weep not for the memories

[brushoff]

WHO: Everybody!
WHERE: all cities
WHEN: March 4 - March 6
WHAT: it's a catch-all log, sucka! Tag here and thread around for the Dorian Ruins Everything Guilt Extravaganza part of the overall March plot. Please check out this ooc post for details!
WARNINGS: Traumatic memories. Possible talk of murder, death, blood, other nasty things. I'll try to update if the warnings needed but please use content warnings if it gets super nasty!

It starts off on March 4th, the early morning before the sun's even risen. You know those weird mirages that were hanging around the day before? Well now it's getting a little personal.

These mirages come and go seemingly for no reason. They might stay for a minute, they might stay for an hour. The images vary between person but the unifying factor is that the mirages consist of people the player characters have hurt, whether people in-game or from their homes. Whether they murdered them, slandered them, or even had a petty little argument, the unifying factor is the guilt each character feels towards or about this mirage. After all, you know you hurt them somehow. You know their existence somehow makes you feel guilty.

Another unifying factor? The creepy way these mirages just seem to stick to you. They'll follow you if you try to leave, staring you down with their creepy unblinking mirage eyes. And whoops: everybody can see said mirages. Hopefully you're not being stalked by someone you and somebody else both know, wouldn't that be awkward?

Have fun confronting your traumatizing past and/or wondering why your buddy's got some creepy ghost guy following him, imPorts!

( ooc: this is a catch-all log! Make starters of your characters getting haunted by their creepy mirages, have other people react to said creepy mirages, ???, profit. Hit me up on the ooc post if you have any questions! )

Comments

the Twelfth Doctor | ota!

[helpline]

heropa, march 4 & 5
[ Who's ready for two thousand years of guilt to manifest themselves in a really weird way? Because the person the Doctor's hallucinating right now? It's Clara. Clara with her short hair, wearing a light blue sweater and dark slacks. She looks exactly the same as the Clara who's in-game right now but there's still something different about the way she looks at the Doctor.

And, hey at least this point, he's figured out that it's a mirage. Granted, he's figured that out by sticking his hand through the mirage like a goddamn idiot and huh, isn't this weird.

So, here we are Heropa. Have the Doctor seemingly sticking his hand through ghost Clara's midsection as he shines the sonic screwdriver in her face with his other hand. Not that this is weird in the slightest or anything. Especially the way that mirage-Clara seems to keep following the Doctor's movements, her big ol'sad doe eyes tracking him as he moves around, trying to scan mirage-Clara with the sonic screwdriver from multiple angles. ]

Stop moving!

[ it'd be almost comical if it wasn't, you know, a ghost of Clara. ]

de chima, march 6
[ The hypothesis of "go somewhere different" isn't working. It was worth a shot, though. The Doctor's feeding the squirrels as he looks up to see a red-haired woman glaring at him accusingly from the other side of the squirrels. The squirrels seemingly pay the hallucination no mind, instead making chattering noises along the lines of 'dude, feed me'. ]

Not you too, Donna, [ he can't help but mutter, with a sigh.

The Doctor just seems so tired as he looks over towards someone else who's probably enjoying a nice walk and doesn't want to be drawn into Time Lord angst. Sorry buddy, here we go. ]

Has this been happening to you as well?

de chima! let's get this train wreck rollin'

[h2no]

Guess, [is the reply though gritted teeth, along with archie jabbing a thumb over his shoulder at a very tall redhead standing behind him with an expression that looks like it could turn a kitten inside out. like the doctor, archie looks like he hasn't slept in a week. it's... kind of hard with this watching him all the time.] Look, we even match! They're both red.

[the mirages stay silent. watching. judging.]

What? [he waves his hand in front of maxie's face.] Use your words, Max. Come on. You always love to tell me how stupid I am!

Sorey l Tales of Zestiria Spoilers

[historiology]

[Even being here, Sorey hadn't necessarily considered the idea of ever seeing those who had passed on back home. So when he sees, and keeps seeing the mirage of Zenrus, it's decidedly unnerving, surprising.

It hurts. Bringing back the memory of armatizing with Mikleo to deliver that blow that killed their family, the one who raised him, to free Gramps from Heldalf's control. Sorey still hasn't really talked that out much if at all outside of confronting Mikleo about it. That had been their only option at the time, but the guilt of it, the pain and upset surrounding it, has never actually entirely left Sorey either.

Sorey will still try and get out and about, trying and failing to entirely ignore the image of his adopted grandfather following him around as he goes about his errands and such. Sorey glancing in his direction every so often, looking remorseful and as if he's a child caught sneaking cookies.]

I said I'm sorry.

[4thdimensional]

[Doc has observed long enough to realize what must be going on. On occasion he's haunted by a familiar blue-eyed boy, or by old colleagues, but he's pushed them to the background for now.

Now, he stands in front of Sorey, facing the specter of an older gentleman. His friend looks troubled, and he can make a fair guess about why.]

Sorey?

Yuichiro Hyakuya l Owari no Seraph

[dejerate]

[The first time Yuu sees the mirage of his superior, it's quite loud. More, that his attempts to interrogate Guren Ichinose are rather at a higher volume than Yuu usually talks in. Which possibly says something. But he wants answers. Wants an explanation from Guren about events back home, if only so he can better do his part to help his superior, given events of the battle at Nagoya, where he was sure something happened to Guren but he never yet saw Guren since.

But over time he seems to realize that this isn't actually his superior, when he goes to punch the image and his fist seems to fall through, making Yuu fall on his face in the attempt with the sudden loss of balance. He wasn't exactly expecting that.

Help him up, laugh, ask who this person is supposed to be, or maybe recognize Guren from his brief time here earlier?]

[allforyuu]

[When Mika sees the Guren illusion standing by his friend, he is quick to tug on Yuu's arm to get him away from it. He still hasn't forgotten what the older officer did to him back home.]

[At least he doesn't draw his sword, even if he grips the handle of it. Mika's focusing on his friend instead. If it's up to him he would just attack Guren, after all.]

Yuu-chan?

hinami fueguchi → tokyo ghoul

[leaflets]

a. school's out for a little bit maybe

[ honestly, hinami's day started out mostly fine, and absolutely normal. she was dressed and ready to start her day without much incident. it's not until her classes at Nonah Middle have finished that she finally notices a certain figure lurking around. the pretty, handmade outfit the figure wears is marred with blood that runs down from her neck, staining the fabric.

she waits at the school gate, like a parent would for their child.

the horror on Hinami's face is painfully evident, passerby's staring as she starts try to edge away from the figure to get out of the exit to the school. ]


b. working for the weekend

[ but the bloodied memory of her mother doesn't seem to be leaving Hinami alone any time soon.

once Re: had opened, Hinami had left her job at Treat Yo Shelf to waitress at the cafe instead. why wouldn't she? it was owned by Kaneki and wherever one went, the other did too, apparently. even just a few days in to being opened, Hinami is normally a bright and cheerful worker, more than happy to chat and show off her new uniform to people she knows.

but today she's quiet, her smile strained. the figure of her mother sits peacefully at a table not far from her, simply watching as she has been since Hinami noticed her at the school.

she should call Kaneki from the back and tell him what's going on. he'd....try and do something about it at least, Hinami knows he would. maybe he'd know what was going on, and why the mirages of historical people that had been seen suddenly looked like her mother.

the girl is very obviously trying her best not to look over, and with the delivery of each drink and plate of food, her hands shake. ]


c. can i still play on the kid's playground if i crouch to be short enough? ]

[ on the way home, Hinami had done her best to try and lose the phantom following her. she'd wanted to see her mother again, thought of it every day but this...this was nothing like she wanted.

but no matter how much she'd run, somehow, her mother was always there. and so finally, finally, she gave up. sat down on under a slide on the playground near where she and Kaneki used to live and just curled in on herself as the mirage of her mother stood in front of her, unblinking.

if one comes close enough, they'll find out she's actually talking to the mirage. ]

I'm sorry. I tried to find help, Mama. I tried. Eto-san was right, you died because I was weak. Are you mad at me?

a

[tacticianing]

[The final bell rings, and students pour out of classrooms in herds, heading for the lockers and then the exit. Usually, Kidou tries to have everything set just before last period so he can avoid as much of the swarm as he can, but with spring break upcoming, a lot of projects were due or due soon. In this case, he couldn't avoid it - he needed to get to his locker to stash a few things that were a little less trivial to carry before he could head to the gym to get ready for practice.

