around. Pair up with friends or rivals to Collaborate or Compete to do the most damage and deliver the final blow. These battles are synced to the comparative power of the one entering the competition. We wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt unnecessarily, after all. And indeed, no one will get seriously, gruesomely, or permanently injured in these battles. Those without fighting capabilities can rent weapons outfitted Materia to assist them in their trial. These will allow anyone to cast spells, though not guarantee any better wielding of weapons. There are a hundred rounds, starting with fairly simple Spriggans, ranging all the way up to blood-thirsty Behemoths to challenge even the most battle-hardened hero. Leap of Faith- Players are presented with an obstacle course that stretches a hundred feet into the air upon floating platforms and islands. Both are held aloft by magical crystals. Powers are entirely nerfed, though falling and hitting the ground is strangely painless. Those who collect the most silver and gold statuettes of cactuars placed at random throughout the course will be awarded proportionate GP; though there is a bonus for those that reach the very top first. Triple Triad- Everywhere you look, people are playing this game on little 3 by 3 boards, or any surface with enough space. You will be given a loaner deck to play with. Are you clever enough to defeat your fellows. Fashion Report- Theobold, familiar to some, stands by himself in a little booth with a dressing room and an incredibly expansive walk-in closet. He is a robot of distinguished fashion and strong opinions on those fashions. Do you dare subject yourself to his scrutiny? Come prepare in his wondrous closets to make the best outfit for the chance to win a prize. Please submit your fashion here! There are Arcade Machines and activities galore. If you can think of it, it’s probably there- Just with that Final Fantasy pastiche on it, of course.  ⏵ the beehive lounge ⏴ There are other places to eat at the Gold Saucer, but the vending machines and cafés all pale in comparison to the dinners at the Beehive. For all the rave reviews, there is a dress code at the Beehive, and this is literal. If you step inside and are not currently wearing a dress, you will be ushered into a sideroom and appropriately made over. However, this is only for those trying to go in through the normal doors. Around the side there happens to be an employee entrance, manned by a bot. He will only allow those in who seem like they intend to work— and therefore must be wearing at least one piece of the Bunnysuit Collection to trick the guard. Once you are made over or have snuck in, you are free to relax inside with drinks, dine on a fine meal, watch the dancers, or participate yourself if you feel brave enough. Why would anyone ever dance here? Well, that’s simple. It pays really well. So if you’re sick of games, or terrible at them— you can always come dance for a shift. Though, don't get any unseemly ideas about freeing yourself of your clothing, this isn't that kind of establishment!  ⏵ haunted house ⏴ When you grow too weary or drunk from a day of games, you may be directed to somewhere a little quieter to sleep. Up the elevator, and through the doors reveals a modest walk through some woods until a quaint, victorian hotel appears. It is always nighttime here, and the stars and moon twinkle above. The receptionist, a bot in a rather bedraggled-looking chocobo mascot costume checks you in and shows you to your room. You can sleep here, especially if you can tolerate the hokey haunted decorations strung up around the place. Though sometimes, late at night, there will come a vigorous thumping on the door to startle sleeping patrons awake- Only for the culprit to vanish and be impossible to locate.  ⏵ ticket counter ⏴ The prize counter is manned by a bot and has a sign posted overhead. Most prizes will be handed over inside an appropriately sized wrapped box, as the contents are a mystery.
This TDM may be treated as a mini-Mission. Time will not pass inside of it in relation to the world outside - meaning, this can be happening at any time between late May into early July! This Gold Saucer is a bit of a mix between that of FF7's and FF14's, but it also has some things that neither have as well. Any inaccuracies are entirely intentional, aimed to make this rest within a space of uncanny valley for those who are familiar. While otherwise being a bit of a chaotic fantastical funhouse for everyone else! If there is something unlisted, chances are it will exist if it is in either of the other versions of the Gold Saucer. Characters already in game are welcome to post to the TDM, too! Please mark them as current characters in your header. Threads can be kept as game canon as long as both characters get into the game! Please direct all questions to our mod queries comment! |
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The question is as surprising as it isn't.
"You've looked worse." Well, he has. Resolutely, from the one person who generally had the job of watching everyone's vitals, whether through computer screens or smart glasses or mask patch-ins. He doesn't need stitches, and nothing is specifically broken to the point of needing to track down a medical bot (if this location even has those stored away somewhere). Which doesn't mean nothing is potentially hairline or sprained. Nor that she doesn't know he could go for days on top of this were it a state of emergency.
