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nc_ooc2019-01-31 11:20 am
iam_senpai) wrote in nc_ooc2019-01-31 11:20 am
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February Writing Prompts 2019
It's already February! Holy crap, January flew by didn't it? Well, it's that time again. Notice: prompt 1 is going to link back to last month's writing prompt for continued Winter Event Prose and PSLs. Please post anything that happens in February under that prompt. If you haven't I highly recommend tracking the post if you like to spy read.
Disclaimer: I never close old writing prompts from previous months. People can and should be encouraged to post on old month's prompts and I highly encourage players to track these posts to catch stragglers or new people writing on old prompts.
Now. With that out of the way, onto this month's prompts.
1. The Night is long, the weather cold. Stay a while and tell us a story, won't you? (do not post Winter event prose on this post, follow the link to where it should be posted.)
2. I'm not scared anymore
3. Choosing a side
4. Coming home
5. An unexpected guest
Bonus image prompt:
3. Choosing a side
no subject
5. An Unexpected Guest (Ziggyverse AU)
And it was all leading up to this.
Ansgar and Mikkel spent the entire morning getting the booth decked out in the Agora Theater lobby. They’d rented screens, which were now playing a silent cut of Kuro’s first music video on an infinite loop. Several new t-shirts hung on the rack behind them, along with patches, stickers, bone jewelry and more. New posters from the cover art shoot, freshly signed, were stacked in one corner, along with copies of their first single, “Coffin,” on vinyl, disc and recording ball.
Jake, not to be outdone, had even shipped them the prop coffin that they used in the desert scenes. It was made of simple wood, sturdy enough to hold a person, but light enough to be carried easily. For the shoot, it had been fitted with hydraulics to make opening and closing both halves of the lid easier. Those were still there, but for tour, Jake also added a small bench inside for Dee to sit on, to take the weight off his legs during what could be a long VIP session.
“I can’t believe it, guys!” Johan exclaimed. “Our first single!”
“And our first solo VIP experience.” Rex echoed proudly.
It was a big deal. And to their surprise, they’d sold a bunch of tickets for it. Missy had been promoting it to the Hexed fanbase for the last couple of weeks. Press releases had dropped. Coffin was already getting airplay, but this would be the first time anyone could buy it. And if they came to the show, they’d get an autographed poster along with their copy, and a photo op with the entire band.
“How much time before doors open?” Jay asked.
Mikkel looked down at his phone. “About twenty minutes.”
He bent down to Dee, carefully planting a kiss between the warpaint. “You want to go ahead and get in the coffin?”
Dee nodded with excitement. “Yeah… We’d better.”
Johan helpfully lifted the entire lid, exposing the special seat inside. Jay wheeled Dee over, helping lift him up into it. That initial step was about as steep as the stairs inside the tour bus, which were still a problem for Dee. (And had now become part of his physical therapy regimen.) But once he was in it, the seat Jake had made was surprisingly comfortable. Johan unlatched the two pieces, and closed the bottom half of the lid. It was wide enough inside, or perhaps Dee was just thin enough, that he could slide his hands up and down without issue. He crossed them over his chest, trying not to obscure the bone necklace.
“…How does it look?”
Johan took a step back, and the others joined him. The dark red curtains made everything stand out. There were smiles all around.
“Like you’re about to rise back up and relive your glory.” Jay answered with lyrics to one of their songs, which made Dee grin.
Ansgar stashed the wheelchair behind the table along with the other chairs. And after a few costume adjustments, makeup checks and a quick redundant rundown from Tom on how everything was going to go, Damien signaled his team to open the doors. The line of fans made their way inside.
It was like an assembly line. Mikkel made sure each person had their poster and single - and did his usual fantastic job selling additional merchandise at the same time - and then they had their turn with the band. A few just posed for photos, but some asked questions or told little anecdotes about how they learned about Kuro. The band answered them all, completely in character.
There were a few other wheelchair users too, both ambulatory and not. They all exclaimed that they’d never seen a disabled artist on a major tour before, and were excited to see the show. One of them, who was barely a teenager and there with his parents, was even wearing warpaint to match the Prophet. Dee did his best not to choke up as he tried to impart some encouraging words of wisdom about never giving in or backing down. He ended up taking his feather earring out of his left ear and giving it to the boy. That family would cherish that moment for years to come. Kuro likely had a fan for life.
