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

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.

scrEAMS horror daughter

[oorah]

The hairs raise up on the back of his arms and neck, and indeed all he sees is a blur of blue hair before she's colliding with his brick wall of a chest. Before he properly registers who it is hugging him, Max is all over her, sniffing the backs of her legs and rubbing against her excitedly while Aloe hangs back, uncertain. One heavy arm slowly comes up to squeeze gently across Chloe's back, hanging in her embrace for as long as she wants it to go on. After so many people coming and going in the Village, he'd grown more than used to no one remembering him or Reims. Chloe obviously does and it his chest blooms with warmth at the realization, trying to blink the sting of tears out of his eyes.

How long has she been here? Did she come here straight from Reims when he instead woke up drowning in a Fountain? It doesn't matter, does it? It's Chloe, someone he thought he'd never see again and his other arm comes up to crush her back, just a little. Maybe he needs the hug as much as she does, though he's always reluctant to admit as much. His fingers tap against her shoulder on the way across, conveying a familiar message in Morse code: S-A-F-E. They aren't, he's sure, they never are, but for the moment? For the moment, this is more than enough.

[tagartist]

The fact that he hugs back is enough of a confirmation before the code tapped against her shoulder, and she squeezes a little tighter afterward, doing her best to not do something embarrassing like cry as she buries her face against his shoulder. Which she can actually reach now, an improvement from the last time she saw him, three years younger and somehow even scrawnier than she is now. It's weird to think how someone could stay so fresh in your mind, even after what felt like so long and with enough worlds between them to have challenged her memory.

She lingers for a few moments, before she finally pulls back, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand just in case, and going to quickly bend down to pet Max instead. She'd missed him too, after all, and was more than happy to see that he'd come to this world along with him. It's weird to not have blurted something out by now, but maybe she'd just always been so used to being quiet around them, that she fell back into old habits.

She finally manages to find her voice as she buries her face against Max's fur quickly, clearing her throat and finally going to stand up. "Did you just wake up?"

[oorah]

The second she pulls back, he feels bereft, though he can't stop the smile from touching his lips as he watches her reunion with Max. He's all over her, rubbing his blocky head back against her hand and letting out a few squeaking barks that are indicative of how that place changed him, too. Aloe, who's slightly grayer and lanky, peeks his equally broad head around Frank's leg like a nervous toddler. Tentatively, he steps forward until his wet nose presses against Chloe's knee, tail thwipping back and forth as he pants happily up at her. Okay, this is sweet, even if he feels like he's abandoned his people twice over now.

Are Kamala and Jessica still in the Village? Did he trade them for Chloe? As happy as he is to see her, they had been a true family there. Maybe not in the traditional sense, but losing them now... it leaves just as round a hole in him as when he lost his true wife and kids. Frank pulls off his hat, exposing his long, wild hair even as he pushes a hand back through it to settle it some. He hasn't had a haircut since well before Reims and now he really is heading towards man-bun territory.

"Uh," he says dumbly after too long a pause, clearing his throat because he's still not fully used to speaking all the time. He no longer feels an impending sense of dread every time he opens his mouth, so that's something, but texting and signing are still more natural for him than speaking aloud. "Sorry- yeah, I. Yeah."

He shakes his head, why is he like this? He squeezes the teal fabric between both hands and looks down at his teal communicator, still strapped to his wrist. He wonders if he won't be able to get it off now that he's out of that world. Hopefully, too, out from under the Observer's thumbs. His mind is working overtime, just watching her, relief sinking like a stone in his belly, buoyed only by the undeniable fact that she seems whole and healthy.

[tagartist]

She feels a tug in her heart at every squeaky bark, remembering how Bongo still didn't meow anymore, hating how that place had treated all of them, left their permanent marks on everything that had passed through France, however briefly. Her attention averted to Aloe when he came over to say hello, though, and she was just as quick to be loving on him the moment she felt his nose press against her. It felt so nice to see life, to feel warmth, given how often this place liked to plunge them all into isolation.