Especially given that he's put several hours of additional activity on top of it this time, compared to the first time. (That's another part of the equation she hasn't had time to consider yet. Does this change things? Not with them. With home. With the painstakingly, minute-by-minute-by-week-by-year after this. People don't seem to know, to remember on the otherside—but there things Barbara isn't sure she's willing to risk breaking again.)
"We could probably whip you up some ice packs from the ice machine down the hall if you wanted them." A small beat. The faint tug at the one corner of her mouth. "You do end up a bit funfetti colored for a while."
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He does smile and shake his head at the 'funfetti' comment though, because she's right there too, the bruises do turn all sorts of interesting colors as they heal, and when he's got bruises from Blockbuster those are inherently going to run the whole gamut, but he shrugs off the suggestion of finding ice.
"I'm alright, but remind me that it was my choice if you have to roll me out of bed in the morning because I'm too sore to move."
Turning toward her, hesitating just a moment as if he's considering the impulse that does cross his mind, and ultimately deciding to go forward with it, he reaches out both hands toward her, offering this time in a way where she has plenty of opportunity to think about it without the urgency of a potential tangle high up in the air. If that actually takes anything away from the significance of it. In any case he's not going to press the issue, all he intends to do is take both of her hands in his own to give them a gentle squeeze, if she accepts it.
"I'm sorry. I just... don't want to make this difficult for you." His lips twitch into a slightly rueful smile. "It's not fair that it's so easy for me."
no subject
She doesn't move closer. Doesn't reach out her hands,
or move them at all, from still holding her towel.
(It's like, at the beginning, with the other!Dick, except she doesn't have Dick to go home to after it,
stuck in the weird deja vu of it all. Except. There is no Dick to go home to.
And this is him now. Again.)
"Dick. It's just a bed. It's fine."
Yes, she can hear herself as she says it. Hear a half dozen other words, across those miles and years, that all alluded to the same fact, as though it wasn't a mutually understood, and sometimes mutually bulwarked, fabrication. But it is. Too. It's just a bed. And they both need to sleep. These missions don't slow down for any of the shocks or horrors (or surprises) they decide to throw out. And he's already gone through so much today, back home, and being pulled into this place, without a normal 'welcoming' stop by Aurora. (Which she still hasn't worked out the why of that has happened, again, either.)
"Just get some sleep." She turns back toward the bathroom to return the towel. (Or, maybe it's because she's not certain she wants to watch if his expression falls?) "Tomorrow will probably have a whole new list of mission things we're either required or 'encouraged' to do."
no subject
Except possibly digging him into a hole that he definitely doesn't need on top of every other challenge he's got in front of him. He'll pass.
His expression doesn't fall as much as it shifts into acceptance, even if he did try to push the issue it wouldn't get anyone anywhere, and they'll both be better off for sleeping on all of this first. Just giving it time to settle has to be the best approach, as hard as it is for him to not do something. She knows how restless he can get.
"I'll try."
As if that's going to be hard. The real challenge is sliding onto one side of the bed, stretched out on his back, and closing his eyes without slipping toward unconsciousness. He absolutely could have slept on the floor, or in a chair, pretty much wherever he could close his eyes for a few minutes.
But he won't. Not until Barbara's made it back to the bed and settled herself in at least.
no subject
Which means there isn't another option.
Barbara hung up the towel for her drying hair on one of the hooks, avoiding catching her face in the mirror as she did. She knows what she'd find there. Which is also fine. Everything will be. Mostly, if she doesn't replay the words she'd turned from. The awkwardness and earnestness, sincerity and empathetic concern, there. It's not like she needs more proof that Dick is who says he is, excepting that ... he just keeps being himself.
Barbara's fingertips caught the small switch, turning off the bathroom light, before she slipped back out that door. There's nothing else to do but take her own advice, too. Divest herself of the all-too-pink robe over this be-ribboned nightgown, which at least doesn't come with more sleeves, given she has to open up more of the blanket to get her feet and the rest of the nightgown in without it getting the expanse of fabric caught or twisted about.
She knows better than to think Dick is asleep yet.
He's too still, and his breathing is too measured.