It means that he takes a slightly different route than his normal one. It's easier to go with the flow of teenagers and circle around than it is to fight his way upstream.

So it's largely luck that lets him spot Fueguchi. Not especially surprising in itself, except it's noteworthy that she's the only one not moving forwards. Inbetween gaps in the thinning crowd, he watches as she slowly edges backwards, eyes wide. Concerned now, Kidou moves closer, trying to see what has her attention. The problem is that Kidou is a small person, and there's plenty of people also paying attention to Fueguchi who are taller than him, so he doesn't really get a chance to look until he's reached the clearing that's opened up around her.

Whatever she sees, it could really be trouble. Kidou's paranoia would never let him leave this alone, even if he wasn't somewhat worried on a personal level.

... ah. Uh. That's a person covered in blood. And if that wasn't worrying in itself - which it really, really is - it's something that has Fueguchi really freaked out. After assessing this silently for a second trying to figure out what to do, he speaks up just loudly enough to be heard over echoing voices, trying to claim the girl's attention.]

Fueguchi.

Han Solo | Heropa, March 4/5

[carbonfrozen]

[There's a giant slug in Heropa.

No, seriously. There's a—huge, bulbous, slimy, beady-eyed slug undulating along the sidewalk, leaving a trail of slime in its wake. Don't worry, the slime's not real and neither is the slug, but it is following one person in particular: one Han Solo, who's given up trying to argue with the giant mirage-slug and is steadfastly ignoring it.

Well, mostly ignoring it.]

You can leave any time you like now. [He sounds even more irritated than usual, snapping at the giant slug, which seems to be glaring at him, as if to say I know it was you, you broke my heart—wait, no, not really. Actually the glare is saying you still owe me a shipload of money, I hope you like being stuck in carbonite forever.] Any time.

THE TIME IS NOW

[reek]

[ Theon has been hopping cities, hoping in vain to lose his own horrifying ghost. For a time, he’ll manage to lose the apparition, but it doesn’t stick for long. Heropa is his latest stop and for now, and he is Robbwind-free, though he continues to glance nervously over his shoulder every so often, expecting to see him there once more.

What makes him stop is Han’s mirage, which is definitely the strangest one yet. Theon can take a break from his own issues to question something like that. ]

Have you tried salt?

[ He pauses, surveying the enormous slug-like creature once more. ]

You may need more than a pinch.

Jesse Pinkman // Heropa

[hostage]

MARCH 4 (Gale Boetticher)

[It's not all that unusual for Jesse's most regretted murder victim to follow him around. Gale Boetticher, the puppy-eyed nerd who had the misfortune of briefly stealing Jesse's position as partner-in-crime to Heisenberg, has been in the peripheral of Jesse's vision since the day Jesse shot him in the face. So when the specter first appears to him today, Jesse thinks nothing of it. There's Gale, with a bullet hole in his cheek and a chunk of his skull missing out the back of his head, in the bathroom mirror while Jesse brushes his teeth. That happens a lot. There's Gale again, following him out the door, and again in the rearview as Jesse drives to the hospital for his volunteer shift. Gale flickers in and out, as he usually does, though Jesse feels like the vision is especially prominent today. Maybe he's stressed.

It's only once he gets to the hospital that things start getting weird. Gale apparently gets sick of lurking in the middle distance, closing in on Jesse's personal space. By the time Jesse's heading to the ICU to see his first patient, Gale's practically breathing down his neck. (If Gale were capable of breathing anymore, that is.)

The patient's too unconscious to notice him. The attending nurse, however, screams.

And that's when Jesse realizes he's not the only one seeing Gale Boetticher today. He abandons his post immediately, fleeing at full-speed through the hospital and out the door. It seems like he's outrun Gale until he stops after three blocks, turns, and finds Gale there again. Staring at him. Accusing as always.]

Jesus fucking Christ.

[Wheeling around, Jesse screams at no one in particular:]

Who the fuck is doing this?!

[Because it's got to be an imPort, right?]

MARCH 5 (Jane Margolis)

[Jesse thinks he's gotten off easy today. Whatever was the cause of all that weirdness yesterday, the sun rises and leaves him ghost-free. He returns to the hospital to make up his shift, then heads to the local coffee shop to recover from the brain tumor he just picked up from the patient he'd neglected yesterday. It's giving him a splitting headache, and he'd probably be better off recovering in the hospital itself, but he hates waiting around there with the pressure to heal every person he walks by. Luckily, the barista recognizes him and ushers him to a corner table, bringing him a free latte and a scone for when he's feeling well enough to eat.

It's very kind of her. This would be a good day, by Jesse's standards. But then he closes his eyes, and when he opens then again, Jane is seated in the chair across from him.]

No... Come on...

[He doesn't even know who he's pleading with. This is getting to be cruel. Tears well up in his eyes and he blinks hard, trying to will away the ghost of Jane, but she's still there when he opens them. Unlike Gale, she looks happy to see him. As happy as Jane ever looked, anyway, with a wry twist of her lips and knowing eyes. She looks exactly like she did before they took their final (fatal) shot of heroin, and Jesse ends up lost in a reverie, staring silently at her while tears spill down his cheeks.]

MARCH 6 (Drew Sharp)

[Emotionally tormented by the time Monday rolls around, Jesse considers calling out of work. He considers it only for a moment, though, before reminding himself that lives depend on him. The dead are dead are dead until the Porter decides otherwise, and sitting at home lingering on the past does him no good and does everyone else a whole lot of harm.

After he's seen his first few patients and cured three different kinds of cancer, Jesse takes a break to recover and wanders the grounds as he always does. When he reaches the lower pool, he spots a dirt bike in the grass. It's familiar somehow, and he figures it must belong to one of the employees, so he steps forward to retrieve it and wheel it around to the parking lot where bikes are supposed to get parked.

That's when he sees the boy, sprawled out on the grass a few feet away, looking just as he looked the day Todd shot him. Jesse jerks back with a yelp, his heart pounding. Three ghosts, now, but it isn't getting any easier. If anything, it's becoming unbearable. Panic rises up in his chest and Jesse sinks slowly to the ground, burying his face in his hands. He counts to ten, then pulls them away, and thankfully the vision is gone. But now Jesse looks like a madman, clutching his knees and hyperventilating.]

march 6th!

[quemar]

[Being a security guard for a ritzy spa in a pretty safe neighborhood has to be, hands down, the most boring job Robbie has ever held in his life. And he's held a lot of jobs over the years.

But it pays better than it has any right to, it's close enough to home that he still occasionally walks to it even though he's got his car up and running now, and like, the people aren't terrible even if nothing ever happens.

Which is why he is absolutely not expecting to round the building's perimeter on one of his normal walks to stave off boredom/keep people from doing shit they shouldn't on the property and actually find Jesse Pinkman having a panic attack in the grass. He hesitates, but approaches anyway. He's not great with people, exactly. Or—good at being a calming presence or anything. He definitely doesn't know how to actually help someone when they're hyperventilating. But making sure an imPort isn't going nuts on the lawn is probably in his job description even if that imPort is the guy who owns the place, right?] Uh. Boss? You alright?

Sherlock Holmes | OTA | De Chima (TW: Drug mentions)

[thevictoriandetective]

Clients

Sherlock Holmes has hurt a lot of people in the past.

Clients, random passersby...just a lot of people. The clients came first. It was a little disconcerting, when a pudgy man in a suit just sort of stares at him from the end of his bed when he woke up that first morning. There had been yelling, a blast of water from the bowl he kept by the bed...it didn't take but a few seconds to realize that it was indeed, a mirage.

