APRIL 2019 TEST DRIVE MEME

[sodder]

APRIL 2019 TEST DRIVE MEME

Welcome to April’s Test Drive Meme! This month's Test Drive's theme is: SPRING 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: Violent urges, violent furries, hallucinations, paranoia.

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

Prompt One
Prompt Two
Character Arrival
Master Navigation

SPRING TIME'S FAVORITE TROPE

Despite the slightest of chills still lingering in the air, Deerington's spring seems to pop up all at once. It'd be easy to assume every flower and every tree has gone into bloom overnight! Along with all the beautiful foliage, there's another wonderful thing about all the new flowers; pollen. And it's everywhere.

The pollen settles on top of every car, every road, sticks to every screen; a thin layer of yellow that gets in your eyes and fills your lungs. Hopefully you're not allergic. No matter what, there will be one interesting side effect you may end up exposing yourself to. Those who spend too much time outside may find they suddenly have the urge to cuddle, to be close to another person, and to maybe even fall in love, even if you normally wouldn't be interested in any of it. It may be with a complete stranger or it may be with someone who you've known a long time. Regardless, whoever is on your mind will end up becoming like your new obsession.

If the person is also interested in you, you're in luck! Get in your snuggle sessions (or more, you crazy animal). If they don't return your feelings, though... You'll find yourself not handling the rejection very well. The obsessive thoughts will come even worse, turning troublesome quickly, and you'll find your head filed with violent urges. You can take them out on the person who rejected you or on a complete stranger, or you can do your best to fight them off entirely.

All the urges, positive and negative, will go away once you get covered in water, either through a shower or jumping in the lake.

GAZING AT THE PURPLES AND PINKS

The only place that doesn't seem to be covered in pollen for whatever reason is the Spring Festival at the Staggering Heights Theme Park. The usual $20 entrance fee is waived for the day and everyone is encouraged to come have fun on the rides, listen to live music, and grab a partner to dance if you feel like it! Special foods on top of the usual carnival fair can be found around the park; lavender and maple ice cream, maple cotton candy, lavender sorbet, and maple candies.

At first, it will seem like none of these foods have any ill effects. After about half an hour, however, anyone who had any of these special desserts will start to see and hear things. It will start off mild - you may think you hear someone walking behind you or you'll be sure you saw someone from home out of the corner of your eye. As time goes on, they'll become more heavily intense. You'll become actively convinced someone is out to get you, even turning on friends who you are sure are part of some elaborate plan to bring you some sort of harm. You'll begin to see enemies from home - or friends who are now acting like enemies, even if you've never done them any harm. You'll feel more on edge, ready to defend yourself at any cost, and it will be particularly hard to calm you down when you're not trusting anyone to get near you. Effects from the desserts will disappear after three to four hours - or if you get a slice of freshly baked bread from one of the vendors.

The usual 9 PM closing time seems to have been extended until midnight, but people may still find that the familiar creepy elements start to sneak their way in even with the park open. The rabbit mascots are still following you with their eyes, and the closer it gets to midnight, the more obvious it gets. By the time it hits 11 PM, the rabbits will actually pull themselves up from their seated positions and start to follow you around the park. Some of them have weapons in their hands - golf clubs, steal pipes, and knives seem to be a favorite. If you get out of the park, they won't follow beyond the edges. If you try to stand your ground, however, they will attack. If you knock off the head, the mascot will crumple to the ground; and you'll find out that they're still completely empty.

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

QUESTIONS

[sodder]

[norivals]

Would shooting the mascots in the head stop them or does the head have to come all the way off to do the job?

Fire Emblem: Fates | Keaton

[furrytrash]

{ATTACK OF THE SNIFFLES ● POLLEN}

[Keaton coughs.

It's one thing, in his opinion, to wake up in a radically different place than where you had tucked yourself up for a night's rest. Not that this has happened to him often, or it isn't some murky combination of stressful, frustrating, and disorienting enough to make his fur stand on end, but he's a smart(-ish) wolf. Even as a child, Keaton was strong and resourceful enough to escape similar kidnappings from pelt poachers. Waking in a strange bedroom in a stranger place is survivable, navigable. Not enough to cause a panic, even if he is more than a little unnerved.

Keaton coughs. Again.

But the pollen? Enough to make existence unbearable. Caught in the thick strands of fur covering his ears and tail, it's proven impossible to remove with a perfunctory grooming. This means a bath in Keaton's near future, something he dreads nearly as much as poachers stealing him away in the night.

He coughs for the third time in as many minutes. As he turns to you to complain, loudly, you may notice how the flush in his cheeks matches the redness of his teary eyes. He shakes off a fine layer of pollen, so sorry if most of it lands on you.]

This is the worst. The absolute worst. Springtime in the mountains was never like this. It's like I'm being assaulted with dust -- and not the dirty, gritty kind that's fun to roll around in, either. This is an all-out attack on our noses!

Abigail Hobbs | NBC Hannibal

[madesurvivor]

| AROUND TOWN |

[Ever since her arrival here a few days ago, Abigail is struggling with the fact that she’s nowhere near home. Then again, she hasn’t been home in a few months. That on edge feeling was not new for her either, but this place definitely made her feel that even more so. Even still, it seems as though no one here knows who she is. Which is refreshing. Here, Abigail is just another person. A young adult even. Free from the constant scrutiny, and hatred by strangers. She could be whoever she wanted.

It was freeing.

She checks out the local businesses and eats at the local diner, and at the suggestion of a someone sitting nearby, goes with breakfast. After which, Abigail ends up at the lake and begins to skip rocks. It does seem odd to her though, that the rocks barely make a ripple in the water.]

| SPRING MADNESS (Pollen) |

[It was the middle of winter before Abigail arrived here, so the change in weather is not unwelcomed. The blooming trees and flowers were beautiful and Abigail took her time in examining flowers she’s never seen before. It seems as though she’s not the only one enraptured by the beauty of nature, and so she tries to make conversation.]

They’re called butterfly weed. They used to grow in my mom’s garden.

