October 2018 Test Drive Meme

[sodder]

OCTOBER 2018 TEST DRIVE MEME

Welcome to October’s Test Drive Meme! This month's Test Drive's theme is: HALLOWEEN HORROR.

All Test Drive Memes contain at least one clue to the Deerington's upcoming in-game events for the month! Keep your eyes peeled! But...not literally.

Characters may die during TDMs, but you do not need to count it towards a game-canonical death unless you want to. Consider it a freebie. All TDMs can be considered game canon as TDMs introduce minor aspects about the world of Deerington that can be revisited by characters later on in the game. You may also use TDMs for your application writing sample as well as AC.

CW: Wet and rotting corpses/zombies, ghosts, violence, blood, knives, possessed dolls, options for underage drinking

Don't forget to tag content whenever necessary. Have fun!

Prompt One
Prompt Two
Character Arrival
Master Navigation

IT’S JUST A BUNCH OF HOCUS POCUS

It’s not Halloween if you don’t make a trip to a cheesy haunted house. At least, that’s what everyone in Deerington likes to say. The old Victorian stands at the top of a hill, rickety and in desperate need of a new paint job. The yard and porch have been decorated with what you’d expect for your typical haunted house; fake spider webs spread across the overhang, painted foam grave markers with cheesy names like “Here lies Richard Cranium” and “BEWARE!!” in creepy letter etchings. You can see the blinking of variously timed strobe lights in some windows and the shadow of what you’re pretty sure is a full-sized doll standing in the window, meant to look like someone staring out at you. The rocking chair on the porch near the door has a skeleton with a bowl of candy in his lap, and a sign is propped up against the wall next to him.

“ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK. TOUCH NOTHING AND NOTHING WILL TOUCH YOU!”

Well that sounds promising.

The first few rooms you enter are appropriately cheesy. There’s the silly burst of air that you hear just before a plastic figuring pops out of a poorly constructed coffin, the clicking sound of the machinery inside echoing in the room when it starts to pull back and the lid closes once again. There’s fog machines trying to give the appropriately spooky air, stuffed sheets shaped to look like dead bodies wrapped up laying in piles on the floor with fake blood staining the white fabric, black lighting to show off words scribbled on doors like “TURN BACK NOW” and “SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES.” Nothing you haven’t seen before. It might be even worse than things you’ve seen before, over the top cheesy, boring enough to give a yawn. Each door seems to open on its own so you don’t even have to touch the handles.

As you make your way through the next automatic door, the room you walk into is different than those before it. It’s a regular children’s room. A bed against the wall near the window, a dresser in the corner, a small desk with a chair. Nothing out of the ordinary, save for the lights not being on, and the strange flickering light in the closet. You step towards it, figuring you’re in for another jump scare, but the door doesn’t open. Whether you’re naturally the curious sort or not, something in the back of your mind makes you want to open the door and see what’s on the inside.

If you fight it and walk towards the next automatic door, you’ll find you’ve walked out to the backyard of the house, those same foam decorations and a dozen or more jack o’ lanterns lighting your way on a path back to the town.

If you choose to pull the door open, however, it’ll take you into yet another room, with a flickering television playing nothing but static. Once you step past the doors of the closet, they slam shut behind you and whoever else dared to enter. The doors won’t lock no matter what you do, no matter how strong the person shaking the handles or pushing against the wood may be. You realize you broke the one rule; you’ve touched something. But can things now really touch you?

The only light source in the whole room is that television and it’s not lighting up much inside the room around it. If you squint when the TV is at its brightest setting, you can just make out another door. Your exit, you hope. But as you make your way towards the door, the flickering suddenly stops, the TV steadily bright, a low humming noise coming from the screen, and suddenly the door seems several more feet away from you than it was a second ago. Before you can reach the door, there’s the sound of trickling water from behind you. If you choose to look back, you’ll see something coming out from the screen - a girl with soaked clothing and pale, rotted skin. She emerges fully from the glass and starts to move towards you. You know it’s best to start running for that door. If you stay and try to fight, you’ll find that no regular weapons work on her, though special weapons and powers that are effective against spirits will definitely do the trick. For those who don’t have any of these at their disposal, however, there is one more hope besides just trying to run; two old school VHS tape sit on the table near by, a fancy machine between them that is meant to copy one to the other. Work as a team and have one distract her while the other records, and you’ll find that she disappears as quickly as she flickered on the screen and the TV will return to static.

Regardless of what you choose before carrying on, the next room you come to as the door slams and locks behind you is entirely different. Brightly lit and filled with what seems like hundreds of porcelain dolls, it’s almost hard to tell where there could possibly be another exit hidden among the massive shelves. You can start to wind your way through them, but before long, you start to hear the sound of running feet, the jingling of bells, the swish of satin, and most eerily the sounds of children giggling - but there’s nothing that sounds save about them. Some of the dolls you saw on the last shelf seem like they’ve moved and are sitting in the corner or laying in a new position on a new shelf. Sometimes you swear you can see their heads turn to watch you pass, but it has to be a trick of the light, doesn’t it?

That is until one of those dolls runs by you, brandishing something shiny in their hands - something sharp. A knife, you realize too late, as it tries to slice at your legs and knock you down. You can kick them away and they’ll go flying, and when the porcelain smashes, the doll will scream in agony. You notice there’s blood pouring from the hole that formed, spreading quickly across the ground. The dolls are easy to kill, but are they really just dolls? You can take your time to contemplate that later, as now you have to fight your way through the violent and armed toys to reach the door at the end of the maze of shelves. Hopefully you can get out without too many severe injuries.

When (or if) you do manage to get to the next room, you seem to have a chance to take a breath and tend to any wounds. It’s decorated like the room of a small cottage, a large pot over the fireplace that isn’t lit, and several jars full of (possibly rotting) food and herbs on the shelves. You see a book on the stand in the center, latched shut and covered in dust. You can open it, if you want, but remember the warning you ignored that got you in trouble in the first place. It’s probably better to carry on to the next room.

If you do choose to open the book, though, there will be eerily glowing text lining the pages, the light will seem to poor out and fill the room, and you’ll be transported back out in front of the house.

Those who continued through the door will find themselves out in the backyard. Just like for those who got out sooner, there are dozens of jack o lanterns, but the graves don’t look like they’re made of foam this time. They’re real stone, engraved with real names and real dates this time. And the ground underneath them seems to be moving, like someone’s trying to crawl out of there. Better not to wait around. Soon as you start to move down the path, you’ll start to hear the sounds of groans as the undead start to crawl from their own graves, pulling themselves up through the dirt, and determined to get to the only food source they see - you. The zombies seem like they’re never ending, coming from every inch of the yard, but at least they’re just like normal zombies - completely incapable of being killed unless you cut off the head. There are shovels lying next to a few graves if you need a quick weapon, but there’s also still always the option to run as fast as you can up the stone path to the front of the house and back towards the street.

When you do finally manage to get back to the front, there’s a momentary blinding flash of light, disorienting anyone near it for a few seconds. When it finally fades, any leftover zombies chasing you have disappeared and the house looks like the same, cheesy haunted house you walked up to in the first place. If for some reason you decide to go and explore the backyard again, the grass will be back to normal, and the graves will all be replaced by cheaply painted foam once more.

Was that all in your head? Who knows. But maybe it’s best to just get out of here.

WE DID THE MASH

Somehow the street lamps have all been converted to oil based flames, the Authority are in witch hats, and every where you go there is music that seems to be playing from faintly glowing bats hanging upside down from telephone wires. The bats will open their mouths in succession, seeming somehow capable of producing the sounds of instruments and singers alike of popular Halloween songs.

Yards are decorated as thoroughly as the front of stores. Maybe you haven't bothered to decorate, but your neighbor sure has! Fake gravestones are propped up in yards, giant fake spiders in trees, and no matter where you walk, the ground seems covered in thick, rolling fog from machines. Or at least you hope it's coming from machines. Hell, you can't even find it in yourself to be too worried! Everyone around you is having way too good of a time! And God, there is food everywhere! Might as well grab a bite while you're out, huh?

It's tempting to break loose and dance. Jack-O-Lanterns absolutely crowd the streets. There's more than you can even begin to count, and all of them are lit all throughout the night. Even if you accidentally trip over some, they don't seem to catch fire to anything or go out! Some neighbors have camp fires set up with marshmallows to roast, while others have...are those broomsticks? Well that's kinda cool, you guess. Correction: it's really cool since you can actually pick one up and take it for a fly! Make sure to attach a little lamp to the front though because God knows it's dangerous flying at night. The brooms only work if you wear the appropriately provided hats, of course, but you can keep both the broom and hat indefinitely and have a readily available means of flight in Deerington after! Be forewarned though: the brooms are as easily broken as regular brooms and the hats easily blown away in the wind.

