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memesinthenight2019-08-15 06:19 pm
inthenightmods) wrote in memesinthenight2019-08-15 06:19 pm
Entry tags:
TEST DRIVE MEME #3
TEST DRIVE MEME #3
Hello and welcome to the In the Night test drive meme for August! Thanks for your interest in our game! Reserves open on August 20, and applications open on August 22.
While you're here...
- Take a look at our rules and faq pages to familiarize yourself with the game.
- Note that we have a reserve cap of 20 total, and an application cap of 19 apps this month for new players, as the game has a player cap of 60. Current players apping another character do not currently have a cap, but this will change next month, as we transition to a total app cap of 20.
- TDM threads can become game canon if both players wish. If the situation isn't something that could happen in-game, you're free to chalk it up to some strange hallucination, a shared dream, or other mysterious circumstance.
- Note that this is not limited to new characters threading with characters already in-game. If current players wish to thread out the TDM prompts as canon events, they are welcome to do so. They are welcome to make posts in the main comms for TDM events as well. Please note, however, that actual plot clues or happenings will not occur in TDM prompts.
- TDM threads can count as network threads for AC.
- If you plan to apply, please keep in mind that we do require at least one sample thread on the application to be from our TDM (though it doesn't need to be the current TDM).
- You're welcome to use the provided prompts or come up with something on your own, but we do ask that all threads take place in our game's setting.
Thank you again, and we hope you'll choose to join us!
log prompts
THE FIRST PARTY BY BEACON, FOR BEACON
It's party time!!! In an attempt at community building with the forest spirits, (and definitely not as a large distraction,) a group of Beaconites has helped to plan a fantastic little shindig. Come on out to Bonfire Square, put on your flower crown or paper hat, and enjoy the festivities! Eat, drink, and be merry, because we're already dead!
There's baked goods aplenty, a bouncy house, a face-painting station, (or if you prefer, you can make a mask instead,) a mail sorting game, a strange machine spitting out bizarre prizes, and even a scavenger hunt! Or you could try to dance or something. Up to you. But just so you know, bouncy houses are way more fun.
This prompt is a mini version of this month's Do You Realize? event.
IF YOU BUILD IT
Be it a bridge, a boat, or a handmade home, you’ve been roped into a building project. Hey, maybe it’s one that you’ve decided to spearhead yourself. Either way, these things take time, resources, and a great deal of hard work. Things will go much more smoothly if you can get a helping hand. You could get lucky and in your moment of need, trying to juggle too many tools and materials at once, someone swoops in to pick up a piece of the load. Maybe you trip and drop a bucket of wood chippings all over someone. Maybe you have to physically grab someone who's been lazing around and strong-arm them into work.
Regardless of how it happens, you're here, you're ready, and you have a companion in your task. Now you've just got to make sure you don't reverse the progress you've made so far. Depending on who you've partnered with, this may be a struggle in and of itself.
network prompts
RUNNING DREAMS
You had the strangest dream last night. And not just last night, but the night before, and the night before that, too. Or maybe you could say it wasn't so much strange as it was haunting. It's stayed with you, visceral. The feeling that you're running through the forest, perhaps with limbs unlike your own, numerous and spindley. You jump and climb and claw and fly. You're so many things all at once. Hungry, restless, free, wild, jittery, curious, angry, playful. Or maybe you're none of things at all. Maybe you slither, maybe you creep. Maybe you're slow, moving with deliberate calmness. One thing's for certain: in you're dreams you aren't you. And if you're not you, what else could you possibly be but a spirit?
Maybe someone else has been experiencing the same thing; in Beacon, it seems that nothing ever happens to only one person. Either way, maybe getting it off of your chest will help you feel a bit more rested from now on.
SECRET ADMIRER
Be it a tent, a room at the Invincible, or one of the homes in the village you've chosen to hold your bed, you've started to wake up to find something sitting just outside your door. A peculiarly shaped rock? A broken bottle? Such things are easy to overlook as debris. A wreath crafted from branches and berries? That's a bit more conspicuous. It's starting to feel as if someone, or perhaps something has been leaving these at your doorsteps. Should you call them gifts, or something potentially more devious?
You could post to the network asking for opinions, or even advice. How do you respond to the affections of a creature that only presents itself when you sleep? And, ah, what would be the best course of action to make sure you don't cause any offense? It's no secret what the spirits are capable of when they're angered.
| QUICKNAV | |||
| comms | | | network • logs • memes • ooc | |
| pages | | | rules • faq • taken • mod contact • player contact • calendar • setting • exploration • item requests • full nav | |
aziraphale | good omens | ota
[ Let it be known that, in the midst of his confusion upon arriving, Aziraphale won't refuse an invitation for a little celebration to distract himself from the rest of this place. Having obtained a flower crown that sits upon his curls like a halo would, he is currently lurking around the snack table, pastry in hand, when he spots your character maybe browsing, trying to decide which of the snacks to take. ]
You must try one of these, they are excellent.
The morning buns, too. Delectable.
2. Build It
[ Aziraphale is just passing by a building site, possibly because it seems to be one of the more important infrastructure additions in this town and he wanted to come see if he could come help. The problem is, he literally doesn't like to get his hands dirty, and he hadn't done any sort of construction work in any of the six thousand years he'd spent on Earth. And, since he is an angel for whom things just magically happen because he imagines them to be a certain way, this is an unkind reality check.
He wipes the sweat off his brow and takes a look at the pile of wood planks he is supposed to be moving. Heaving an exasperated breath, he eyes the pile suspiciously. ]
Are there more of these now than when I started?