[Unable to keep the sudden wave of sadness off of her face and her gaze falls back to the butterfly weeds.]

| I WANT OFF THIS RIDE (TW: Mentions of murder and gore) |

[It’s been literal years since Abigail last went to an amusement park, so when she became aware that the local theme park was waiving its entrance fee, Abigail decided to check it out. And while she’s not ready to get on any rides just yet, she does try some of the food this place has to offer and also plays some of the games. For a while, she’s distracted from her thoughts of home, but soon enough they come creeping back to the surface. Even worse than before, and the paranoia she’s felt ever since what she did to Nick Boyle is all she can think about now.

Suddenly she feels as though there are people staring at her, in fact, she manages to make eye contact with someone just before they turn to whisper something in their friend's ear. Heart racing in her chest as the panic rises, Abigail quickly looks for the bathroom. Once inside, Abigail can feel her breathing quicken and she grips the sides of the sink tightly. Hearing someone opening the door, Abigail looks at them in the mirror and sees them look at her. Unable to handle their staring, she quickly goes into the farthest stall and locks it behind her. She stays in there for a while, unwilling to leave in fear of having to face all of these people again.

They know. They know who she is. They know what she did. It’s been over an hour before she finally unlocks the stall door and comes back outside, her face red from crying. She goes over to the sink and splashes her face with the cold water. She’s about to turn off the tap when she looks up and sees him. Her blood runs cold and all of the color drains from her face. Nick Boyle, is standing by the door, blocking her exit. His face is discolored and there’s dried blood smeared along the edges of his lips. Shutting her eyes, Abigail starts whispering to herself that this isn’t real. But when she opens her eyes again he’s standing right in front of her, holding the knife that she had used on him. Back pressed against the sink, Abigail only breaks eye contact when the door opens again. She looks at the stranger with wide, pleading eyes. Except, they can’t see what she’s seeing.]

| WILD CARD |

[Totally game for doing something else!]

SPRING MADNESS

[rexcorvos]

[It was only about a month since Gansey woke up in Deerington, and the arrival of spring, after he'd also come from winter in Virginia, is glorious. He's out enjoying a walk in the warm(er) air when he sees an unfamiliar girl about his age looking at the bright flowers, and he can't help but slow down and take a look as well.]

They're lovely. People don't give wildflowers enough credit. [There's an old-money tidewater Virginia accent more common in people his grandfather's age that tinges his voice, and his pink polo shirt, khaki chinos, and obnoxiously red topsiders combine to give the overall impression of a rich southern frat boy. But there's genuine concern in his eyes and voice when he notices the sadness in Abigal's face.]

Are you all right?

lestat de lioncourt. the vampire chronicles.

[youresovein]

arrival.

[ It's late in the evening, officially after sunset, and a young man is seated as motionless as a marble statue on the steps of a previously unoccupied Blackwood Run townhouse. His long legs are crossed in front of him at the ankle. His eyes are obscured behind violet sunglasses, but he's obviously intent on studying the contents of a basket — the basket, it seems. He's deeply focused on the letter, brow furrowed as though he's hoping to see something more than just words upon the paper.

(Lestat had taken an exploratory sip of the blood in the jar before hiding that well away from prying eyes. It hadn't tasted strange at all, no trace of anything but ordinary blood, and that in itself was disquieting. He couldn't have said exactly why.)

If he notices a passerby at this late hour, he'll glance up and wave them over with a disarming smile. And he does seem harmless, even inviting, despite the unnatural stillness he'd shown just a moment ago. Despite the stark white of his skin under the streetlights. His long hair is tied back with a silk ribbon, and an emerald and a cameo ring sit on two of his long fingers, but otherwise his outfit — a t-shirt, a denim jacket, dark jeans — is casually modern. Perhaps cut to suit 1980s sensibilities, but well-tailored.

He indicates the letter with a nod. To hell with subterfuge. ]

Listen — yes, you, hello there, join me if you'd like — do you know anything about this? [ Conversational, exasperated, subtle French accent. ] I swear the more I read it the less sense it makes.

fleur de let's.

[ One of the grand conveniences of not needing to breathe is not having to concern himself with trivial matters like tonight's monstrously elevated pollen count. At least, that's how Lestat assumes it works. He never had to deal with springtime allergies when he was mortal, either. Some people are just eternally lucky. But if you look like you're having trouble with the springtime allergies, he just might offer you the silk handkerchief from the pocket of his leather jacket. (At least for now, it's entirely free of blood.) ]

And I was getting so homesick for my tropical flowers. Be careful what you wish for, I think they say. [ He gazes quite intently, quite sympathetically, and his eyes are very bright over the rims of his sunglasses. ] Are you all right?



( ooc: or feel free to randomize a different nighttime encounter! lestat is nosy and loves to explore; pm me if you'd like to discuss anything. info & permissions are available. )

arrival.

[variantcover]

[ When Gwen had first decided to take home the baby land shark, she hadn't fully considered the true responsibilities of a pet owner. But, she loved Jeff, and so she did what she had to to take care of him. Including walkies every morning, afternoon, and night. She doesn't keep him on a leash, because as long as he's entertained he's well enough behaved, and he listens to her when she orders him to back off-- most of the time, anyway.

So there she is, out walking her tiny pet shark with four legs, when she's waved over by a creepily pale dude sitting on his stoop with the welcome basket.

Eh. Might as well. ]

Hey. You must be new.

miss quill ( class )

[vrituom]

► SPRING TIME

( god, did it never end? how many times would flowers try to do something? the last petals had come through the tear and had tried to take over earth. it was ridiculous but with their rate of multiplying it would have happened within hours.

now there was pollen. pollen. it seemed to cover everything and even though it didn't yet look to be moving quill didn't trust it. she hadn't touched it, not stupid enough to risk that, but she also knew it would only be a matter of time before something happened.

it will just end up not being the something that she expects )

► PURPLES AND PINKS

( quill was always on edge. it was a consequence of her life, of battles in war, of what had come after. whilst the desserts looked ridiculous even she needed to eat something, trying the one that looked the least inoffensive.

it was edible. that was about all that quill could say about it but she had limited experience with human foods.

she doesn't recognise the paranoia at first, feeling just a growing tension within her that she attributes just to being in this stupid place. but that feeling starts to grow, a stronger concern and alertness than what even she normally feels. it has her looking to try and see if there's anything (or anyone) around her that would be causing it.

it's out of the corner of her eye that she thinks she sees it, just a flicker in the shadows, movement. the shadow moving. it makes her stop, staring at it to see if she can see anything more before looking at the next shadow, then the next. how many times? how many worlds? )

(purples and pinks)

[bumbag]

[ There comes a concerned voice, a few feet behind Quill, ] Are you alright?

