bakerstreet | the dwarfs could not find it in their hearts to bury her - they fashioned a coffin of glass and gold

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the dwarfs could not find it in their hearts to bury her - they fashioned a coffin of glass and gold

true love's kiss

“As she bends for a Kleenex in the dark, I am thinking of other girls: the girl I loved who fell in love with a lion—she lost her head over it—we just necked a lot; of the girl who fell in love with the tightrope, got addicted to getting high wired and nothing else was enough; all the beautiful, damaged women who have come through my life and I wonder what would have happened if I’d met them sooner, what they were like before they were so badly wounded. All this time I thought I’d been kissing, but maybe I’m always doing mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, kissing dead girls in hopes that the heart will start again. Where there’s breath, I’ve heard, there’s hope.”

– Daphne Gottlieb, Kissing Dead Girls

You bit the poisoned apple. The needle of the spinning wheel pierced your finger. The terms are complete, the cursed fulfilled. Or perhaps your downfall is more modern (technology, bio-weaponry, misuse of powers) or metaphoric. Regardless, you've slipped in a sleep as deep as death. No one or nothing can wake you.

Nothing except a kiss from your true love.

— comment with your character + prefs + desired role. are you cursed or cursebreaker?
— reply to others.
— remember, your 'true love' might not be who you expect; the conventional may not work, the outlandish the perfect fit instead.

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Edited 2019-09-29 21:37 (UTC)

[Hi there! Would you be interested in Mercy here? I'm down for either role.]

[Genji feels like he'd be the cursed in this situation tbh.]

[That would be just his luck.

Would you like me to start something? do you have any other preferences?]

Edited 2019-09-30 03:29 (UTC)

[You can start, I have no preferences.]

[Never in her years of medical training and service had she seen anything like this. Comas sure, though uncommon in her experience were not unheard of. But this? Something else entirely.

Medically everything looked fine. Normal (well as normal as a Cyborg could be). She ran the tests herself. Multiple times. According to everything she knew nothing should be wrong.

Yet Genji laid before her, un-moving, silent, sleeping. And despite all her knowledge she couldn't figure out why. She partially felt like somehow she failed him. If she were a better doctor she'd have found the answer by now. Even trying to bring in other experts yielded no results. Still she shuffled the blame back onto her own shoulders.

There had to be something.

As she watched his sleeping form, her thoughts drifted back to fairy tales from her childhood. Sleeping princesses and kisses that'd awaken them. If only life could be that simple.

Still she found herself leaning forward -- her lips brushed lightly against his. It was a quick kiss just to satisfy some foolish and childish notion. She knew it wouldn't work.]

Please wake up. I don't know what else to do.

[Almost immediately after she slumped back down into the chair by the medical bed. Clasping her hands around his she just kind of stared off at nothing in particular. As helpless as she felt, the least she could do was stay by his side.]

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dragonbecomesme - 2019-10-03 19:33 (UTC) - Expand

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healingbeam - 2019-10-04 08:42 (UTC) - Expand

[ ooc: voicetesting ]

[ i mean if it worked for ben and bev... ]

[ All of this was wrong.

Firstly, he should have never fucking agreed to come back here. Blood pact or not, this was absolutely a mistake. These memories, this town, It. Those were all long forgotten pieces of his past. Pieces of a puzzle that were never ever supposed to be put back together.

After getting the initial call from Mike, he had crashed his car, had three good long panic attacks on the drive here, all just to be stabbed, chased, and traumatized all over again just like when he was a child. Fuck this town. Fuck Derry and fuck everything in it.

Well, almost everything.

There were some good memories to be had here. The longer the Losers hung around the more pieces of his past started to creep out of the cracks. Why had he forgotten the good parts? The summer with his friends, the bike rides home from school together, hanging out in the clubhouse Ben had built for them. More than anything, he had started to remember his best friend. More than his best friend, even. Richie had meant something to Eddie beyond what he was able to comprehend. Romance was always a foreign language to him. He didn't understand why he felt the way he did at times, and the only person who really understood him at the time, well...

He wondered if Richie remembered, too. Everyone had started uncovering memories at their own pace. Would it be uncomfortable if he brought it up first? Would he remember?

It didn't matter now. The only thought racing through his mind while he watches his best friend suspended in the air, life draining from him being; you failed him again.

Launching the broken fence Bev gave to him earlier, Eddie makes his way over to the taller, still slack jawed man. The lack of color behind Richie's eye's starting to make him hyperventilate. ]

Come on Rich! I don't know what to do... Please wake up.

[ Slapping his cheeks for good measure. Yup. That will work. ]

[ "Fuck Derry" was a sentiment Richie could get behind easily and with gusto.

The only good thing to come out of this was remembering his friends, his family. And Eddie. Who had always stood apart from the others. He had known it years ago when he carved their names into that bridge. How had he ever forgotten? They always said you never forgot your first love and all that bullshit. Could Pennywise really take so much from them always?

First their memories, their connection to each other, changing the course of their adult lives (would they have done what they did if they hadn't forgotten each other?), and then Stan. Stan was gone and It continued to come for them. Torment them, try to kill them. Richie had to do something. He couldn't keep letting this fucker haunt them all.