There was at least fifteen clients following him around that first morning. They came and went as quickly as they had done in real life, Sherlock's guilt wasn't that strong when it came to them, and they weren't anchored as much, so they came and went fairly quickly.

Not like the next, though.

Phillip Anderson and Mrs. Hudson

Anderson was highly annoying to have follow him when he went to the grocery. Not saying anything, just...there. Ugh. Sherlock had fun insulting him the entire time he appeared, though. It was a nice stress-reliever.

The appearance of Mrs. Hudson took away some of the humor, and replaced it with a pang of regret, but also, a sense of comfort. Having her follow him around in the flat reminded him of old times, and maybe that's why she didn't stick with him so long. He rather wished she stayed.

Irene Adler and Molly Hooper

Molly Hooper stayed.

By late afternoon there hadn't been any concrete answers on just what these things were. They didn't seem real, didn't seem like they were the actual people, but that didn't mean that they weren't, either. It worried Sherlock. He didn't like their silence. Their staring. Molly's big brown eyes spoke volumes. His guilt at the way he treated her ate at him, the pain he caused her all those years, her unrequited love, and worst of all, when he forced her to say 'I love you.'

He felt he'd stolen those words from her. As painful as it had been for him, he was impressed she'd made him say the words back.

Each word was like a stab in the heart. It had been so hard to say them to her. Just why was it difficult, Sherlock? He berated himself. Words were easy to say when you didn't mean them...

Irene Adler hovered behind Molly. His guilt for her wasn't as strong, he won the game fair and square but he still felt responsible, which was why he saved her. That and...well, he just didn't want her dead. And he liked it when she texted him. And...

Irene didn't stay long enough, he was slightly disappointed.


Mycroft and Eurus Holmes

Mycroft stayed.

Sherlock wished he didn't, he was still quite resentful and having Mycroft looming over your breakfast cereal brought back entirely too many memories. But he did feel sorry for his big brother. Sherlock hadn't treated him fairly when all his brother wanted was to keep him safe, keep him sane, and protect him. His methods for doing so were...not the best, but still. He did his best.

Eurus stayed.

Sherlock was startled by her appearance, he had deduced by now that the people who were staying were somehow...connected to one's feelings about them. Despite what she'd done to him, he knew maybe that...if he had played with her as a child more, maybe none of this would have happened.

He felt guilty for forgetting that she ever existed.

Eurus's appearance really bothered Sherlock, though. She came closer to him than Mycroft or Molly did (they were still around), and the detective's behaviors began to get more...erratic. He jumped at the littlest noise. He crept around corners like he was expecting something to jump out at him. He tried crawling into a corner and closing his eyes.

Nothing would help. She was still there. Staring at him. Like some creepy ghost from a horror movie.

Eventually he stood up, yelled at her to leave him alone in no uncertain terms, and ran out of the door. His run through the city took two hours.

It may have been amusing to see three people following him close on his heels. But he didn't look amused.

Victor Trevor and Mary Watson

If anyone knew Sherlock Holmes, they knew that this was a danger night.

A little red-headed boy was sitting at the edge of the couch, a pirate eyepatch on one eye, and a toy sword in the other.

Sherlock looked like he'd been kicked in the teeth.

"JOHN!?" he wasn't sure what time it was. Late. Early. He must have passed out on the couch. Mycroft, Molly, and Eurus were there, as usual, but...this...this was...no. This wasn't...no, he couldn't. Not this. Not Victor. He couldn't see Victor like this, straight out of his broken memories, healthy and staring at him with wide eyes...

Why couldn't you find me, Sherlock? he seemed to be saying.

Why weren't you clever enough?

Sherlock's hands shook. He needed...he needed to stop this. He needed to send his mind somewhere they couldn't follow.

"Why!?" he yelled at the visage of Victor. His eyes shining with unshed tears. "Why are you here!? You're not supposed to be here! Go away!"

Victor would be upset with him if he told him to go away.

The detective turned around on the sofa. If he couldn't see them, then maybe...

He knew they were there, though. It was wearing on his nerves. A few minutes passed, and he couldn't go back to sleep. He turned around, daring to peek--

And Mary Watson was standing there, next to Victor.

"Mary."

Sherlock felt his heart stop, and skip a beat. If John came in here--

She stared, her eyes sorrowful. It was because of him, after all. It was because of him that she was dead. He had robbed her of a future with John and Rosie, because he couldn't keep his mouth shut--

"No. I'm not doing this. I refuse."

Sherlock dashed to his room, skidding in front of his sock drawer, the phantoms following him. Shaking hands pulled out socks, looking for something stashed for emergencies. He needed to dull the pain. Send his mind on a trip. Away from them.

All those eyes stared at him. Mycroft just stood there, like he had so many times before.

"You know why I need this," he said, not turning around to face them. He could feel their eyes on his back. His voice was shaking. "Don't look at me that way. You know why!"

Sherlock dared to look behind him. Victor was staring. The little boy that he'd played with had grown up to be someone horrible.

He wasn't a pirate. Just a junkie.

Mary.

Mary, who should be alive.

"I'm..."

Sherlock slid down his chest of drawers, a broken gasp escaping him. He buried his face in his knees, as his shoulders shook.

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

I failed all of you.

[acclimatized]

John is in the kitchen making tea when he hears Sherlock yell from the living room. It's been an emotionally draining few days, especially when Eurus Holmes appeared and terrified his best friend. Him too, although the mirage barely registered his existence. Still, the dark circles under his eyes have become more pronounced since this phenomenon started and he stirs methodically, longer than necessary. He had tried to follow Sherlock when he ran from the house, but quickly lost sight of him. He's always had the annoying ability of disappearing at the drop of a floppy eared hat.

That was over two hours ago and he had been sleeping since he came back. Mary leans against the counter, silently watching him until Sherlock shouts again and she looks toward the living room. They share a look before John abandons the tea and goes to check on him. He opens his mouth, but Sherlock flies toward his bedroom before he can say anything. He does, however, have time to watch a little boy with bright red hair and a woman with blonde curls follow him and a cold dread seizes him.

Go to him, John.

John doesn't need to be told twice. He rushes to Sherlock's bedroom and is taken aback by the sight of his best friend crumpled at the foot of his drawers, surrounded by the apparitions of his dead wife and a little boy dressed as a pirate, who silently spectate the detective becoming undone by their presence.

"Sherlock?"

george o'malley || de chima

[puppydoctor]

(( apartment ; closed to sarah ))

Holy- !

[George's studio is barely big enough for one person, much less two. But when Sarah wakes up this morning, it's to a startled yell, a subsequent thump as George winds up on the floor, and a woman openly judging the scene from the foot of the bed.

Someone is not happy with your boyfriend, Sarah.]

How did you get in here?

(( grocery store ; ota ))

She's not here. She's not here. She's not here.

[George is standing at the bread aisle in the grocery store, poorly faking calmness as he deliberates between white and wheat. Behind him is a very beautiful woman in scrubs and a white coat, holding a very large surgical drill. Other shoppers seem to be giving her a wide, wary berth - she seems to drift after George like a cat stalking prey, twisting her drill between her gloved hands.]

She's not here, goddammit. [He drops the bread and makes a hurried beeline for the beer. His charming ex-wife follows, pushing right through a table of pastries like it's water.] Jesus, Callie, at least put down the drill!

[coppelganger]

[ Sarah isn't the deepest sleeper at the best of times, and lately her ability to sleep through a strange noise is at an all time low. As soon as George yells, her eyes are open and she's springing up into a sitting position with a gasp. When she sees the woman standing at the end of the bed, her heart starts to jackhammer in her chest and her voice sounds an octave or two too high when she speaks. ]

Who the hell are you?!

Calendar Man | ota

[exceptfebruary]

Nonah &/or Heropa
[ They're not there constantly. They leave for a while, then come back. Julian's marked their appearance dutifully on his calendar, but has otherwise attempted to ignore them.

There's three of them. Three men he helped kidnap. Who almost died because he'd trusted Killer Moth to keep his word. The then-mayor of Gotham. Commissioner Jim Gordon. And Bruce Wayne.