[ The Doctor'd noticed the woman glaring at shadows from across the park, which was itself mildly alarming, but something else was nagging at her... that blonde hair looked awfully familiar, even from the back. ]

Felicia Hardy ( marvel 616 )

[declaw]

SPRING FLING
[ If luck was ever on Felicia’s side, it wasn’t now. Out of all the weird dimensional bullshit, she lands up in this steaming pile. The deer was weird, the house was weird, the waking up with a whole mess of questions and no one to answer them? Doubly weird.

The world was already proving to be a headache - black leather and pollen were a deadly combination this time of the year. Add that to the dash of confusion that rushes through her at processing everything? No bueno. Her first instinct was to call people - her mom and ... well, a certain someone who always seemed to get stuck in these situations too. Guy messes with web, so obviously situations get sticky.

But, alas, that luck? Totally gone. Phone is useless, but at least it’s on her. That’s good. Her hand keeps firm over her mouth as she moves, sticking out like a sore thumb in her totally misinterpreted BDSM lite gear.

Maybe you’re lucky and you cross a black cat’s path around town... Let’s hope the pollen doesn’t kill her out of embarrassment. ]


PURPLES AND PINKS
[ A few more answers and a lot more questions, Felicia is left seeking refugee in this weird ass festival grounds. This isn’t Coney Island by any means and she has no urge to even enjoy herself. ]

You’ve seen Killer Klowns from Outer Space right? Hell, even Big has that whole cautionary tale with the damn robot fortune teller on the pier.

[ Standing right at the entrance, she’s already embarrassed herself enough but... whoever she’s met in the sort time here? Her skepticism is dripping. ]

ooc
[ so I did this top level on a phone because I’m that thirsty and can’t wait to get home from vacation. Please forgive any typos...

I’m a ok doing fighting prompts for spring fling and assumed cr for purples and pinks to help move the thread along.

Feel free to PM me or wildcard me! ]

SPRING FLING

[spectacularluck]

[ Luck has never been on his side, and under these specific circumstances? It's definitely not on hers either, because he's the one who ends up crossing her path. Sure, he would be one of the people she'd count on and maybe call for assistance - and he'd be happy to be on that list. But given the huge amount of history between the two of them, being under the effect of special pollen might end up being no different than a curse.

Peter's not suffering the effects of it just yet, however, so when he sees her? All he can think of is not her too. Peter hasn't had any terrible experience just yet, but he's heard stories, and people he loves and care for are just about the very bottom of the list of those he'd wish this place on. Then again, just like Gwen when she saw him, he can't help feeling a little bit happy to see a familiar face. ]

Cat—? Wow. I think you're going to have to rethink your costume with all this pollen around.

[ It's tentative, but he walks towards her immediately - kind of checking her out, making sure she's all right. ]

caitlin snow | dctv (the flash)

[trigeminalheadache]

spring time's favorite trope

[ springtime. it's a welcome sight; back home, before she "fell asleep" (heavy dose of skepticism there), winter was beginning to settle into the city. she doesn't mind the cold, it doesn't affect her anyway, but she's missed the colors of growing plant life. maybe she even appreciates it more because of that.

caitlin's taken some time to get her head together before leaving her new home. if this is a dream, if she is really stuck here, the logical thought would be to explore the town and get a better sense of her surroundings. there's even a small hope that she'll find a familiar face; she immediately feels guilty for wanting that.

once she's outside, it's hard to miss the pollen coating everything. it's on her doorknob as she locks her door, on the mailbox she peeks into. on the gate she steps through to reach the sidewalk. the yellow powder has stuck to her hands, like she's been eating some weird yellow, floral-scented, cheetos.

as she wipes her hands on her pants (for lack of a better option right now), she notices she's caught the attention of someone passing by. she offers a smile. ] This stuff really does stick to everything, doesn't it?

gazing at the purples and pinks ( one )

[ he's here. cicada is here in this so-called dream world. at first, he was just a flash of motion in the corner of her eye. she could have just passed it off as other visitors moving around here—it does seem like most of the town is here right now.

but he isn't that subtle. then she sees the glow of his dagger, the jagged shard of metal flickering and pulsing. she hears the rasp of his breathing through the mask, that cricket-like sound that gives him his name.

caitlin has to do something. he's only ever attacked metas and humans who stood in his way, but there's no telling what he might do here. no telling if any of the people around her are metas, too, and vulnerable to attack.

she grabs the arm of the nearest person to get their attention. ] We need to get these people out of here, clear the park. It's not safe, no one is safe.

gazing at the purples and pinks ( two )

[ enough is enough. caitlin's already had plenty of scares tonight, her mind tricked into seeing ghosts from her past and present. her body has been flooded with adrenaline, so when the rabbit mascots pry themselves up from their perches, she is 100% fed up.

her consciousness shifts, and anyone around her will witness a visible transformation. her hair turns from brown to grey in a wave of color that rolls down from roots to tips. her lips become a metallic shade of purple-blue, shining darkly in the park's nighttime lighting. when she opens her eyes, the brown has been replaced with a white-blue that glows with a light of its own.

and it suddenly becomes very chilly around her.

she stalks forward, spotting a rabbit with a knife following a young girl. ] Hey, Thumper! Why don't you pick on someone your own size?

wildcard

[ choose your own adventure! feel free to hit me up on plurk at lovedbythesun to plot or discuss. ]

pink is Gwen's color (one)

[variantcover]

[ Given that the last time she was at a carnival, it was all a ruse by Madam Masque and her team of supervillains to try to capture and kill the West Coast Avengers, Gwen should probably be more wary of carnivals. But she's in a dream, right? Madam Masque isn't here. No supervillains in Creepsville, ME.