TRICK OR TREATS

At any of the events, especially the nighttime partying, you can find any number of the following treats (and their potential side effects):

Donuts (Will make you deliriously happy. Everything is amazing to you. May cause a lot of affection. A lot of affection.)
Candy Apples (You will eagerly tell someone everything you like about them. Talk about a sweet tooth.)
Candy Corn (Will make you extremely sad. Like god, you'll be wondering why you hate yourself so much.)
Pumpkin Spice Lattes (Causes suspicious amounts of obedience and a desire to do what you're told.)
Hot Chocolate (Can provide some minor healing. Best stuff to drink with a common cold!)
Hot or Cold Apple Cider (Nothing will happen. It's just really good.)
Alcoholic Cider (This isn't your grandma's apple cider. This stuff will knock you on your ass. Anyone who drinks this will get wasted regardless of whether or not they are immune to alcohol or even ingest regular food. It only takes one or two before you start to get tipsy, but any more than that and you'll be well on your way to drunk. Please drink responsibly. We don't need any FUIs.)

Character Arrival

You can read how all characters arrive in Deerington here.

There is not a collective "all these characters showed up at the exact same moment" occurrence in Deerington. Since characters fall asleep, die, or pass out at various times throughout all their worlds, it wouldn't make too much sense if they arrived in game all at the exact same time. There should be some discrepancy between character arrival, whether by a couple minutes, hours, or even days up to a week.

The players are entirely in control of how/when they want to play their characters arriving in Deerington. For TDMs, you can play it like your character has just arrived and that can be maintained as your game canon, or you can wait until game events for that moment. Or you don't need to acknowledge it at all. The flexibility for character allows a bit more of an organic feel to the character arrival situation, so please play it to whatever feels right for you.

If you are interested in having an "arrival" introduction for one of your TDM prompts, you are more than welcome to explore that option.

Comments

merlin (the demon king) | escape devildom

[eatwell]

HOCUS POCUS - bookworm's curse

[anyone outside the haunted house, whether they've been there a while or just arrived, will be suddenly joined by one (1) rather tall human(?) being teleported out of the house and looking very peeved because--]

..It couldn't wait until I was done reading first? Even Lola isn't this bad!

[he is... also sporting traces of a rather spectacular nosebleed. he's been using his magic to keep all the... things.. at bay. and as we can see it did not end well! well it did end well since he is not dead, but he's not otherwise better off for it.

he is, however, getting ready to march back in, because he wants to read that damn book. he's stopped only by realizing that there is, actually, someone else out here.]

Are you going in, too? I don't recommend it.

WE DID THE MASH - let's rng it

[there's a lot of awful things about being stuck in a demon castle in a demon kingdom full of, well, demons. especially awful when you yourself are not a demon.

lack of food is not one of them. correction: lack of sweets is not one of them, because even demons have sweet tooths, if nothing else.]

..Never thought I'd get to see Hallow's Eve stuff again.

[which.. is why he's not too impressed with the collection of treats, and is kind of playing eeny meeny miney mo to figure out which one to try first.

or, you know, you could be diabolical and suggest something.]

OTHER - wild card me


((ooc: action or prose are both fine. info is in his journal, for the curious! he is, in fact, human, though he's been known to give off enough of a weird aura to be mistaken for a demon. demon king.))

HOCUS POCUS

[justbeingknife]

Well, now I gotta see what's in there.

[ A man bleeding profusely from the nose really wasn't all that out of the ordinary for Majima... though said man expressing concern for a random stranger's wellbeing was a little unusual. He regarded Merlin with what might pass for concern, at least to someone accustomed to reading a good RBF.

Majima offered Merlin a pale cloth handkerchief, produced from the breast pocket of his suit. ]

Here. You got red on ya.

FRANK CASTLE | MARVEL | CRAU

[oorah]

ARRIVAL.

---

What a weird fucking dream. He wakes with a start, but that isn't so unusual, is it? At first, he searches for the red dirt of the Reset Room out of habit. It was trippy enough, but he remembers the Village too, even more Shyamalan than the original. He's dry as a bone and he doesn't remember dying anyway, but that's not so unusual either. There are a great many things he's gotten used to he never should have had any cause to and yet here he is - in an unfamiliar bed staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling. There's a large, irrational part of him that just wants to turn over and try to go back to sleep. When he wakes up he'll be in his own bed, whether that's the one in New York, Reims or his recent stint in the South Village of an unnamed planet.

A familiar dog licks at his face to sway his decision and that's all it takes. He's surging up out of bed to embrace the brown pit bull, Max, who gives an eery rattling bark and nuzzles against Frank like he's missed him too. Another dog nudges in behind Max, slate gray and much more timid as he slowly butts his head against Frank's giant arm to get in on the love fest. It's like they're here to serve as a reminder of where he's been, one from Reims and one from Fountain-land. So where is he now? He thinks he officially gets to call himself a "World Hopper" wherever it is.

When he makes it out onto the street, the fog's got nothing on his hideously bright teal jumpsuit, like a marriage between the handsewn jumpsuit he wore as Mayor Hotdog and the teal scrubs he'd come to wearing in the fountain that led him to his most recent home. There's a teal communicator around his wrist and a teal beanie with an embroidered flame insignia on it obscuring his ridiculously long hair, his unkempt beard and dark bruising around his eyes making him nearly unidentifiable despite the Steve Zusso getup.

"This might as well happen," he murmurs to himself, flanked by his two pitbull buddies as he forays out into town, leaving behind the familiar backpack to check through later.

HAUNTED HOUSE, A.

---

He already knows he shouldn't go inside, and yet here he is, doing the dumb thing. The dogs are back home and safe, but Frank needs to know what's in store for him. No one would tell him anything in the South Village until he was neck-deep in tissue samples and a list that proclaimed all his friends had been there and died already, or perhaps even brought back to life, like he was, again and again. Reims had been more overt about it, people becoming less and less themselves each time they awoke in the Reset Rooms scattered around that place.

He had no desire to touch anything anyway, but the automatic doors are freaky and he has to push out a steadying breath each new room he enters. Surely, this can't just be a Halloween prop. He already has images of Lisa in a Barbie Princess dress and Frank Jr. as a Power Ranger dancing through his head, he can't shut it off, like a home movie behind his eyes. He'd gone trick-or-treating with them that year in uniform at their insistent behest and it's their memory that keeps him pushing through. He has his knife, but last time he checked those didn't work on ghosts.

Encounter him anywhere outside or inside the place. He's on edge and jumpy, but probably won't speak unless spoken to. Though he is happy to lend a hand with a zombie or two, even if he did just come from a place where zombies were friendly and made you cheese buns. He's getting used to the contradictions, perhaps above all else.

HAUNTED HOUSE, B.

---

The child's room has his spider senses pinging off the charts and he clenches his fists as he moves around the space, jaw set in determination. He won't give them the satisfaction of showing just how terrfied he is. But when he gets to the closet door, his heart is hammering, his palms sweaty. He already knows he's going to open the door and he already knows it's a mistake. The instant his calloused hand meets the smooth brass of the door handle, he's pissed at himself, and he actually gasps aloud when it seems like he's shoved into the next room as the door slams behind him. Except, he isn't alone. Because of course he's not.

Frank glances at the person he's stuck with, expression wide but bland. It's the expression of a man exhausted with the world's bullshit and wondering why he even bothers to keep surviving. That TV seems like a total Samara situation and he wants to get ahead of it. Maybe if he just smashes it, she won't be able to come out? Or is that when she kills you. He should've watched more horror movies while he had the chance, considering this is officially the third he's managed to land himself in.

"You might wanna go on without me," he remarks gruffly, inclining his head towards the door. "This might take a while."

TRICK OR TREATS.

---

The dogs are back at his either side and as he reaches for a doughnut and you might see the intricately woven bracelet on his right wrist. It's clearly handmade and wrapped painstakingly into Celtic knots though Frank Castle appears anything but Irish. He's laughing, which is a strange enough sight, even for those who don't know the man. It's a deep and rolling, mirthful thing as he tosses a piece of the treat to each of his dogs and watches as they chase their tails and generally act a fool. The usually sedate and well-behaved dogs are hitting everyone up for pets and to try to play while Frank still keeps to himself, albeit with a wide smile stretched across his bearded and battered face.

He watches people take to the skies in the brooms, something he'd never trust for himself, but people seem to be having fun and the more doughnuts he eats the more delirious he feels. On some level, he knows he isn't acting wholly natural, but on another, it just feels so good to let go he's reluctant to stop. When someone inevitably falls, however, his danger sensing ability goes off the charts and he drops his remaining treat to the ground, moving almost fast enough to get blurry before he appears below the person to catch them neatly in his arms. His heartbeat comes quick, but it's slowly climbing back down as he sets the person on their own two feet and tries to bail back to his cider and dogs. Nothing to see here, he's just catching people out of the sky before they can fall to their messy deaths on the curb.