His guilt hasn't been weighing him down, hasn't been stopping him from continuing his crimes. But it's there, sometimes, if he thinks about it. And that's enough for the mirages to appear.

In Nonah you might run into him on his errands, in electronics stores and craft stores and other places like that, surrounded by three silently staring Gotham figures.

In Heropa, you can find him on the way to or at his job: at the Doctor's watch-shop. He's at the front desk, doodling what look like ovals and trying his best to ignore them. Or maybe he's leaving and you run into him on the street.

Either way, this isn't right. The past shouldn't be coming back. And as much as he tries to pretend they aren't there, he does quietly say: ]

This isn't your time.

watch shop!

[helpline]

[ The Doctor's working as well, repairing a watch in the back room. Of course, he did that for a good hour or so until he got bored and wandered up to the front of the store...and ah. Seems Julian's got the Ghosts of Christmas past as well. ]

I recognize that one, [ said as he pointed at Bruce Wayne. ] I scoped out his company one time. But I don't recognize the other two.

Jacob and Jacob's Dad - OTA - CW probable references to sexual assault

[darkpants_warmfeeling]

A: MF 01, dawn of the first day, closed to Damian Wayne

"I told you, get the hell out! What are you even doing here? Haven't you done enough?"

Anyone in the vicinity of Jacob's mostly-repaired kitchen will be able to hear him shouting. He sounds angry, raw, and frightened in a way the space marine rarely shows, even in the most intense combat. Whatever he's confronting isn't just a threat. It's personal.

The tableau in the kitchen is surreal. Jacob standing with every muscle in his body tense, pointing a gun at a man- or the silent, staring image of a man- whose face bears a striking resemblance to him, with a couple more decades of age and ragged, dirty futuristic civilian clothing. The man seems unarmed, but Jacob still looks at him like he might be capable of anything at any moment. Forgotten eggs sizzle on the stove behind him, an interrupted breakfast.

"What's the matter? Can't you hear me?" Jacob demands, edging closer to the intruder. "Or do you think I'm not ready to pull this trigger?"

Someone should probably stop him before he tries to shoot a ghost in the middle of the kitchen.


B: Around Maurtia Falls, second day, OTA

At first Jacob stays inside, as though his father's image is a contaminant that he can prevent from spreading by quarantining himself away from the population. But by the second day, it's just unbearable to stay in that house anymore. So Jacob goes for a run through Maurtia Falls. He tells himself it's for exercise, that he's just keeping in shape. He keeps his eyes fixed rigidly ahead of him, as though he doesn't notice the silent spectre keeping pace with his every step, never wavering in its silent, accusing glare.


C: Porter bases, all cities, third day, OTA

It's the nights that are the worst. Jacob can train himself to ignore the ghost of his father during the day, even go to work and perform his regular duties as a RISE agent. But when he tries to sleep, and his father just stands over his bed, staring down at him? To hell with that.

On the third day Jacob gets an idea, and tries to lose the ghost again. Anyone at the local Porter bases might see Jacob experimenting with the Porters, jumping from city to city over and over again, on the off chance that one of the jumps will dislodge his father's mirage and leave Ronald Taylor behind like the bad memory he is

It doesn't work. Nothing does.

D: Free space

Anything you want!

Porter base, Heropa

[pyrogue]

Mick needed to pick something up in De Chima, a part he needed for the upkeep of his heat gun, and the technological wonders of De Chima might be able to give him that. The Porter base feels like a subway or bus station at this point, a casual way to get across states.

Before he can enter, though, someone steps out. Someone he recognizes.

He grins. "Jacob! Hey!"

riku | ota

[resipiscent]

open: all cities, all three days
[Yesterday, he'd seen things that made no sense. People who shouldn't be there, but that he didn't know.

Today, the only people he's seeing are ones that make entirely too much sense. They're not always there, but there are a lot of them. Maybe you recognize them. They're Sora, and they're Kairi, and Kagami. Roxas and Xion and Naminé. They're people who have never been here -- Alice, Princess Jasmine, Snow White. King Mickey. Tidus, Wakka and Selphie. Sometimes it's one of them, or two or three, and sometimes it's the whole group, all at once.

Riku tries to go on with his normal routine, picking up deliveries and dropping them off, but it ends up that he gets so distracted by this procession of apparitions that he just wanders around the cities for the whole three days. If he tries to go home and rest, he wakes up with every single one of them staring down at him. So for now, he spends his time in parks, or the library, or shopping, looking for distractions.]

for kidou
[Today is one of those days where he's being trailed by the entire group. Riku has a bag slung over one shoulder, a handheld game and a book inside, and he's wandering through a park in Nonah, his mouth a line. He isn't really expecting to see anyone he knows, and he's kind of hoping he doesn't, either, at this point. After all... he's figured out why they're here, by now.]

Maurtia Falls, second day

[dun_moch]

[It's been some time since Dooku saw Riku in person, but he has just spoken to Kagami recently. So when he encounters Riku and what seems to be Kagami in a park in Maurtia Falls, he thinks nothing of it, and nods a greeting before he realizes: he cannot sense the Replica the way he ordinarily can. He halts mid-stride and looks at Riku, noting how exhausted he looks.]

Greetings, Riku. Is something the matter?

Sansa Stark | March 5th | De Chima

[turned_to_steel]

Out in the City

[ At first, Sansa thought it was a dream but it doesn't take her long to be convinced that what she is experiencing is actually a nightmare. To see the ghost of her dead father following her around? She honestly can't imagine anything more painful than that and she has an idea of what her future holds.

She had first seen him while in the kitchen making herself something to eat. She remembers turning and seeing him standing there with a sad look on his face, looking exactly the same as the last time she had seen him. She remembers the coffee mug falling from her hands and shattering on the floor between them but nothing else. Not until she fled to the city in the hopes that he wouldn't follow her.

But even now, as she hurries down the street, she knows that he is practically on her heels. She swears she can hear him calling her name now and then but she doesn't turn around. She can't turn around. Not when he looks the exact same as the last day she saw him, seconds before his execution. She can tell from the way his hair falls limply around his dirty face and how he walks with a halted gait from his injury. Even his clothes look as dirty as they did from spending so long in the dungeon.

No, it's too painful to look at him.

When she stops, she can feel him stop beside her but she still can't bring herself to lift her gaze. She merely hisses softly, her hands trembling as she clasps them together and stares at the ground. ]

Please, go away. I can't... [ She shakes her head. ] I just can't.

[ Then she dashes forward, not really paying attention to what is in front of her. She just needs to get away from the man walking behind her. ]


Anywhere/Wildcard

[ Feel free to find Sansa and her follower anywhere in De Chima. ]

Wildcard

[song_of_ice]

[Jon had figures of his own following him. Rickon and Ygritte never far behind him. Yet the true shock was when Sansa returned home and Jon saw the apparition that could cause them both the same level of pain and sorrow. He offered his hand out to his sister, his eyes locked behind her as he drank in the sight of their father.

He was weary and beaten down, signs of confinement and malnutrition obvious on him. It was his captivity, as Jon had imagined it but been afraid to linger over. Pulling Sansa close to him, Jon tried to offer her the comfort he couldn't summon for himself. Look at what was done to him.]

It's all right. [Words that he didn't believe.] He won't hurt you.

john watson | ota

[acclimatized]

March 4th.

John managed to hold out until eleven-thirty before he went home sick.

He tried to work, but he hadn't been able to concentrate on his patients. Not while David and his wife stood in the corner, staring at him with their miserable, unblinking eyes. He was their captive audience and they were a glaring reminder that his moral code had gotten them both killed back home.

John manages to find some small consolation that neither have a gaping gunshot wound. It doesn't help ease his conscience, but they depart sometime during the evening regardless. Before then, he walks briskly home through the streets of De Chima and trying to ignore the couple ghosting him.

March 6th.

John has seen his sister Harriet, a string of former girlfriends, but only Mary Watson has been his constant companion.