She's enjoying some maple cotton candy when a frantic woman comes up to her, jabbering something about needing to clear the park. ]

Whoa— whoa... Hold on. Slow down. What's happening, why is it not safe?

[ She drops the cotton candy, swinging around her backpack and unzipping it, reaching inside for her gun. She doesn't pull it out just yet, but her hand wraps around the grip. ]

I believe you, but I need you to tell me what's going on.

Ronan Lynch | The Raven Cycle

[inbello]

POST-ARRIVAL

1. Ronan hasn't been in town long, and that means he's on edge, ready to fight. Well, Ronan is always ready to fight pretty much anyone and anything at the slightest provocation, or just because he feels like swinging his fists. Still.

His BMW is parked, badly, conspicuously, outside the Dearly Diner. Ronan himself stands out because he's Ronan: tall, sharp-edged, tank top revealing the curling edges of the tattoo on his back. He's an angry teenager, sure, which may not seem like much to some people, but something about him sets off waves of danger. Ronan is a war waiting to happen, even sitting idly in a booth with a plate of eggs in front of him.

Still, he's not on a warpath on purpose, at the moment. Chainsaw, the raven he pulled out of his dreams and into reality, who apparently followed him into this dream, sits on the table, croaking at people who walk by. Every now and then, he feeds her a piece of fruit. That doesn't seem to stop her from trying to solicit others for food, though. She's much more outgoing than Ronan is, it seems.

He doesn't apologise for her forwardness, but he keeps an eye on her. The booth across the table from him is empty.

2. Another time, the BMW is outside the Arcade. Its always conspicuous owner is inside, angrily trying to beat Pac-Man. Chainsaw, of course, is with him. She's not at all helpful, occasionally trying to peck a button from where she seems precariously perched on the edge of the machine.

"Piece of shit game," Ronan mutters, and feeds another quarter into it. The machine, perhaps as touchy as the boy trying to play it, doesn't recognise the quarter. He rolls his eyes and feeds it another one. It doesn't recognise that one, either. On the third try, it jams up. He kicks it once, then kicks it again harder. A creative string of expletives follows the second kick. Chainsaw croaks along, happy to encourage Ronan's tirade.

He stomps up to the counter to get his damn quarters back, Chainsaw in tow. He stares down at his what the clerk gives him, then angrily looks back up. "These are teeth," he says, not with surprise, but annoyance. He looks vaguely like he might launch over the counter, but is it worth it for three quarters? Hard to tell with Ronan.

3. Ronan, along with all his weird Catholic guilt, finds himself drawn to the church, though it isn't Sunday. He's annoyed at the state of it, because it seems somehow disrespectful that the only house of God he's found is in such disrepair. He's self-aware enough to recognise the irony in that thought process, because Ronan is one of the least respectful people alive. Whatever.

It's quiet, though, and he thinks of St. Agnes's back home. That just gets him more annoyed, because he'd rather be there with Adam than here with no one. Though it's probably better Adam isn't here. He folds himself into a pew for a minute, not for any real reason in particular. Chainsaw, who seems to be more clingy than usual, climbs down his arm onto the seat next to him and pecks at a centipede.

Ronan rescues her and stands up in one fluid motion. "Gross. Don't eat that," he admonishes her. His voice echoes a little, and both boy and raven look up at the sound.

PURPLES AND PINKS

1. During the day, Ronan can be found, somewhat surprisingly not tailed by Chainsaw, just around the park. He stops at a food booth, because that's what you do at bullshit amusement parks, is spend too much on food (though of course money doesn't matter to Ronan even in the slightest). He decides on maple candies, which he eats pretty much right away.

After a couple rides, though, he feels a bit out of place. Something's going on, he can feel it. Ronan isn't exactly attuned to danger, because he's just dangerous himself, and likes causing danger, causing trouble. But he's pretty sure he's being followed, and that just pisses him off, like most things.

Finally, he spins on his heel and stares at whoever is unlucky enough to be there behind him.

"What the fuck do you want?" he demands, and he looks like a storm cloud, ready to burst open at the seams and unleash fury and havoc at any moment.

[ feel free to find him before he's paranoid! ]

2. Ronan sticks around past dark. The effects of the candies are long gone by then, but for some reason, he didn't just get bored and drive home. The paranoia from earlier might be gone, but he's sure those creepy ass rabbits are watching him. It's not that late when he wrests a golf club from one of their grips (a really obvious thing to be doing, but no one stops him, even if it's possible someone notices). He carries it around with him for awhile.

Not too much later, he's actually confronted by one of the creepy rabbits holding a knife. There's a standoff. He stands there, golf club resting on his shoulder, grinning menacingly, almost manically.

"Come on, motherfucker," he taunts.

[ OR feel free to write your character in trouble. Ronan isn't nice but he LOVES FIGHTING THINGS so he will absolutely beat the shit out of a rabbit and save another character. ]

WILDCARD

[ pick your poison! find Ronan and Chainsaw pretty much wherever, usually having driven there loudly and quickly. hit me up on plurk boywonder if you need. ALSO assumed CR is fine for amusement park threads! ]

Purples and Pinks - 2

[rexcorvos]

Gansey goes to the Spring Festival at the amusement park, because of course he does, he loves local flavor. And Staggering Heights isn't far from his townhouse, anyway. It had been... all right. A bit lonely. He'd sampled the sweets like other people had, and had the resulting increasing paranoia and anxiety. It was late by the time he took shelter at another booth selling food and accepted the fresh-baked bread being pressed upon him. That... helped.

Now it's even later, and while the edge of paranoia has faded, he can't shake the feeling that the creepy rabbits are watching him. Wait, did that one move? Shit. He's deep in the park and trying to make his way as quickly as he can towards the entrance, keeping as wide of berth as possible from the menacing bunnies.

Until, at a distance, he spots a familiar shaved head, an unmistakable tattoo. His heart leaps into his throat, and he does a double-take, expecting it to be a trick of his mind. Then he hears the other man's voice, sees him with the baseball bat facing the armed rabbit approaching.

"Ronan!" Gansey yells, rushing towards him, not even really registering that he's distracting his friend from an oncoming threat.

