task 04; A MOODBOARD. this task is short and sweet, who doesn’t love a throwback? make a moodboard about your character or an important relationship in their life. this can be using gifs or images if you so choose. let your creativity flow and remember the good old days !
tw : death by fire
characters featured : eddie , nat , ash .
it began just like any other day .
with only a couple hours of sleep ( thanks to insomnia and his choice of hyperfixation for the week ) , reggie jr was tired and lethargic as he got up at dawn . languid with his movements as he got dressed , a loud yawn escaped his lips that was quickly followed by a quick groan at the annoying tick and tock of the wall clock amidst the quiet of the morning . tick … tock … tick … tock … tick … tock … and reggie would have taken its batteries out there and then if he wasn’t suddenly distracted by the very faint smell of iron and burnt meat in the air . but in the end , reggie shrugged it off as some weird morning hallucination as his senses awoken with him . he had other things to worry about . it was 5:15 AM . and he was already running late .
reggie stood there for a moment , ( breathe in , breathe out ) channeling all the energy he could muster to face the rest of his day . then , a whirlwind of motions — he let his dog out to the backyard for a quick poo , brushed his teeth , took his vitamins , and prayed to his god for a great day for everyone in town . it was 5:49 AM when he was finally prepared , everything was muscle memory with his routine at this point .
the first signs of sunlight kissed his skin when he stepped outside , a comfort as the cold morning breeze hit his pale cheeks , but reggie didn’t have the time to bask in its warmth — eleven minutes before the first delivery , less than an hour and a half before opening time . the walk to the diner was brisk , with a few minutes to spare before fernando , their regular shipment driver , would deliver the produce that they couldn’t get from hidden hill farm . it was 5:59 AM , and reggie was waiting behind the diner for the shipment while he fed a family of stray calico cats .
he made a mental note to ask fernando about how his date went , remembering how excited the other man seemed to be about it the last time they talked . reggie always made a point to make conversation with everyone he’d come across , such a social creature with charm and the gusto for bringing people together . it was 6:20 AM , twenty minutes after fernando was supposed to arrive and reggie felt uneasy as it was the first time the other had ever been this late after all these years without any notice . the strange scent made its presence known again , stronger this time but reggie still couldn’t pinpoint what it was and where it was coming from .
beginning to be perturbed by the smell , reggie went back inside the diner , glad to see ruby ( auntie ruby , he’d call her — a good friend of his dad’s and a line cook for the diner since he was little ) was already there . he greeted her and asked how her weekend was , only to be ignored . he didn’t take it personally , albeit a little disheartening , since he figured she just woke up on the wrong side of the bed . they spent their opening preparations in awkward silence and reggie wondered whether something was wrong , but he didn’t want to prod so early in the morning . he was thankful when the clock struck 7:00 AM , finally time to open the diner and serve great food to darkwood residents , and their praises and conversations were his own food for the soul .
but it was unusually quiet , the silence almost too overwhelming that reggie couldn’t help but tap and knock on the counter endlessly to drown out white noise — their morning regulars seemed to have disappeared from the face of the earth . and those that came were disinterested in his chit chat , simply took their coffee and meal , leaving without a word . he smiled at every customer , greetings highlighted with pep , disheartened at every time he was disregarded — again and again and again and again and again , like an endless repetition that left him deeply disturbed . there was something alien about what was happening … something so eerie , especially when the old jukebox unexpectedly began to play on its own to break the silence — and reggie wished it hadn’t .
i know you belong to somebody new but tonight you belong to me although we're apart you're a part of my heart but tonight you belong to me — the song began to play faster and faster with every syllable , and while it had malfunction before , it had never just played on its own accord — waitdownbythestreethowsweetitwillseemoncemorejusttodreaminthemoonlightmyhoneyiknowwiththedawnthatyouwillbego and the song continued to speed up until it just sounded like a loud high-pitched ringing , forcing him to cover his ears as he ran towards the jukebox so he could unplug it . and then , back to complete silence .
