The Amended Powders Meme

[makeyourownkindofmusic]

1 - Tag in with your character
2 - Tag another character with a color of your choosing or generate one with RNG.
3 - Make a mess.

1- Pink is alcoholic, best described as freeze-dried whiskey.
2- Orange tastes like blackcurrant juice. It also gives you an amazing amount of energy.
3- Blue tastes like chocolate milk. Drink it and you'll become a child.
4- Red tastes sort of malty, and will make the drinker feel suddenly veeerrry sleepy. They'll be able to explore the dreams of those around them.
5- Purple tastes of orange juice, and will switch your sex.
6- Green just basically makes you want to have sex.
7- Yellow gives you the urge to fight anyone you see and tastes like a big dollop of Vegemite dropped in a glass of water.
8- Brown is Felix Felicis. It tastes like root beer, but makes everything come up Milhouse.

Comments

[giving35percent]

[notthejerkbag]

Red.

[giving35percent]

[Dmitri holds his hands up to his eyes, trying to block out the row of blinding lights at his feet. What the fuck is going on? His first guess would be alien abduction, but hey, that's already happened. As he adjusts to his surroundings, he lowers his hand and scowls. He's on a stage. He's on the Second Heaven stage, actually, and there's a sinking feeling in his stomach.]

Great. Finally got my one man show. [He can see that the house is empty and that where there should be backstage wings, concrete walls close him in.] Fuck it. [Dmitri walks towards the lip of the stage, doing his best to ignore the heat from the lights. The closer he gets to the edge, the worse his stomach feels until finally he can't take another step.]

[notthejerkbag]

Hello! Stage...person. [So far tonight, she's just been opening doors. This door is the first one that's led anywhere. Coming in from the back door, she slips into one of the many, many empty seats. This is a weird dream. Not the sort of thing she usually dreams about. Usually she dreams about people being upset with her for unspecified reasons. That, and mountains. Or the day before. Usual dreams. Not...empty stage dreams. It's a nice change from the usual.

She thinks for a moment. None of this fits into normal dream patterns. But considering everything that's happened lately, maybe she should just throw out 'normal' and 'usual' as qualifiers. She's right at the back, so she cups her hands around her mouth to call,] I didn't interrupt your performance, did I?

[giving35percent]

Uh. Hey? [He puts his hands back up to try to make out who's entered the theater, but it's no use. Dmitri takes another step forward and starts to shake. Oh, Christ. He's either gonna puke or his appendix is gonna explode. He backs way back into the center of the stage and breathes deeply.]

No. If you bought a ticket, I suggest you turn around and punch whoever's working the box office in the face. Nothing to see here... [He gets a twinge of the intense nausea he felt only a few moments ago and holds his stomach.] You wouldn't know where 'here' is, would you?

[notthejerkbag]

Oh, am I supposed to have a ticket? [Oops. Oh well.] Sorry! Also, I don't know where here is. There's a door. Behind me. Right at the back. [She leans forward in her seat a bit, arms folding.] What's wrong with your stomach?

[giving35percent]

[Shit. Is she supposed to have a ticket? Utterly confused, he gives an exaggerated shrug and does his best to not be sick all over the place.] Performance anxiety. Happens to the best of us, am I right? [Falling back on weak jokes is his go-to defense mechanism.]

So how come neither of us know where we are? I mean... I think I know where I am, but it also doesn't feel like I am where I think I am. Y'know?

[notthejerkbag]

No, that didn't make any sense to me. [That seems like a normal thing to say. She looks around the empty rows.] Am I early or late?

[Oh! This is the anxiety part of the dream! She'll be too late to a thing and everyonell be mad at her. Or too early? Where are the clocks, what's the time? She looks around. The pressure that usually builds in her throat and chest when something's wrong isn't there. Maybe there's nothing wrong, here?]

I'm asleep. I'm pretty sure I'm asleep. So I guess we're dreaming and that. Not sure where we are though.

[giving35percent]

Yeah, this isn't helping. [Dmitri gives an exaggerated grin and starts to walk around the stage.] So it's simple. We just need some ice water or like a taser or something that will wake us up. I could hit you in the face?

[notthejerkbag]

[Elsa cocks her head to one side, looking a mix of hurt and surprised.] Why would you... don't hit me. [She's suddenly glad of the distance between them.] Pinch yourself. That's how to wake up, right?

[giving35percent]

[Well, that's an overreaction. Dmitri spreads his hands and stares her down.] I wouldn't offer to hit you in the face if I wasn't OK with you doing the same. I'm a fucking gentleman.

[Still, he pinches himself, winces, and takes a noisy inhale when nothing happens.] Great suggestion, Nancy Drew.

[notthejerkbag]

I don't want to hit you in the face. [holy shit, Baron Bon Punchies!] I'm a pacifist. Non-violent.

[Cautiously, she leaves her seat and steps closer to the stage.] Did it help?

[junelight]

Brown!

[giving35percent]

[Suck his dick, Rush! Dmitri is in the music room and has somehow managed to configure three drum kits into one massive set. The sticks in his hand are flying so fast you'd have to have eagle eyes to see which piece he's striking. Smashing the snare, he sends the tumbler he'd balanced on it (full of that sweet, sweet pop) airborne. Dropping one stick, Dmitri snatches the glass mid-flight and downs its contents, not a drop spilled.]

Thank you! [he shouts to no one in particular] Thank you!