[ will match style, brackets are A-OK! frank is crau from two games, the quiet place (now closed) & sixthiteration. he received an ability similar to peter parker's "spidey senses" at the latter. i will ask before assuming cr with anyone and if you have any questions for me, pm! i'll roll with whatever wildcard if you wanna do something else! ]

oh my gOD arrival

[tagartist]

Even though this place could be awfully fucked up, Chloe still tended to get into a routine, like she had in every world so far. Taking care of Eddie and Richie had only added to that consistency, wanting to make sure that they took at least moderate care of themselves as well. Wake up, make breakfast, rush off to work, fall asleep in the comic book shop at least twice before she'd start her walk back to her car to go home. She didn't have to worry about the boys because even though she was sure they'd both said fuck it to an education, at least Angela was always somewhat nearby now.

She'd been in the midst of that "walk back to the car" part of her routine, digging around in her pockets to try and figure out where her keys were, when she'd stopped a few feet from the beaten up truck. She squinted slightly, because it had been a while, but she was nearly positive she would've remembered Frank anywhere after Reims. Particularly with two dogs trotting after him. At least some things never changed.

Normally, Chloe reminded herself some people might not remember her, the way Will never had, or the way Eddie didn't at first. But there was also a part of Chloe that could, at times, be overly emotional and not really think things through, and this was one of them. She ran down the sidewalk quick as her legs would carry her, giving Frank maybe enough chance to register the sight of blue hair with how fast she got up to him and nearly barreled into with a hug.

At least the note had warned people things like this could happen, right? That would be her excuse and she's sticking to it.

B list horror movie

[swill]

The first thing the stranger will learn about this ragged companion is: he's loud. There's a yelp as the door creaks open to let Castle inside- this involuntary noise of joy and the disheartening death of, all in one convenient pitch.

Hawkeye himself had been a half-step closer to that door when it shut itself, wide eyed and cringing at his own broadcast cowardice. "Why..." did you have to close it, you moron. But of course the words die on his lips and he steals a sorrowful glance at the guy before steeling himself and putting his attention on...

The television. It's making him teary-eyed already, his heart in his throat.

But the Big Buff Bluff is going to be a hero, it seems like. Hawkeye hates to be relieved but figures he can't (won't) do a damn thing to stop him. "It hasn't tried 'nything," he says, proud of how clear his voice is. At least. "The program's just here to make us yell for someone t'save us. The- and the door's locked, by the way." The one he and Frank had come through.

Like hell he's tried to run for the other one. "I, uh. Uh. I've- I've been trying."

Laura | X-Men

[sanar]

Arrival
Laura isn't exactly like most other kids her age, in the fact that waking up someplace new doesn't make her have much of an outward reaction. There's scents that are familiar here, like some of the foods that she's been exposed to in her time traveling with Charles and her father. They're gone now, and it looks like her friends are too. Wherever this is, there's no initial feelings of danger. She slips out of bed and slinks along, hurrying her way outside. She never enjoys being cooped up indoors. After spending her entire life trapped inside behind bars, being outdoors is the freedom she craves and thrives in.

She takes to the streets and explores. Her senses are on high alert, and she openly sniffs at the air for any sign of danger. Laura ignores things like fences and hops right up to run along the tops of them, balance not seeming to be an issue as she hurries along the residential areas like its her playground.

When someone crosses her path while she's running around, she comes to a stop and observes them curiously. If they approach too close to her cautious distance, she sounds off a warning growl in her throat.

Haunted House
Going into the house was probably a bad idea. Laura can defend herself just fine, and doesn't hesitate to use her brand of extreme violence to take care of the dolls she ends up locked in with. Her screams are loud enough to be heard outside the house, though whether or not anyone does depends on the mood of the haunted place she's ended up in. There's no fear as she takes care of the dolls that are attacking her, just pure adrenaline. Any cut that she gets manages to heal well enough, but that doesn't stop her from ending up completely covered in blood as the floor starts to spill it. As most kids are prone to doing when there's a mess nearby, she ends up covered from head to toe.

By the time she makes her way through the cottage and angrily destroys any of the books and bottles she can get her claws on, she's a sticky and bloody mess. As she emerges and makes her way back up to the front of the house she stands there, completely still. It might be easy to confuse her as a very realistic decoration, until she decides to speak up with a warning.

"Morirás." A pause before she elaborates in deadpan, "You will die."

On second thought, maybe she still looks like part of the decoration.

Flying Lesson
Sometime after someone manages to get her to wash up, Laura finds her way to one of the yards that's the best decorated. The Jack o lanterns completely fascinate her, and she's brought one of her own claw carved masterpieces to set out with some of the better ones carved by adults. She spends a ridiculously amount of time perched up on a fencepost observing her work of art among all the others, but eventually is pulled in by the tall witch's hats and the flying brooms.

And of course she'd have to figure out how to keep a giant hat balanced on her small head in order to try riding one. She huffs and grumbles as she tries to adjust it to sit just right, but always ends up with it either falling over her eyes or tipping over and off her head completely. As much as her pride wants to ensure that she does this herself, she ends up turning toward the nearest person with a cautiously hopeful look on her face.

"Help," she requests, shoving the hat at them a little too roughly.

Tricks & Treats
Wouldn't you know it that Laura finds the donuts and decides that it's a good time to eat a dozen by herself. Given that she's eleven and has no idea how to socialize, her idea of affection with strangers is attempting to scale up them to perch on their shoulders. Anyone larger than she is that has their guard down will have a slinky kid attempting to scale them, sniffing at them to memorize their scent as she goes.

daughter? My Daughter? but also haunted house b/c you said "someone washes her up" and i need,

[danzan]

"Holy... cow."

It's a god damn challenge not to say shit, but given the fact Logan's been teaching in a class for at least a month now, it's at least easier than it used to be. He doesn't recognise this kid, and though under ideal circumstances he'd recognise her from the smell, in the end the blood and gore that covers her negates any of that.

"Did you--" Yeah. Yeah, she probably did. God knows how she did it, but the look on her face and the mess that covers her says enough.

Looking from her to the house, he can't help the disapproving click of his tongue. Of course Deerington has a fucking hell house. But the frustration doesn't quite outweigh the concern he feels, so he grumbles and pulls a handkerchief from his back pocket.

Then he holds it out to her. "Here. Wipe your face, kid.

"You hurt anywhere?"

Natasha Romanoff | MCU

[natalia_vdova]

Just a Bunch of Hocus Pocus

[Natasha had laughed off the sign, of course, which had turned the haunted house into something of an adventure. She's a little blood-splattered, but not too much worse for wear when she finally steps outside, and she's thinking that she's finally free, and the smiling faces of the carved pumpkins look almost welcoming. But the gravestones look vaguely foreboding, which is an instinct proved right when the ground starts to churn, and bodies are crawling out from the ground.

Zombies? You have got to be kidding.

She has her Widow's Bites but they are not exactly the best weapon against the living dead. She's seen more than her fair share of bad movies- somehow it seemed to come with the territory of the former-military that SHIELD had recruited from. A fondness for things like Evil Dead 2 and Return of the Living Dead and other movies where dead was a prominent noun. The thought leaves a bad taste in her mouth.

So, really, the shovels make for convenient armament, and she takes a swing, neatly decapitating the first zombie. But, there seem to be an awful lot of them... Anyone want to help out?]


We Did the Mash

[Natasha is still settling in, but well. She's always been a fan of Halloween. The idea of dressing up as someone you're not has always spoken to here, even if Clint had always teased her about it. It was also a holiday with few expectations; maybe a costume party on Friday night, a haunted house, or a haunted hay ride. No gift exchanges, no religion, or peace on earth, smiles and goodwill, or any other social expectations, and Laura didn't get mad if she couldn't make it that year because she had to take down a terrorist trying to get a bomb into a train station.

Flying broomsticks are not something she's ever encountered before, but it's not long at all before she has one of the hats perched neatly on her head, sitting sideways on a broomstick hovering a few feet off the ground as she looks for anyone else that seems to have taken an interest as she hooks the lantern onto the front.]

Hey. You want to race?

[Because surely that's safe.

Otherwise, she can be found mingling at the late-night parties, trying to meet new people, place names to faces, and learn more about the people that are here. She's the sort of person that likes to know what people are good at, good for, who she can rely on when bullets are flying and who to call when she needs a favor on Capitol Hill. The situations might have changed, but it's still the same game.

Of course, this goes hand-in-hand with sampling the various sweets and drinks that are laid out. Apple cider donuts, and it might not be Starbucks, but Natasha has a very definite Pumpkin Spice Latte problem, apple cider of both alcoholic (which she sips very slowly) and non-alcoholic (which she doesn't) varieties all pass through her hands at one point or another. She hates candy corn, but will nibble on the candy apples. If the music gets loud enough, she might even dance for a song or two.]

So, is this sort of thing typical?


Wildcard

[Hit me up with whatever, or hit me up at natalia_vdova if you want to plot something specific or have questions!]

We Did the Mash

[oversight]

[ It's been a rough couple of weeks. John Blake, who has been in town for about three months now, hasn't caught much of a break, particularly in the past two weeks. He's in town in the evening because he can't sleep — hasn't slept but a few hours in way, way too long — and while he's a wreck during the day, he's a ball of energy at night. ]

Uh, not too typical, no, but it's been happening a coupla weeks now...