Whole and healthy was only a physical accuracy. Between the three years she'd spent at home after Reims and the time she'd had in Deerington, she was in a few more pieces than she cared to admit.

Glancing at him just in time to see his hair, she raises a brow and without thinking, makes a few motions with her hands to indicate he needs a hair cut. There's a smirk on her face as she does it, but someone should protect him from looking like a crazy homeless man. Not that he couldn't very well be a crazy homeless man, but that's neither here nor there.

There was one question she had, though, one she couldn't ask out loud, and she was quick to move her hands instead; How long has it been for you?

[oorah]

He knows none of them are okay. They'll never be okay again. But for the moment he's content that she's here, that he has the opportunity to catch up. Frank smiles broadly and nods at the little scissor motion, he knows how crazy he looks.
"No shit, right?" Frank opens his mouth again to tell him about the Village, some kind of fucked up ludite commune with no clippers to be found. That didn't really excuse the beard, but he spent most of his time there trying to look and act like someone no one would bother with. It was never as effective as he'd planned. The Native sign has his heart lurching as he rolls his lower lip into his mouth to chew on. How long, like time really meant anything anymore.

Since R-E-I-M-S? he signs back dutifully, then shrugs. 107 days.

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."

yells!!!

[oorah]

He can't really think of a worse person to get stuck in here with, at least of his friends. He likes Hawkeye, but a fighter he is not. So it's partially concern for the other man and part trying to get him out of his own way that has him trying to get him to bail. Skipping over his own lack of self-preservation instinct is a close second, of course. For a moment, he's distracted by the sound of the other man's voice. He'd heard it once, in the rain, but it sounds different now, and as a result it takes him a precious moment to understand what Hawkeye is trying to get across.

"You've been... So that isn't the way out." The door, he means. He starts scouring the room for weapons or any type of clue on how to get out of here. He picks up the VHS tape and idly twirls it in his hands. "It's your turn to come up with a plan." He doesn't even realize he's breaking the cardinal rule all over again.

how dare you sir

[sanar]

Laura isn't exactly used to people helping her, particularly adults. She's used to everyone but Gabriela hurting her and testing on her. The fact that some stranger catches her in order to break her fall leaves her startled and confused. Not sure how to process either of those things when they're clashing with her pride, she lashes out. With a warning growl, she tries to scramble out of his arms right at the same time as he sets her down on her feet. He doesn't smell like an immediate threat, but she can smell years of blood and death on him. His heartbeat racing pounds in her ears and her lip curls up in a scowl as she takes a step back.

She moves to slap at his hands, letting out a curt no in the process. As her eyes catch sight of the dogs however, instinct has her recognizing other animals. They're not weapons the same as she is, and are far more delicate than she'll ever be. But she feels like she has more in common with them than other people, and so her arm drops down and away and she leans in toward them on her tiptoes, sniffing at the air to try and replace his overwhelming scent with theirs. They smell of him, and of other things she can't place. She's curious about them, but doesn't make a move toward them. Instead, she looks back up to him, her eyes slowly trailing up his direction. That's about the only warning he gets before she's stepping in close to sniff at him, trying to figure out if he smells like the dogs in return.

jahjkdhd

[oorah]

He holds up his hands to show he isn't a threat, even as she slaps them. Frank looks at the pavement below and realizes he just saved her life. Not like he wanted a thank you anyway. When she moves away to go for the dogs, he lays his arms back down at his sides.

"I like dogs better than people, too," he says, idle more than anything. But he holds up a hand so Aloe and Max will stay put just because this girl seems like she'd startle if they made a sudden move. He doesn't want any of them getting hurt. And then Laura is heading back his way and he isn't sure what to expect. All he can really do is stay still and blink a little when she sniffs at him. He probably does smell a little, honestly. He certainly smells of dogs, and not just the ones he'd brought along. Also bigger livestock though and general outdoors, cooking, and perhaps most notably: marijuana.