it was only 9:15 AM when reggie took his first break , so deeply disturbed that he had to step outside for fresh air . he texted nat , offered free strawberry milkshakes and curly fries just for her to stop by and make him feel less like a lunatic over what was happening . but she left him on read , which didn’t happen often , or at all if she could help it . he began to pace outside , which would have looked really strange if there was anyone watching — but the town was almost deserted , like he had been left behind by everyone that ever mattered to him ( a list that consisted almost of the entire town ) . it was a sick joke , it had to be . he texted ash , no detail spared — it was a nice bait , ash would probably laugh at him for thinking everyone had suddenly conspired against him but he needed to talk to someone . anyone .
if ash was stupid about her pride and their whole rivalry , then reggie was stupid about ash . he never wanted to be in competition with her , would very much rather have a bond based on mutual interests and fondness for each other — and yet , for years and years , reggie went along with it in hopes that it would make her feel more involved . and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy seeing her show the smallest semblance of happiness whenever she’d beat him in their most trivial feuds . he enjoyed his time with her , so , he hoped for a reply . no , he prayed for it . he could already imagine ash’s smug smile when they’d talk about this in person and how it would make his day just to see it .
but minutes passed and still nothing . he tried to call his dad , mom , siblings , eddie , pari , his neighbors and even the police — all nothing . reggie felt ill , almost lost his balance at the thought of being alone in a world without everyone he cared for . he had always been able to hold onto hope , but not when all signs lead to everything he feared for . he ran back inside the diner and auntie ruby was gone . it was the terror of patterns and schedule thrown awry , the banality he was so used to suddenly replaced with dread growing exponentially in the pit of his stomach . what was his life if not to care for people ? what was his life if not trying to make their sleepy little town a better place ? his life meant nothing if he was alone , and god , he couldn’t stand it .
he raced outside , barging into every store , knocking on every door , desperate for any signs of life . he went to his family’s home — completely empty of life , his parents and siblings gone as if they were never there in the first place . people were not just supposed to vanish into thin air . he wondered if this was the rapture , if he had been left behind because he wasn’t good enough . it was a painful thought , his dedication to everyone else meaning nothing . he ran and ran and ran and ran until he couldn’t breathe , collapsing onto the ground ( breathe in , breathe out ) as he became painfully aware of the lack of air in his lungs . his throat was agonizingly dry , tears welling up in his eyes as he realized that this had to be a nightmare . if not , then it must be hell .
he closed his eyes and sent up a simple , desperate plea to god , ❛ please , wake me up . ❜ but the prayer went unanswered . and once again , the smell came back — so strong , so pungent that he could almost taste it , that he felt like throwing up . he was scared to open his eyes , but he was betrayed by his own body . in front of him was eddie , standing tall and proud ( of what ? he wished he would never find out ) as that sinister smile on his lips taunted him .
❛ you were wrong , reggie . about me . about everything . ❜
the conviction in eddie’s voice left his powerless , his faith in eddie finally deteriorating with the evidence laid behind him — a pile of ablazed corpses , his loved ones and the people of darkwood slowly being reduced to ashes . the wind blew soot and god , it burned his eyes but reggie remained unblinking at the horrors , mouth agape as he stared at the horrors against his will . he wasn’t sure how long he had been looking at it — seconds , maybe minutes — when god finally answered his prayers and he finally blinked .
the next time reggie opened his eyes , it was 5:15 AM and it was time to start his day . tick … tock … tick … tock … tick … tock … and the annoying clock went on and on , but he was too listless to do anything but sit on the edge of his bed and contemplate that dreadful nightmare . was he truly wrong about eddie ? no . no . no . he couldn’t let himself doubt him now , too . it was just his psyche playing tricks , recycling the rumours and gossips the townspeople tried to imbue on his mind . eddie was innocent . he paid no mind to the other parts of the dream , that sickening loneliness he felt — it was just a nightmare , and being awake meant he had other things to worry about now — eddie , ash , the diner , his family — and he was already running late .
