open | i'll never die, i am a freak

[brushoff]

Who: Dorian Gray & OPEN
What: settling in
When: all throughout the month of March
Where: Milton, with a focus on the community hall, the church, and the outskirts

Content Warnings: drug use, smut, body horror and gore in the form of Dorian's creepyass portrait, others tba

( catch all post for March! full of open and closed starters, dm me if you have an idea~ )

Comments

closed to sveta

[brushoff]

Dorian's found his place to live: the church. It's perfect. It's just enough out of the way that he'll have space to himself. It's delightfully ironic that someone who sold his soul to the devil is taking up residence in a house of worship. And it's got enough crypts, caverns, and hideaways that he can hide a very important piece of artwork that came with him. Because in the community center, right next to a peacoat that he knows is his own (and a baggie of cocaine in said peacoat that he is not telling anyone about) sat his portrait. He stashed it away in a coat closet, wrapped up in a spare sheet until he found a place good enough to settle down in. So now came the awkward part of it all: moving said portrait to the church.

And while Dorian can carry the thing by himself...well, doors exist. It would be easier if he had help.

He doesn't know the blonde lady who he approaches (truthfully, he doesn't know anybody here, but point stands). But she seems nice and helpful and has big ol'sucker written all over her. So Dorian gives Sveta a sheepish smile as he asks, "I know we haven't met yet—hello, I'm Dorian, I'm new here. But can you or someone else help me out with a teensy little favor?"

[balancedlight]

She looks over, rather predictably quite pleased to help. She adjusts her sleeves and gives him a bright smile.

"Of course! I have some time. What do you need?"

[brushoff]

Jackpot. Thank you, bright and cheery and totally manipulatable young woman. Dorian returns Sveta's bright smile with one of his own as he continues,

"You know how when we arrive here, a few personal affects are in the community center? I work in an art gallery back home. One of the paintings I acquired is here and I want to bring it to the church that I've decided to stay at. However, it's a teensy bit big and while I can carry it myself, I'll need someone to help with doors and help me maneuver down stairs."

He gives Sveta an apologetic smile before, "I'll put some tea on as a thank you once we get there."

open!

[brushoff]

There's someone living in the church again! Dorian's spruced it up, sweeping out the inside, washing some of the windows, clearing out the dust bunnies and the airing out the linens. He's not the best at cleaning, but he's decent enough at the job that it's noticeable—especially as Dorian's taking the time to try and shovel some of the snow out of the graveyard (or at least clear a passageway).

Though try as he may to shovel out the path, it's about half actual shoveling and half taking a rest. Someone's got scrawny little noodle arms.

The hustle and bustle of someone working at the church is enough to attract attention. The fact that Dorian also makes his way to town every evening, prowling around empty houses, shamelessly breaking and entering to find a pair of fucking snow boots, also attracts attention. Sorry if the world's scrawniest man tries to open the door of your habitable house! His bad!

[sputnik]

The church isn't exactly on Konstantin's list of destinations to frequent, mostly just a place he passes by on his little daily walks and jogs. It's what he's doing now when he catches movement and does a double-take; at first he thinks it might be Tim out there among the graves, shoveling away at more snow. But it's a stranger, a young man the cosmonaut's never seen before, and that has him trotting up, curious.

He knows there are new Interlopers here now, but it's still strange to see any new face after so many months without them. (What does this mean? More members added to the experiment? He's willing to bet there's going to be another round of "gifts" given out soon. Will this poor young man be another victim?)

Konstantin, as always, doesn't show any of his internal trepidation (or the fact that he's struggling a bit; his condition's been especially bad these days. Never mind that!)

"Hello!" he calls jovially instead, lifting a hand in greeting. He comes to a halt at the gate and crosses his arms over it, looking in at Dorian with a wide, white smile. He is a perfectly normal and handsome man who has no disgusting alien tapeworms! "Looks like hard work."

[brushoff]

Oh he is handsome. Dorian looks up from his work, giving the cosmonaut a once-over and a wide smile. Say what you will about being trapped in a frozen Canadian hellscape with no internet, no electricity, and no means of escaping, at least the people here are remarkably attractive. Dorian will happily take the opportunity to stop working for a bit, turning his attention towards Konstantin.