On the first day, she greeted him at the breakfast table with a wide smile. On his commute to and from work, she fell into step alongside him, ahead of David and his wife. At home, she creased with silent laughter over the action figures on the mantelpiece. She accompanies him while he does his errands, interjecting with her own commentary.

Maybe that last part is just what John thinks Mary might say. He has been talking to her a lot.

"What about light adult cat food?" John murmurs, holding up a tin of cat food to squint at the information written on the side. Hands entwined in front of her, Mary simply stands by his side and stares at him with those mischievous blue eyes. "Mm. Apparently, it contains lower calories. Sooo fifty percent shredded newspaper, then."

He smiles at Mary and puts the can into the shopping cart. Clearing his throat, he pushes it along and continues shopping with the mirage of his wife. He might be holding a few people up in aisles with all this chatter.

Wildcard!

Make your own prompt!

march 6th

[incogneto]

Erik tries to block them out to the best of his ability. At first, he thought, it was some dream, and then he thought it was some illusion, some porter hiccup, and now-- now he just wishes it were one of those. He's distracted by his thoughts while he goes about his daily routine, looking quite somber and serious in contrast to the cheerful little girl who tails behind him.

While she reaches for a can as children do, to sneak into their parents' shopping carts, he knocks one off a higher shelf, suddenly confronted with her presence. The can rolls on by, right through Mary's feet, stopping only at John's.

"Sorry," he says, curtly. And then, looking towards their feet, and then up again at Mary and John, he repeats, slower, more sincerely: "Sorry." He pauses as he debates how to reach for the can. Meanwhile, the girl waves to them and then abruptly turns around, marches along the grocery store tiles as if playing some sort of game.

sarah manning | ota | de chima

[coppelganger]

[ This is not the first time she's been followed by Beth Childs.

This is the first time she's been followed by Beth Childs and other people can see her. She can hear people murmuring, as she walks down the street: It's another clone. A new one. She ducks down a side street and walks without looking back for several minutes, expecting Beth to be gone when she next turns around. But she isn't. She stands several feet back, staring holes in the back of Sarah's head, and she isn't going away. Sarah turns in a half circle, extending her arms, silently asking Beth what she wants. Though, really, she already knows. ]

Look. [ Sarah's voice starts off quiet, ashamed, but it gains volume as she goes on. ] We both know I can't take back what I did. So why don't you just go away and leave me in peace, for once? You can't even leave me alone in another bloody universe, can you? [ By the end of it she's yelling, near tears. ] You can't give me a fucking break, can you, Beth?

[ Beth, as she has been all afternoon, is silent and unwavering. ]

[oddbod]

[The distraught shouting is audible inside the coffee shop, and Clara is quick to pick up her order and rush to the door, following the familiar voice.]

Sarah! Sa-

[At first, she mistakes the second clone for Sarissa, assuming she's returned and sparked some sort of argument - but then, she notices the difference in posture, in behavior, in expression. This clone looks both younger and older, somehow, and so very sad.

Ah. Of course.]

It's okay, Sarah. It's not real, she's not really there.

Tohru Adachi | Heropa | All Days

[sleight_of_hand]

[ Guess who is hating his life these next few days? This guy. This guy right here. ]

[ March 4th ]
[ It all started that morning of the forth, when Adachi woke up to two very familiar women leaning over him, their faces gnarled and rotting. The scream he let out was probably heard all through the block. They followed him around all that day too, zombies stalking after a dead man, and he spends his time at the grocery, doing investigations, just anything in his life trying desperately to ignore them. ]

[ It's not working, especially when someone asks him about them. Those that already know about his misdeeds will get the truth, but others? Well... hopefully he'll be able to keep his lies straight. ]

[ March 5th ]
[ The corpses are blissfully gone, but that doesn't mean Adachi's getting a break. The man that's following him around this time is older than him by at least twenty years, with enough stubble on his face to emphasize the fact that this was someone with experience and to be respected. If anything, thought, it seemed like Adachi was having a harder time facing this person than he had been the two women that had been following him around yesterday. ]

[ If he didn't need to get shit done, he wouldn't have even left his apartment, but there's an obvious pained look as he goes about his day. It doesn't help that the silent image behind him was a reminder of old times... if only he would talk. ]

[ March 6th ]
[ And now Adachi hates his life. ]

[ The little girl following him around today is small and cute, and can't be much older than eight. Unlike the previous "ghosts" that had been following him around, Adachi keeps taking furtive glances back at the little girl, like he was making sure she was okay. He looks especially haggard on this last day as well -- all of this is taking a serious toll on him and it's starting to show on his face. ]

[ It isn't until toward the end of this madness that he finally stops to collapse against the side of a building, looking like a man broken. He rubs his hands over his face, before he looks down at the little girl again. ]

...I'm not going to say sorry. It doesn't fix anything. Doesn't mean I don't regret it, you know.

March 5th

[fourlevels]

[ He sees Adachi from across the street when he's out and about that day, raising a hand to wave to him. ]

Tohru—!

[ It's the look on Adachi's face causes him to pause though, only noticing the older man standing near him a second later. Is that man bothering Adachi? Maybe Viktor should intervene ... ? ]

Abigail Hobbs | Open!

[am_i_a_monster]

Warnings for mentions of gore, violence, murder

March 4th, Heropa, random fast food place

Abigail paid for her food at the counter, carried her tray in her hands and glanced around, looking for a table. The only empty one was meant for a big group. It felt a bit strange sitting at such a large table by herself. As long as she had her meal, she would be okay with it. Hannibal would hate the fast food. Maybe that's why she liked it. Or maybe it was just because it let her feel like a normal teenager.

As soon as she sat down, a group of girls appeared, sitting in the other chairs around the table. They were her age, looked like her and were wearing blood stained clothes. Abigail knew those stains. They were from being impaled on antlers after their deaths. And she knew their faces. She saw them nearly every night in her nightmares. These were her father's victims. The girls she helped him find. The ones he killed in her place.

Abigail thought she must have been having a nightmare. She stared back at the girls, waiting for them to speak. They always spoke in her dreams, telling her that she should have been killed instead of them.

As she stares at them, two more figures appear. That of her father and her mother. Their clothes were blood stained too, her father's stains were from bullet wounds and her mother's were from a cut throat. And the 'staring' contest continued. Anyone nearby might have noticed the eerie stares, the lack of conversation and that none of them were eating.

March 5th, Heropa, random sidewalk.

Abigail took a long walk to clear her mind of what had happened the day before. As she walked, she had the feeling that someone was following her. She breathed in deeply though her nose, to see if her enhanced smell could detect anyone. Nothing. She still couldn't shake the feeling that someone was there. A quick glance over her shoulder, and she saw Nicholas Boyle behind her, walking next to Marissa Schurr. Nicholas appears as he did when he died, gutted like the deer she used to hunt. Marissa looked as if she could be one of her father's victims though she knew Marissa had suffered even more, having been impaled on antlers and had her organs removed before she died. This time she knows it isn't a dream. She stops and turns to face them. "Go away. Please. It wasn't my fault."

Her gaze focused on her friend first. "I didn't know Hannibal would kill you. I couldn't have known. And when he told me, he was the only person I thought could help me and I cared about him by then." She shook her head, as if denying an accusation that she could see in Marissa's eyes. "It wasn't like I could call the cops or the FBI on him. They would have locked me up."

Abigail looked to Nicholas Boyle next. "He made me think you killed her. I thought you would kill me too. I thought I was defending myself. I'm not a monster. I'm not. I'M NOT!" She was screaming, but she didn't care. Somehow, someway, she wanted them to understand. As if that would absolve her, even though she knew nothing would. "I'M NOT!"

March 6th, Heropa, random store.

Abigail found herself wandering through the mall, looking for a distraction from the memories the last two days had brought up in her mind. She stepped into each shop, looking at the different items, hoping to see some bit of 'retail therapy' that could calm her thoughts. She picked up a music box from a display and opened it, listening to the song it played. It was somehow familiar. Maybe Hannibal had played it for her? No, it wasn't his style. She set the music box back down and frowned when the realization hit her. It was similar to the music that Dr. Alana Bloom had brought her when she was in the hospital.