If nothing else he couldn't let Stan's death be a waste.

So he did what he could. Fought in what way he could, tried to protect Eddie, the others. Called the clown fucker names. Then the world stopped. Everything went white and he couldn't feel anything. He was knocked into a place where everything existed apart from him. Distantly, he heard Eddie. He couldn't answer.

He saw Stan's death, he saw his own. He saw everyone else's. Watching them on repeat, powerless to stop it.

The others ran over, Bev and Ben calling for Richie, Bill doing the same. Mike watches It as it struggles to get the faux spear out. It wasn't succeeding because Eddie had wedged it in there good, flailing on the spikes as black fluid oozed out. It wasn't dead yet.

He yells out, "Guys! It's not dead! We need--holy shit, Richie."

Bill stammers, panicking, "W-we ne-ed to snap him o-out of it!"

Bev tries to shake him, calling to him again, and he remains floating in the air, and Ben's words slip out, still in shock, "It's just like Bev. When It took her." But he had managed to get her out of it back then... ]

[ The fuck is that supposed to mean? Like Bev? There's too many thoughts racing through his mind all at once to really be able to understand what Ben is talking about, until the image of younger Beverly suspended in the air the same way Richie is now flashes across his mind. What had happened after they found her? They pulled her out of the air and then... Then...

For a moment, Eddie forgets where they are. He forgets about It, he forgets the other losers, and it's like he never left Derry. The familiar weight of Richie's head and torso resting in his lap brings back so many memories. The way his chest rises and falls, even now, he seems almost like he's asleep.

But he's not, this is so much more fucking terrifying than just being asleep, and the rest of the memory unfolds as he pets his best friends hair, tears starting to well up in the back of his eyes. The image of Ben holding Bev on either sides of her face, lips pressed together. Eddie had no clue whether or not that had been the reason Bev woke up back then, but it's not like he had any other ideas. ]

Fuck it.

[ With everyone witness, including their nemesis, he sits Richie up against a rock, holding the back of his head up to face him. They had kissed before a few times as kids, he remembered. This was much different, but if it would save Richie. ]

[ Kisses between friends were always supposed to be innocent, even curious things. At first, they were. It wasn't until after those times Richie realized what he felt for Eddie was more than friendship. Maybe even more than a simple crush.

Not that he could tell that to anyone. What would Eddie think? The others? What about his parents? So many kids in Derry already disliked him. He didn't need to give them that kind of fuel. So he kept quiet. Kept it to himself for years. But somehow, that fucking knew.

I know your secret. Your dirty little secret!

That same terrible voice echoed in his ears, drowning out the voices of his friends. Blood and more blood, they are all dead. No, no, no. He tries to scream and nothing comes out. He's so afraid, he hurts so much. He's going to die here. Alone.

And then, like before, it all stops. The voice disappears and instead -- the others, his friends, his family. There's something warm pressed against his lips. His nose breathes in... Eddie? That smells like his cologne. Faint but there through everything else. Slowly Richie opens his eyes as the pressure leaves his mouth.

He feels like he's been asleep for a year. ]

Eddie?

[ m/f or f/f. fairytale au is also good! ]

((...could I tempt you with a Commander? If so, and preference?))

[yes! Elsa being awakened?]

From time to time her people still managed to find strange things buried beneath the rubble of the civilisation that fell before their own could arise. It wasn't often, and it might just be an odd piece of tech, a strange painting that somehow survived all these years, some books sealed in the rubble and still legible.

When she finds a woman lying perfectly still as if frozen in the ruins of some brick building, she doesn't know quite what to make of it. There is no tube as some of the Commanders from the early days suggest there should be. Nothing seals her in, she is just there, picture-perfect, barely a hair out of place and laying on the table like she was carved of marble.

Stepping forward, Lexa signals her guard to stay back and then her hand rests on her blade as she cautiously steps forward, sure of a trap that she cannot see but inexplicably drawn, nonetheless.

She feels dirty next to such pristine clothes and hair, such pale, unmarred skin but she reaches and touches the woman gently on the jaw to search for a post.

'Send for Titus,' she says, partly to get the guards out of the room. They go, hesitantly, as Lexa leans over her. Her brows furrow, she bites her lip. Isn't there some half-forgotten fairytale like this? If she had time to meditate she might remember it. Becca and the early Commanders knew so much more than she ever could. With a sigh, Lexa considers her and on impulse leans forward and presses a soft kiss to her lips. It's chaste and soft, more of a greeting, an acknowledgement that she saw her, that she had survived whatever this was. Only afterwards does Lexa begin to wonder if the woman might be poisoned for just such a kindness.

'Shit.'

The kiss, chaste as it is, feels like a warmth that spreads through Elsa's body. The sensation breaks the spell the queen had been under for who knew how long and blonde lashes flutter before opening and revealing ice blue eyes that stare up at her savior, returning the soft kiss on instinct.

Her mind starts to make sense of her surroundings, sluggish from its long sleep. The curse. Hans. Arendelle. "The spell will never be broken. A monster like you would never have a true love."

And yet she stirs, joyous of the feeling returning to her body.