[ Was she talking to him? Blake seems to think so. He's average height, toned under many layers, and he's sporting the history of a recent black eye and a shoulder wound on his left side that's hidden under his clothes but clearly not bein' kept secret.

He makes a face. ]

What did you try?

Luke Skywalker | Star Wars: Legends

[thefinaljedi]

Hocus Pocus: Outside

[This was a thoroughly surreal experience for Luke, standing here outside of a dwelling that was clearly intended to be spooky in some way. Chuckling to himself as he passed some of the headstones, dark robes rustling in the piles of fallen leaves, he stepped up onto the porch. Eyeing each sign with the good natured amusement he thought was appropriate for something that was clearly meant to be fun, he ran his gloved right hand along the wooden railing.

Turning back to whomever was behind him, Luke flashed a boyish grin. The black outfit he wore might've seemed a touch at odds with his demeanor, but the air of calm he exuded was genuine. Rocking on the balls of his booted feet, he took a step towards the door.]

Coming? Don't worry, I have a feeling it will be good, harmless fun.

[Famous last words.]


Trick or Treats/We Did the Mash

[More than anything on offer at this party, Luke was surprised that he was able to find a cup of his actual favorite drink. Holding it up to his lips, suspicious, he sniffs...sips...and grins.]

I can't believe they're just giving this stuff away.

[Anyone looking closely can easily tell that the stuff he's all excited about is just hot chocolate. Nothing expensive, nothing crazy, just ordinary hot chocolate.]

[OOC: Open to other drink prompts as well. If you want to plot hit me on Plurk at intercession or just leave me a starter.]

Hayden Tenno | Dark Sector

[aftertouch]

HOCUS POCUS - DOLL ROOM

[ After barely making it out of the room with the ghost girl (if that’s what it was - he’s not so sure of anything right now) they find themselves among a labyrinth of shelves brimming with dolls. Some of them are disarming - perfectly innocent looking with sweet little faces - while others range from unsettling to downright sinister in appearance. The fact that the room is well lit does not inspire confidence, as, if the previous encounter is any indication of things to come, this one is hardly as safe as it seems. Hayden takes a cautious step toward the nearest shelf, eyeing the dolls perched there with healthy suspicion, but their still faces stare back at him without a hint of threat. ]

Why do I not trust this? [ He asks his companion, though it’s more of a rhetorical question. He’d be surprised if anyone trusted it. ]

[ His glaive is at the ready, held firmly in his metallic right hand just in case. The three bladed weapon had proven useless against a ghost (and why wouldn’t it?), but these are tangible things. Not that he finds that very reassuring, nor is he reassured when he passes several of the shelves without incident. The hairs on the back of his neck are standing on end, and he can’t shake the feeling that he’s being watched. Soon he hears a sound so faint he thinks he might be imagining it - the sound of children’s laughter. ]

Do you hear that?



MASH - DONUTS

[ With the haunted house long behind him, it’s almost a relief to see streets and houses decorated for Halloween festivities, and Hayden doesn’t even like Halloween. The singing bats are a little annoying. A lot of things are over the top and ridiculous, but there’s a much more welcoming feeling surrounding it all. He’s still sporting several bloody wounds from the dolls in the house, but he doesn’t seem to mind them, despite the fact that some of the lacerations are rather deep.

When he comes to a yard with people singing and dancing around a campfire, roasting marshmallows and making s’mores, he can’t help rolling his eyes a little. Some of them look incredibly silly, and yet he approaches, hoping no one will mind if he sits quietly by the fire. There’s a table of snacks and refreshments nearby, which makes him realize that he’s feeling a bit hungry, but more importantly, absolutely parched. A cup of cider sounds good, and he notices some delicious looking cinnamon doughnuts on the table as well. Hayden grabs a napkin and places two of the doughnuts on top, then grabs a cup of cider and makes his way over to the fire. The warmth is surprisingly pleasant, and when he takes a seat in the grass nearby relaxation begins to take the place of tension from his experience at the house. ]

HOCUS POCUS whoa what a blast from the past

[justbeingknife]

Because there's a billion creepy-ass dolls and they're all lookin' at us?

[ Majima was a little on edge, but his hyperbole was on point; he tensed, glancing quickly around as he picked up the laughter. High-pitched, childlike, and if they were in different circumstances and a very real (if miniature) knife hadn't flashed past his ear, he might have called it sweet.

Instead, he sidestepped the sudden attack. Not like that was going to help when the little bastard scuttled back behind rows of its fellows. More laughter, this time louder than before.

Pointedly, it came from more than one direction. ]

Well. Time to make some good life decisions.

Dean Winchester / Supernatural / will always match format

[mulletrock]

HOCUS POCUS

What the hell was that? Dolls? Baby Alive just took on a whole new meaning for him. He's seen Child Play more than once but actual dolls moving around had more to do with totems and links to the dead than actual sentient beings. It's a rough run.

Dean exits the building pulling doll hair out from under his nails, covered in blood that clearly isn't his own. Lace? Yeah, there's lace covering what used to be a gray and blue plaid shirt under a canvas jacket. He feels a lot better than he did when he entered, especially after curb stomping that last Anabelle.

"It's so not kid friendly in there." Consider yourself warned, with one more shuck of lace raining past old denim jeans Dean crushes the remaining porcelain that fell under the heel of his boot.

TRICK OR TREATS

"When I was in high school we used to do this with onions." Dean's got a candied apple in his hand, and even with all the shit on top of it still manages to take an entire bite without making much of a mess. Nuts scatter, but nobody needs them anyway. This place has everything but the good shit. No pie, no beer. He wasn't a hard cider sort of guy. So he's been knocking back the Lattes that are way too sweet for his taste and keeping up with his apple.

Candy corn is crap anyway, and even though junk food is a second love chasing candy caramel apples with donuts is a little much, even for him. Where's the beef? No really. Where is it. He's a warrior, and this is a preteen influenced shit show. "Anybody seen the guys in charge yet?"

WILDCARD

Trick Or Treats

[morethan084]

You're a monster.

[Except the way she smiles at him admitting to pranking others makes it pretty clear that she's more impressed than anything. She totally would've done something like that. Skye may not have touched the candied apples, but she's had two donuts so far and two and a half cups of cider. So she's feeling pretty damn good right now.]

There's the mayor, but no one seems to know what he looks like. Pretty weird, right?

[Except she doesn't sound that weirded out by it. If anything she just finds it funny. She doesn't recognize him, which is why she holds her hand out.]

I'm Skye.

kate fuller | from dusk till dawn

[crucifixes]

ＨＯＣＵＳ ＰＯＣＵＳ

[ a few years ago haunted houses, no matter how ridiculous and cheesy, had seemed like the height of terror to kate. it was an annual tradition, traipsing through arm in arm with her friends. startled shouts quickly turning into bursts of laughter, both at herself and them. it feels odd now, almost unnatural, to be entering one by herself, though it also makes a strange sort of sense. what kind of manufactured terrors could possibly live up to the things she's seen since leaving bethel?

you would think, by now, that she would know better.

exhausted by the time she finally slumps to her knees in the graveyard, she stays there for several long moments. fingers rooted into the dirt in an attempt to steady herself. most of the cuts along her legs and arms are already healed over, relatively shallow slices, but a few of the deeper ones are still oozing blood.

the only light back here comes from a scattering of jack-o-lanterns everywhere she looks, smiling faces appearing in on some joke she just can't grasp. still in a daze from the house itself, kate doesn't notice the tombstones until she starts to rise, the dirt under her feet giving an almighty heave. she barely has time to read them, throat seeming to close up at the names etched into each stone, and doesn't have time to acknowledge the tears beginning to prick at her eyes, before a hand, rotted and molding, explodes up from the dirt, a reflexive scream ripping out of her throat.

feel free to catch her anywhere inside the house, in the backyard, or while trying to escape the zombies! ]

ＷＥ ＤＩＤ ＴＨＥ ＭＡＳＨ

[ she can't remember who handed her the pumpkin spice latte, or how long it's been in her hands, but it provides a nice little defense against the slight chill in the air.

taking a long sip, she shivers faintly with the sudden warmth. lips curving into a smile as she watches the people clambering aboard their brooms, lifting into the night sky before all but disappearing into the fog.

a small part of her itches to try it out, but for now she's content to watch.

catch her wandering the streets, maybe give her another snack, or just take advantage of that psl! ]

ＷＩＬＤＣＡＲＤ

i'm good with pretty much anything, so come at me. or if you want to talk something over first, feel free to shoot me a pm.

clary fairchild | shadowhunters

[pencilled]

spooky, scary, skeletons (HAUNTED HOUSE A;)
[ The haunted house itself seems — well, a little lame at first, but when you’re friends with actual vampires and werewolves, most things that go bump in the night become pale imitations. She’s unphased by most of the jump scares, even laughs at one that pops up in front of her at one point, pushing it aside and stepping around it into the next room. The automatic door shuts behind her, and Clary watches it over her shoulder before blinking at the flickering light coming from the closet.