Midoriya Izuku | BNHA

[mightdoriya]

[Spring Time]

[Izuku is no stranger to pollen. It's cherry blossom season back home in Japan, so he'd certainly expect the streets to be covered in petals and allergies to be at an all time high. Though he's personally never had too much of an issue with the pollen...this is utterly ridiculous. Even with a sick mask over his mouth and nose, Izuku is still sneezing on his way to and from school, or the FEAR Headquarters. You might even come across him having stopped completely in the street just to sneeze uncontrollably for a while before he continues on.

He just got over being sick, too...]

(NOTE: By default, Izuku won't be feeling terribly strong affects of the pollen since he's trying to avoid being outside much/wearing a sick mask. If you'd like him to be affectionate to the max, though, let me know in your tag! Otherwise any and all cuddling urges towards Izuku are certainly welcome.)

[Purples and Pinks | CW: Violence against mascot bunnies, among other things]

[It's weird- in a Deerington sort of weird- that the theme park is spared of pollen when literally nowhere else is, which means that something is different about it this month. What that difference is remains to be seen, but since Izuku hasn't actually visited it yet he decides to check it out one afternoon just to get out of the apartment somewhere he's safe from the pollen. As tempting as it is to buy fair food though, he decides to stick to granola and things he brought from home. Food around here seems to be very hit and miss, and he's not willing to risk it when he's already feeling bad again.

Truth be told though, it's a lot more enjoyable than he was expecting it to be, and he ends up staying out late because of it. He never intended to stay this long, but before he knows it the sun has gone down and the park is getting a little less inviting with the shadows the lights cast.

Except...that shadow isn't from one of the rides or attractions, and as Izuku furrows his brow and looks closer, he realizes that it's a figure taller than him with long rabbit ears.

And it's standing right behind him.]

What...?

[He turns around just in time to see one of the mascots from earlier in the day staring him down, as if trying to dare him to run with its eyes. And when he doesn't, Izuku's heart leaps into his throat as he jerks to the side just a hair before the mascot buries a knife into the wooden food stall just shy of Izuku's head, its own head swiveling to look at Izuku again with a blank, soulless stare as it wrenches the knife free with little effort. Izuku's regular morning training has kept him fit and alert even after the virus struck him down, however, so he's able to dodge the second swing of the knife as he pivots on one foot, swinging his right leg up in the same movement to kick the mascot directly in the head.

Green sparks fly off the impact as the mascot's head pops clean off, the rest of the body immediately folding and crumpling to the ground, leaving Izuku bewildered and panting with his bag about to fall from his shoulders.

There's no time to rest. More are coming.]

[variantcover]

[ A second mascot bunny is bearing down on Izuku, stalking closer and closer with its knife raised threateningly, when suddenly a big pink glob of...something comes flying over the green haired boy's right shoulder and hits the mascot square in the chest. Immediately upon impact, the substance begins to expand, halting the mascot's progress and keeping him rooted to the spot.

A girl in a pink and white spandex costume comes running up beside Izuku, overly large gun in hand, panting slightly. ]

Are there people in those suits? Just checking before I switch this thing off of 'creampuff' mode.

Relm Hawke | Dragon Age

[indigobird]

A. Arrival

[Peculiar dreams aren't new to Hawke. The Fade is a strange place, and its denizens stranger still. Getting dragged through a forest and then staring down a deer isn't the weirdest dream she's ever had. Even the sensations she felt, while worrying, don't quite get the klaxons going off in her head. Not until she wakes up.

Immediately she sits up, eyes wide as she takes in the room around her. This is decidedly not where she went to sleep. Clearly she's been kidnapped, but why leave her in her armor? Stranger yet, why leave her staff within easy reach? It's propped up against the wall next to her bed, which she quickly grabs as she gets up. She keeps it at the ready as she makes her way towards the front door, eyes peeled for any sign of her kidnapper. But there's no sign of anyone, and she wonders if something happened to said kidnapper between when she was taken and when she woke up, because surely they wouldn't just let her walk out the door-

Of course, then she does walk out the door and realizes why they're letting her waltz about.]

...I...

["1950's suburban Maine town baffles woman from medieval fantasy world" would be the description attached to the photo of Relm's very shocked and incredibly confused expression as she looks at her surroundings. It's all just completely new to her and she has no idea what to make of any of it.

She takes a few tentative steps outside, sticking out like a sore thumb in suburbia. All she can do, she thinks, is start walking and hope someone can tell her where she is. So walk she does, down the sidewalk towards what looks like a busier part of town. The locals certainly stare a bit, but they seem more occupied with whatever errands they're running. There's something off-putting about them, enough that Relm hesitates in asking them. Which leaves her looking like a deer in headlights in the middle of town, lost, confused, and really hoping that she somehow got drugged and things will return to normal soon.]

B. Pollen

[And as if getting dumped in a foreign town with no discernible way home wasn't bad enough, it's spring and that means pollen and that means Relm gets to sneeze up a storm.

As she sniffles, she steps off the sidewalk to dust off the layer of pollen that's fallen on her. Right now she wishes she could find a good lake to dive into and wash the pollen off but for the time being, she'll have to wipe it off.

It's then that she realizes she's standing near someone, and that she probably just nailed them with all the pollen she's been brushing off.]

Ah, sorry. Just wanted to spread the pollen-y [Hold that thought, she has to sneeze yet again.] joy around. I've lived out in the countryside and I've never seen pollen this bad. This is absurd.

C. Theme Park (11 PM)

[The good news is, Relm didn't eat any of the proferred sweets and got to bypass that madness. The bad news is, she didn't get the memo about the creepy bunnies.

She's been stalked and hunted by all number of things, much bigger and much worse than sentient stuffed bunnies with weapons. Yet they're somehow creepier, and coming from someone who's been attacked by giant spiders that's saying something. Relm tries to ignore the bunny that's stalking her, making quick strides towards the park exit. It's just a walking stuffed animal. It'll eventually leave her alone, right?

...what if it doesn't?]

I can't believe I'm actually going to try and talk to this thing, but... [She turns suddenly on her heel, staring down the approaching bunny.] You're getting one warning: turn and go back to your creepy little friends, or you're not going to be stalking anyone for much longer.