[ He looks back over to where he's moved some already, and back at the mountain before him that had seemed like such a small hill at the beginning of all this. He considers this for a moment, but crosses his arms over his chest and seems to be fighting a silent battle of wills with it, as if it might spontaneously turn into a bridge if he stared at it long enough. ]
Be that way.
[ Finally, he stoops down to retrieve one and sling it over his shoulder. Finding it to be light, he picks more and more of them up until he miraculously has much more balanced on one arm than looks possible for his frame, and makes his way over to where the bridge is being built. Quietly, he utters: ]
That's more like it.
3. Secret Admirer
@USERNAME
To whomever is leaving green wreaths at my door:
I do not believe I was the intended recipient of your gifts. I have kept them all in good condition. I do not know who was living at this residence before me, though if you leave a note with a name, I might be able to help you locate that person. I hope this finds you well, as I have already left several notes on my door about this matter. You may come retrieve them at any time, just knock.
With regards,
Aziraphale.
4.
[ Bring your own or hmu @
can we build it?
And he figured there was only one thing he needed to throw into a fire.
and so.
he dumps the boards unceremoniously in the sport where the pile had been.]
Need any extra stuff?
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1. (I had to because Ignis was in charge of cooking for the party and this is so good xD)
While he appreciates the help, he prefers when he's the one doing the cooking.
Deciding that plate with muffins is safe and without twigs, he steps back and sighs in relief.]
Ah. Thank you, [Ignis says with a polite smile and a slight bow.] I was just checking if the pastries are in order. I am glad you are enjoying the food.
aww <3
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secret admirer / un: hierophant
[...]
Is whoever's leaving the wreaths swapping them for your notes?
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3. @kingsknight
They do little things like that sometimes
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beacon's party
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Secret admirer - un: @carnie
Re: Secret admirer - un: @carnie
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adding another onto beacon's party c:
!!! <3
apologies for the delay!
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Namine | Kingdom Hearts | OTA
( The boat ride had been spent in relative silence, listening to others around her murmur and talk amongst themselves about what had happened to them to bring them to a place like this. Many reeled from the fact that they were now dead, and that this place of eternal night was some kind of afterlife. Some expressed their grief, lingering sadness and regret over what was left behind coloring their tone. Namine, however, sat in silence, contemplating what it all meant.
Something had happened to Kairi. Namine isn't exactly been sure of what had happened, but there had been a strange disconnect between their hearts. It's different than when she had been thrown out of the girl's heart and into the space between. Whatever it is, she is sure it isn't good. The fact of her appearance in this strange sort of afterlife is proof enough of that.
When the boat docks, Namine gathers up her sketchbook and makes her way off of the vessel, taking a moment to look around after stepping out of the way. It's different than anywhere she's seen, and a glance upward tells her that the placement of the stars is different than any sky she's familiar with. There's a gnawing uneasiness in the pit of her stomach that she tries to ignore, but like an ink spill on paper, it bleeds into her thoughts. What happened to you, Kairi?
With a quiet sigh, the blonde girl makes her way through the crowd and off of the docks, clutching her sketchbook to her chest. )
2. Party Time, Excellent.
( Namine doesn't know what she had been expecting when she arrived. Maybe a place a little more somber, given that everyone is dead. But here they all are, having a party, of all things. At some point, a flower crown had been shoved into Namine's hands by someone passing by, much to her surprise. Either way, it would have been rude not to accept it, so she simply situated the crown upon her head and observed those around her. It would be more fitting if it took place in Twilight Town, perhaps. But if it lifts the spirits of the people who are trapped in this realm, then all the better.
...Even so, Namine can't help but find herself lingering along the outskirts of those who have gathered. The festivities are something she's never experienced in life, which makes this feel all the more strange that her first party would be after she's died. It makes her all the more painfully aware of how woefully unprepared she is to deal with any of it.
Still, curiosity compels her to move forward, stopping here and there to watch others play games or snack on baked goods or craft something. )
3. Network - Secret Admirer
UN: nobody
( The discovery of the small wreath nearby when she wakes up is a little strange. At first, she thinks that perhaps someone has misplaced it. But how many people misplace a wreath, of all things? Still, it might be best to talk to others who have more experience. Perhaps they might know what to do. )
Hello, everyone. So, I recently arrived, and I have a question. Do things regularly end up on your doorsteps? When I woke up, I found a little wreath nearby. It looks like someone made effort to make it, so it must belong to someone.
Has anyone lost something like this? If so, I'll gladly bring it to you.
But if not, then I'm not really sure what to make of this. Is it a gift? If so, I'd like to know who to thank for it. If anyone has any information about this kind of thing, please let me know.
4. Choose Your Own Adventure!
( Feel free to write your own prompt if none of these fit. I'll gladly follow along! )
3. (un: HK)
There are spirits in this place and odd behavior seems to be how they communicate. If I had to guess, it’d be them.
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2!
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Crowley | Good Omens | OTA
[Crowley loves a party. Here, have a Crowley, sitting with some wine. He's not dancing, he's not engaging anyone. He's just sitting, drinking, and watching everyone.
He's not about to leave, though. After all, anything could happen at a party that's very interesting.
He won't be eating any of the food, though. Not his style.]
2. Build It
That's very good.
[Crowley lounges near the boat being built, observing the construction. He has yet to do anything useful. Not picking up a hammer, not even looking at an instruction. If this were the way he'd want it, he'd just have miracled the whole thing into existence, but he's not getting the things he wants anymore. Instead, he's here.
With you.]
You're doing great. I'll keep supervising.