She doesn’t bother with even stepping towards the automatic door farther away from her. The light’s got her curious, and she may as well be a cat, what with all her curiosity. The closet door doesn’t open on its own, and Clary hesitates just one second before grabbing a hold of the knob and turning it, stepping into the next room.

It’s just the static of a flickering television that illuminates the room, and when the door slams shut behind her, Clary turns, reaching for the handle, shaking it. ]

Hey!

[ She pounds on the door with the heel of her hand. ] Hey!! This isn’t funny! Open the door!

cuz this is thriller night (HAUNTED HOUSE B;)

[ She hopes once she hits the outside that that means it’s over. The creepy woman in the TV, the dolls, all of it — it’s actually got her shaken up, just a little. Demons, she can handle, more or less, but she usually has her kindjals with her, or even at least her stele — but the latter she’s been leaving at home more often than not, because using it hasn’t been worth the consequence.

She’s starting to rethink the cons outweighing the pros as the first hand pushes its way out of the ground. Clary takes two steps back, and then another, and then just starts running, skidding to a stop when two zombies lurch their way into her path. She throws a punch, and then a kick, but it doesn’t do much — she’s in way over her head and she knows it.

Help? ]

lollipop candy bad girl (TRICK OR TREAT;)

[ Clary’s got a witch hat and a broom, but she hasn’t quite taken it for a spin, yet — she’d rather wander the festivities a bit first, grab a snack and talk to people before going flying. (Flying, itself, is nothing new to her, but that doesn’t make it any less exciting to try.)

She’s got an apple cider in the hand that isn’t holding her broom, and she pauses at a campfire, hesitating before heading up to the occupants sitting around it. ]

Mind if I join in?

cuz this is thriller night

[natalia_vdova]

[Natasha had just come out the other side of the house herself, but she doesn't see the other redhead until she's had to take down a few herself. Turns out that the bad zombie movies Clint had made her watch did come in handy.]

Here, catch!

[She picks up one of the spare shovels and tosses it to the girl, hoping she'll pick up on the idea. And if not, well. Natasha is more than willing to demonstrate. It doesn't take her too much to use the edge of the shovel to take the head off one of the zombies. It's certainly a pretty gross affair, and also definitely not the way she'd thought the silly haunted house would end.

But in truth most of her holidays tend to involve more shooting and less sitting around the fire.]

Margaery Tyrell | GOT | The Mash

[purplewedding]

(They said that this was a dream, but even in her most creative bouts, Margaery was not so certain she could conjure up such incredible things. For once, she did not have to feign her look of wonder as she moved through the streets. Her fingers slid over the edge of cars that she walked by, her other hand holding her dress up just barely, though she didn't seem too concerned with the outfit. At a glance, it'd be easy to think that this woman was dressed up in a queen's costume. The dress was certainly opulent enough for it, and it was even completed with a small antler crown with thorns. There was hardly anything costumed about her though. The mannerisms were too exact.

She did not know the politics of this land though, and for now, did not know where this society would rank someone in her position. It was burning at her mind worse than the strange technology all around her. But she knew better than to just go prancing up to whoever and asking if there was a ruler. Must be wiser than that. Margaery wasn't dense. She knew that even with the costumes, she was Other. Too many other people didn't seem as taken aback by the cars, the lamp posts. This was their culture. Their terrain.

But she could adapt. She always has.

Start your way up from the bottom. That was just fine with her. Go for something easy. Her eyes picked up on the fifth Jack-o-Lantern, and she thought that might be as good of a place as any. She plucked up the one nearest her own head size, careful of its candle, before turning to the nearest person, a look of simple delight bright on her face as she turned the pumpkin around to show off its furiously carved face.)

How endearing! What an angry-looking face. Do you suppose it's meant to be a mad god of some sort? Although, I must say, my grandmother has made far fiercer expressions upon being woken up too early in the morning.

(OOC: You may choose your own adventure! I decided to keep it simple for now. If you have any questions/want to make any requests, hit my up on clussy@plurk.)

[shiro2hero]

Ah--!

[Okay, so this place has him on edge already. And maybe he was trying to blend in with the decor. Hide in the background and watch people. But apparently, the all-black sweatshirt and pants didn't do anything to keep him from being obvious.]

[Because the woman just turns and holds up the angriest pumpkin he's ever seen in his life. His head sort of snaps back. His eyes go a little wide. It dawns on him a split-second later that this is just a pumpkin. It's not actually a threat, and the flicker of purple hidden by oversized sleeves fades immediately.]

... Yeah.

You can say that again. [He clears his throat.] Sorry. You uh. You surprised me.

Eddie Brock/Venom | Venom | cw: body horror (because Venom), violence, dismemberment, cannibalism?

[familiarnightmares]

Hocus Pocus
[ Eddie generally isn't the biggest fan of haunted houses. It's not that he's scared of them, exactly; most of them are transparently fake, and jump scares are really only scary the first couple times. Not to mention Venom's a hell of a lot scarier than anything your standard haunted house can muster. But they probe at the darker stuff, the stuff you're scared of as a kid and never fully get over. The monsters hiding in the dark, and the darkness is always scarier than what you can see.

He's quick to keep his hands to himself, even as Venom teases him for it.

WE'RE STRONGER THAN ANYTHING THEY CAN CONJURE UP HERE. DON'T BE A PUSSY. ]

Shut up. We don't know how we got here, what makes you think there's not something weird about this.

OF COURSE THERE'S SOMETHING WEIRD ABOUT THIS.

[ The room with the television only cements the fact, but at least they get through it; Eddie's pretty sure he's seen the movie before anyway.

The room full of dolls is worse, not because it's any more difficult to get through, because it isn't, but because an entire room full of murder-dolls is creepy as hell. Venom helps, mostly through lashing tendrils and advance warning; they're only dolls, they don't need a monster to be taken out, only awareness and a clear head.

The next room is clear, at least, allows some breathing room between the previous and the next, but when they make their way out into the yard, it's another story completely.

Zombies. Seriously?

Venom only chuckles when he sees them, clearly not threatened in the least by the formerly-dead.

BAD PEOPLE? he asks hopefully. ]

Yeah, I'd think they count.

[ The symbiote flows out, spreading across every expanse of skin and clothing, seeming to swallow Eddie whole, ending with teeth and eerie white eyes unfolding over his head. Venom stretches, already impossibly wide mouth stretching into a grin with far too many razor sharp teeth before charging at the shuffling bodies, rending them in pieces and moving to chow down on whichever is too slow to get away first. ]


Monster Mash
[ A party's never a bad thing, exactly. Eddie used to enjoy them plenty before his life got weirder than he could have ever imagined. He's become a little more skeptical of them these days, but he and Venom are getting along better now. He's pretty sure they'll be alright.

So they mingle. Wander around the place, admire the pumpkins and lights and everything else. Venom is hungry, like always, so they spend a lot of time at the snack table. Down hot chocolate whenever they make it back, walk away with a plate full of donuts one trip, a couple candy apples the next. Try a pumpkin spice latte one trip, but neither one of them are overly impressed, not that it stops them from finishing it. ]

Neat party, huh?


Welcome to the Nightmare
[ Eddie wasn't all that sure what happened. One minute they're in a knock-down drag-out fight with Riot, the next they're in the middle of the damn woods being dragged and unable to get loose no matter how hard either of them struggles. They curse and spit and fight their hardest, but none of it matters, and then there's a damn deer practically attacking them--

And then they wake up. In a normal bed, in a normal room, but it's not their shitty apartment. And there's music. ]

What the hell happened?

WE APPEAR TO HAVE BEEN KIDNAPPED.

Thanks, Einstein, I figured that much out.

YOU ASKED.

Yeah, yeah.

[ He sighs heavily and swings his feet out of bed, then up and out of the room to explore wherever the hell they are now. Maybe get a few answers about why too, while they're at it. ]

Nightmare

[paradoxpoint]

[That's... a familiar face. Though considerably underdressed compared to Eames, looking a bit sweatier and paler, but- yup, he knows that bone structure.

Keeping in mind how he himself has a 'twin' here, though, he's wary on his approach, frowning slightly and coming up to Eddie, calling out:]

Hey! You lost?

Jean-Paul Beaubier/Northstar | Marvel comics

[speed_of_snark]

Hocus Pocus: Doll Room

"Câlisse."

Really, is there anything more to say? It's a room full of creepy dolls. Stupid fucking haunted house, why did he decide to go in? Jean-Paul about-faces so quickly it's comical and tries the door. It is, of course, locked. He bangs it with a fist, but turns back to regard the room again, eyes scanning the shelves.

Are some of the dolls looking at him? Ridiculous. He doesn't bother to ask whoever is in the room with him if they've noticed anything weird, because that would be admitting uncertainty. No, he's just going to walk briskly through the doll room and look straight ahead thank you very much, right up until one of the little bastards leaps on him and tries to stab him in the neck with a knife. If it weren't for the fact that he is as fast as he is, he'd be dead. Instead he tosses the doll across the room and watches, wide eyed, as it sprays blood when it shatters.