But at least he is lying down, and he's not just watching her currently. Which thinking only gives her the urge to look over at him more, herself, and instead she reaches out for the switch on the lamp on her side of the bed. Inky darkness suddenly swallows the room, and she settles back. Curling up on her side and into her pillow, facing toward the lamp. The strange dichotomy of place and time, and company, makes her think of something—someone else— and she hopes that Haley is fine back home in this unexpected absence.
no subject
But Dick does, eventually, drift off, despite the sheer volume of thoughts racing through his head and the impossible-to-ignore familiarity of Barbara tucked in beside him, close enough to hear her breathing, even when she's turned away from him. And as difficult as things have been, and how drastically different this is from anything he could have possibly expected to find himself in, it's that familiarity that gets him in the end. It's only when he's asleep that he curls toward her, not spreading out over that empty space between them but orienting toward her all the same, because that's what he always does.
No amount of banging on the door is going to wake him up either. As long as no one barges in he's staying very solidly unconscious, the only thing that would likely rouse him at this point is picking up on a high alert from her, and if all this place wants to do is spook them a little... well, it's not going to have much of an effect on him.
At least it won't be one of those 'sleeping for two days' situations. Maybe just a full night and then some.
no subject
But Barbara is steadfast in focusing on trying to sleep, and if two or three questions she hasn't asked yet come to mind, she doesn't think about asking them. She turns them over in her thoughts, like something she could manipulate with her hands, but she doesn't break the silence. She knows Dick needs the rest—the same as she can tell he's fighting his own restlessness with everything, against everything, to get there—and she knows today has been stressful enough. So, no. It's not easy, and at some point, she does turn on her back, arms crossed over her stomach under the blankets, but sleep comes. Slowly, nebulously.
Somewhere, just as she's finally slipping off, some part of her knows,
it's not the silence, but the sound of Dick breathing, that makes her able to.
Which, perhaps, makes it all the more ironic when it is the thing that drags her back upward from the depths, too. Soft and slow and deep. Somewhere just above her, against the curve of her forehead. Soft and slow and deep. Shifting the hair that's fallen over the side of her face, so that it tickles the rise of her cheek and the edge of her jaw. Soft and slow and deep. As she realizes it's the movement beneath her other cheek, too.
Barbara's not entirely awake, but she's not asleep enough to not work out that equation—as her eyes slit open just barely, just enough to verify, even in the pitch dark of the night, yes, she is somehow curled up against Dick's chest, as well as the rest of him—and the next sound is her own soft huff.
no subject
This is home, no matter where he is.
It's not a stifling sort of grasp though, he's not clinging, just holding. Eventually there might be some subconscious, affectionate nuzzling against her hair or her cheek or her shoulder, wherever his face happens to be, as he slides a little closer toward consciousness, but it's very unlikely that he's going to be the first one to wake up this time.
As if he's ever eager to drag himself out of bed when Barbara is with him.
no subject
With evaporating ease, that she knows was there when she was asleep, because she can feel it as everything else spills like ink into that restful nebulousness. She should move. Which somehow, is right when Dick buries his face into her hair, in her skin. Soft lips, and warm breath, and a night's slight prickle of stubble. Not quite a kiss. As if some part of him had heard her thoughts. If she thought it ached a second ago, the surprise, the warmth, the tenderness—a million million memories of seconds just like it, and the dizzy swoop of a want, a longing, a sadness she's kept so tightly tied down for months—causes her to shiver before she can even think to tamp it down.
Her skin prickling as the thing inside her chest expanded like a bruise.
Babs' eyes close, partly. Summoning sense, like some sword against the darkness, against the tiny voice saying how easy it would be just to let herself fall back asleep, not know, pretend and let herself have this until morning, until daylight. But she can't. And even if she could? She can't with him. Never with him. (He's too important. The most important person in her life, in her heart.)
Babs' voice is calm when she speaks,
at least that's what she tells herself,
but that might not entirely be true.
"Dick."
no subject
"Mmm?"
He's all loose, relaxed limbs and sleepy warmth of his own already, but whatever she needs he'll give it to her, unquestioning. But as far as he's concerned this is almost as close to perfect as it gets, and he's not expecting it to be anything other than what it is— a shared reassurance, comforting, an intimacy that's as simple as an enveloping hug. And don't they both deserve that?
If she moves away he won't try to pull her back. But he won't pull away himself, he only just decided, once and for all, with her help, that he wasn't going to swing away, not this time.
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She doesn't care if he decides to be sarcastic or serious or shocked about it, as she's probably hitting sore muscles, even if it's not the worst of the worst spots or related to actualizer muscles that are standing in for those other worst ones. If she has to be even half-awake with this sudden revelation, it's only fair that he is, too.