This went on for over an hour before the line finally started to wind itself down. And then, it was done… almost.
“Hang on, you’ve got one more!” Mikkel shouted from the table. “Just have to ring up a few more things!”
The band glanced over. The middle-aged couple may have been last in line, but they made up for it by purchasing at least one of everything! The woman was even putting on one of the new shirts over her own. Rex and Ansgar shared an excited fist bump. Jay grinned, and turned to Dee, “I knew we hired the right…”
Jay froze as the color drained completely from the singer’s face. The Prophet looked like he’d seen a spectre. Or, perhaps, was about to pass out.
“Shit… What’s wrong? Are you all ri…?”
Jay slid closer, reaching in to put a hand on Dee’s forehead. But before he could, the hydraulic lid to the coffin snapped shut. He yanked his hand back reflexively. If the rest of Kuro hadn’t heard the Mystic’s worried question, they all heard the coffin close.
“D…” Jay stumbled over his name as the couple approached for their photo op. “…Prophet?”
Ansgar looked at Jay worriedly. Rex did too, and then looked back at Johan.
The Tiger, being the naturally outgoing one, stepped in to shake their hands and invent a quick cover. “Sorry, looks like a wild magic surge. The energy of incredible fans like you was just too much!”
The couple nodded awkwardly, clutching their bags of Kuro merchandise. They looked like an average Midwestern couple, a bit shy compared to the rest of the fan base. Both were tall and thin. The man had short salt and pepper hair, which matched his button-up shirt. The woman had long and limp chestnut-colored hair, which had come loose when she put on the Kuro shirt.
While Johan kept them occupied, Jay was trying his best to lift the lid. But unfortunately, he got a surprising amount of resistance.
“Maybe it’s stuck?” Ansgar whispered.
“That never happened during the shoot.” Rex countered, leaning close to the seam. “Hey - If the button doesn’t work, can you just push? There’s a handle by the right side. We can help you lift it.”
Jay tried to lift it again, only to brush his fingertips along the back of Dee’s hand before the coffin lid squished them. Fortunately, it wasn’t hard enough to cause any lasting damage, but it did smart. Jay pulled his hand back, shaking it and just barely stringing together a Kuro universe-appropriate explicative. “Fu… by the Blackbird!”
The others were at a bit of a loss, and time was of the essence. Rex and Ansgar offered the couple the chance to take a photo with the rest of them. Which they accepted, albeit with visible disappointment in their matching blue eyes.
Mikkel, thinking quickly on his feet, pulled a different autographed poster out from under the table, and handed it to Ansgar with another pen, gesturing to the couple. The rest of the band caught on quickly.
“Here, let us personalize one for you… free of charge. It’s the least we can do to make up for the Prophet’s… um…”
“Wild magic surge.” The Tiger inserted again. “I'm sure the roar of the crowd will break the seal and set him free."
Those D&D nights on the tour bus were coming in handy.
“Who should we make this out to?” The Skjoldånd asked politely, putting the poster against the coffin to write.
The couple looked at each other, and then back to the musicians. The woman looked a bit embarrassed, and simply bit her lip. The man finally replied, “…George and Mary… Ferguson.”
...
part 2
It wasn’t until Jay whispered a strong, “they’re gone.” that they heard a thump inside the prop coffin. The top part of the lid opened without resistance this time, but it wasn't until Rex pulled open the bottom half that Dee literally tumbled out of the coffin into Jay’s arms.
He was pale as a sheet, gasping and hyperventilating. His warpaint was smeared, mixed with tears and sweat. His entire body was shaking and he gave no indication that he knew where he was or what was going on. The Prophet may have been in the Agora, but Dee was trapped inside a flashback of his own personal hell.
The Soerens likely knew that look well. Someone motioned for Damien and whispered what was going on to the head of security. Multiple dogs appeared just as suddenly as the first. Two started dismantling the coffin prop. The other knelt down next to Jay, who was literally cradling his fiancé, and desperately trying to get him to calm down.
“Dee… Look at me. Please… Look at me, you’re safe… I promise. Deep breaths… Deep breaths… You’re in control. Not them. No one is going to take that away from you…”
“We can get you backstage through the loading area. No one in the theater will see you. But we need to go now. They’ll be opening the main doors in ten minutes. Show time in forty.”
Jay nodded, lifting Dee into his arms as he stood. There wasn’t time to argue. Kuro was escorted out the side of the lobby, around back into the green room where Hexed was already warming up.