3. Running Dreams
dream logs:
share current dreams
seeking dreams involving snakes and/or alternative bodies.
no happy dreams
party
[ He still isn't sure if he is supposed to be interacting with Crowley, because he's-- they're both dead, they've failed, and naturally this must be a punishment. But God and Satan and the others, they could still be watching, couldn't they? Yet, he can't resist, and tonight is supposed to be a celebration. ]
Ah, you're lacking headwear. Here, take mine.
[ Aziraphale is about to take his flower crown off and place it squarely on top of Crowley's head. ]
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sweet dreams are made of this (from @jtodd)
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(3.) un: HK
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3. @kingsknight
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iii. @parker
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1/2
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jason grace | camp half-blood chronicles | ota
[A rather tall spirit precariously perches a flower crown on Jason’s head and it’s really hard to say no to that. Jason had dealt with his fair share of gods, monsters, and other beings and so he knew better than to insult such a creature by taking the crown off. Still, it was hard to be in a festive spirit when you were, well, dead.
Jason decides to sit at the edge of the festivities for that reason. He’s watching and trying to decide if he should partake just to get his mind off of everything that’s unfolded in the past day or so. His stomach growls and he closes his eyes, trying to will it to stop. It’s the latest of his problems and one he isn’t sure how to address.
He knows he is dead. There’s no coming back from getting stabbed quite that many times or with that kind of gusto. He knows this is SOME kind of Underworld. It just isn’t the Underworld he had always prepared himself to be in. Surely he hadn’t screwed up so badly as to end up somewhere else...right? The hunger though, that worried him. In his own belief system the dead could eat...but if he consumed the food here did that mean he was stuck here?
Of course, wasn’t he stuck here anyway?]
II. BUILD
[Finally, something he felt confident in. Training for the Roman legion meant a certain amount of training in quick construction of fortifications and camp sites. He’d done this several times in his life and given that he’d been spending the past few months actually studying architecture...well it was nice to feel useful, to have a purpose.
Really, how different could building a house be?
The person he is working with, however, doesn’t seem to have quite the same background. Which, really, should have been expected but Jason hadn’t realized just how spoiled he’d been by the efficiency of Roman demigods and their ability to get stuff done.]
Okay, so the next step is going to be evenly spacing the support structures. Otherwise we’re going to have walls caving in and possibly even a sunken in roof. We need to mark the ground before we can put them up. Ready?
[He held out a shovel. It was time to do some ‘marking’ by digging into the ground.]
III. Network
UN: jupitergrace
And here I thought weird, disturbing dreams would be over now that I was dead. So glad to know that some things just don’t change...
III - UN: nobody
What did you dream of?
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Build
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3. (un: HK)
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I
Re: I
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noriaki kakyoin | jojo's bizarre adventure | ota
im saving the reunions for an actual game; also, un: lancelot
i'm furious about that username
no you're not
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c. un: goldilocks
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c. @kingsknight
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a
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grizz | the society
ii. running dreams (un: grizz)
iii. secret admirer (un: grizz)
iv. wildcard
i. by beacon, for beacon
( ambrose can't stop himself from reaching up and giving the flower crown on grizz's head a little tug. it's cute and while maybe it's out of place on him, ambrose thinks he looks ridiculously adorable. )
I've been here for awhile yet and this is the first party I've attended. I've had one man parties consisting of only, well, me but this is a bit different than that.
( he approves. ) I don't recognize you.
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ii.
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kol mikaelson | the originals | ota, hit me!
[ Kol was dead, then he was alive … to only die again? Seems about right. Whatever, he's passive aggressively stopped giving a shit.
Being regenerated from ash takes a lot out of a man, and that includes the nice clothes he'd somehow acquired in his previous place of living. Kol Mikaelson gets to take the boat ride naked, with no belongings and nothing to really guide him. At least it's not the bloody Ancestral Realm with scorned witches trying to blast his soul to smithereens in the most torturous way possible. He knows how to look on the bright side, even when there's hardly any light to help him find it.
(If he has to be on the boat with anyone, let's just say Kol wears nudity with confidence.)
After docking, he takes off on a mission to discern just where he is, why he's there and how the hell he can get back to the church attic he had been in — feeling elation, the air on his skin, the wisps of magic slowly dispersing around him, and the sight of Davina's bright smile before him, looking so incredibly chuffed at her power — before he'd … died again.
Obediently taking his little lantern with him, it doesn't take him long to haul his ass into a general store and down its clothing aisle to find his size in pants. Black track pants will do for this occasion.
With his warm brown eyes clouding into a dangerous black with the veins beneath his eyes popping to the surface, Kol rushes out of the clothing store and far from where he can hear hearts beating. Overwhelmed by a hunger he hasn't sated in what feels like years, he stops in the middle of the street to refocus. Best to gain his bearings and not lose control so early in his appearance in this new realm.
Uncaring of where he happens to be, he peers down at his tablet. Scrolling through it furiously, he searches for something — there's a clock, telling the wrong time; a calendar with the wrong date and year; and other bullshit he doesn't care for. Except for the address book.
It doesn't take him long to find her. Her name is sharper than the rest, making him pause his fingers before he even registers it.
Davina Claire.
That insatiable hunger begins to ebb into the background. All Kol focuses on is her. A man on a mission, he searches through the town — each cabin, seeing if she's there, then the Invincible (where he does steal some fruit and bread), and skips over the tents knowing she would never leave herself so poorly vulnerable for the kill. The Church is too easy — anyone who knows her would search there; it'd be a poor choice of a hiding spot. That leaves the Auditorium.
