entranceworks | + ENTRANCEWAY TEST DRIVE MEME +

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+ ENTRANCEWAY TEST DRIVE MEME +

Has this ever happened to you?!

The theory is beautiful but the practice is ehhhh, the spirit is willing but the flesh needs canon revision, the muse is new and the task is daunting, and people on plurk were like OMG GO APPLY but you were like eehhhhhhhhhhh again and entranceway, what is it with this weird game and questionable run-on sentences in its memes is there no law is there no order is there no country for old men or young men or a bigger animanga cast WILL I LIVE UP TO MY EXPECTATIONS AND THE EXPECTATIONS SOCIETY PLACES UPON ME WHY ARE YOU STILL TYPING LOOK I JUST WANT TO PLAY A FEW THREADS AND SEE HOW THAT CHARACTER WORKS OUT IN THIS GAME oh wait you just want to play a few threads and see how that character works out in this game this game of wonderful Wonderlands well then

THEN STEP RIGHT UP AND SEIZE OPPORTUNITY BY THE--

--uhhhh, beard. Beard! I meant beard. Seize... seize it by the... beard and come meet your fellow cast and players at the... family-friendly, wholesome and healthy, entirely safe for work

♥ ENTRANCEWAY
TEST DRIVE MEME ♥

►► Test your shiniest and brand newest muses! Bring an old voice and try Wonderland's setting and population on for size! See how that Mirror personality fits your character! Post a top level comment, tag into other people's starters, enjoy yourself!

►► Thread out your character's arrival, have them act the long-established resident, let our past events inspire your scene, or write up literally any Wonderland-based scenario you feel like threading out!

►► If you want to take it a step further, check out our NAVIGATION for all the game info you'll need, and our INPUT & INQUIRIES page for any missing pieces. If that's got you convinced, the pages for RESERVES and APPLICATIONS are right there for you!

►► Please only note that any threads made as part of the test drive meme are not game canon, and cannot be used for the activity check OR as samples for any future applications. Thank you for understanding!

AND THAT IS ALL, NOW GO GRAB 'EM AND HAVE FUN!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I– We... We said it. But do you... For real, do you think I meant it?

( I did, pounds the voice in the back of his head. Selfish. Uncaring.

a monster,

Brian is one, too. But- not that much. Not to Jay or Tim. Not as long as he's rational.

He just hasn't been. He's been scared. Tired. Defeated. )

I would never- Tim, all I ever wanted was for you to be okay. I never imagined that... That there was so much going on. That something like this could ever...

( you're acting like a lapdog, Brian

youmanipulativelittlefuck–—

his knuckles are turning white.
the anger rushing in doesn't feel his. he just wants it to go away. )

You were my one real friend, you know.

How was I supposed to know what you meant?

[The word breaks, nearly splitting in two. How was he supposed to know? All he got were fragments of code - pieces of fractured sentences that he could run back in his head, by the end of it, the blocky imprints of video titles and encrypted messages humming like a discordant mantra in the back of his skull. Shards of those ominous sentences dribbled like breadcrumbs behind.]

[None of them containing the slightest fraction of the old affection Brian might have felt. None of them hinting at anything but disdain, but distance, but contempt for Jay and all he failed to do.]

How was I supposed to know anything but what you left in those videos?

You... Weren't. I'm sorry, Tim but those videos were...

( more excuses?

tell him how obsessed we were

he rubs the bridge of his nose tiredly. this isn't him - this isn't the Brian he used to be. the one who could light up the room with a smile, the one who could practically make flowers bloom just with how radiant he always seemed to look. now he was nightmarish in comparison and oh god Tim is absolutely justified in his pain.

he has no excuse - Alex isn't an excuse. the hooded man('s obsession with), the masked man, they're no excuse. Not when Brian began to assimilate the once blank spots in his own memory.

because this- fuck, this isn't about the ark or the operator, it goes deeper than that. this is about the quintessential sense of betrayal that he placed upon his best friend. )

( he shakes his head. )

... Before all of this happened.... I worried back then too. But I could show it and then everything changed and--

I'd take it all back this very instant if I could. I'd make it up to you however I could.

I'm not the one you should be making shit up to. I'm not the one who died because you couldn't give a straight answer!

[Who gives a rat's ass if Tim was in the line of fire? He's always in the fucking line of fire. He's always gonna have shit up his creek and he's always gonna be on the verge of some fucking breakdown or another. There's no way to fix that. There's no way to fix him.]

[But Jay.]

[He led Jay along. Led him straight to his own death. Led him to Alex Kralie and watched him get gutshot and sat by and did nothing.]