"What the shitting hell--?" he asks before noticing that all of the dolls are moving, and one has creeped up on the other person in the room, ready to slash at the achilles tendon. He's across the room and shoving his companion out of the way in a flash. Not polite, no, but who has time for niceties right now?

"Tell me you know the way out of here!"


Arrival

It’s the apartment that bothers him.

Jean-Paul Beaubier is a very wealthy man, and for years maintained a pristine, sleekly modern apartment in Laval, Quebec. White and grey, marble and steel - his home just outside of Montreal was every bit as sleek and modern and cold as he presents himself.

This place is not that.

The walls are exposed brick, the building old with a frightening elevator and communal laundry. He had honestly forgotten communal laundry rooms even existed. It’s not a terrible flat - the brick is nice, at least - but it’s far below the standard he’s become accustomed to. But still, it is clearly meant to be his home.

His job is fine. Teaching, yes, that seems right (even if it’s slightly off - shouldn’t it be another subject?) and dealing with teens and young adults. The location is off, but it’s the east coast and that’s okay. All of that is different, but not TOO different. It is only when he’s at home that he really notices, really thinks about the fact that he’s supposed to be somewhere else, and so he spends as much time outside of his apartment as possible.

He walks the streets with a confidence bordering on arrogance. The only giveaway is a wary confusion dulling otherwise bright blue eyes.


Wildcard!

Up for anything.

wildcard.

[danzan]

[ Logan is staring at the packets of non-dairy creamer in the community college faculty room.

It's a Saturday, he's got about two hours until his last class for the weekend schedules, and he's got a steaming mug of coffee in one hand but no milk to put in it. Somehow this is a dilemma to him. It's certainly making his day a lot worse than it has to be. ]

...hn. [ His nostrils flare slightly in irritation. It would be a waste to pour the coffee down the drain, but he doesn't particularly want it, which means approaching footsteps have him turning his head before the door to the lounge even opens, hopeful that this solves his minor environmental dilemma.

Blandly, lamely, he asks: ] Coffee? [ And no, there's no transition, no greeting. Logan just holds the mug out, the side with the handle offered the guy's way. ]

bodhi rook | star wars rogue one

[onlydoubts]

just a bit of hocus pocus

[ Having no frame of reference for the decorations or the old, odd looking house, as the holiday has no bearing in a Galaxy Far, Far Away - Bodhi doesn't linger long outside, and goes in. His hands are jammed into his pockets, despite the itch of his fingers to reach out and touch some of the bizarre props, despite the warning. Why, he wonders, his curiosity at a peak to find out -

As he moves forward towards one of the decorations to get a better look, a monster popping up from out of the fog tears him out of his thoughts with a start, and he stumbles backward to get away from it. Not real, his mind supplies, just like everything else here.

Annoyed, Bodhi shakes his head and turns away. He's had enough of this - and it's onto the next room. The door locks behind him with a click. Trapped, no no no - but he's not alone. Ignoring the flickering screen for now, he focuses on trying to get the door and whomever is here with him. ]

Help me with this, yeah? Think it's jammed, or something.

we did the mash

[ He hadn't realized how hungry he was. Not until staring down several delicious looking foods, many of which Bodhi has never seen the likeness of before now. The gathering is lively, full of music and decorations - but he mostly has eyes for the food. A doughnut here, a glass of the cider has him in a much better mood than he's been in, in.... longer than he can remember.

And maybe he's not half as tolerant of alcohol as he used to be, given how rarely he has time or opportunity to partake. Pilots weren't supposed to drink, in their off time - it hadn't stopped a lot of his fellows from spending their free time at the cantinas, but his own vices were more in the games played in those kind of places (it was easier to win with a clear head).

Staggering forward, he giggles as he pulls on one of the funny looking hats and it slips over his eyes. The result is tripping over one of the stationary broomsticks and knocking into the nearest individual. ] Oops, Sorry. Damn pilot's legs.

[ No, he's just wasted. ]

wildcard me

[ any option is fair game! ]

Peter Parker | Marvel's Spider-Man | spoilers for the game!

[quipsandthwips]

ARRIVAL

[Peter Parker's last memory was — the day after Devil's breath. Limping around trying to get things situated, ignoring the burning in his eyes and throat and the weariness in his bones to complete the job he knew he had to. It took MJ to actually force him to go home and rest — telling him how she shouldn't have to remind him he almost died on multiple occasions and is still a mess — and as soon as his head hits the pillow on one of FEASTs spare cots, he's out like a light.

Dreams of angry doctors with eight limbs and withering family that vanish into flashes of Devil-red mists devolve into a forest. Pine trees. Being dragged around. It's not normal, not what he usually sees behind his eyelids. May used to tell him all the time he had an overactive imagination, but this? This is ridiculous.

He wakes up in a bed. Blinks the sleep from his eyes, before adjusting, sitting up slowly. It reminds him for a moment of Scorpion's messed up poison, only — not quite so trippy. Where the hell...? Is this some other villain he has to deal with? Because he can't handle being in another fight right now; he's got a freaking hole in his shoulder that aches like crazy.

It'll heal entirely in a few days. Magic Spider radiation sure does come in handy and mostly avoids hospital bills. Um... Not counting those... few dozen times. Like the time with the sword. Or the time with the dislocated shoulder. Look, he's alive, isn't he?

... Right?

He pulls on his plaid button-up that was folded oh-so-kindly on a table and double-checks the webslingers that look like plain ol' wristbands on his wrists, and then cautiously pokes his head out a door. Don't mind the mildly bruised face, he's just looking skeptically around to make sure no one in costumes or robot suits are gonna surprise him.

It's been a hell of a week.

Time to wander and hope for clues about whatthefuck.]

IT’S JUST A BUNCH OF HOCUS POCUS

[Once everything's properly set in stone for him and (mostly) accepted, Halloween rears it's ugly head. He doesn't hate it or anything, but considering the last party he went to ended up full of mind-altered costumed civilians trying to fight him...? Well.]

You've got to be kidding me.

I already had to deal with one Halloween jamboree, and now this?

[“ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK. TOUCH NOTHING AND NOTHING WILL TOUCH YOU!”]

Alright, alright. No touchy. I can do no touching.

[He almost touches, like, everything. But he manages to reel himself in. The truth is, he had been hoping that maybe coming here would assauge his concerns that he's being cheated and lied to. Maybe Mysterio's behind all this, lurking somewhere he can't see. Maybe he's not really anywhere and it's a big hallucination by Scorpion's sting. How can he know without exploring every possible avenue? Color him skeptical, okay? He's a scientist. He's got to science this out.

Wanna come explore potential danger?

Peter's sure game. What's the worst that can happen...?]

WE DID THE MASH

[Stacking plates, stacking plates, gotta get them snacks, coming through, don't mind him — if he's gonna be stuck in some weird dreamworld thing, he might as well rest for a moment. The haunted house thing really, uh, it really did wonders in leaning him more towards 'holy shit, this is all really real'. Best to just take some time off of letting his brain turn to mush in its overdrive.

(It's either that or go home to sulk and be upset about home and what happened, and he can't let himself to that, either.)

He looks at a gravestone, swallows candy.]

................

We can actually touch this stuff, right?

[OOC: If you wanna do anything particular for the TDM, hit me up at simpledog!]

[pencilled]

I think so?

[ She doesn't sound so sure, but. ]

At least, there were no signs around saying we couldn't, so... bottoms up?

[ She's got a cup of cider in her hand, at least and she holds it up. Cheers? ]

Diarmuid | Pilgrimage | gentle testing for a newer muse shh

[thenovice]

Character Arrival (fairly mild mentions of extreme violence)

[Last Diarmuid could recollect, he was floating aboard a ferryman's vessel, sore and exhausted and having lost everything he knew to be safe and sensical. It was no easy thing, laying there and wondering if God had truly been keeping his ear to them, listening for their prayers — no, there was a terrible shame welling within him. When the relic descended into the waters beneath, he wondered for one of the first times in his young life if this was all truly a service to Christ. The boy certainly found an interesting time to find a lapse of faith, because as his eyes fluttered shut and he curled up in his wool monk garb, he dreamt of strange things.

Being dragged, it reminds him of the Celts and their vicious rocks, flung with such ferocity it strikes the noses off men, takes their eyes or fractures their skulls. He panics and gropes for any purchase, yelling for rescue — there's a deer, voices, and —

And then he wakes up panicked, looking around with wide, dark eyes under unkept curls. Nothing here looks right. Nothing here looks familiar. His throat aches terribly, though, and when he touches his hands to the sensitive skin there, he remembers the hands that had been pressing his windpipe for so short yet vicious a struggle, trying to snuff his life out.

.....