It doesn't take him long to get there. Emerging from a group of trees, he doesn't venture any further toward the front door. Kol at least knows to knock — somehow. Fearful of the spells she may have put in place to protect her choice of home, he picks up a stone and pelts it at the closest window, smashing a portion of it. ]
IF YOU BUILD IT
[ Bet you thought Kol was going to be helping out with a community project, huh? Nope.
Dressed in jeans and a shirt this time, Kol's standing in the hardware aisle of the general store, peering up at the hammers in front of him with a very studious gaze. He's sizing them up without picking them up, trying to discern what he needs to begin his little project of distracting himself from Beacon and tearing the place apart. Fixing Davina's Auditorium seems to be doing the trick.
Moving along the aisle, his eyes brighten just a little when he sees the sledgehammers. Easily taking one off its hook, he swings it effortlessly and almost — this is a very loose almost — hits something … or someone? Let's just say if someone was coming up the aisle, they would've been spooked seeing him at the far end or near them, so effortlessly lifting a sledgehammer.
Peering up, ] Sorry. [ He's not, but at least he sounds and looks genuinely sympathetic! ] I got a little but carried away there.
SECRET ADMIRER
[ Kol is all for receiving free gifts — give him a vein he doesn't have to fight for and he's a happy man. Give him a good book that he's going to enjoy as long as he doesn't end up daggered by his siblings! But stones and wreaths? It's a little much.
Especially when he doesn't understand the intention behind them. Especially when they're being left on the doorstep of the Auditorium where Davina Claire lives. ]
@ KOL
Assuming spirits lack opposable thumbs, can anyone tell me a little bit about them? What do they like? Peanut butter sandwiches? Human sacrifice?
I'd like to return these stones and lovely wreaths back to them without offence. Is it acceptable to burn the wreaths? Perhaps that'd fix the fire situation — or make us feel better. I'll readily admit I'm a firebug.
WILDCARD
[ Shove him anywhere. You can catch Kol at any point in these — when he's walking around naked, in the general store (naked and dressed). But he's going to go find Davina on his own! Kol is a very old vampire (over 1,000 years old) and is considered one of the original vampires to ever exist in his canon. He won't be attacking anyone here! He's from the end of 3x04 of The Originals. Feel free to pm if you have any qs! ]
... throws the rock back
... well, he's not entire wrong—but he's not entirely correct either. davina walks towards the entrance of the auditorium with wary footsteps, stopping an inch before the line of salt she's spread along its threshold and holding her lantern in the dimness of the woods. she knows that there are new arrivals, announced by the foghorn in the distance, but she's learned not to pay too much heed to it; it's not like there's anyone else she knows who would show up here. it's not like there's anyone else she knows whom she would wish to show up here.
sure, there's the exception of hayley's daughter, which is unusual and not at all what she had expected, but she's yet to meet this "hope mikaelson" and prove that she's indeed who she claims to be. not that she knows what to feel if she meets her anyway.
she peers out into the dark, raising her lantern to illuminate the area close to her, but she never steps out from beyond her ward. after all, what's the point of having boundary spells to protect her if she's just going to step out from them? she thinks of sending out a spell to search the woods, but that's a waste of time—and magic.
so she does what she's best at next: being reckless. ] Show yourself, before I drag you out of the shadows.
completely unnecessary -- it was a gift!
i reject it
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If You Build It
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Im so sorry
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Misty Day | AHS: Coven | OTA
[Misty isn't a wallflower by nature, but however much she likes the concept of parties, she's been to pitifully few. A certain tension in the air doesn't at all help the fact that this place is strange, and these people are strange, and putting herself out there universally ends in failure. It's the food that gets a foot in the door, and by the time she's working through thirds she's resigned to the fact she can't willingly walk away from a well-lit, pleased looking gaggle of people. Safe as hovering on the periphery is, it's also boring. She migrates.
One might feel free to make unnecessarily intense, challenging eye contact over the last of any given popular pastry:]
I was here first?
[One might spot her laboring for quite some time at the mask-making station, perhaps the most visibly pleased she's been since arrival. It's slow work - she's not an artist, much as she may admire them - but the end result will be recognizably avian, complete with stars around its head. Her expression at any attention will be sheepish, but not withdrawing.]
Flower crowns are nice, but with my usual style it gets to be a little too on the nose. I hear the 'hippie' thing plenty as-is.
[Or, perhaps most likely, she's accidentally been staring at you for the duration of a song. Tricky thing to indulge, when you're clearly enjoying something and unable to do anything but stand and listen. There's a half second of embarrassment when she finally catches herself - or maybe she hasn't had that chance yet, you quick-on-the-draw types - and she vaults into apologetic, chewing her lip.]
That wasn't a-- Sorry. Just zoned out. I didn't really have high hopes for the music, but it's been a pleasant surprise.
II. She's Seen Carrie, Nice Try
[audio] @ silver:
Is leaving stuff around when someone sleeps some weird housewarming thing here? Hazing? I thought someone just had a favorite place to litter, but I--
The broken glass really seems like a threat, and if that's the case I advise you stop. But the rest, um. The flowers. Beautiful, but I don't get it. Real flattering, real unnerving. Impossible to respond to, even if it's meant in a nice way?
Anybody around with a track record for this kind of thing?
III. Vital Question Do Not Ignore
[text] @ silver:
Alright, I'll bite. Why does the store have condoms if everybody's dead?
iii
That is a fair question. Perhaps it is meant to make us feel more comfortably at home.
Sincerely,
Aziraphale.
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3. (un: HK)
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III
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III, un: @carnie
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maleficent | disney LA | ota
ARTS AND CRAFTS
NETWORK - text
@ maleficent
You would do well to keep the gifts you have been given.