As if on cue, Dr. Bloom appeared near to her. Her face wore the same expression of shock and horror that she had when Abigail had pushed her through the window. This time, no excuses came to Abigail's mind. She only had the same words that she said to Alana that night.

"I'm so sorry." Abigail said in a near whisper.

march 6!

[helpline]

The Doctor had just purchased a music box of his own. It would be something fun to take apart, maybe he could work it into one of the grandfather clocks. And it would be something to distract him from the past few days.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Abigail...and someone looming near Abigail. Ah. Her too? Thankfully, the Doctor doesn't have any mirages following him now but the sheer tiredness of his face shows that he's had various mirages following him throughout the past few days. He walks towards Abigail, giving the mirage of Dr. Bloom a critical frown before turning back to Abigail.

"Whatever this is, I don't like it either."

doc brown | heropa | ota

[4thdimensional]

[Doc's efforts to establish his new career at HOPE have been fairly uneventful thus far. He bustles about with a briefcase, sometimes pushes a metal cart of inventions across campus, and always seems to be on the brink of a new revelation...at least, until an apparition of a young man starts to hover at his back. He's transparent in a frighteningly familiar way, though of course he isn't here anymore...

He tries to ignore it. He moves rigidly across campus, busying his hands with one trinket or another, until he whirls on him. He wants to yell, his voice is trembling with the effort to hold that back, but on the slightest chance any part of the real Marty can hear him...]

It's not over, Marty. It never is with us, is it?

Theon Greyjoy | OTA

[reek]

1. March 4, Robbwind, anywhere

[ Theon’s first apparition doesn’t appear until late into the first day. When it does, his heart leaps into his throat and he has to clench his fists and his teeth to keep from screaming. It’s an gruesome sight: a man with a wolf’s head, bleeding from countless wounds and carrying a sword. It’s not quite the same vision that Theon saw in his nightmares, but he knows all too well who stares him down behind those cold, yellow eyes.

Accusing, knowing, all-seeing. Those eyes see right through him.

He backs away at first, then begins to run. He spends all day outrunning his ghost, but it’s in vain. You’ll find him hopping from city to city, growing increasingly more anxious as the creator continues to reappear each time. ]

2. March 5, still Robbwind, Maurtia Falls

[ The presence of his ghost has been doing a true number on Theon. Trying to outrun it has left him disheveled, sleepless and miserable. By mid-afternoon, he’s given up, choosing instead to sink onto a bench while the creature hovers over his shoulder. Theon can do nothing but lower his head and dig his fingers into his hair, trying to will the vision away. ]

Kill me.

[ He whispers, knowing that the ghost will neither answer or raise his sword. The twisted combination of man and animal only turns its gaze toward him, judging, accusing. Theon grips his hair more tightly, knuckles turning white. He breaks down right then and there, choking on his tears. He’s been told multiple times not to worry, that the visions aren’t real, but this is far more than he ever expected to be faced with. ]

I know what I’ve done. I know this is my doing. Either kill me, or go away!

3. March 6, Maester Luwin, anywhere

[ On the third day, Theon’s ghost has changed. Gone is the man with the wolf’s head, replaced instead by a less sinister apparition: a little old man with a chain of different metals hung around his neck. Maester Luwin isn’t threatening or frightening as the combination of Robb and Grey Wind had been. If anything, his expression is pitying, sympathetic and understanding.

Theon still looks miserable, but he isn’t wound as tightly today. ]

I should have listened to you. You don’t need to be here. You don’t need to remind me how foolish I’ve been.

Maurtia Falls

[song_of_ice]

[It was probably one of the more raw and honest moments he had ever witnessed from Theon, but it wasn't the man's response that held Jon's gaze, it was the figure standing above him. He had heard rumors of what had been done to Robb, the twisted and sordid things that had been done to desecrate his corpse.

But hearing and seeing were two different matters.

He could feel his knees weaken as Theon's guilt extended towards Jon as well, shared equally by both men. Yet it was Theon who was cursed to see this image of Robb, the loathsome sight of what the Freys had done to their brother. For all that he thought of Theon, this wasn't something he deserved. No man deserved it.

He placed his hand on Theon's shoulder, his only act of consolidation.]

He won't do either. Get up and follow me. We need to go somewhere less public.

[He couldn't run the risk of Sansa or Lady Catelyn coming across this.]

Jon Snow | OTA

[song_of_ice]

March 4th, Ygritte - De Chima

[Her face is the same as he remembers it, youthful and warm. The memory that he prefers to keep rather than the last image he had of her before she slipped away. She had found him as he passed along the street, for once going unnoticed by the crowds as Jon completed the errands he needed. It was only when he turned to retrieve a fall box of nails that he paused, his hand hovered over it as his eyes locked ahead in horror.

Her hair was kissed by fire, but there was a look of genuine sorrow on her features, far more sharp and painful than when they had parted. It was an expression he understood, having seen it often in his nightmares. Look what you did to me, she seemed to say. The arrow wound in her chest fresh and weeping, staring at him with the same accusation that her gaze held.

He wanted to stumble back and flee, but all he could do was stay in place, locked in that realm of guilt and sorrow that only a Stark could achieve. As others passed him, he remained in place, willingly accepting Ygritte's scorn and sadness. It was what he deserved for all he had done. To flee now would only make him a greater coward than he already was. She was dead, but her apparition had never left him.

Now was only the manifestation of it.

It was only when someone came to his side that his gaze was ripped away, certain he'd feel Ygritte's arrows and hear her cries. He could still feel her, even as he glanced at his companion.]

Do you see her too?

March 5th, Ygritte - Anywhere

[She was always at his heels, following his steps. So close behind him that he could almost smell the wilderness wafting from her body. The scent of wet stones and leather. A flash of red appeared whenever he turned or tried to look away, a brief stab to his gut each time.

She wouldn't leave him, though he could no longer say what it was he wanted. If she left, he would be forced to return to his memories, the image of her face slowly becoming a distant dream. Yet her presence, it only raised his guilt to the surface, far more painful and visceral than any rage he had experienced or sorrow he felt.

He tried to press forward, banishing the whispers in his mind that reminded him of how he deserved this. He moved forward, unable to notice anyone else in his path. He pushed and shoved forward, hoping to lose his shadow among the crowd, but always able to sense her two steps behind.

It was only when he nearly knocked another person off their feet that he stopped in his tracks, able to focus on something else. Even if was a mistake on his part.]

Are you hurt?

March 6th, Rickon and Ygritte - Anywhere]

[It was a nightmare that only seemed to get worse. Rather than have the face of someone he loved and betrayed, Ygritte was joined by another that Jon had loved and failed. Rickon. He had grown closer towards manhood, taller and as similar to Bran as Jon had been similar to Robb. Even as he looked away, he could see the same arrow wound that Ygritte bore, a spring that never seemed to run dry, red and accusing.

He had given up on running or trying to avoid the phantoms that were never far from his peripheral. He wandered the cities, as though he were the ghost, collapsing when his guilt had become too heavy to bear. Instead, he would sit with his back against a building, pressing his hands to his face as he struggled to draw himself out of the mire.

It was never ending and he was only growing fatigued from it all. How much could a man be pushed before he cracked?]

march 4th!

[burlyboy]

[ Magnus is still getting the lay of the land here, so to speak. While he's used to enough bizarre happenings in his own life, he's not used to this place's particular variety of fucking with its denizens, which means that his own reaction to the sight of Ygritte is much less mild than would actually be helpful.

More accurately, he immediately exclaims, ] Holy shit! Are you okay? We need to get you to a healer, or a -- a --

[ And then his hand goes straight through her shoulder, and he turns back to Jon, the question just now registering in his mind. ]

No shit, I can see her. Do you -- did you know her?

noah czerny || de chima || ota || cw eye injury

[admemoriam]

[Noah likes climbing trees. He likes it just fine, and the broad oaks at De Chima's most popular park are prime subjects for such an activity. Today, however, he's up in one for a quite different reason.]