[sanar]

He relents and lets her sniff at him, and she takes her time really figuring him out. Her nose ends up wrinkling as she huffs and pulls away when a bitter odor is picked up. He's not any danger though, and so she figures she can talk to him. He likes dogs more than people, so maybe he's been mistreated too.

"People are bad," she decides, giving a little nod of her head. "Most of the time."

Which means that she really needs to try and figure out why he saved her. The problem with trying to do that means that she has to accept the fact that there are people that aren't X-Men who are good. She's sure both Charles and her father were right and that they exist, but after everything she's been through recently she's a little skeptical.

[oorah]

That thought makes him frown. He's killed a lot of bad people, helped a lot of good ones... and he doesn't really consider himself of either category. Something about her statement still strikes him as wrong.

"Maybe not most, but a lot," he concedes, crouching down so he's closer to her level. The second he lowers the dogs run to his sides and he scratches them each behind the ears.

[sanar]

Her eyes glance from the dogs, then back up to him. They seem like a pack. Like family. That gets her to relax a little. Idly, she scratches at the side of her head, shrugging a shoulder like she doesn't necessarily care about whether or not most people are bad. They're generally an afterthought, most of the time. It's not like an attack dog is raised to put much thought or consideration into the things it's being trained to kill.

"A lot," she softly agrees, tiptoeing in close enough that she can try touching one of the dogs with her fingertips. She loves horses and is overall fond of animals, but she hasn't actually ever been this close to a dog before. It's a pretty magical moment for her. Enough so that she smiles a little.

"Do you have a name?" Her accent is thick as she speaks more openly, looking back to him. "Mine is Laura."

[oorah]

Max loves kids and also pets so the second she's close enough he's butting his head against her hand. Aloe is more cautious of new people and sniffs the air around her, much like Laura did him.

"Frank," he says after a moment's pause, then points to each dog in turn. "Aloe. Max."

a lil bit of haunted house b, a lil bit of trick or treat

[nerded]

Oh, man! That was -

[ - it was wild? It was terrifying? It was ... just here a second ago? Wait, really. It was all here a moment ago. Peter quickly does an accurate imitation of a perplexed owl: eyes wide, head rapidly twisting to look to his left and then his right, like he might catch one of those creepy dolls staring at him from a vantage point he can't see.

But - no. Nothing.

He leans over, hands on his knees, and takes a moment to breathe. It's one weird thing after another in this crazy nightmarescape, and yet - here he is in one piece. He's still here, and it occurs to him that he kind of really has the older man next to him to thank for that. He glances up at him and nods like he's coming to some kind of conclusion about him, right there on the spot.

This just in: yeah, he's awesome. ]

Hey - so, we kinda made a good team back there, didn't we?

[ Peter didn't go all full-blown Spider-Man or anything (and trust him, there are more than enough people privy to his secret, so the less that know, the better), but it was difficult not to pull a few better-than-your-average reflexes to get that VHS video to record the girl out of existence.

And maybe he's about to say something else, or like ... shake his hand or whatever it is Tony Stark would do, but the moment he straightens, he catches sight of a group of dogs leaping towards the man, each one of them vying for his attention with their tails wagging and their tongues hanging out excitedly. Peter laughs instead, entirely distracted.

Recruitment can wait. ]

Whoa - you're not like, carrying dog treats in your pockets or something are you?

[oorah]

[ he instantly recognized peter the second they'd gotten trapped in the room with the tv, of course, but he's gotten used to this. people who don't recognize him. in the villages, they would have said he was a clone and frank was on a different iteration than peter. this only cements for him that it was all bullshit. they fight alongside one another and frank decides this version of peter is better anyway. he doesn't look at him like he's fucking deranged (even if he probably earned that and like, technically is.) he has super high standards, as you can see.

when they're finally away from the house and frank catches his breath, all he can do is offer a thready smile to the boy's observation. ]

We didn't suck.

