this week’s task is all about giving a little story & insight to your character. while your muse might not typically be a diary writer, we’re taking one out of THE VAMPIRE DIARIES book for inspiration. in your character’s first person, write up a diary entry that records their first day. this can be any time throughout that day or the night in which the day repeats. capture their emotions, their thoughts, and the intensity of how they’re feeling due to being a certain species.
feel free to plot with OTHER members that they were with other characters or appeared here with another character in their entries. not everyone has to handle the first day in the PRISON WORLD alone.
as always, this task is NOT MANDATORY, but a fun way for everyone to get to know muses they are or aren’t familiar with better! this WILL count for activity this week since it is a writing prompt.
if you have any questions, please reach out to the main!
This had better not be some kind of- game Lucifer’s playing.
I woke up here yesterday. Today? The day looped, so. Yester-today.
Which was- weird, because I didn’t fall asleep, because who the hell sleeps when they’re dead in the Cage?
This place seems pretty abandoned- or, it did when I was walking around. There was maybe a few other people I saw, but I didn’t exactly initiate contact, because- who the hell knows what who they are.
Maybe this is just... normal Hell? Or maybe in between- maybe I slipped out of the Cage, into just. Purgatory? This could be Purgatory. Better here than there.
I just- picked a place and set up shop, pretty much. No Impala, but also no one to ask me for an ID or a credit card to get a room, so, that’s pretty nice. First sign that this isn’t- Earth? Real life? Something like that.
Whole thing feels like angels. Demons could- maybe do this, maybe. Lucifer could do this, definitely. But, it feels more like it did when Zachariah was fucking with us than anything- or, Mystery Spot. If I find out it’s Gabriel, I’m not sure if I’m more likely to thank him or kill him again. Definitely going to have to go out again tomorrow- today, I guess? And see what’s up. Staying up tonight to see if I can beat the cycle like that.
God, I hope this isn’t just another part of the Cage.
this place is. different. cautiously i’m willing to label it okay. i’m trying to avoid waiting for it to end. but surely it will. she always comes back.
a new place to run through is nice, at least. change of scenery. i think i sat in the woods for hours, maybe days, when i first popped into this place, just watching the sun pass overhead and disappear below the horizon. the sun is weird here, but it’s warm. maybe i’l be able to get a good tan. it’s kind of nice. although i can still feel the pull of the eclipse, even though i’m a fake and all. it’s uncomfortable. and its freaks me out. i hate being out of control.
maybe i actually am somewhere new. hopefully. i don’t even know if this is real. the sun never shone underground, after all.
where are the people who lived here? i can tell it was a family, they have a surprising number of wholesome family photos. it’s always the parents, with a grinning younger son, and a laughing older daughter. maybe that’s how we could have been if i hadn’t messed up. i haven’t ventured beyond the boundaries of the farm really, except for the woods. i don’t know what i would even want to find in town. maybe it’s best to stay back.
i don’t really know why i’m writing this. i feel like tom hanks talking to that ball with the face drawn on in that movie.
then there’s also the matter of the animals. the dogs, the chickens. the plants. not really animals but i guess as long as i crash here i’m responsible for them. i’m not sure if i’m allowed to steal these people’s clothes or not. is that stealing? can i eat their food?
there are dog biscuits, thank god, but i don’t know how i am supposed to feed him meat. like killing people? easy. killing these chickens that tried to cuddle with me as a coyotewolf? much harder. why do their eyes make me feel so guilty, they’re just fucking chickens jesus christ
the plants at least, are easy to care for. water is all they seem to need. not sure what i’m supposed to do with all the oranges, but at least i have something to eat i guess. should i share? should i look for others?
it’s not so bad, minus the lingering threat of tara reaching out to grab me again. not that i don’t deserve it think i could handle it, but having your heart ripped out over, and over, and over, isn’t really my idea of a good time. neither was this, before, i suppose. running a farm shouldn’t be too bad, right?
[several days later]
this entire enterprise was a mistake. tara take me back. kidding please don’t tara please
why the fuck did i decide to go look for people? why do i feel obligated to try and provide food? things were so much easier before i could feel shit like this. i’m nervous all the time, my breath comes short, and aside from work all i do is sleep. i used to be able to charm anyone and everyone, and now i can’t even hold i conversation longer than ‘here’s your oranges’ what the fuck? what’s wrong with me? is it this place?
let me just talk about oranges. this is my diary i write what i want. fuck you. anyway - they’re terrible. here’s why - fibrous. have seeds. kind of sour. peeling skin is difficult. heavy to carry into town. too many. i hate them. feel awful about wasting them but i still hate them so much. they make me less eloquent.
anyway, back to the feelings. i’m thinking that maybe if I can somehow write everything down, like venting, all these weird feelings will stop and i can go back to something more normal, or ignoring them, rather than the self flagellating mess i have become.
should i list them?
1. guilt. it’s annoying. bumped into someone and found myself saying sorry. genuinely meant it. i’ve done a lot of bad shit to good people tara i’m so fucking sorry and of course i should feel bad. that’s how it works. i’m trying to be a reformed bad guy right? guilt is good why does it hurt so much but surely i’m not supposed to become a doormat for other people?
2. awkward. is that even a feeling? i’m fucking feeling it, i don’t give a shit. also annoying. things were so much easier before, when i had a farce to hide behind. nobody to pretend to be now. i always feel like i shouldn’t be here, like i’m in the wrong place. wrong time. like i shouldn’t exist, at all. i can barely control my chemosignals sometimes, honestly i’m a bit disgusted at my lack of self control - imagine how humiliating it would be to meet someone who knew me before? they would be able to smell my anxiety. maybe i’ll just never interact with another living thing ever again.
3. sad. such a short word and yet i feel it so much? this one is definitely the worst. at least, if i feel bad, something must have changed? right? maybe i’ll never really change, never be better maybe i was bad from the start i just want to sleep all the time, i don’t know why i’m so tired. probably the fucking oranges.
4. helpless. i’m floundering and i just want to go home and stop worrying for a few minutes. i want tara back, the real tara. how she should have been. then i’ll go. then this nonsense can end and i’ll never have to see oranges ever again.
if anyone ever finds this and has read until this point just letting you know i’ll eat your fucking liver. i’ve had more than enough oranges, i’m craving something a bit meatier, be scared.