[The bunny responds by raising its weapon and walking faster towards her. Hawke rolls her eyes and stretches out her hands, letting loose a stream of lightning that makes quick work of her pursuer.

Whether you saw that bright flash of light and wondered what the heck it was, or if you just happen to be walking by when the encounter ends, Hawke will be found staring at the lifeless bunny, moving the suit around with her foot and trying to understand just what exactly was after her.]

A. Arrival

[chains_of_freedom]

[ Fenris is beginning to realize just how rare it is to see another person in full armor around Deerington. Normally he would be in similar attire, but he's just gotten off of work at the Real Hair of the Dog--the same bar that boasts cage fights against monsters. Fights that Fenris definitely does not participate in, if his boss (or Jesse) is asking. He's snarls under his breath and tugs down harshly on the black tie around his neck to loosen it. ] Making scared creatures fight for their lives. Vile.

[ Instead of his full armor, he's dressed in a black suit--and he doesn't look too happy about it either. He tugs the tie off completely and drapes it over his neck as he walks (still barefooted) down the streets of Prospero.

That's when he notices the locals staring at someone--someone dressed in what appears to be a mixture of plate and leather armor. For once, it's not Fenris attracting the judgmental looks from the townspeople, and he takes a moment to revel in that fact. Only a moment, though, because he is soon close enough to the person to clear his throat and say: ]

Pay no mind to the locals. Let them stare. There are dangers here plenty to warrant you wearing that armor.

[ Which...come to think of it, something about it is familiar...]

Dr Love | ēlDLIVE

[agereversal]

lavender paranoia
[The ice cream was floral and herbal and not too sweet, and the lag time between consumption of the specialty dessert and the growing sense of paranoia means that Love doesn't immediately identify the possible correlation. It's clear something is wrong, because this level of heightened alertness is extremely out of character for him, but he doesn't have sufficient data points to come to a conclusion as to the source.

He's being followed, he thinks, being stalked by someone who wants him dead. At one point he thinks he sees Kieshi's tall, blue-skinned figure step back just out of view, at another he thinks he catches the loam-and-sea-spray scent of Isaku's SPH. They aren't here, of course, and Love knows it, but he's also entirely aware that his whole nervous system has been temporarily (hopefully temporary) hijacked by some kind of externally-generated paranoia.

He's spent centuries one step ahead of everyone who wants to get their hands on him. He's too old for this feeling, too old to be considering improvised weapons and potential exit points and who in the crowd wants him dead or worse. But here he is, tucking plastic knives from food stalls into his pockets, the hood of his sweatshirt pulled up to hide his face.]

run, rabbit
[The paranoia has passed by now, just in time for something to actually happen.

Love might not be a fighter, but he can dodge like nobody's business if he needs to, and so that's what he does. It's not exactly effective, but he doesn't get stabbed.]

Oh good. [The scrawny, blue-haired teenager says to an armed stranger nearby.] Would you mind knocking this things' head off?

[Look, he's a non-combatant nerd, and you're clearly the sort of person who's armed and dangerous.]

the pollen option
[Sex pollen is a sci-fi trope for a reason. While it isn't an issue on Earth, Love has absolutely researched some weird plant-based reproductive habits on a variety of planets, and so it isn't completely a surprise that there are some mood alterations going along with the bloom.

He doesn't have any pheromone-blockers here, or the tech to make any, so he just improvises a mask out of a bandanna and gauze bandages to try and block the worst of the pollen, and goes outside anyway. What kind of scientist would he be if he didn't get out there and do some research?]

Just keep behaving normally. [Says the middle schooler following you around.] Ignore me.

[[ooc: or wildcard! contact me at Hydok with questions or ideas!]

run, rabbit

[mightdoriya]

[Izuku isn't armed, though it's easy to assume he is given the way he's been squaring off with these things with his fists raised at the ready. So when a boy his age suddenly calls out to him less...crying for help and more polively asking for it, Izuku doesn't hesitate.

He rushes over, skids two steps as he nears the mascot bearing down on the other, then pivots suddenly so he can swing his leg around and up high enough to round-house kick the head right off the mascot threatening him currently. As expected, it crumples to the ground pretty immediately, leaving Izuku standing there a bit winded from the sudden rush.

He looks to the stranger, catching his breath for a second.]

Are you okay?

v ( devil may cry )

[fifthproverb]

arrival.

( 'Hey uh, look, I'm not tryna point fingers here, or— erm, feathers— but uh—

'I don't know if you noticed, that this place...doesn't exactly look like...'

'The Qliphoth. I know.'

'Or the Underworld. Are you...sure you went through the right door back there?'

well, that is some small comfort. they share the same memory, the Underworld, recovering the familiars from stasis. V stares ahead, gazing from under the ridge of his brow, thinking. retracing the steps. Griffon sits on the Blessings Basket, dark and leathery with ashy bone. the large bird sits perched on the antler handle, watching V...and even for an avian demon, one can likely pin the look of concern somewhere between its illuminated eyes, and its strangely quadri-sectioned beak.

V doesn't say anything for a time. he sits here on the steps of Deerington Hall, jar in one hand, opened. within, a modest selection of dark berries and nuts: blueberries, cranberries, almonds, walnuts. he's taken two fistfuls, since reading the letter, and has idled since.

Griffon, upon the basket, twitches its head sideways, curiously. 'You, uh...you gonna eat the rest of that? I'm just. Y'know. Just curious.'

they have to get back, to Dante and Nero at the demon tree, but...how?

the jar clinks calmly onto the smooth step. as Griffon jumps to the ground, beak nuzzling gluttonously into the open mouth of the jar, V goes to stand. he feels substantial, at least — his body is solid, far from slowly piecing apart as it had before — but he still leans more of his weight into his cane as he takes his steps out. tired. so very tired.

his steps scrape the brushing of dirt against the concrete as he saunters out, eyes scanning the square. someone must have answers. at a distance, V catches sight of a figure, and gazes meet.

but before V can make the choice to approach a stranger on the street, Griffon has its own plans. jar left spilling on its side, the night-painted bird swoops up just short of the unknown resident. flapping wings, a gust of wind, all precedes the bird's squawking voice: ) 'Whew! Hey! Pardon me, do you have a moment to speak about our lord and savior—'

( another squawk, and the bird is reigned in roughly by the handle of V's cane, carrying a look of both impatience, and mirthful apology. Griffon thinks it's funny. it's not. ) I apologize.