The amount of radio communication going on backstage was outdone only by the number of people trying to reassure Dee that he was, in fact, safe. For half an hour, no one - not even Kuro - knew if Kuro was going to play at their own single release. As each minute ticked away, the pacing and the panic only intensified.
“I… I can’t go out there… I.. I’m sorry… I just can’t...”
Before anyone in either band could respond, Jay held up a hand. He must have been channeling some of the Mystic’s powers, because the entire room fell dead silent. Jay knelt down in front of the singer, tracing his thumb along the cheek, smearing the already ruined warpaint.
“Dee, no matter what you decide to do right now, I’ll support you. I’ll walk out on that stage, apologize to the crowd, and carry you out of here in my arms if that’s what you really want… If you want to get as far away from this place as possible, we’ll do it. But you have to tell me… look me in the eyes and tell me that’s what you really want.”
“I don’t… I don’t want to see them. I don’t want to be anywhere near them… I don’t want to remember… I can’t… I'd rather die th..than live like that again!!" he continued to panic, but Jay stood firm.
“That’s what you don’t want.” He whispered. “Dee, look at me. Please. You need to tell me what you do want.”
Dee was still shaking. Jay held him tightly.
He said it again, “Come on, my little Blackbird. Tell me what you do want.”
“I… I want to make them regret everything they put me through.” his voice was hesitant at first, still teetering on the verge of yet another panic attack.
“Okay… good. What else do you want?” He encouraged, knowing that once he got Dee on this track, the train would only keep going. It got him into surgery, damnit, so it might very well work here too. And if not, what did they really have to lose?
“I want them to see… everything they tried so hard to medicate…”
Jay was right. Something snapped. The floodgates opened. There was no turning back.
"I want them to know, without a shadow of a fucking doubt, what living… actually… looks like! That it’s… it’s NOT some bloated fucking teenage corpse wasting away in their spare bedroom forced to choke down pills every fucking hour because another god damn fucking doctor said adding yet another one... might... fucking... HELP! This is MY body! This is MY LIFE!! God damn it!! I am the motherfucking PROPHET! And they don’t get to steal my fucking afterlife!”
Everyone was silent, and Dee was gasping for breath again, for entirely different reasons. Even Jay was a little surprised by the outburst. But he knew how long Dee had been harboring those wounds.
“Damn fucking right you are. And no. They don’t.” He agreed, and other band members followed suit.
One of the Dogs entered the room. "Kuro, five minutes to showtime. We need you in your places!"
Jay gestured to his bandmates, "Give me a hand here.”
The Kuro tribe rallied around their leader, quickly wiping away the tear-stained streaks and putting his warpaint back on. It was a little rushed, but the significance was more powerful than ever before.
One of the dogs shouted from the doorway. “Let's go! Let's go!”
“Grab my guitar and my violin.” Jay shouted to Rex and Johan. “I’ll be right behind you!”
“You got it.”
“Right.” They both answered in unison.
Jay looked Dee in the eyes. “You CAN do this. This is YOUR night to shine, not theirs. Show them everything you’re capable of when you do it on your own terms. And make it a night that no one out there will forget.”
Dee gulped, but nodded. There was a part of him that was still absolutely terrified, but the Prophet couldn’t give in. The Prophet couldn’t back down.
Jay picked him up, bridal style, and hurried toward the stage.
Aaaand part 3
The rhythmic drumming continued. The Soverign, the Tiger and The Mystic took their places on stage, spotlights hitting each of them. The crowd started cheering as he kicked off the intro to "I am Bulletproof" with a keyboard riff. At long last, the spotlight hit the throne, illuminating The Prophet.
The fear that paralyzed him an hour before was gone. In its place was the healing magic of music and the passion of a dream becoming reality. He didn't move much, but his voice carried across the theater - bolstered by slamming guitar riffs and a powerfully tribal rhythm section.
"Hello, Cleveland!" He shouted to the roar of an energetic crowd. "We are Kuro. Thank you for coming out to celebrate the release of our first single with us. We promise to make this a night you won't soon forget. But all have to promise me one thing, can you do that?"
The crowd began to cheer.
"Promise me that when all hope is lost, you'll fight against all odds!!" He shouted. "Never give in!! Never back down!!"
As they launched into a song of the same name, the energy in the theater was palpable. The pit was alive, and people lifted their fellow fans up into the air.