DIY channel
dawn pauses mid-step, the toe of his boot dragging briefly along the dirt before coming to a full stop. he glances around, brows furrowed in confusion and apprehension, an expression that clashes sharply with the pastry still in his mouth; parties aren't his thing, and he'd been on his way back to the boathouse. it seems now he has a reason to stay.
he doesn't need to look for very long either, not with the way the group of spirits have gathered around her like children. he keeps his distance, unsure of how he should approach — should he, really? he isn't riku, and while she is maleficent, her scent is different, familiar and not — like meeting an old acquaintance and a stranger all at once. the darkness in her is still the same in spite of it, and he supposes no matter what alternate version she is, that's something that won't change.
one of the spirits weaving her hair spots him staring, breaking away from the group to wander up to him in an attempt to get him to join. it tries to take his hand but dawn places a small muffin in its grasp instead, hoping to distract it enough for him to slip away before she notices. ]
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arts and crafts;
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@jbond1965
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craft time
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bruce wayne | gotham
[He's received many invitations to things like this. Some were formalities and some had been special requests, usually made in the hope that the Wayne name will provide a veneer of respectability- or that it would attract enough of Gotham's elite to warrant a spot in the social pages of the Gazette. Most of the time he'd refused, but then, it was something he'd been working on at Alfred's behest. Bruce could acknowledge that however disinterested he may be in social climbers or the events they frequented, there were benefits to be found in projecting a certain image. And besides, they aren't all terrible.
Sometimes Selina was there.
This isn't that kind of party.
Bruce keeps to the edges despite the outdoor space, moving quietly around the lit space and skirting small crowds. There are no glasses of champagne or exotic looking cocktails, there aren't any men in suits and women in elegant dresses. His hands don't go to his pockets and instead remain loose at his sides, allowing better maneuverability should the need arise. Instead of approaching any of the tables at all, his face turns to cast a single look over one shoulder- before he retreats into the gaps between buildings, moving further from the fire and nearer to the woods.]
ᴏʀ ᴀ ᴋɴɪɢʜᴛ ᴏᴡʟ :: (ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ ɪɪ)
[It's been a very long time since he'd had his face painted.
Even before Jerome Valeska's deranged interpretation of a carnival, Bruce'd possessed the inclination to go and to participate. The kinds of events that have stalls like this were intended for families, gathering together on a weekend to enjoy sights or rides or spectacles. There's no looming ferris wheel or smell of freshly cooked popcorn in the air, so perhaps that's the reason he drifts closer.
A small spirit is tugging on his hand, attempting to draw him towards the booth, and while Bruce hasn't extricated himself just yet it's clearly an inevitability.]
No thank you.
[And then, as it deflates-] But I'd be happy to accompany you.
[He notices the masks. He doesn't stop for those either.]
ʀᴇᴀᴄʜɪɴɢ ɴᴇᴡ ʜᴇɪɢʜᴛs :: (ᴇxᴘʟᴏʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ)
[Bruce is scaling the side of a building. This isn't new in and of itself, he's scaled a number of them in the last few years- but his purpose for doing so is different now than it has been in Gotham. A better vantage point of the town would allow him to get some understanding of the layout, but also of where roads might have one been- paved, service, and otherwise.
Perhaps you glimpsed him along the way and assumed he was a thief. It wouldn't be a stretch, he is after all, not simply in all black but also wearing gloves and a ski mask. Maybe you glimpsed him and thought you spotted a cryptid. It's a dark town, against dark woods and a dark lake, he's a dark figure. Maybe you haven't glimpsed him at all and instead can't shake the feeling that someone's watching you. Maybe you're startled to see someone dropping to the ground outside your window. Maybe you're on the roof yourself and in that case- hello.]
ᴄᴀʟʟ ᴄᴀɴɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇᴅ ᴀs ᴅɪᴀʟᴇᴅ :: (ɴᴇᴛᴡᴏʀᴋ)
@wayne
These gifts aren't appearing overnight.
If you've recieved one it's safe to assume that you're being watched.
just know, Jason is internally screaming at this exploration
He looks up when he hears he’s been joined, expecting one of the many roof crawlers he’d met on his first day. So he looks a little confused to see that this kid isn’t one of them. ]
... this half of the roof’s occupied, and I’ve got shit to do.
[no friendliness for right now. Mission first.]
does that differ from jason interally screaming about anything else?
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r o o f.
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new heights
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un: HK
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Party I
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network.
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party i
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network; @grizz
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Remington Swann | Original Character | OTA
[When Remington stumbles his sad, lanky body off of the ferry, he keeps his head bowed as he charges forward, away from the dock. It looks like he hasn't realized it yet, but holding a hefty axe in one hand and covered fully in blood spatter, he looks very much like he just stepped out of American Psycho.
Well, when he nearly crashes into you, murmuring to himself, he seems to blink himself back into reality.]
I'm sorry--so sorry! I wasn't, ah, I mean...
[And that's when he catches a glimpse of himself. Or maybe a glimpse of you catching a glimpse of him. He holds up his hands, axe included.]
This isn't what it looks like!
A PARTY BY BEACON, BUT IS IT REALLY FOR BEACON?
[You know the kind of person who has probably never been genuinely invited to a party in their life? Like, either because they have no friends or because they're just that awkward to be around? Yeah, looks like there's one here. Remington stands on the outskirts of the festivities, fidgeting. Any time one of the spirits wanders close, he shuffles as casually as he can in the other direction. At the same time, he shies away from getting too close to the forest. Really, it looks like the guy has trapped himself between a rock and a hard place.]
Did...did you, um...