WORD COUNT: around 1,200
CHARACTER(S) INCLUDED: Dean, Lydia
SUMMARY: Cyrelle has a very sexy nightmare. Set around November/December 2020.
TRIGGERS: implied alcoholism & implications of an unhealthy body image (not sure what’s the best way to describe it). also the dream itself is sliiiiightly nsfw, though i did try my best to keep it pg-13.
NOTES: Sierra is the name of Cyrelle’s mom and Edgar is the name of Cyrelle’s dead dad, just FYI. Also template credit: johvny
This is different. It’s almost heavenly. The hands that brush over her skin are gentle, working Cyrelle towards her own pleasure instead of fumbling the way past partners have. She doesn’t have to guide them or give instructions on how to please her; her partner has been produced from her fantasies, so they move in perfect sync with her and know all the right ways to make her gasp in delight. Stars burst in her vision — everything is aglow. Is this what people mean when they talk about “making love”? Cyrelle has never been in love — the passionate, romantic, unconditional kind that’s fully reciprocated. But this has to be it. What else could it be?
All that light begins to dim once Cyrelle starts to reach her peak. It is the nature of all her fantasies to end abruptly, to leave her feeling dissatisfied and empty. But this time, her partner doesn’t turn to smoke in her hands, her pleasure doesn’t stop or stagnate. It steadily builds, and the environment around Cyrelle begins to sharpen in focus. She tears her lips away from her partner’s neck to get a clear look at the source of all this euphoria. She is curious — these sweet dreams are rare, and they never last this long.
The sight should horrify her. Cyrelle should be revolted with herself, should be trying to put an end to this before it goes any further. But what Cyrelle does is tug on Dean’s hair and bring his mouth onto hers. This dramatic reveal does not interrupt their pace, doesn’t change the course they’re working towards. This man has Dean’s face but it’s hard for Cyrelle to reconcile that when the movement is nothing like Dean’s. This is soft and passionate and romantic and made of the beautiful things that only lonely women can dream of. It’s not Dean’s name she calls out in the end but it is unmistakably his eyes boring into hers.
And then there’s another figure emerging from the corner of her eye. Cyrelle twists her neck in an unnatural way just to see Lydia looming over them. The fantasy has reached its natural end, the high has faded, but Cyrelle is still there. Dean is still there. Cyrelle suddenly becomes ashamed and embarrassed of her naked body entangled in Dean’s. She opens her mouth but no sound comes out; she can’t make any excuses or apologize even if she wanted to. Lydia looks too bored to deal with any convoluted explanations — she is apathetic, not here to listen. Instead, she stares at Cyrelle and Dean the way someone might study an unremarkable painting in a museum. She sees them for what they are, and they are nothing.
The MGM lion roars in Cyrelle’s ears, breaking through the hazy dreamscape and jolting her back into the real world. The couch she crashed in isn’t uncomfortable but the TV is too loud. Cyrelle guesses that her mother set the volume that high deliberately; it’s Sierra’s way of announcing her arrival home and waking up her sorry daughter. Cyrelle doesn’t have to see her mother to feel her disappointment radiating in the living room. Instead, she turns her head to the large TV screen to watch Elizabeth Taylor sleep through the opening credits of BUtterfield 8.
“I hate this movie,” Cyrelle says in lieu of a greeting, her voice still heavy with sleep. Sierra finally comes into view, blocking the screen to hand Cyrelle a glass of water. Cyrelle empties it in seconds, trying to ignore the way her mother is assessing her. Sierra Ward could host a masterclass in how to command peoples’ attention, which is precisely why Cyrelle refuses to look directly at her.
The specifics of the dream are already starting to fade away, but Cyrelle still can’t shake that strange feeling — that uncomfortable combination of shame and lust, overflowing from the gutter of her mind. God, she needed to get laid. Not with someone else’s partner, obviously. Not again. She really shouldn’t be thinking about this in front of her mother.