( he cares if Tim is in the line of fire. he cares that he was complicit in outing Tim's issues, even if the hooded man meant to prove some sort of point. he cares that Tim is angry, because he had to live and relive the same horrors for years.

and in caring so much, Tim is right; Brian is leaving Jay out. partially out of fear, mainly out of uncertainty -- what can he say that won't make him a bigger monster on the matter? it's his fault. he knows. it's his fault Jay is dead. )

... I can't. I don't know if I could face him after all of this.

( you're a coward )

I didn't- oh my gosh. I remember Jay, I would never do anything to hurt him but I still-- ( shut up, shut up shut-- ) What do you want me to say, man? I never wanted things to turn out the way they did!

You owe him that much. I owe him for that.

[For leaving him tied up on the floor. For leading him wrong. For being the worst kind of person, for stabbing him in the back, for betraying his trust on every level that he did.]

[Carrying that secret in his gut, until the time where he'll die still living it.]

[This wasn't supposed to happen.]

You think any of us wanted things to turn out the way they did?

I know- I know that, and I want to make things right but I don't know how.

( the truth is, although Alex may have shot the gun - it's still on Brian that Jay got shot. it doesn't matter if it could have happened "at any time" and there is no conceivable excuse his guilt can settle with.

that he settles with a tired sigh - a choked noise, really, teary in the back of his throat, warm but bitterly so - is a miracle, but he knows yelling back at Tim will solve absolutely nothing )

( he doesn't want to be the better person. he wants to make things right. )

... You ever dream of the masked guy? Ever wondered how he feels 'bout any of it?

( he swallows a heavy lump, rubbing the bridge of his nose with both hands again )

The-- the thing living in my head.. I know it didn't care as much as you, or me, about anything. About Jay, about Jessica, it just... It doesn't excuse me but it's like having another voice in your head trying to speak louder and I...

( when did it start, really? )

Tim. Please.

( i need y-

.

. )

I miss you.

I don't care what that - thing feels.

[It can be dead and buried, as far as he cares. He'd stomp it beneath his heel if he could - grind it out into nothing. Rip it out from his skull and watch it scream like some withered cockroach.]

[It doesn't deserve shit. And he doesn't give a damn what it thinks. He lived in this body first - it doesn't have a goddamn right to it.]

[I miss you.]

[I miss you.]

[The words rebound about the confines of his skull in a cruel echo. He can almost see them draped in static, imprinted against the black screen, fizzing with that undercurrent of urgency that colored every one of those videos that cropped up on the totheark channel.]

[It doesn't help that he looks like him - that he has shades of the man he knew.]

[That he has the same look in his eye.]

[because he]

[never stopped missing him]

[The words choke out in the way they do when Tim gets angry, and he hates himself for how he can't keep his composure when he's like this. He doesn't know how to be angry and intimidating in that anger. Doesn't know how to bristle it and weaponize it the way Alex could. Because it's hard to look angry when your cheeks are hot with tears and you're trying to snarl past the messy lump in your throat and the snot gumming your words.]

Then why didn't you come back?

[He's struck with an absurd memory, a shred of dialogue from an old student film.]

["Was it because of Sarah?"]

[And that's the thing that has him stumbling back and burying his face in his hands.]

( i miss you is the key; the key to drowning out the other voice, or at least long enough for Brian to brace himself for what he fears might be the most painful impact.

(what if he doesn't care to hear it?)

it's his own doubt then - his own voice reverberating in every crack and edge of his mind, both urging him to and discouraging him from looking at Tim. it's fear again, but Brian knows it goes deeper than the fear of being yelled at - fuck's sake he's been yelled at plenty for the past years, followed plenty and threatened.

it's different though. it's a whole lot more personal. )

( but there is no hand threatening to push him off again - or worse yet, a tone of disdain. there is no dismissal to his quiet confession, no otherwordly judgement and the world hasn't come crashing down in flames yet.

but there is something. something else infinitely deeper, something in both tone and response that buries like claws in Brian's chest and all of a sudden he's eyeing his (former? current?) friend with puffy red eyes and earnest (almost Brian-like) disbelief. )

I didn't...

( sorry. i'm sorry, i'm so sorry, oh my god what haveidone his mind races, his pulse races, but his eyes are fixed on Tim and he's having a hard time processing the question without breaking down just the same.

(the tears come back, blur his sight, but it all makes sense all of a sudden and there is but a fr a g— )

Fuck-

( —m ent of a second wherein he moves, quick on his tired feet, quick to reach for him, hands all of a sudden not as wary of grasping for Tim's wrists, Brian on one knee and trying, trying to shake him out of it before the bile rises up, before he can no longer stand seeing him like this. )

I'm so sorry. Tim. I'm so sorry.

[He moves so swiftly Tim doesn't have time to process it. He doesn't have time to react, to do anything but jerk on the spot, straining to tear away and failing. It's like a clamp over him, and Brian should know, should know how deeply he hates, hates being trapped, but he can't galvanize himself into action, can't take advantage of the herculean strength that should be able to propel him out from that dulled state of shock.]