[Oh, shit. He's trying to talk to you? He's fiddling with the string of a DIY paper plate mask. Being apparently quite uninspired, his just has eye holes, a basic smiley face line, and a > for a nose. Remington messes with his hair awkwardly, smoothing it down.]
Did you make one? One of these? Um...you know...
[Forest spirit masks?]
IF I BUILD IT, I REALLY HOPE THEY DON'T COME
Shit--I mean, shoot!
[Nice...save? Unclear why he's censoring himself, exactly, but it's easy enough to see the source of his frustration. He seems to be building something, but at the moment, pieces of rough wood are strewn around him like fallen dominoes. There are a few small tools poking out of his pockets, but it's clear he's lacking in a very good variety, and some of what he's using is a bit, um, improvised? That's a good word for it.]
Excuse me, um...you don't happen to have found any wood glue?
HOW TO WIN FRIENDS AND REJECT YOUR ADMIRERS
@remmidemmi; text
I'm begging you please please please tell me that I'm not the only one who has been getting mystery gifts.
@no
you alone are the special one here
how's it feel to be the chosen one
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how to win friends
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party hardy.
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The Winter Soldier (Bucky Barnes, pre-memory-return) | MCU Captain America | OTA
Not much since the events on the helicarrier has made sense. The Soldier has died before, been revived before, but not like this. There are no proper Handlers to determine goals, training, or punishment. There is no Chair or Tank or doctors to make repairs or experiments. There is no report. There is no mission. The Soldier doesn't know what to do.
So when someone yells for the Soldier to come hold a support beam steady while they hammer on it, the Soldier obeys. Orders are something it knows, and this is something it can do better than most of the civvies around here. The Soldier, after all, is strong enough for bigger loads than this. There is even a flicker somewhere back in the brain that it knows something about this. About building. Repairing. Construction.
The Soldier isn't a very good conversationalist, but it does watch closely while the current handler works, and frowns when said current handler holds the nail at the wrong angle. The Soldier doesn't comment, because correcting a superior officer never goes well, but it does. Frown.
II. Secret Admirer
[The Soldier has absolutely no idea what the thing in front of the door to its sleeping quarters is. This is the second time something has been found there, but the day before it had been a bunch of leaves, and that could be ignored. This, less so. It's not a tool for a mission. It's not supply. The Soldier doesn't know what to do with it. Asking questions rarely goes well for the Soldier, but without proper Handlers to tell it things and no Chair to be put into... maybe this once it can.
The network gets a photograph of a perfectly arrayed mouse skeleton laid out on the floor, stripped of flesh and fur but decorated with berries in the ribcage and a flower on the skull. The photo comes clearly from the floor in front of a doorway. It comes with the simple message from UserName: SOLDIER:]
???
II, un: @carnie
That, and the fact that even dead, it's the first natural animal she's seen in over a month and a half.]
Where'd you get that?
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un: jtodd
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building
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sansa stark – game of thrones.
— running dreams.
— network.
— other.
NETWORK
USERNAME: HK
There are blankets and sleeping bags at the store. Despite being called a store, there's no price for anything. You can take what you need.
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party time
teach her how tbh
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party
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party
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Party
glues my heart here
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running dreams.
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running dreams
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steve harrington | stranger things
[ If Steve's going to be around for the next eternity (you know, what with being dead and all), he might as well make himself useful.
There's a busted bridge over a ravine that could use some mending and fresh stonework, and he's been pulling away broken debris while bringing in new masonry blocks for the supports. It's definitely tough work, the kind of thing he never imagined doing a couple years back, what with his expectations set on a sports scholarship or inheriting his dad's company. But life doesn't always work out the way you expect it to, and after a summer slaving away in a mall food court ice cream parlour for minimum wage (and then accidentally-on-purpose breaking into an evil Russian base, long story, might have to ask him about it later), Steve has learned not to expect anything. Call it another step in his progressing personality arc, or maybe it's just him mentally protecting himself because his entire life seems to be full of crazy shit, but all things considered, he's doing pretty okay.
He kind of misses the kids though. And Robin, who has kind of become his closest friend (but that's what happens when you go through a drug trip, torture, and a near-death experience with, right?). Wouldn't wish this place on any of them though, so it's probably best to just - forget those thoughts. ]
Hey, could you pass me that shovel? I've gotta get rid of this soil.
[ His sleeves are pulled up, he's got dust and grime caught under his fingernails, and he's feeling the soreness start to work its way through his limbs. But man, at least his hair looks great. Yeah, even in death, you can't mess with the Harrington hair. ]
❚❚❚❚❚ SECRET ADMIRER ( un:
hey so is anyone else getting these weird Christmas wreath things?
I've got a few and I'm not sure where they're coming from but this all feels a little like Vday candygrams
flattered but also kind of weirded out
❚❚❚❚❚ WILDCARD
[ ooc: gimme what u got. if you'd like to plot something out, feel free to PM me or ping me over discord at spidey#2716! ]
building
[Mary scampers over to where the shovel is laying and...she can't really carry it very well, but she does her best at dragging it over. All she can ever truly offer is her best.]
Can I do anything else to help?
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@grizz
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NETWORK
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who would ever admire steve harrington
wow how dare u
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if you build it.
OH BOY i'm so sorry for being late but i'm here now!!!
if you b u i l d it
i'm here i'm here i'm here (life ate me :c )
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building stuff
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jim hopper » stranger things
[ When Jim Hopper wakes, it's gentle, much gentler than it ought to be. He comes to slowly, sensations loading one at a time to paint the proverbial picture. A firm surface beneath him, rumbling low and mechanical. His clothes - not his own - just as pockmarked and Russian as he last remembered. No aches and pains and soreness he knows should follow a fistfight for his life.