He moves from the bed and gathers his cloak, tugging it on so that it masks his head as he moves to flee the house without even so much as looking at the Blessings Basket. No instructions, no explanation, no nothing. In his fear, he's entirely missed the obvious answers (though he mostly certainly did take the food, with an apology to whoever it belongs to).

Outside, he finds a confusing world so different from his rural monestary, one that Brother Ciarán has never spoken about. The buses, the buildings, the electronics and clothing and — This cannot be real?

And this tattoo — this strange symbol inked into his skin? Is he damned? What did he do so wrong? Allow the sacred relic to be lost at sea? Lord, I thought it was the truest way; I thought it was what you could have wanted. He pulls his hood close and rushes as fast as he can, a cloaked figure making a sneaky run for the closest road into the forest.

Probably best not to let him try to escape Deerington.]

IT’S JUST A BUNCH OF HOCUS POCUS

[Diarmuid stands outside of the house, far from it, still in his traditional monk garb and looking at the place with wide and alarmed eyes. Let us have a quick summary of what is strewn about: 'corpses', blood, alarming signs, figures not of this earth. He swallows meekly and says to the nearest thrill-seeker:]

... We should not touch foot on this land, as the sign forbades it.

We'll be bewitched by whatever dwells here.

WE DID THE MASH (warning for accidental underaged drinking)

[Let's put this in less flowery terms:

DID NOBODY LISTEN TO DIARMUID??? THIS IS SACRILEGIOUS??? SURELY THERE IS SOMETHING DANGEROUS ABOUT RIDING AROUND ON BROOMS??? WHAT POWER IS THIS COMING FROM??? WHY IS NOBODY BOTHERED BY ALL OF THIS??? HE IS SO UNCOMFORTABLE.

And yet there's little else for him to do but witness this place with honest to god Concern for every single soul that partakes in it. Though he also ends up somehow holding a cup with Cider in it that tastes so incredibly gross—

But also kind of soothing?]

I thought this was to be sweet? It's foul.

[Oh lord. Metheglin? Wine? He's never had alcohol before. He had thought it was something with 'caramel' in it.

Please take the Alcoholic Cider from the monk kid.]

[4thwaller]

[ Wade has no intention of taking the alcoholic beverage away from the kid... There are worse things than alcohol, at least in his opinion. RIP Diarmuid. It'd be a lie to say Wade hasn't had his fair share of the stuff. Shit that can actually get him wasted? Uh, hell yes???? He's literally hoarding the shit in his fridge at home. ]

Might wanna go easy there-- [ Wait. Don't mind him just squinting behind his mask, which someone translates into those white eyes. Oh, and suddenly the dude dressed in red is getting a lot closer, and bending to look at Diarmuid's face. ] Peter why do you suddenly have too much hair and an accent?

Matt Murdock // MCU

[trustinthedevil]

[i. HOCUS POCUS]

[ Matt's never cared for haunted houses. They lose their appeal when you can't see - though he supposes even blind people can get freaked out by a jumpscare. But Matt also has the unfortunate (fortunate?) talent of knowing when they're coming. He can hear the pistons working on the old scares, or when he'd go into the kinds with real actors, he'd hear them coming. There's not much fun.

So he gets dragged into this and he's not really looking forward to it. Another haunted house, another few minutes of walking through and pretending to enjoy himself. Too bad shit goes south real, real fast.

There's no real way to hide the fact that he's not your average blind guy. He can't stand there and do nothing while, room after room, there's a fresh onslaught of things he's never thought to fight. While the person he's there with can be the eyes of the operation, Matt can at least put up a fight and buy them some time. When finally, after what seems like too long, they're outside, Matt tries to catch his breath. ]

Jesus Christ -

[ But there's no rest for the wicked. He notices everything moments before anyone else might. The low hums of groans, the shift in the ground. Matt's fought people who've come back from the dead before, but not like this. ]

We should run.


[ii. TRICK OR TREATS]

[ The air smells like candy and fires and nothing like Hell's Kitchen. There's something quaint about it. Despite everything, Matt can't help the vague smile that crosses his face as he listens to everyone having a good time.

It's not long before someone's pushing a drink into his hands. He hates to be rude (sometimes), so he smiles and says thank you and gives a little cheers before he takes a drink. It's good. Really good. He's not sure how they know he needs a refill when he does, but soon enough he's got a second one.

The worst part about being a man with heightened senses is that getting drunk comes a little easier. Sorry if he sways or topples into you, sloshing some of that delicious cider. ]


[iii. WILDCARD]

Choose your own adventure, using any of the above prompts or do your own thing. I'm easy.

idk how i ended up rambling but here we are

[thenovice]

[There's a shrinking voice nearby, speaking to someone else:]

Thank you, but I do not drink.

[A hint of Irish accent, not a kid but not quite a man, and with a polite sort of distrust to whoever's offering him what he assumes is some sort of ale (and later will regrettably and accidentally drink alcoholic cider, but that's for later problems). The same shrinking voice is gone just as quickly, as the boy in the cloak sits both alone and utterly overwhelmed by the world he'd stepped into. Deerington was bizarre enough — but Halloween? A whole other thing to unpack.

His brothers at the monastery only had stories to offer, little bits of information about the world here and there between mass and his duties for the day — they spoke of pagan superstitions when he was little, and of celebrations not quite explored in their small and isolated village as he grew more aware of his surroundings. He learned of things like Samhain, of festivals held and frightening concepts of passages to other worlds, where fairies and spirits pass.

They really had little reason to keep track of time, though. These were all just the passing stories over bread and fish — he was always so young and wide-eyed and curious, they couldn't help but be less strict with him about teachings beyond their little bubble.

... Thinking of home is quite painful now.

He shifts instead after a moment, looking passingly at Matt.

Don't ask, don't ask, it's rude to ask—]

Those, on your eyes — do they change your vision?

[D'oh.]

Loras Tyrell ✿ Game of Thrones

[triplerose]

[i. ARRIVAL]

[ When Loras wakes up, all he's hoping for is something peaceful. Life hadn't been kind to him by the end of it, and death is a welcome concept. Though if this is death, then it's not how he had imagined it.

He watches the ceiling for a long moment before climbing off the bed. The floor is cool on his feet but he doesn't care. For Loras, even in this moment, away from Westeros and it's own horrors, he feels hollow. Not himself. Not even close, really, and making his way towards a mirror only compacts that.

He's clean, at least. Cleaner than he probably had been. It's been ... Weeks, months, maybe, since he'd last seen how he looks. There's no recognition between him and the man staring back at him, thinner in the face, hair choppily shorn. A hand passes over his forehead where there's no sigil scarred in and then down his neck. Here, there is a sigil that is achingly familiar, and it won't rub away.

Loras sucks in a breath as he looks around.

Clothes. Boots and clothes of fine materials that he'd thought he'd never see nor wear again. Maybe this is death. How would he know, having never been dead before? He reaches up once more to pass his hand through his lack of hair, lets it drop. It takes him a long while to work up the motivation to move and leave the room, heading out to the streets. ]


[ii. TRICK OR TREATS]

[ Loras has never celebrated Halloween. He has never seen people dressed up or Jack-O-Lanterns or people toasting marshmallows. He's never had a marshmallow until someone sees him watching and offers him once. He's not sure what he'd expected. Not something sweet. Why roast sweets over fires? But it's good, if a bit gooey and messy.

Loras has also never had a donut. Cakes, certainly, but nothing quite like these elaborately decorated round ones. He finds it funny that some should have holes in the middle when other's don't, but after the marshmallow he's keen to try.

Donuts, it turns out, are even better than marshmallows. And they make Loras seem inexplicably content. While his eyes seem to lack any sort of brightness, his smiles come more easily to him than they have in years. And has he ever laughed this much? He thinks not, for surely he's never been this social at any party before. ]


[iii. WILDCARD]

Choose your own adventure using whatever you'd like, prompts wise.

Ronan Lynch | The Raven Cycle

[somnioergosum]

[Can switch to brackets.]

HOCUS POCUS

Ronan stood outside the haunted house. He hadn’t been here for long and he had no real idea what to expect. All he knew were three things. 1. This was a dream. 2. This wasn’t his dream. 3. He should stay out of any attempts to draw him into a nightmare.

Ronan poked at the sign that told him not to touch anything, then opened the door.

“When in Rome, do as the creepy Romans do.”

WE DID THE MASH

Ronan loved Halloween as a child. It was practically an obligation considering his birthday was in the same month. Now that he was older and had seen more of the world and all the shit in it, he scowled at the fun and games. If he wanted to dance? He wasn’t going to show it.

Standing off to the side, he kept glancing around nervously. His eyes caught on someone flying a broom. He tracked the movement with his eyes, then saw more. With his curiosity piqued, it didn’t take long to find a broom and a hat to go along with it. He didn’t bother dressing up as a witch but he turned the broom over in his hands.

He wondered what if he could take this back to the real world, assuming he ever got there.

“Tried one of these yet?” he asked someone who came close, only looking directly at them after he spoke.