[Maybe he doesn't want to.]

[He can't shift the tremor out from his tone, can't even look away.]

[You are trapped.]
[I am not.]

[He is.]

Let go of me.

( he should know- nay, he knows how terrible a course of action it is, but this is hardly about reason when his every sense is screaming at Brian to do something, you fuck do something for him for once in your-- )

( his grip is gradually looser, just firm enough to tug, to plead for him to stop jerking away, a plea that is reinforced by his tone. The anger, the confusion, they're second place to his earnest concern, to worry and guilt swirled together as he tries, he tries to reach into him )

Please- please don't.. ( Brian is so scared that Tim will run off, but his grip keeps loosening nonetheless, until his fingers are just tugging at the hems of the other's sleeves. To keep him trapped would be cruel; it would be no different from making him suffer. he can't- he can't be controlling. Brian wasn't controlling before. he can't afford to be that way now. ) I was so scared of what you'd say. Of what you'd do.

Please- listen to me, please.

[He won't let go. If he wrenched hard enough, he could tear out of his grip and run, and never look back, but he's not - he's not Jay, he knows better than to turn away from a threat when it's right in front of you. Keep your enemies close, right? Precisely why Jay always had Tim walk in front of the camera, isn't it?]

[Let go of me.]

[His breath has gone staggered, and he can't - can't look at him as he is now, looking so fucking sincere, like he didn't put him and Jay through every inch of hell that Alex did, like he isn't responsible for the weight of guilt sagging on Tim's shoulders, for the mocking words that must keep Jay up still. Like he isn't responsible. Like he deserves some measure of forgiveness for that.]

[Like Tim could - ]

I sad let go of me!

[The words wrench out from his throat in an outraged howl, tearing at the back of his throat.]

You were scared? We were all scared! You didn't see me or Jay trying to kill anyone over it!

[Not - ]

[Not until he'd already lost him.]

( he's hanging on by fingertips now - and despite Tim's outburst, the very idea of fully letting go, of stepping back, it feels like a much greater fall than the one that--

well. )

No- no, please! ( he's not acting, in fact he's not even trying, years of repressed thoughts, years of repressed emotions, all stomping over themselves in an attempt to get out and an effort to reach out to him. Jay mattered. Jessica mattered. hell, even Alex but it's Tim, it's Tim he's always placed on that marbled pedestal and Brian knows he has every right to push him off; his words cut like a knife, burn hot into his very soul but he doesn't run, he doesn't even snap back.

because Tim isn't okay. and it's his fault.

all his mind can wrap around is how sorry he is )

Everything backfired-- everything. I didn't want to hurt Jay, but I wanted Alex to stop and- and I... ( the bitter feeling pooling in the sides of his neck, up his throat and pounding into his skull are like a catalyst, turning his skin red, his eyes watery despite his best efforts. )

( stupid, stupid boy. )

I didn't want to lose you.

You - you could've said something, could've sent some kind of message, could've done anything but sit in your fucking cave and write us these - these codes like we'd ever understand whatever the hell it was you were talking about!

[The words spit out from his parted jaws like venom, and Brian won't let go so he holds on - he holds on, all right, seizing Brian by the front of his jacket, fisting into the fabric of that worn beige of the hoodie he's never wanted to see less in his life, yanking him close so he can snarl mere inches from the face of someone he once called a friend.]

[Once.]

You could've done anything.

( and there it is, the physical response for the bubbling anger finally surfacing; Brian is already bracing himself for what impact awaits but that he's shoved close enough to actually look at Tim in the eyes is almost merciful compared to what he deserves.

likewise his grip on Tim's wrists returns to a small degree - however that is the extent of Brian's force and it doesn't match the pathetic look in his eyes. he's always made himself look so transparent, this was no different. )

Don't you get it?

( how could he? when all Brian did was act more cryptic by the message )

It made me do it, I wasn't always in control. I didn't always remember. ( but when he did? it felt too late then. by then he was so shaken up, both angry and horrified that he couldn't bear to show his face again. not until he got rid of Alex first. or at least that's what let him sleep at night. ) That hooded thing was speaking damned clearly, Tim; just not to you, or me, or Jay.

( there's a sense of urgency in his voice. he's spilling all he has for a chance to be heard. )

You think I had fun with it? I'm not- I'm not like that.

How am I supposed to believe you?

[It is, he's coming to realize bitterly, exactly how Jay must have felt. This aimless frustration that doesn't have an outlet - because as much as he'd love to drive his knuckles into his jaw and send Brian sprawling like he deserves, there's too much holding him back.]

[There's too much stuttering at his fingertips, the digital rip and scratch of a tape dislodged from the deck, the spun-gold thread of memory after memory that feels so far from now it may as well belong to a different person entirely.]

[He wishes, for the first time, that he could be like Alex.]

