okay but Ride the Cyclone could have been Way Darker if it wanted. i mean, it's literally about six innocent children dying horribly in a roller coaster accident.
imagine their uniforms stained in blood from their injuries—but not all of it is even their own because, you know, Jane got decapitated. there's a good chance her blood literally sprayed onto them.
and speaking of injuries! Ocean or Constance have a limp because their legs got crushed by the front of the cart, the kids will sometimes wobble unsteadily when walking due to head trauma, maybe they wince at different intervals and tentatively touch a part of their body in pain, blood runs down the side of their faces, Ocean and Constance had their ribs shattered when the cart crashed, making them spit blood because the broken bones impaled their lungs…
and since Karnak is controlling them during the choreography, they have no choice but to dance and perform like some kind of fucked up puppets, and despite their movements and tones, their faces reflect expressions of pain from their numerous injuries.
now, picture this: they could have a moment where they fight against the control because they’re tired, and everything hurts, but they’re not strong enough. they have no choice but to go along with the choreography.
and then, after the song is over, whoever’s it may be, there’s this moment of silence…and then one of them just collapses, shuddering in agony, trying to fight through the waves of pain washing over them. the others go to their aid, but they start to falter, too, weighed down by their wounds. they’re all exhausted, mentally and physically, and they just want to rest. dying was bad, but this is worse. this is torture.
imagine, like, Mischa finally snapping. he goes at Karnak in a fit of agonized rage, trying to destroy the stupid animatronic fortune teller that’s keeping them from the afterlife. he’s screaming at Karnak, and Ocean approaches slowly, trying to get his attention, trying to tell him to stop, but even she can’t ignore how badly she hurts.
blood gushes from her lips as her ribs become a sort of bear trap in her chest, crushing her from the inside, and she would have collapsed if it weren’t for Mischa abandoning his outrage to catch her. they both still go down, but Mischa softens the blow. in his bloody hands, Ocean looks so small and vulnerable, her broken body wracked in trembles, and it just makes Mischa so fucking angry because this isn’t fair, none of this is fair. they don’t deserve this.
and then, in this weak, impossibly fragile voice, Ocean O’Connell Rosenberg, the girl who always seems to keep going no matter what, who hates doing nothing, who just wants to work and work and work, croaks out, “i’m so tired.”
Mischa breaks. Ocean does, too, and the two of them embrace with all the strength they can muster as they sob, sharing this mutual sensation of hopeless pain.
one of them opens an arm, beckoning the others to join them, and the others oblige. even Jane. if they can’t manage to walk over, they crawl.
these poor, injured children huddle together, finally putting their arguments aside for a moment to find temporary solace in the arms of one another, supporting each other with their own bodies because they’re too weak to support themselves. they can only find comfort in each other now. after everything their deaths have taken from them, they still have that, at least.
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