[ a soft agreement in a hoarse voice, but it doesn't crack. he's used to talking now just still prefers to keep it to a few words at a time, if it's necessary at all. instead of answering the second part, he stoops down to receive his boys, wrapping one broad arm around each of their necks in a hug. max laps at his furry cheek while aloe plants his blockhead on frank's knee and wags his tail expectantly. ]

You went and said the 't' word. Now we're in trouble.

[ he stands back up and indeed retrieves some dog treats from his jumpsuit pockets. they're crudely cut, obviously handmade. and the second he pulls them out both dog butts hit the floor and max lets out that weird squeaky bark of his. ]

[nerded]

[ Peter laughs again. ]

Oh, whoops. [ He rubs the back of his neck, but he can't feel too bad about it. Mostly because the dogs are kind of really adorable, and he doesn't think he's had a really good feeling like this in a long, long time, watching them excitedly await their master for treats.

There isn't a lot to feel good about in a horror-place like this, after all, and Peter's had ... well, there hasn't been a lot of reason to feel delight. ] My bad.

But I mean, to be fair, they were probably waiting for a really long time, right? I mean, how long were we in there for? [ He sighs. ] It felt like ages.

[oorah]

[ he leans over to place the rest of the treats in peter's hands. ]

Don't be afraid to make 'em earn it.

[ he winks, then shrugs. ]

I think it was one of those, five minutes feels like forever deals.

[nerded]

[ Oh em gee. Peter gets to give the dogs some treats? Best day of his life, honestly. He holds the handmade goodies in the palm of his open hand, fingers slowly closing over them before the man's pups get any ideas. ]

I swear, if it was five minutes --

[ He'd be so mad, okay. That kind of thing, it doesn't happen in five minutes. It happens for an eternity and then you emerge and it's like getting a big, deep breath of fresh air.

But - no, no. It's okay, they're safe now. And there are dogs. ]

Hey, guys! Hey. I'm Peter.

trick or treat because why the hell not

[pencilled]

She's never neccesarily considered herself a dog person — actually, Clary's never considered herself an anything person, her mom never really wanted them to have pets. In Brooklyn, it's hard to keep them, if you live in an apartment. Still, the sight of the man laughing and tossing his dog treats is jovial enough that it brings a smile to her face, and she stands and watches the dogs play until one of them runs over to her, tail wagging, tongue lolling in that adorable pit bull smile.

Clary squats down to doggy height and reaches out to him, scratching behind his ears. It's the lankier of the two, the grey one, and he's so enthusiastic to be getting the pets he's clearly asking for that he knocks Clary over, bumping at her face with his head.

"Oof—hey!"

But she's laughing, trying to sit up with a dog that probably weighs about as much as she does trying to crawl into her lap. It's not going well.

this is so cute i hate it!!!!!

[oorah]

Frank turns around just in time to see a redhead get bowled over by Aloe. He's jogging to her side to check on her in a flash, Max right on his heels. Her laughter is contagious and he laughs too, though it's the obvious kind of hesitating laugh that comes out of someone who doesn't do it much.

"You okay?" he asks, holding out his hand so Aloe will get off her and come back to his side. "He gets so excited he turns into a battering ram." The hand stays extended as an offer to help her up even after both dogs are glued back to his sides.

i hate it too!!

[pencilled]

"He makes a good one," she replies, taking his hand and pulling herself up off the ground. She wasn't carrying anything, at least, and so there's minimal fallout — just her dusting dirt off the back of their pants.

"What's his name? —Oh! You have two!"

[oorah]

The second she's up Max and Aloe are sniffing all over her, driven mad with excitement. All Frank can really do is roll his eyes, though he does oblige her with the answer as he pulls his hand back to point at each one in turn.

"Aloe. Max."

[pencilled]

Clary does stumble a bit, as the dogs sniff at her — but this time she stays on her feet, giving them both equal ear rubs with each hand.

"I'm Clary," she says, looking at the dogs, although she's introducing herself to Frank as well. As if to prove it, she looks up at him.

"It's nice to meet all of you."