[He wishes he could be cold and locked and stony, and cut away the things that would hurt him like the tumors they were without remorse - without outward remorse. He wishes he could scowl and rage without the cursed fucking moisture biting at the corners of his eyes and undercutting everything the says.]

[He wishes ~~it could be goddamn over already.~~]

How much of you was there? How much do you even remember?

Because you know me, goddamnit!

( it's more than just urgency then; the way his voice raises an octave but still breaks at the end, the way he suddenly blinks so angrily for a couple of times or his vision will be blurred. Brian knew this was coming some day - or he assumed it was before everything went wrong. )

( he never wanted any of this for any of them. he never wanted to lead them on aimlessly for so long. )

( ... but at the same time he can't just stay silent now, not when he can say it to someone he knows would understand him. or someone he hopes would. )

I wasn't there! I didn't know what it was like until I experienced it myself; the blacking out. The blank spots. Waking up weeks later with bruises and nightmares and trying to get the hell away but always waking up in those woods, in that--

( that hole. that hole, trying to find Alex, or trying to find Tim, or going through tape he didn't remember filming and seeing it uploaded for everyone to watch. to the ark, to the ark, to TH E A RK written all over, sometimes in pen all over his arms, sometimes all over his legs, sometimes etched into wood or stone in what he could only assume was the masked man's frustration.

until one day it all started coming together. it started coming to him in flashes, in dreams, in sequences he'd once been unable to make sense of.

he was ill; so much that he was chasing Tim up and down looking for pills instead of his direct help. )

When I started remembering it was too late. It's like- like it latched on like a parasite and grew into me. The more the Operator came closer, the worse it got. ( sickening. horrible. Brian tugged at Tim's wrists, almost holding on for dear life. ) I wanted to tell you, but I was scared.

You don't get to say that.

[The words are a dangerous, venomous hiss. He doesn't know him - not anymore, he doesn't. The fact that he never - that it never really struck him, the evidence that piled up against Brian as the culprit - that outlines it in earnest, the fact that he never really knew him.]

[He knew him once. Once.]

[He says It, he says It, he names It like It's a person, and he ca n ' t - ]

Nn -

[The next time Tim comes into himself, he's relinquished his grip, one hand pressed to the swelling, spiking branch of pain in his temple. There's a wailing, continuous tone drilling into his ears, and he can't tell if it's real or something that isn't there, like the rest of this. The sweat's beading on his brow, and it's all he can do to gasp it out, blinking past the agony that boils like a migraine.]

Don't say Its name!

( he's not scared - not of Tim persay, not of someone he cares for deeply enough that he's here, facing him and admitting guilt instead of shoving his own death in his face. instead of trying to guilt him like it was ever even his fault to begin with. )

( he can't - he can't blame him. he's been hurt all his life. he can't blame him. )

Then what do I sa–

( the momentum of his words is lost mid-sentence however, the change in Tim's expression more than evident to him - he's always had an eye for it ( you've always doted on him ) and he releases his grip in time for the other's hands to reach for his head. and he could run, could hide from another fuckup but that's not the point anymore.

so he reaches for Tim's arms, pulling at him, trying to give him a shell of comfort despite the fact that his gesture operates more as the cage he knows Tim can't stand; yet he can't help it. he understands and, maybe out of commiseration more than actual ailment, he can briefly feel the pounding headache on the inside of his forehead; his knuckles grip a little tighter around Tim's arms. he grunts. )

Tim- Tim listen. I won't say it, I won't-- Tim! ( and it's awful, he knows (or he should at any rate); how he sounds so much more like himself all of a sudden. how, when Tim is hurting, Brian can't really focus on his own pain. he's a lucky sod next to the other man. if only he could shake that horror out of him, he would. ) Stay with me. Please, please- it's going to be okay.

( no it's not. you liar. )

[Every part of him that's not trembling in the aftershocks that still blister at the contours of his skull - every part of him that's not still screaming at the blinding unnaturalness of what he just said - is howling to get away.]

[He can't.]

[He can't do anything but tremble like some weak little shell of a person (You'll just be a shell of a person, just like Brian!) and hate himself for being as fragile as he is.]

[Always running scared to someone else's skirts. Like Brian could, or should, be the one to shield him from the monsters that have dogged his shadow all his life.]

You were just a shell.

[The words are low, rasping, like the grind of stone on stone.]

You weren't supposed to still be there. You weren't supposed to be alive.

[He'd grieved the man who was trapped in a hospital, who coughed and yelled and was doomed by his own compassion for his friend, even then.]

[He'd grieved him. He was - he'd thought he was dead.]

[It isn't fair.]

+ ENTRANCEWAY TEST DRIVE MEME +

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woop woop did somene call for emotions

EVERYTHING IS FINE 1/??

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done

OW?? 1/2 bc this is long

2/2

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