"I'll be the first to admit that it's probably harder for me than for others. I wasn't exactly used to physical labor before arriving here. But the way I see it, if I decide to take up residence here, it's my job to keep the place looking nice."

It's probably harder for him that for others because 1. Dorian has scrawny little rich boy arms and 2. isn't wearing any sort of work gloves, just the thin, cheap sort of gloves one can get at a discount store. He is absolutely going to have blisters later and doesn't yet realize it.

[dreamsofwings]

Eren learned to lock his door after the Forest Talkers broke in and ruined everything. Before that, he just hadn't really thought about it. Turns out it's a good thing he learned, though, since there's some guy here apparently trying to open the door.

Eren comes up to the porch as Dorian is trying to get that door open and stops.

"Can I help you?" he asks. His voice is mostly monotone, but everything about Eren oozes threat, even with his neutral stance, hands in his coat pockets. It's just who he is, really.

[brushoff]

Whoops.

Dorian gives Eren a sheepish little 'yeah, I fucked up and I knew it' sort of smile. "Sorry!" he says, apologetic tone in his voice. "I know some of these houses aren't inhabited and really, I need clothing that isn't Armani."

It's said like obviously Eren will know what Armani is. Everybody knows what it is.

"You wouldn't happen to know if any of these houses might have anything in...mmm, a men's medium or a size 10 shoe?"

[shoving]

It's a curious thing that there'd been another Bruce Wayne here. This particular Bruce Wayne, however, had not been inclined to ask the two who'd told him about his doppelganger anything further. Not until he had a clearer picture of his circumstances. But he was curious nonetheless and while he got settled in a different part of Milton, he decided to take a look at Other Bruce's haunt. If he knew himself well enough there were likely supplies there he could put to use.

If someone hasn't gotten to them first, that is.

There's quite a while before he actually approaches the church. Someone is inside and he's yet to catch a glimpse of who it might be. Bruce didn't want to step foot inside without first setting eyes on the church's newest occupant. He had the knife Jason gave him and the single batarang he found in the snow by his head when he landed, so he wasn't unarmed. But he did not want to walk into this unprepared.

Spotting Dorian made the approach easier and he does, hands tucked away in the pockets of his coat courtesy of Tim. He makes sure he's easier to spot as he nears the graveyard where he's shoveling.

"Nice to see you again, Dorian," he says pleasantly, "Hope Milton's treating you well."

[brushoff]

Oh. It's that guy. What's his face. Jack? Truth be told, Dorian is interested in Bruce. He seemed like someone who could at least be a good conversationalist. But the problem is that he met him during their first day, when Dorian's main focus was on survival, getting warm, and getting answers. Things like 'small talk' fell by the wayside.

Still, all the better to get it down now. He gives Bruce a cheery little wave, small smile on his face.

"Pleasure to see you as well. And Milton's treating me as well as it can. I know nobody really wanted to spend their time trapped in a small town in the Arctic Circle with no electricity, but it isn't like we can do anything about this now, is there?"

There isn't. It sucks.

"And yourself? How have you been?"

closed to zane, cw: drug use for the whole thread lmfao

[brushoff]

The last cocaine trip that Dorian had was unequivocally bad. It was not good. And it also might have been demonically influenced? As far as Dorian is concerned, there were demons in that cocaine and they did almost make him jump off a ledge. But this bag, this small baggie of pure white powder that appeared in the pocket of a coat he knew was his, it could be different. It should be different. Zero demons in this cocaine, baby.

And besides, he's had a hard few days! He's been dragged to Canada of all places! He's fairly certain his immortality is on the fritz as he still has blisters! Nothing here has central heating! Truly, nobody has suffered like he has. So he deserves something nice. He deserves to not think about things for a little bit. For one evening, he deserves to just not think about things and for the universe to go 'it's okay, Dorian! You can have a bit of a break.'

So he did a line of coke off of the altar in the church. No biggie! If there are demons in this cocaine, he'll just deal with it! Like he always does!

