Jared Jacobs (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
insufferablysmart) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
hellhouse2019-06-10 07:45 am
insufferablysmart) wrote in hellhouse2019-06-10 07:45 am
Entry tags:
(no subject)
WHO: Jared Jacobs & Sansa Stark
WHAT: Waking up in Hell House
WHEN: Day 1, early morning
WARNINGS: tbd
WHAT: Waking up in Hell House
WHEN: Day 1, early morning
WARNINGS: tbd
You know that feeling when you wake up and you immediately know that something's wrong, more often than not, that wrong thing being that you're late?
Jared Jacobs wakes up with a start, with that feeling. He has a job interview this morning because his father finally put his foot down and said that if Jared wanted to keep living in the basement apartment, he needed to start paying rent, at least. Jared's been lazy as hell the past several years of his life. ...okay, Jared's been lazy his entire life but, in his defense, a lot of that had more to do with being bored for lack of intellectual stimulation than anything else. Somewhere in his teen years, boredom stopped being motivating and started becoming an excuse to do absolutely nothing instead of looking for ways to fill the void. Sometimes, it's not easy being a genius.
The first thing Jared notices is the darkness in the room doesn't match the pitch black of the basement apartment; there are candles lit. He doesn't do candles. Candles are for romantic dinners in the movies and girls averse to Febreeze spray.
The second thing he notices is that he's slumped over a table and there's another person across the table, bright red hair splayed out over its surface and her head down on her arms like she's getting ready to play a rousing game of Heads Up, Seven Up. That thought almost — almost — makes him laugh with its absurdity, because the third thing Jared notices is that he's dressed in a suit not unlike the one he wore to his junior prom — the last one he bothered to go to, because it was the last one when Ems was still a part of his life.
"What the fuck?" he hisses. Guess he's missing that job interview...
His head snaps over to look at the source of the sound of a machine turning on and he realizes belatedly that it looks like a record player. A flash of white-blue light in his periphery catches his eye as he shucks off the suit jacket — seriously, what the hell? — and when his eyes follow it, the shock nearly has him falling out of his chair as he shoves himself back from the table. The chair topples with a crash to the floor as he scrambles to his feet, tearing at the cuff links so he can pull up the sleeve of his left arm revealing what looks like a freaking cellphone in his arm. In his arm.
"What the fucking fuck?!" he yelps, fingers running over the seamless implantation and eyes wider than saucers. His eyes move to the girl and an even more terrifying sensation settles in the pit of his stomach. Is she dead? Is she fucking dead and he's in this, what? Dining room? By himself with a dead body and a phone in his arm and holy shit, okay, he appreciates the giant upgrade from waking up as part of a Human Centipede or something, but seriously, what the fuck?!
His chest is heaving with unsteady breaths as he walks slowly around the table and toward the girl. "Please don't be dead...oh shit, please don't be dead, don't be dead, please don't be dead..." he whispers to himself, swallowing thickly as he approaches her and reaches a shaking hand out to touch her shoulder. "Hey...hey, lady...? Oh, God, don't be dead, lady, please fucking don't be dead..."
Jared Jacobs wakes up with a start, with that feeling. He has a job interview this morning because his father finally put his foot down and said that if Jared wanted to keep living in the basement apartment, he needed to start paying rent, at least. Jared's been lazy as hell the past several years of his life. ...okay, Jared's been lazy his entire life but, in his defense, a lot of that had more to do with being bored for lack of intellectual stimulation than anything else. Somewhere in his teen years, boredom stopped being motivating and started becoming an excuse to do absolutely nothing instead of looking for ways to fill the void. Sometimes, it's not easy being a genius.
The first thing Jared notices is the darkness in the room doesn't match the pitch black of the basement apartment; there are candles lit. He doesn't do candles. Candles are for romantic dinners in the movies and girls averse to Febreeze spray.
The second thing he notices is that he's slumped over a table and there's another person across the table, bright red hair splayed out over its surface and her head down on her arms like she's getting ready to play a rousing game of Heads Up, Seven Up. That thought almost — almost — makes him laugh with its absurdity, because the third thing Jared notices is that he's dressed in a suit not unlike the one he wore to his junior prom — the last one he bothered to go to, because it was the last one when Ems was still a part of his life.
"What the fuck?" he hisses. Guess he's missing that job interview...
His head snaps over to look at the source of the sound of a machine turning on and he realizes belatedly that it looks like a record player. A flash of white-blue light in his periphery catches his eye as he shucks off the suit jacket — seriously, what the hell? — and when his eyes follow it, the shock nearly has him falling out of his chair as he shoves himself back from the table. The chair topples with a crash to the floor as he scrambles to his feet, tearing at the cuff links so he can pull up the sleeve of his left arm revealing what looks like a freaking cellphone in his arm. In his arm.
"What the fucking fuck?!" he yelps, fingers running over the seamless implantation and eyes wider than saucers. His eyes move to the girl and an even more terrifying sensation settles in the pit of his stomach. Is she dead? Is she fucking dead and he's in this, what? Dining room? By himself with a dead body and a phone in his arm and holy shit, okay, he appreciates the giant upgrade from waking up as part of a Human Centipede or something, but seriously, what the fuck?!
His chest is heaving with unsteady breaths as he walks slowly around the table and toward the girl. "Please don't be dead...oh shit, please don't be dead, don't be dead, please don't be dead..." he whispers to himself, swallowing thickly as he approaches her and reaches a shaking hand out to touch her shoulder. "Hey...hey, lady...? Oh, God, don't be dead, lady, please fucking don't be dead..."
no subject
He's still weighing the pros and cons of looking anywhere that they haven't already been when Sharra asks whether they ought to try the door she's found. He lifts an eyebrow. Should they? It feels like a loaded question after what they just went through.
For a moment, Jared doesn't answer. Instead, he looks back at the door and hesitates. "It could be worse than the plants," he points out. "...or it could be our ticket out." Jared doesn't like this feeling; he's never unsure of himself where other people can see. He keeps that shit to himself. "Yeah. How much worse than that could it possibly be?"
no subject
Her horrors had been in her own home, though, and they'd been visited upon her by a person and not the rooms themselves. It's somewhat different, yes, but Sansa thinks it's made her strong enough to survive whatever this place plans to throw at her. Besides - she's fought the dead. That's no small thing.
"Come, let's try it and stop dreading the unknown."
no subject
Taking a deep breath, Jared shakes his head a little as he shrugs. He can barely believe he's going along with this, but what other choice does he have? Wander around in hallways and never try a door because he's scared? That'll get him big, fat, fucking nowhere.
"All right, here goes nothing..."