( a smile, almost wry, eyes narrow and sidelong as he pulls the bird in under his arm, who fights him petulantly. ) Griffon is terrible at first impressions.

Could you...tell a wayward stranger anything about this place?

flower power.

( V is caught by the sound of coughing. squinting through the saffron haze of this midday, he veers off of a nonchalant trek to the library, as the quiet of the town is freckled in this soft noise. his feet are dusted in the pollen as he steps over, catching sight of someone struggling — covered in the stuff.

'Come hither.' V reaches his hand out, and as the inky markings on his arm dissipate, the bird manifests before him. the yellowy powder clings to his bare arms, and he tries to brush it off of himself, though it only seems to smear it against his skin. he only has the vague instinct to suspect it — he's seen malice and violence come out of the simplest things in the Underworld — but there has been no obvious threat, just yet.

once they're closer, V's attention keen on the stranger, Griffon snaps its wings down in a couple of hard clips; a few hard gusts breeze against them, V caught in the breath himself, and it manages to sweep some of the ominous dust away. not completely. ) Are you all right?

carnival, after dark.

( he's being followed. he can sense it, now. V stops and turns to look over his shoulder, slowly, to catch sight of the moment that movement pauses lifelessly.

under the carnival lights of yellow and orange and green, two stained, rabbit-headed mascots have paused in their steps. it doesn't save them from suspect, and it doesn't seem to be the intent, either, as they have since stepped out into the open now. less a measure of stealth. moreso...something playful.

V isn't alone, clearly, and even then he doesn't realize that there is anyone else left here at the carnival beyond himself and these two ominous fiends. one brandishes a golf club, the other a steel pipe, bent a few degrees in the middle.

but they don't advance. is it a security, or is it a window of time, rapidly closing?

V hums shortly to himself. he plants his feet and lifts his cane, tossing it up to grasp the end before pointing it handle-first at the ominous pair. ) Isn't it a little past your bedtime?

( the shapes in his skin down the full length of his arm shift, spilling down his hand like ink before culminating in a dark shroud at the end of his cane. suddenly, something dark bursts forth — forming swiftly into a panther on the ground. it lets out a low rumble, teeth bared, eyes alight before its fur flashes in dim purple designs, similar to the ones that only just left V's own skin a moment ago. the cane whips around, spun by the handle. he smiles calmly, and wide. ) All right, then. Step right up. I have a new game for you to play.

( ooc; will likely be spoiler free. pm for questions or any convo! )

Arrival

[newtralize]

[Newt keeps a loose schedule of some kind in Deerington. He walks Helga and goes to work and basically gets through the day caring for his own creatures, the animals at the clinic, and researching at F.E.A.R.

It so happens that he's currently walking Helga when Griffon swoops down and starts talking to him. Peculiar!

He gives the stranger a lopsided grin. Helga stares at V and Griffon with curious eyes as she sits at Newt's feet.] Oh, it's really no trouble. You could say I'm a bit charmed by him even. He seems a bit of a character. [Hopefully, Griffon doesn't have much of an ego. The last thing V probably needs is for his avian friend to become more insufferable.]

Anything that wasn't included in the letter? [Whoo, boy.] Though, I don't know much of what can be said about this place. I think a lot of us are still trying to figure things out about it. It presents itself as some form of dreamscape, although most people would agree it's more like a nightmare than anything else.

There's quite a bit off with this town, so I'm sorry you've found yourself here.

will graham [ nbc's hannibal ]

[wontgraham]

arrival.

[ Nightmares aren't new. Nightmares that threaten a recently-thinned shield between metaphor and reality aren't new.

Nightmares that completely shatter it and leave him with sweat sticking his shirt to himself, standing in a foreign kitchen and reading a letter from someone he's never met?

This is new.

*

He's not in prison again, that much is clear. It's been going on for too long already, too clear and linear and unpunctured by his own normal reality, for this to all be another hallucination... Right?

Will's outside his new house on Clover Lane, looking suspicious in his own right - he's come out still in the pajamas he woke up in. Barefoot and wearing flannel pants and a plain white t-shirt, he explores his driveway - he's got his car, apparently, and he's about as stunned about the fact that it's intact as he is strangled by worry over the dog hair across the back seats but no dogs.

Anyone passing, whether by car or on foot or merely stepping out of their own nearby house, will be stared at with no attempt at disguising it. And then— ] Hey!

Do you, um. Have a minute?

[ooc; will could easily be run across in other areas of town, especially any gas stations or coffee shops, with the same request. he'll probably be wearing shoes, though.]


cuddle pollen.

[ Will isn't usually one to socialize. But then, he's not usually one to get dragged via nightmare into a reality layered over his own. So maybe the fact that he's gone out for coffee this morning isn't the most wild thing about his day so far.

He's never been one for allergies, but he did spend some time (and money) this morning buying some windshield wiper fluid just so he could keep up with clearing his car of the pollen. You'd need to be blind and not breathing to not notice the way it's layering everything with yellow dust.

So it's probably excusable, just barely, that it makes him abruptly sneeze while he's on his way back out of the door.

Less excusable, maybe, that the sudden movement means he spills some of the coffee in that fancy artisan mug onto the person he was passing. ] —Sorry. [ He looks like he both means it, and deeply wishes he didn't need to try verbalizing this to a stranger. ]

I'll— here. [ Fistful of napkins for you, stranger. Even if there's a wild moment where Will nearly tries to dab it off himself. ]


wabbit season.

[ Will probably hasn't been around long enough for it to be surprising that he shows up to the early opening of the town's theme park. But he equally stands out in the crowd, at least more than someone wearing mostly flannel has any right to. He's come alone and he's yet to actually go on any rides, eat any of the seasonal treats, or look like he's experiencing anything approaching 'a good time'.