And at least for the moment, Dorian doesn't regret it? He feels phenomenal, like his entire mind's opened up. He's wired, he's buzzing, he's alive in ways that he hasn't felt in...well, in a while. Certainly not for a few years, not since the 2000s at the earliest. But he is here, he is opened up, and his mind is swimming.

This manifests in Dorian standing outside in the street, by the church, looking up at the Aurora with an expression of someone who is drugged to high heaven. Those pupils are big, gang.

[sukeltaja]

Zane can't think, so Zane walks--he can do that now, here, without too much danger. It's still looming and ever present, but the shadows don't jump out as much, and the people are plenty. If he's being honest with himself, he's also a little bit grumpy. He's reached a dead end. Can't create. Can't pull words out of the air like he used to.

It's not just metaphysical--he lost that when he left the Dark Place. It's even worse. It's artistic block. He'd had a brilliant burst with the mushrooms, and now? Everything is flat. Lazy. He doesn't even have proper film!

So he walks, and he winds up around the church because it's at least aesthetically pleasing, and--

Oh.

There's a very familiar look on a very unfamiliar man.

"Hel-lo, handsome."

Of course Tom is going to approach. He can't not.

[brushoff]

Handsome. Finally, someone sees it and is brazen enough to flirt. Dorian looks over Zane, giving him a once-over. He...frankly needs to look like he should brush his hair. But there's something interesting about this man. Something enticing. He can potentially be someone of interest and Dorian doesn't know why.

Because it's not something as shallow as his vanity. Nope. Not that. (It totally is that).

"Hello yourself," Dorian responds, with the manic grin and dilated eyes of someone off their tits on cocaine. "Enjoying the evening? Or at least, enjoying it as well as you can considering the fucking cold?"

closed to chloe, cw: drug use

[brushoff]

Dorian's not an idiot. He won't use up all his cocaine on one trip. He'll ration it out! There's enough for...mmm, five or six highs? Possibly more, if he doesn't go to excess, a valid possibility considering that it's him. Trip number two, baby!

Which ends up very much the same as the first. Dorian, outside, in the street, looking at something. Though instead of staring at the sky, this time he's staring at his hands.

Are his cuticles getting chapped? Can cuticles get chapped to begin with? He can see every vein, every molecule, every atom in his hands, and they're...dying. Odd. His hands shouldn't be doing that. His hands also shouldn't be the sort of grayish color that Dorian is hallucinating them as, but that's something to deal with later.

So sorry Chloe: there's this dumbass in the middle of the road, looking at his hands.

[desperate_times_right]

Chloe used to hardly spend any time in town, but now that she delivers food a few places, she sometimes encounters weird things. Like a guy standing in the street staring at his hands. Fucking Christ, this had better not be mushrooms again.

“Hey dude, you good?”

[brushoff]

Oh. Shit. Someone's talking to him. Dorian blinks slightly before looking over at Chloe.

"I think so?" There's a moment before Dorian lets out a small little giggle. "Actually, nah, probably not." He leans in to whisper, in a very audible whisper, "I might have done a tiny little bit of cocaine."

Where the fuck did someone get cocaine?!

closed to kate, forward dated a few days into the event

[brushoff]

The first day after he has his odd dream involving the Darkwalker, Dorian sleeps the rest of the day, sweating through his sheets and forcing himself through his fever. The second day, he staggers out of bed and forces some soup down his throat. The third day, he feels well enough to stand up and do a little bit of tidying, chit-chatting with people who enter the church—like Roberto! Someone who Dorian had never met before! Someone...who was really boring in Dorian's mind.

The third day, Dorian also accidentally kills Roberto. Whoops. Technically speaking, it wasn't his fault. All he did was grab hold of the man's arm! It was an idle gesture, nothing more. How was he to know what would happen, how was he to know what fantastic feeling would spread through his body as he drained that man's life?

Sure, he probably could have let go of Roberto's arm. But better he live than a boring little man like that. A boring little man that whoopsie, is an Interloper.