WILDCARD

[Let me know if you want to do a certain option for Trick or Treat, a Character Arrival prompt, or anything else.]

the mash

[antietam]

Despite his general aversion to crowds, Adam wanted to see what the Halloween fuss was about. Plus the whole thing was impossible to avoid and he knew Ronan was somewhere in it.

They'd gotten separated when Adam stopped for some apple cider and ended up stuck amongst rowdy dancers. Once he managed to break away, he carefully followed a trail of Jack-O-Lanterns until he found Ronan with a broom in his hand.

"Oh, yeah," he replied in a tone dripping with sarcasm, "It's this great invention that cleans up all the filth you track in from your farm."

Pidge Gunderson | Voltron: Legendary Defender | Season 7 spoilers

[tinygreen]

[Arrival]
[Nightmares are fine. Not passing with a perfect grade, memories of past battles with the others, almost dying a few times. Nightmares could be handled. It was just a form of dreaming that scared whoever was having them. But something that realistic? It's enough to unnerve Pidge to the point where she's sweating and breathing hard upon waking up.

It was too real to be a dream. The room must be a clue. It's not her room, an engine room, anywhere near her computer... a strange place, but at least there's no music playing indicating she was in a game show. She gets up and heads outside. The outside would have answers. It has to. Please don't let that deer-thing be out here...]

Hello? Where in the quiznack is this...


[Hocus Pocus]
[Haunted houses could be fun. Figuring out what kind of machinery was being run in the animatronic creatures. Who the actors were. What kind of silly tropes they recycled from movies and games. It was too easy. There was even one of those "warning signs" that all those places had.

Pidge didn't think any of this was particularly scary till the door slammed shut behind her, locking her into the room. 'Another gimmick' she figures as she tries the doorknob. Doorknobs didn't count in nothing being touched, right?] Come on! Open up!

[Whoever is in the room with her might want to let her know that there's something wrong with the TV as Pidge tugs at the door.]


[Wildcard]
[Throw any prompt this girls way that isn't listed here, or come up with something completely different! PM this journal or hit me up @chromatus for something!]

Hocus Pocus

[tagartist]

[ Chloe really needed to wisen up about not being able to have nice things in Deerington, because this haunted house is not the cheesy ride she had hoped it to be. She had kept telling herself to follow the signs instructions, to just go to the door, but the pull into that room had been just as strong for her as it was for Pidge.

She jumped when the door slammed, watches her try to struggle, but doesn't go to help because she seems like she's got the unsuccessful knob jiggling down for both of them and instead goes to look around the dark room. Just in time to see a pair of hands starting to press against the TV screen and then go right through them, like they're made of water. ]

Uh -- [ Well, she's gonna smack the back of her shoulder now. A few times, even, for good measure, as she tries to get her attention with a slight bit of setting in panic. ] Creepy ghost chick - super realistic Ring reenactment and I don't wanna find out how far it goes so let's ditch the locked door and find another answer, maybe?

Frodo Baggins | The Lord of the Rings

[stoutofheart]

Arrival

[Of the many, many unreasonable things Frodo has experienced within the last few months...this ranks high on the list. Panic doesn't set in quickly as he reads over the letter, and while he reads he is absentmindedly devouring whatever was in the basket. It'd been quite a while since he'd had anything fresh, and while Galadriel's gift provided sustenance it was not quite as varied a diet as any hobbit should like. That staves off what could quite possibly lead to him completely losing his head...but only for a moment.

There are any number of of problems with what he's reading, and re-reading, and re-reading again, but the first thing is that truly stands out to him is that his body is still asleep and this is all a dream. Asleep and waiting for servants of the Enemy to find him. The second problem comes after he's finished and takes the time to search the house. Sting is here, his armor is here, the Ring is safe about his neck, but Samwise, his companion...is decidedly not. They had fallen asleep near one another, and by that logic they should have awoken in this place at the same time. Right?

Frodo likely make quite a stir bursting out of a house, calling out into the crisp air of early autumn. At 3'6", with curly brown hair, dressed like he walked out of a LARP, with large and hairy feet, Frodo is definitely going to stick out...]

Sam?! Sam, where are you?!

[He manages to stop himself before hitting the road, having enough sense to avoid being hit by the cars rolling by. The sight of them draws him up short, regardless and he clamps his mouth shut, clutching the hilt of the shortsword sheathed at his waist.]

Good heavens...it was all true?!


We Did The Mash

[Whatever was going on, the talk of a festival and a party to lighten one's spirits was not something Frodo was going to miss. He was, after all, a good and respectable hobbit and it had been far too long since he'd done anything remotely relaxing.

The pumpkins give him pause, but what really stops him is the sight of someone flying overhead. Cider in hand, eyes wide, he stops to gawk...and given his height may perhaps be an inconvenient stumbling block. Unless you hear him first, of course.]

...Is that a broom?!

We Did The Mash

[manasponge]

Wha -- ?

[ Marcille almost failed to see him until it was too late; as it was, she stopped just short of running into him, with her head half-turned toward what he was looking at. ]

It looks like one, doesn't it? They must have charmed their cleaning supplies.

the doctor { 13 } / doctor who

[aeternae]

arrival;

[ So! This is new and exciting -- and worrying. Possibly more worrying than exciting, actually.

Probably. No -- yes. Definitely more worrying than exciting.

She'd found the basket, containing her sonic screwdriver and snacks, which is odd. They're all different things she'd loved, once upon a time, from Jelly Babies to Jammie Dodgers... and a single celery stalk. So she crams her pockets with those things and reads the letter and... well, there's not much left to do but explore. So that's what she does.

Deerington, she finds, is a curious place in that it manages to be both very, very normal and very, very wrong, all at once. The pastel townsfolk interest her but not as much as the decidedly not pastel person she sees walking up ahead, so she sneaks up behind them for a quick sonic. Assuming the loud buzzing catches their attention and they, you know, turn around, they'll be met with a broad smile. ]

Hello! Don't tell me -- not from around here? Me neither.

[ Don't be alarmed by this odd woman, stranger! She comes bearing gifts! ...Which she remembers when she casually shoves her hands in her coat pockets. ]

Oh! Jelly Baby? [ She pulls the little bag from her coat and offers it. ] I've got pocketfuls.

wildcard;

[ the usual! ]

[thenovice]

[Don't be alarmed? Alright then!

Diarmuid is alarmed.

But at this point, he's at least acclimated enough to the bizarre world around them to be more settled — and pointedly not running off into the forest, where he could be getting himself killed. Or almost killed. Yet again. He hasn't forgotten Geraldus' attack on him back in his own domain, the way the man nearly strangled him; the thought leaves him pulling his cloak more securely around his bruised neck before he blinks at her through wild curls.

The look goes from wary to boyish and uncontrollably curious.]

'Jelly Babies'?

[Some sort of delicacy maybe, something sweet? A sort of jam, like that preserved from fruits? Or maybe a dessert that no one in an isolate monkhood would ever have the pleasure of knowing about.]

tetsugoro kusabi | the silver case | ota

[50k]

hocus pocus;

[This is the last time he lets anybody talk him into having fun. Ever.]

Are you fucking kidding me? [Thankfully, if Kusabi knows how to do anything at all, it's how to stay level when shit's getting weird. By the time he and whoever he's wound up with are near the end of the line, it's just a session of especially messed up target practice. He's gunning the dolls down mechanically, and even starting to look more annoyed than on edge.] These creepy motherfuckers just don't know when to quit.

[But there's a lot of these things, and the little ones are fast. Faster than he's ready for. While he's distracted trying to push the dolls back, one sneaks up on him and strikes, carving a deep gash into his right hand. Kusabi yelps; he drops his gun and it discharges with a bang on impact with the floor.]

Get back!

trick or treats;

[He's too old for this shit.

The festivities aren't for him-- joykilling old fart that he is-- but he's so restless he'd do pretty much anything to keep himself from dying of boredom right now. And to escape the white noise of the inside of his own head. Some time after escaping the haunted house by the skin of his teeth, Kusabi can be found wallflowering sullenly on a bench, watching the rest of town go by. Actually enjoying themselves, and all that. He's sporting a bandaged, stinging hand and a sullen expression, and cradling a maybe-alcoholic-maybe-not cup of cider. Right now (and, well, pretty much all the time) he's the exact opposite of approachable. But should his people-watching be interrupted, he'll... actually be grateful for something to keep him busy.

Kusabi looks up at his new companion, brow raised. He takes a sip of his cider, sizing them up, before he says, gruffly--]

You gonna sit down or keep staring? I don't do any damn tricks.

wildcard;

[come @ me my dudes]

cw: blood, violence

[justbeingknife]

Damn!

[ Majima backed himself off in a hurry as the gun went off, the baseball bat in his hand already on the backswing. Some of the dolls had scattered in fear when the gun went into the air, but one or two crafty ones had started a break from the larger crowd for the weapon.

Now he smashed the bat into the first of them, hard -- what was left was broken, bloody pieces of doll. Not much opportunity to glance back at the older man, in this case. ]

You got that shit handled?