I didn't mean to, I didn't mean to, I didn't mean to-

[It's a hushed, fretful mantra, and it's directed at the second individual in this strange scene - a teenage girl in colorful clothes, recognizable to any who knew her here as Blue Sargent, watching him patiently from the base of the tree. However, one thing she certainly didn't used to have was a fairly gruesome amount of blood dripping down her face. The gashes reach from her eyebrow to her cheekbone, identical trenches of deep red. It's hard to tell through the mess of torn flesh whether the eye below is intact. Even from a distance, the sight is gut-wrenching.]

I didn't mean to, I didn't mean to.

[Noah keeps clutching, keeps muttering, and Blue doesn't move from the base of the tree. They could be here for hours.]

[khajidont]

[ Jaime has his fair share of demons, but at least his demons aren't literally following him around right now. They have before, and they will again, but for now, he's been granted a brief reprieve from them.

It looks like not everyone has had that luxury, and while Jaime pauses, not sure if he should intervene or if he should be seeing this in the first place, he eventually seems to decide that he can't just walk away with a clean conscience. Maybe this guy, whoever he is, doesn't want anyone else to see this mess, but he can't just leave him alone.

When he gets a good view of the girl who's been haunting him, he takes a moment, inhaling sharply at the mere sight of her. He's seen worse before, and will again, he suspects, but that doesn't make it any less horrifying. He exhales slowly through his nose, then approaches the tree, placing one palm flat on its base. ]

Hey. Hey, I know this is - this isn't good, but this, what you're seeing right now? This isn't real. It's just another one of this place's tricks.

Jaime Reyes / Blue Beetle | OTA (any city)

[khajidont]

option a ; the murdered ; blue beetle

[ So this whole mirage thing? It's news to the Blue Beetle, who just wants to go on patrol like it's a normal day, like he's not still trying to get used to being here, but it's never that easy, is it? But then, on one of the customary superhero rooftops, he turns around to see a ghost from the past - someone who looks eerily familiar to more than just Jaime for one reason: he looks terribly similar to the Blue Beetle suit, the same glowing orange eyes, the same flat plane to his face, the same sort of scaled armour around his head.

When it comes to people you feel guilty about, you should be eager to make amends, but not Jaime, it seems; he turns around and lets out a quick yelp of surprise before instinctively swinging a punch towards him. He's thrown off-balance the moment his fist goes right through the guy and falls off the rooftop, flat on his face. With quiet groan, he rolls back onto his back, rubbing at his face and comes face to face with the Negotiator again, staring right down at him. ]

Great! Awesome! [ He exclaims, throwing his arms in the air, still lying on his back. ] I'm not just having a bad day, I'm actually crazy!

[ He still doesn't look like he's about to get up. ]

option b ; the martyr ; blue beetle

[ At this point, Jaime's realized what's going on, but that doesn't mean he likes it. Following him around on this patrol is a figure that looks obnoxious enough to be a fellow superhero. Red Devil lives up to his name, with his red skin, horns, glowing eyes, and shoulder-length white hair, and more importantly, this ghost keeps on mugging at Jaime, occasionally shooting him fingerguns and sticking his tongue out at him.

If nothing else, that seems to make Jaime look more miserable. As he walks down the street in full beetle-regalia, crossing his arms and sighing, he eventually tells the hallucination: ] Could you stop it? You're just making this worse.

option c ; caught in the crossfire ; jaime reyes

[ Or, of course, you can catch Jaime himself. He should stay home while all these hallucinations are happening, he knows, but home feels awfully empty these days too, which means he's hunkered down at a coffee shop that provides him with blessed, blessed free wi-fi. He's simply surfing the Internet as a hallucination of a young woman about his age stands behind him, staring judgmentally at his screen.

If he sees someone looking, he's apt to simply sigh and say: ] We can either talk about this whole screwed up ghost situation, or we can just talk about literally anything else.

FOR BATMAN (this is timey wimey nonsense, pls forgive)

[khajidont]

[ Once Jaime got back from the whole headache that was home - and boy, he is not looking forward to seeing where that winds up - he's tasked with going through a good two years of Dick's things. He separates them into things he wants to keep for himself and things that he has neither use nor need for, and all of the latter is being hoisted onto Bruce, because Jaime isn't going to deal with it. Once Dick's de facto alternate universe guardian has it, Jaime figures, he can either hold onto it for later in case he comes back, or he can dump it. Either way, it's not Jaime's responsibility anymore.

He stops at Bruce's door and readjusts the weight of the boxes he's carrying, hopping backwards to smack at the doorbell with his foot in the absence of having a hand free. Helpfully, he calls out, ] Mr. Wayne? It's Jaime! I've got Dick's stuff!

[emgoldened]

any day, wherever

He can only stayed holed up in his room with the ghost of his dead mother, still heavily pregnant with his sister, staring at him for so long. She watches him wherever he turns, one hand idly moving over that telltale bump. There are only so many tears he can cry, and handfuls of hair he can rip off (that then turn into clumps of gold), and time spent at her feet with no real answer in those sad, fond eyes. He can only apologize so many times for so many things, for selling the crown this vision of Queen Rhaella Targaryen currently wears, before he knows he must get out lest he suffer true madness a second time.

She follows. Viserys has tried to find clothing more in tune with this world, mostly blacks and reds, but even when he doesn't succeed in matching, he doesn't stand out. She does. With her long silver-gold hair, her flowing pale blue dress, her crown, everything about her screams of royalty out and about with no visible guard around to do their duty. Viserys never speaks to her. Even when he ends up taking a seat at a bench, and she ever-so-graciously slides in next to him, he does not speak to her. He frowns and grumps and looks at her from time to time, but nothing more. She just trails. Silent, half-smiling, sitting or standing next to him without nary a word between the two. They can be found most anywhere — at a park, grocery shopping, even in a bar. Feel free to crash the unhappy family reunion.


for Daenerys;

Eventually, he grows tired of carrying her spirit on his own. There is another who deserves to share this. Viserys may have had years to wonder if he could have changed things, somehow, but Viserys did not crawl out of her and repay her with death. That would have been his once sweet, gentle, lovely little sister Daenerys.

He stops at nothing to find her. Daenerys never had the chance to see their mother, after all, surely she would want that now. The speechless, perfect image of their mother, anyway. When he does get to her, the sight of him in more modern dark clothes and yet an obvious Targaryen queen just behind him may cause a moment's confusion. Or more. He does not worry with that. He says nothing at first, only letting her absorb the image, and then manages to do the duties generally left for those outside the royal family...introductions. Sort of. He steps aside with his arms out in her direction, smiling somewhat as she rests her hands atop her stomach. Three guesses who Viserys' image of their mother is pregnant with and the first two do not count.

"Do you see her? This is our mother."

look you said grocery shopping

[carbonfrozen]

Han hasn't had much luck with his own image—a huge slug, bulbous and slimy, slithering along as he walks, somehow quicker than something of its size with no legs should be, sneering at Han in (blessed, blessed) silence. He's long since hit resignation, and only occasionally does he ask the image of Jabba the Hutt to go away. Very rarely does the hallucination comply, and so when Han walks inside the grocery store, there's a giant alien slug sliding in after him, leaving a trail of imaginary slime behind him as he goes.

Right, what to get. Milk, probably, pancake mix, probably a bag of coffee for himself, definitely a lot of bread. He reaches for a bag—

"—you." Words cannot convey the utter loathing Han feels for this blond barve. The dent may be gone, but Han still bears a grudge.

archie / oras

[h2no]

a. Report: Attempting To Prove Masculinity Results In Over 8 Million Pulled Muscles Per Year (heropa)

[matt always had a habit of showing up when archie was feeling particularly down. if his plan to get to kyogre had hit a hitch team aqua was struggling to overcome, if one of his team reported a bad injury to their pokémon, if his plan to wake kyogre failed and he lost all confidence in himself... archie's giant friend was always there to gather him up into a crushing hug and tell him how much they meant to each other. the 8th mixtape he's working on, dedicated to their relationship. after the month archie has had in this... america, one of the things at the top of his list he wants is just to chill out on the sofa and have a cuddle sesh with his admins.

naturally, the moment he sees matt standing in one of the streets in heropa, archie yells happily and sprints towards him. the lack of reaction is mildly vexing, but he's too happy to care. the idea is he runs and jumps into matt's arms, like he's done several times before. only... he hits the ground with a painful sounding crack as the mirage completely fails to do what archie had expected. he rolls a few times, then pushes himself up on his elbows to look back at the giant man.]