They skipped over their usual cover of "Rebel Yell" in favor of debuting the just-released B-side to their first single, the never-before-played "Rebel Love Song." And in true Ziggy Stardust tour fashion, turned a lot of heads when the Mystic lifted the Prophet into his arms during the Tiger's guitar solo, spun him around on stage, and kissed him. Ziggy had told them after their very first show not to hide their relationship. And Jay wanted to make damn sure Dee's parents saw that their son not only had a successful music career, but a partner who loved every inch of him exactly as he was. The Prophet spent the rest of the song on his feet, albeit with his arms wrapped around the Mystic's neck, picking up the backup vocals on his headset mic.
The crowd cheered as The Prophet proudly made his way back to the throne. The Mystic's support looked more like a consort's escort, and also provided time for a change of instruments. The Mystic picked up his violin, while the Soverign quickly swapped out for an acoustic guitar. The Prophet's message of love took a softer turn with "Savior." And he dedicated "In the End," their usual finale, to everyone in the audience who bravely chased their dreams, even in the face of what felt like certain death.
It was the best they'd ever played that song, and the crowd made sure they knew it.
"That song... is very special to me. Because we ARE more than our bodies." Those words alone were inspirational. But coming from The Prophet, someone with a very visible disability, carried a significant amount of weight. "And believe me when I say how fully you can live... when you're not afraid to die. But I could never rise back up and relive my glory without the entire Kuro tribe by my side. So, let them hear it!"
He gave every band member their moment in the spotlight as he called them out by name. The Skjoldånd, The Sovereign, The Tiger and the Mystic.
"We have one more song for you tonight before Hexed takes the stage." He played a few of the opening notes on his keyboard, letting them ring in the silence. The crowd started to cheer. "This song... is for anyone who ever tried to tell you how to live... They know who they fucking are!"
He repeated the opening notes on his keyboard and the rest of the band joined enthusiastically. It was the most important song of the night, not only because it was their first single, but also because it was a personal message from Dee to two people in that crowd in particular. And they all wanted to help him spit that vitriol.
Even after the short stint on his feet earlier, the rest of Kuro knew Dee wouldn't hold back. What surprised them, though, was how quickly he made his way to center stage - a whole verse sooner than they'd rehearsed. It took noticeable effort, but he was determined. Jay knew that. And tonight, out of all nights, was the time to defy expectations. The guitarists slid back, jamming back to back as they gave their singer the spotlight.
The Prophet walked to the very edge of the stage and screamed the bridge with every ounce of his strength. The walls themselves were probably shaking right along with Dee's weakened muscles.
As the Tiger leaned into his solo, the Prophet leaned forward. He pointed to several of his friends and fellow musicians in the front row. "Give me a lift!"
Rekker, Joe and many of the others were more than happy to oblige. The stunned look on everyone's faces when Dee gave them two thumbs up and did, in fact, freefall off the stage said that this part was definitely not rehearsed. The Dogs in front of the stage were equally surprised and tried to grab him. But the other musicians were taller, and they pulled The Prophet up and over, hoisting him in the air.
To their credit, no one skipped a note. The Prophet belted the final chorus on his back, the crowd going wild as they all pushed and shoved to get their hands under him for even a split second. As light as he was, keeping him up over the crowd wasn't difficult. But he was entirely at their mercy.
Instead of guiding him back up to the stage, he ended up in the back of the theater. Where, thankfully, Damien and several of his top Dogs were there to intercept him. Damien grabbed him around the chest, while the others made a hole. He tenuously held the singer upright, but it was obvious that he'd have dropped had anyone tried to leave him on his feet.
Still, The Prophet shouted, "Thank you, Cleveland! Remember! Never give in, never back down, and keep that energy going for Hexed!!"
As security spun him around, he finally saw them - his parents - standing awkwardly in the back of the venue. They tightly clutched their bags of Kuro merchandise as they locked eyes with their son. Their expression was hard to place - shock and surprise had given way to nervousness, pride, regret and even relief, all barely contained and threatening to bubble over. His mother gulped, her weight shifting imperceptibly closer. His father looked away.
Dee looked like he might just bubble over himself. Thankfully, before he could, one of the Dogs made a grab for his wireless receiver and switched off his mic. The lights went down on stage and Damien steered him quickly out the back door before anyone could cause an even bigger scene.