Rising to a sitting position, Jim is sure of two things: he's on a ferry, and he's dead. And if he's dead, that must mean they did it, that Joyce did it. She closed the Gate.
Well, he'll be damned. Literally, in all likelihood, because wherever it is Jim'd been fated to go after he bit the bullet while he drew breath, it sure wasn't gonna be the pearly gates of heaven.
The rest of his journey is spent in relative silence, observing anything he can make out in the small specks of light that aren't smothered by the crushing darkness settled over them. And when saying something aloud doesn't get him anywhere ("hope nobody paid for this view," he'd muttered humorlessly over his shoulder to the closest presence he could see), Jim turns his attentions to the two gadgets he's been mysteriously equipped with when he shuffled off his mortal coil: a camping lantern, just like the one his grandfather had left under the floorboard of his old cabin, and some kind of miniature computer Jim knows didn't come from 1985.
When the boat docks and the arrivals disembark, Jim pauses, other bodies moving past him, away from the rotating red beam looks like comes from some lighthouse only a few miles out, and towards an even bigger source of light. Compelled forward to take the same well-traveled path inland, Jim soon follows the crowd with the distinct sensation of being a moth drawn to a flame.
Which turns out to be the case, pretty much: at the center of an old town square like one he'd seen in all too many Westerns, there's an enormous, roaring flame that illuminates every face and building facade in the vicinity.
He's staring, mouth hung half-open, expression bordering on... mild surprise. It is, after all, not even close to the weirdest thing he's seen today. ]
Huh.
[ Intent enough on the bonfire, Jim barely notices someone either walking by, approaching him, or engaged elsewhere. Feeling the intense need for validation, his brows lower, eyes narrowed as he throws the query out to the nearest living (dead? who knew) body. ]
That's... weird, right, or am I losing it?
ii. like a popup store, but for graves. » [ loosely insp. by graves event ]
[ Jim doesn't have very long to get used to the knowledge that he's dead. The idea is like dust barely settling into a clean room, motes floating freely before they find a place to land. But just in case the idea isn't concrete enough to seem real, something happens to drive it home.
Outside his new residence, beyond a small gathering of citizens new and old, a tiny cemetery has risen from the ashes, stone and rock monuments poking out of the earth like mismatched teeth. The cemetery, encircled in a short black fence, seems as real as anything else does, and when Jim approaches, there is a tingle on the back of his neck the likes of which he hasn't felt since... well, the last time he was in a faraway land where he didn't belong.
Once he's close enough, Jim lifts his lantern to illuminate a familiar sight: his parents' shared gravestone. To its left, others not immediately familiar, graves that may belong to others in town. And right in the center, under the inscribed arch of the raised gateway, is a simple, flat grave marker. He doesn't need to push aside a folded newspaper covering half the placard to know it's his own.
The newspaper, an issue of the Indianapolis Gazette, announces his fate in a headline. He crushes the newspaper in hand when he realizes he's not alone, joined perhaps by someone drawn to their own grave too - or someone else's. ]
iii. well, that's new. » [network; un: @hopper]
[ Running. That's what Jim remembers from the most vivid dream he's had in a long, long time. Running. Breakneck, through branches and leaves and underbrush. There's no air burning in his lungs, no pain in his knees or his back - just open exhilaration and freedom and wildness. And even without turning, he knows he's got company.
The other thing Jim remembers, in a way that sticks in his brain like gum on a sidewalk, is that the legs he saw beneath him? Those legs weren't his. But they were familiar, ones whose muscles and claws tore open the sternum of a man like he was made of paper.
Normally, broadcasting his innermost experiences to the whole entire world as he knows it is the absolute last thing Jim wants to do, but. Things aren't exactly normal anymore, are they? ]
Listen. If you've got dreams lately, weird dreams where you aren't exactly yourself, you aren't alone.
iv. wildcard!
[ ooc: Got something else? Let's go! Hopper's a small-town cop with a rather flexible understanding of the rules and a good amount of impatience. Catch him drinking at the tavern, exploring, or generally trying to figure out what just what the hell's going on. Is that a bear trying to break into an NPC's cabin? Nah, it's just Hopper. Canon point is end of season 3, can mark or avoid spoilers upon request. Feel free to PM or
i. i hate to break it to you like this jim
he's headed back to the house he's staying in, idle taps in front of him with a cane that is created for hiking but serves its purpose. he's not really expecting to be spoken to, though it doesn't surprise him there's someone in the square. people even slept around the bonfire, it's hard to wander through without at least a few people being present. usually he does so without being stopped or spoken to.
Matt supposes he could keep walking but the wonder and discomfort is enough to make him think whoever is asking might be seeing the bonfire for the first time. he's only been a few weeks but he still remembers how miserable his first few days were. he stops and faces the fire, taking in the signs of its size. the sound, how it echoes and reverberates over his head and back and forth between the buildings like a game of pingpong. )
It is, ( he agrees simply, with a half shrug. ) You want weirder? It never burns down. It's always this size.
talk about a rude awakening am i right
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iii. @regina
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network; un: n.wheeler
no subject
[Admittedly the paper hat isn't the right size for his head. It sits at an odd angle, propped up by one ear and nearly beneath the lobe of the other. It took a little bravery on his part to put the thing on in the first place. After all, Delmar generally wants fewer people to look at him than more, even though he's rarely successful. Lanky and dressed in brightly patterned sweaters he sort of stands out like a coat rack of boas.
But he'd liked the paper hat. It...well...it was cheerful.