It's around 3am that Dorian's thoughts just flare up, broadcasting themselves to the various Interlopers in Milton. And unfortunately for everyone, Dorian's internal monologue is just that: a monologue.

I do wonder what the whole point of this sort of situation is. Obviously some of us are interesting. Exceptional. Best fit to survive in this type of environment. And the rest of us are just SO dull. I suppose whatever experiment is being conducted on such a grand, godly scale needs variables. After running the first round of tests, might as well introduce different rats to the Skinner box. Bigger rats. Smaller rats. Rats of all shapes and sizes, perfect for study.

Is that what we are? Rats in a box, just pressing levers, getting that sweet, sweet dopamine, that lovely little shot of cocaine or sugar water or what the hell ever. Rats being looked over by the Darkwalker, by that girl, raised and changed by our scientists so that we can have peak results. Whatever they do, they could have chosen their test subjects better. I'll spoil the results.

Dorian Gray, once again the plaything of higher powers. Story of my life.

This has been going on for fifteen minutes.

[castitas]

She hasn't been sleeping all that well to begin with. Sometimes it's... easier when Tim's there with her, but Tim's not always clambering into her window (with wolfdog in tow) every night. She still misses Goodsir, and Ruby's gone missing now too — and Kate's sick with worry for the girl.

Night time is just the worst. But she turns over and tries to get back to sleep — until the voice starts up out of nowhere. Kate doesn't speak up, at first. She's gotten used to the sounds of other Interlopers that can do the same thing as her, but that number's gotten smaller over the months. Mr Jopson is quiet and a rare occurrence, Rorschach is more frequent. And there's other voices too: Interlopers that have been here for a long time.

This voice is new. She doesn't recognise it. She's frowning into her pillow for several minutes — only the voice doesn't seem to quieten off. It's— constant. Kate groans in exasperation; well, there goes her chance of trying to get back to sleep.

So, like, why not?

Hey. It comes out a little more disgruntled that she means to, exhausted from the lack of sleep. She pauses, recollects herself. I'm guessing you just got this power. We can hear you, you know.

[brushoff]

There's a veeeeery long pause as Dorian, in the middle of cleaning some of the windows in the church, just straight up drops his sponge out of surprise. Because there's someone in his head. He's very grateful that nobody else is in the building as, like a complete dope, Dorian looks around to make sure nobody else is around. He's all alone. That voice was definitely in his head.

And that is bizarre.

There's an awkward silence before the stream of consciousness ramble continues.

She can hear me? Lovely, whatever this is, I've a captive audience. Perhaps this is for the best. I've grown very tired of talking to myself and I make a terrible conversationalist—oh, wait.

You can hear me. So I can talk back. I can think back? Yes, I suppose I did just receive this power. How exactly can you hear me? You're here, in my head, but how much can you tell? How far can you go? Because if this is more than just surface level thoughts, I am going to have to give a very quick explanation of certain things.

Jesus Christ, he's still yapping.

for john, bodyswap event

[brushoff]

Dorian's been sleeping in a bit later than usual. There is far too much daylight here and it makes his body feel far too shitty. So, he's developed a new strategy. Sleep in, wake up, spend as much time inside as possible, venture out in the evening, when it's closer to twilight, to see and be seen, do whatever he needs to do at what passes for night. He was planning on continuing that strategy here.

But he can feel something around him. Something's touching him. And he didn't go to sleep with something touching him.

Dorian letsout a little sleepy sort of noise, the noise that people make when waking up. He looks down at...well, at something he can't really describe. Something that he doesn't know what it is. Something noticeably inhuman.

Dorian's got a really shitty track record with the noticeably inhuman.

He doesn't say anything. He doesn't say a word. Instead, he swiftly brings his arm back to try and elbow whatever the fuck is next to him in it's fucking face before attempting to scramble out of the bed.

Re: for john, bodyswap event

[dies_irate]

What is in bed with him is not so much a what as a who, and said who is going to wake up as mindful and demure as the Old Bear who's blessing he happened to have gotten saddled with.

Honestly, if you weren't in the body of Arthur Lester, sir, and if he didn't know he had fallen asleep curled around Arthur Lester, someone might be a head shorter right now. Thankfully-

"What the- FUCKING- Arthur, what the fuck?"