“You need a shower.” Her mother doesn’t sound judgemental or angry or annoyed. Her voice is neutral, soft, but all Cyrelle can wonder is how long she had to rehearse to sound like that. “Take one after we eat.”
Cyrelle lifted her wrist to glance at the time on her watch. She wore it mostly for aesthetics but it still worked either way. “It’s too early for dinner,” Cyrelle said.
“I just got off a long flight and I’m famished.” Only Sierra Ward used words like “famished” unironically. Cyrelle almost found it charming. Almost. “And I’m guessing you had a liquid lunch, if you didn’t sleep through it.” Again, there’s no judgement in Sierra’s tone. She speaks plainly, as though she’s commenting on the weather. She doesn’t need Cyrelle to tell her that she’s right. Cyrelle wishes she could hate her mother for it, but she’s too worn out to feel anything.
Gloria Wandrous is long out of bed and covering the mirror with her lipstick scrawl by the time Cyrelle drags her body off the couch, though both women have scotch on their breath. Her mother has never been one for subtlety.
There’s an obscenely large bowl of salad placed in front of Cyrelle when she arrives in the dining area. Cyrelle can still hear the movie, but her eyes are focused on her mother. Despite being “famished,” Sierra hasn’t touched her own meal at all and is instead staring intently at Cyrelle. Cyrelle takes a forkful of salad in response, which is mixed with some kind of seasoned chicken and admittedly tastes pretty good. Yet Sierra still doesn’t eat; she just watches Cyrelle chew her food with an unreadable expression. Cyrelle quirks an eyebrow at her mother’s weird behavior, but doesn’t comment on it.
“You’ve gotten so skinny,” her mother says suddenly, her voice so soft that it’s almost swept away by all the sound coming from the TV. Cyrelle stills, unsure of how to respond. It’s clearly not a compliment. Cyrelle isn’t sure if her mother meant to even say it at all, or if it just slipped out.
Cyrelle begins to shred a piece of chicken with her fork. “I’m sorry for worrying you,” she says, because she feels like she needs to apologize for something. Because she can’t be sorry for being a slut or for drinking too much or for dropping out of school, but she can be sorry for making her mother sad.
The chicken is devoured quickly, and Cyrelle keeps eating until she’s stuffed and Gloria is talking to her own mother on screen. “Mama, face it: I was the slut of all time.” At least Gloria loved Weston. At least Elizabeth loved Eddie. At least Sierra loved Edgar. Cyrelle didn’t know if she was capable of loving someone or being loved by someone outside of a dream. It would’ve been a painful revelation if Cyrelle hadn’t resigned to being wretched and unlovable long ago.
Cyrelle gets up from the table and cleans her dishes. Then, Sierra wraps her arms around Cyrelle’s midriff without warning. Cyrelle is surprised to find how much she missed being hugged by her mother. “God, you smell terrible,” Sierra mutters, but she doesn’t let go. Cyrelle feels more tethered to the earth than she has in a long time.
TASK 03 ; nightmares. everyone has them, whether they’re something as seemingly simple as forgetting to put on clothes the day of a school presentation, or distorted images of waking memories. one thing’s for sure, the darkwood crew have plenty of scary things to deal with during the day, but what wakes them up at night? your task is to post a small writing activity (whether that be something written ooc, or an ic self-para) about a nightmare that your character has had. specify what the nightmare was, what age they were when they had it, and if they’re the type to just laugh them off or read into them !
a little warm up ! between now and sunday send a message to at least two other members of the group saying either what you are looking forwards to seeing from their character or what you are enjoying so far.
this is the first writing activity, writing activities will be at least as frequent as every two weeks. if you don’t manage to complete them then there’s no issue ! some will be in character and some will be out of character but they will always be something completely different from the one before to give you an opportunity to enjoy and explore the possibilities for yourself as both a roleplay and your character.