What the fuck, bro? Is this some kinda shitty prank?

[in his heart, he knows it isn't. matt would never let him get hurt, ever after everything that had happened.]

Ow, goddamnit! [he gets up, dusting himself off.] Why are you... Matt?!

[archie gets up in matt's shit (the best he can; the guy's like 7ft compared to archie's 5'7") and waves his hands. his tone is decidedly rising in desperation.]

C'mon-- please! Matt, I need to talk to you!

[he is not going to give up trying to get the mirage's attention for a good while, so determined he is to get his friend's attention. making a scene in public is his specialty.]

b. Accidentally Closing Browser Window With 23 Tabs Open Presents Rare Chance At New Life (cape canaveral)

[by the time matt had disappeared into god-knows-where and a very tall, very pretty lady had taken the mantle of stalking the shit out of their mutual friend, archie had kind of accepted what was happening with dull resignation. he's chatting brightly to her, despite her expression remaining blank and vaguely accusing.]

Ya know, Shel, you should come here for real. This place has some real neat tech you could get those manicures into. [he looks at her and grins brightly, despite getting no response. both these ghosts had made him exceptionally uncomfortable, but archie does his best to ignore the feeling. he's "taking" her to the space centre. or rather, he's going alone and she's just... following.] You better pay me back for this if you ever do show up. I wonder if you'll show up in pictures...

[he waves a hand in front of her face. it's... kind of a habit, like he can suddenly snap them out of a trance.]

Look, I know aeronautics wasn't your major, but... ah, I dunno how to find the right place for environmentalism. I don't think they'd take well to me wandering around a university...

c. Alcohol Unfairly Blamed For Local Man’s Impaired Judgment (maurtia falls) cw for alcohol

[archie decides he's more than done with this stupid... mass haunting. maurtia falls is bright, pretty and has enough bars that archie is sure if he crawls through enough he'll forget his own name, let alone the shitty feelings.

sure, it's doing a lot of people a disservice to react to the rightful guilt like this, but archie feels he can only take so much.

he'll be in a bunch of different bars, generally being loud in each one. the crawl will end about 4am, with him sitting on a park bench with his head in his hands and a bottle of vodka at his feet.

oh, boy, is he going to regret this one.]

C

[sleight_of_hand]

[ It was rare when Adachi got to actually end his day in the Falls. There was some good bars there, but with the way work had been piling on him, walking to the porter and then walking to a bar took too much energy. So when he ended an investigation in the city? Damn right did he hit a bar. ]

[ Of course tonight was proving not to be very fun. He barely had a buzz going when some loud guy came in, and only proceeded to get louder as he drank more. Adachi was still on his first beer when he decided he had enough of seeing the bartender looking harrassed, getting up and heading over to the loud asshole. ]

Hey, mind on keeping it down? You're being disruptive.

John Constantine and his Guilt Spiral Conga Line / ota

[heckblazer]

March 4 - Heropa

[ One moment, he's sitting in a pub, scribbling lyrics to try out for the next jam session he's got planned. A few pints in and he's oddly at ease, ink staining his hands and the napkins he's defacing.

When he looks up to flag down the barkeep for another pint, the whole place feels chilly to him, in spite of the Florida heat.

It's not like he's never seen a ghost before, so it's not so much that part that's really shocking. No, it's more that he never would have thought that of all the spectres he'd been followed by, his sister would be one of them. But there she is, looking as real as anything, perched on the stool beside him with that sweet, forlorn look she always had whenever he'd come around to visit. He sighs, squinting at her. ]

Hullo, Cheryl. You draw the shortest straw or somethin'? Plenty of other folks down there'd be much more enthusiastic 'bout the chance to haunt me.

March 5 - Heropa

Y'know, I think the fact that yer' showin' up alone is somehow worse'n everyone bombarbing me all at once.

[ Depending on whether you can see the young woman to whom he's speaking, John will currently either look like an overly concerned uncle, or a lunatic. Although both are equally true of his character.

And so as John goes about his usual errands - restocking more supplies for spells, defacing any posters or ads of himself we can find around town, collecting debts, snaking his way out of debts he owes - he is tailed by the mirage of his niece. She is surprisingly content-looking and unharmed, which is highly unusual for anyone close to John. But he knows that he failed her in the worst of ways all the same - he tried to go where she couldn't follow, to keep her safe, to keep her nose out of the black magic nonsense that consumes him.

She'd followed anyway. He watches her nervously as she strolls next to him around town. ]

Tried my best with you, Gem. You deserve better.

March 6 - day - Maurtia Falls - cw implied child abuse

[ Apparently having a panic attack, charging through the porters and getting blackout drunk did not, in fact, get rid of the visages. Or so John learns the hard way as he wakes up in the car park of a burger place.

When his vision stops blurring, Astra has already appeared, waiting for him. Her tiny frame shivers from terror and the shock of the abuses dealt to her, her eyes wild with fear and pain.

Her cries are silent, but her face contorts all the same, invisible demonic hands clutching and dragging her to her ultimate fate. His millionth or so reminder of just what happened when he tried to save people.

Which is why John is likely spending the rest of the day getting drunk all over again. ]

March 6 - night - Maurtia Falls - Dorian's apartment - cw death

[ Set after this. ]

[ It's hard to tell what happened exactly. John had blacked out and his throat was raw and sore from some sort of screaming.

Two men are laying on the floor of the flat. One of them is shockingly old, an effect exacerbated by the stress one puts on their body from years of hedonistic use and abuse. Oh, and he's also dead as a doornail.

The other man is alive, skinny arms and legs wound tightly into a fetal position, whatever turmoil he faced causing him to physically shake. His eyes are unfocused, bleary with tears. His breath is jagged and rapid. Any attempts at speech are mostly profanity, alternating between whispered and roared.

Before the two men is a lavish oil painting in a gilded frame, bearing the image of a beautiful young man with a devious smugness about him. It is, unmistakably, Dorian depicted.

It's all such an exceedingly odd sight that you might not notice at first that the mirages are gone. John sure as hell isn't in any position to notice such a thing. ]

what an impressive conga line - March 5

[storyseeker]

[Elena isn't doing so hot. She only has one mirage following her around, a sad-eyed man with bullet holes in his abdomen and forehead. But it's bad enough.

These things don't seem to be a happy reunion for anyone, so for the most part Elena's opted to ignore them and hope people do the same for her, but when the passerby (that guy from the party, she remembers him now) addresses one aloud, she looks over at him and the young woman who follows.]

Does she ever talk back to you? [Her voice is quiet, subdued.] Mine...he doesn't. So far.

Elena Fisher | Uncharted | Heropa (shot-to-death dude in here)

[storyseeker]

[Elena isn't so thoroughly acclimated to this weird, weird world that she shrugs off the appearance of the mirages. They make the news, and she wants to be the one sharing the news, so of course she takes note and tries to figure out what people know about them (not much), but other than that she writes them off as harmless.

Until Jeff shows up.

He looks just like she remembers him. That is, bleeding from a gut shot and with a bullet hole in his forehead. Not a huge one, the caliber hadn't resulted in anything gruesome, but he'd been dead all the same. He's alive now, though, or close enough, looking at her with sad (or accusing?) eyes and saying nothing.

Once she recovers from the shock, or starts to, Elena tries to go about her day but he's always there, following her, looking at her. And eventually she can't help but snap in the middle of a busy street.]

Please, stop—I'm sorry, Jeff, but you can't be here—please stop following me!

[Good lord, she has lost it. Arguing with a mirage-hallucination-regret come back to haunt her.]