So he smiles shyly to himself as he reaches up to try and keep it from falling off, his face pink. He might catch your eye just for a moment before timidly casting his gaze to the ground and trying to shuffle away.]
II. Network: Gifts
(audio, un: aunt)
[Delmar certainly does not assume these things are gifts for him. Nothing in his life would lead him to that conclusion. But he is very worried that the person who should be getting them might be in need of help finding them.
However his worry doesn't help him overcome his innate shyness around strangers so the first moment or so of audio is hesitant, awkward fussing until he finally gets the words out.]
I...I, um, oh dear...I think I have some things that....oh w-well I think they belong to someone else.
no subject
So, he's drifting through the crowds of people that he doesn't know, trying to figure out how he could possibly carry his lantern, a glass of wine and still offer something to make the machine work, when he stops because-]
I really like you hat.
[It's bright and cheery, even in the dark and it's silly, in a way that says 'so, you might be dead and stuck here, but at least we've got party hats!'.]
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eliot waugh | the magicians
that's probably how he ends up at the vending table making a mask like it's nobody's business. if this were brakebills, he'd be busy getting smashed, laughing it up with his friends and popping pills until he passes out. or at least, he thinks he could be. after everything that happened with the monster, it isn't so easy pretending he's the exact same person he used to be, particularly without any of his friends around. but making masks? this is something he can do. he can't even think of the last time he did a proper craft that didn't involve magic, so his own curiosity is piqued, not knowing how wonderfully or horribly things will end.
someone walks up to the booth beside him, and he spares a glance only to notice his glass of wine (his current best friend) is taking up the space in front of them. he flicks his wrist gently without much though, moving the glass closer to him with his magic and clearing the space for anyone else to use. ]
My bad. Didn't think anyone else would care for this kind of thing.
ii. you better work
still, the prospect is hardly ideal. ]
I get that sleeping without being exposed to the elements is a good thing, but I don't know that I have any idea how to make a decent shack--or even a hovel--that won't fall to pieces without some kind of blueprint. [ he heaves a rather dramatic sigh. ] Especially if my previous attempts at gingerbread houses are anything to go by.
You got any idea? Or should we just. Piece things together and hope the wind doesn't eventually blow it over?
iii. run boy run (un: regina)
iv. hey, i just met you and this is crazy (un: regina)
it's rather cute and well-crafted, but I feel like whoever's been leaving little gifts at my door might have up and borrowed this one.
the rest have all just been mildly interesting looking detritus. so.
i
There's a blank mask in his hands and a wide array of paper-scraps and glue-sticks to choose from spread out on the table in front of him, and just when he twists around the table to grab some of it, a wineglass floats by. Because why not?]
At least it's harmless?
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Quentin Coldwater | The Magicians | OTA
Okay, so. I think if we start by building a frame? We can maybe build the walls on to that? And I know a way to hammer the nails in, in case no one has a hammer? Did anyone bring a hammer? Are hammers even a thing here?
3. R U N N I N G D R E A M S UN:SuprNerd
4. S E C R E T A D M I R E R UN:SuprNerd
iii. / @parker
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4 @regina
Re: 4 @regina
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elena gilbert | the vampire diaries
N E T W O R K / un: elena
w i l d c a r d
party.
truthfully, he hadn't really noticed her until she spoke, maybe as intended since people often do their best to blend into the wallpaper at parties when they aren't doing anything in particular and don't want to stand out awkwardly. having run countless parties at the physical kid's cottage too, he knows it's just common courtesy not to try and figure out everyone's "deal", as much as margo enjoys it herself.
he lets the words sit in the air for a bit before answering, not sure if the young woman had really meant for anyone to hear but bored and curious enough to bite. ]
Used to? Are bonfire dances an exception to the rule, or are you too cool for dancing now? [ it's said lazily rather than confrontationally. if she'd rather not speak, he could take it or leave it. ]
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network; un: mikaelson
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network, un: eleanor
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MOLLYMAUK TEALEAF | CRITICAL ROLE
[Now this is what Molly is here for. Currently boasting two flower crowns dangling from each of his horns and flushed from already consuming too many drinks. He has tried one of everything of the baked goods and as of right now is trying to get people to dance with him, rather than investigate that bouncy house.]
No... No. That's- why would you wanna go in that? That's ridiculous. [What is personal space? Molly doesn't know her.] We all just died, friend, and if that's not a cause for dancing then I dunno [hiccup] what is.
IF YOU BUILD IT |
[Molly, contrary to how he looks, has excelled in putting up and breaking down things for the circus. He's eyed up the other projects and rather than take an assignment, he's deigned to make his own- specifically a stage of some sort. He's done well so far, though he seems to have gathered up the most eye-catching paint colors for this. If you were really hoping for that specific shade of red and that nearly golden yellow color, well... He's got them right over here.
The stage isn't very fancy- just a sturdy standing structure and Molly is currently affixing long planks to the back to drape fabric across... Of course without the fabric, it looks kind of bizarre at first glance.]
RUNNING DREAMS |
if anyone else has had strange dreams the past few nights- you're in luck! i happen to be a dream interpreter. we can work out some sort of payment if you're dying for answers about what your hidden mind is trying to tell you.
SECRET ADMIRER |
i've been getting strange gifts for the last few days. left a note suggesting that whoever's doing it try alcohol. ended up with a broken wine bottle full of pond water.
does that mean they're offended or just confused as to what alcohol is? need to know if i should set traps in my room.
secret admirer;
i've seen what they do when they get mad.
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honestly he should ask molly to interpret his dreams, but - IF YOU BUILD IT
there's always next time
running dreams
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