As he rubs at his nose and watches 'Arthur' scramble out of bed away from him. He knows Arthur has nightmares sometimes (and he's not thinking about the bullshit in New York, thanks) but this is ridiculous!

Re: for john, bodyswap event

[brushoff]

Oh. Oh that thing is obviously bad news. Dorian's eyes scan the room, trying to see if he can spot a weapon. Nothing's immediately coming to his sight...hell, the more he tries to find a weapon, the more he realizes he has no idea where he is. He's never seen this room before. Dorian has absolutely no idea where he is. Which really, that means he just needs to get the fuck away from this situation even more.

That being said, there's something that catches his attention,

"Who the fuck is Arthur?"

Wait a moment. "That's not my voice," Dorian points out. There's a moment as he looks down at his hands...and those are not his hands. They're a bit more beat up, a bit worn and weathered, and just as importantly for Dorian's mind, far too old. And oh yeah, he's missing a fucking finger?!? He turns his attention back to John as he snarls, "What the hell did you do to me?"

for arthur, bodyswap event

[brushoff]

By now, Dorian's gotten a vague idea of what's going on (thanks John!). Somehow, he's in the body of Arthur Lester, whoever the fuck that is. Based on his previous experience of being in someone else's body, a sentence that Dorian never thought he'd think but this is his fucking life now, something changed them. Something, or more likely someone did this.

And if that someone was this Arthur Lester prick, Dorian knows exactly what to do in order to get his body back.

(John was certain that Arthur didn't do this. But Dorian wasn't born yesterday. You only needed to talk to him for a moment to see that Arthur meant a lot to John. And Dorian is well aware that people will do whatever it takes to protect those they care about.)

So, knowing full well that Arthur's probably having a real shitty time right now, Dorian makes his way to the church. Throwing the door open, he calls out in a sing-song voice, "Arthur Lesteeer~ I believe we're overdue a conversation."

There's a knife that he's kept in the main hall of the church, tucked away in the back in case of emergency. It's just a steak knife, but it will serve it's purpose. Dorian grabs it, slides it in his pocket, then makes his way towards that back apartment he knows Arthur would have woken up in.

Re: for arthur, bodyswap event

[lestercraft]

The slamming open of a door nearby jolts Arthur from sleep he didn't know was fitful until he's suddenly awake and already exhausted for it, but the words don't get the chance to get comprehended when he's already mid-motion flailing into an upright position.

"Wh- J-John-?"

He only has a brief moment to register his surroundings: a small room, insulated and wrapped in blankets himself but still fucking cold-- or maybe it's- it's hot, right, because he's practically sweating through the sheets, his limbs feel like dead weight as he struggles his way out of the blankets, and he sort of stares with bleary, distant incomprehension at his hands. There's something- something wrong, here, he isn't- wasn't...

...wasn't... injured.

How the fuck was his finger fixed?

And he finally registers, too late, through a head that feels stuffed with burning cotton, footsteps thumping towards his room. But he still struggles to his feet anyway, because maybe if he can get to the door he can at least hold it shut while he tries to think.

Re: for arthur, bodyswap event

[brushoff]

Arthur's a bit too late to get to the door. Because as he reaches the door, Dorian gets there first. He throws the door open and looks over at his own body.

Urgh. Does he really look like that in the daylight? He suspected he looked like shit, but to see it in full, to see how tired, how ragged, how worn out he looks...it's disgusting.

This also means that Arthur's getting the unique and only slightly disturbing sight of his own face, looking over at him with a snarl of disgust. Dorian walks over to Arthur and attempts to hoist him up, trying to manhandle him into an upright position. However, as he does so, Dorian takes care to try and stay out of grabbing distance. He knows what will happen if Arthur grabs him and holds on long enough. But Arthur certainly doesn't.

As the attempted manhandling goes on, Dorian just keeps yapping. "Wrong person! But you and I are overdue a lovely little chat. You have something of mine, Arthur Lester, and I'd greatly appreciate you returning it."