Maybe that dedication to look for clouds in this silver lining is why he's so quick to notice when something seems off. ]

Hey. [ He's approaching someone pressed up against the side of a carnival games stall. They're breathing too hard, looking in the opposite direction of him. Will's steps slow as he comes closer. ] Hey. [ Too quiet - they don't hear him.

He reaches out to gently touch their shoulder. ] Are you okay?


[ooc; also very happy to play haunted whack-a-mole after dark with anyone interested. feel free to pm with any questions. will comes with potential spoilers for seasons 1 and 2 of his canon and lots of possible content warnings, which i'll tag as they come up in any threads. please just let me know if you'd like me to avoid anything.]

can black leather get coffee stained? we'll find out

[fifthproverb]

( in the short time V has been here, he has at least managed to develop...some sort of habits. which is new, for him.

this café has yet to be explored by him, and V has had it recommended from someone at the book store. 'It's a great place to sit and read a book if you want a nice, relaxing environment...I swear, nearly I read the entire Silmarillion in that place. Oh, in the same day. They had to kick me out at closing time.' that sounds...like it's meant to be promising. probably.

V has no intentions of staying for that long, only long enough to scrutinize a menu of teas and make an adventurous decision. today is going to be more eventful than that, though.

he makes it through the door and only a few steps in before he's splashed suddenly with fresh coffee — ow, first of all.

it's Will — from the carnival.

really, for someone who has been vomited lava on by demon bats, the coffee doesn't harm much. it's not for that reason that V is caught in bemused surprise, stood still as Will shoves pathetically thin paper napkins against his front, trying to salvage his coat. judging from that sentence, you might guess what it is that has V pinned to the floor, nearing a smile. )

I know you've questioned my attire before, but this is a bit forward. ( okay, there's that stupid smug look, too-amused at the situation here. pollen still clings brightly to the tail of his coat, but now no longer where coffee has just been tossed onto him. ) I suppose this takes care of some of that dreadful pollen. ( then again, V's just been traded one fashion disaster for another. )

Naminé | Kingdom Hearts

[really_sketchy]

{SPRING TIME'S FAVORITE TROPE}

[This isn't the first time she's appeared in a new world with unusual directions but it is the first time she's been allowed this much freedom without an explanation. Naminé decides that it's best to use this time to explore the town of Deerington. She can't explain what it is but she knows that she'll eventually find her way. She has too.

She lingers by the tall trees just outside of town. She has a sketchbook held lightly in one hand while a collection of pencils stuck out of the pocket of her brown bag. A warm spring wind rustles through the trees, releasing a yellow snow fall of pollen from the sky.

Naminé looks up and then sneezes as the dangerous seed begins to coat her shoulders and the top of her head.

It's a very cute sneeze.]

{GAZING AT THE PURPLES AND PINKS}

[Naminé isn't sure what to make of this world but she's always wanted to taste ice cream and she jumps at the chance to do just that. This isn't as good as what she imagines sea salt ice cream to taste like but the lavender ice cream catches her eye and she decides to give it a try.

For the moment, everything is fine but after awhile she begins to see dark black shadows just at the corner of her gaze.

But... that can't be right... can it?

Maybe she's just seeing things.]

gazing at the purple and pinks

[oathkeeper]

[It's a good thing that the ticket fee is waved for the day because Sora doesn't really have the most money in this new world. And a chance to check out the theme park is a pretty great idea. He has no idea just what's in store for him or that he's going to see a certain blond he's never really gotten to 'formally meet' that much.

He sees her and seems surprised.]

Naminé? ... Whoa-! Naminé is that you?

[Fortunately he hasn't eaten any food... Just yet. He's got a sugary baked-something in hand.]

ben mason — falling skies

[unharnessed]

( CW: blanket warning for war, death of a parent, aliens, guns, and potential violence, etc. )

ＳＰＲＩＮＧ ＴＩＭＥ＇Ｓ ＦＡＶＯＲＩＴＥ ＴＲＯＰＥ

( the town creeps ben out. for all the allure of a city that hasn’t had bombs dropped on it and the streets torn apart by war ( not that it isn’t creepy in its own right ), he can’t pretend that this is the new normal — that he is. how is he supposed to accept any of this and move on with a day-to-day life, dreaming or not, when his family is out there in the real world? it inspires a wanderlust that demands satisfaction and while he’s happy to go from one edge of town to the other and back again, he somehow ends up at koji pond amidst the bright colors.

that yellow dust that has settled on everything in sight is marginally unsettling, though even that seems relative. the flowers, the trees, bees; he knows what pollen is.

and sure, okay, it strikes him as a little odd that a particular kind of loneliness is gnawing at his insides. the sort that usually only crops up when he’s third wheel on watch or thinking about what his dad found with anne. that wistfulness, the yearning to to have someone to throw his arm around—why should that be out of place?

he skips a rock across the water absently, more preoccupied with how painfully aware he is of the presence of someone else at the pond. he crouches down to pluck a flower from the earth, emboldened to stroll over. nothing weird about that. you know, except for the assault rifle strapped to his back. that’s probably fine. )

Here. ( a beat. ) I doubt the field’s going to miss it. ( please help this sad child with his game. ) And besides, the color would really bring out your eyes. ( or maybe, you're getting the more neutral: it matches your shirt. )

ＧＡＺＩＮＧ ＡＴ ＴＨＥ ＰＵＲＰＬＥＳ ＡＮＤ ＰＩＮＫＳ

( eventually, with only slightly damp clothes, ben turns up at the spring festival both because his nose is too sensitive to be around that much pollen and he doesn’t want another embarrassing first meeting to apologize for. he lingers at the entrance with a heavy heart ( the result of thinking of his life in terms of before and after ) and has to glance down at the ground to realign himself. there’s a fleeting ache that ben’s gotten used to covering, starts with re ends with becca.

and then he thinks of matt, hal, lexi ( and tries not to focus on how they need him ) and steps forward. someone has to eat all those sweets. he hates to be the one but someone has to bear it.

he’s still picking strips of cotton candy from the stick thirty minutes later, partially due to how sticky and rich it is. how it coats his mouth and then dissolves, giving him little bursts of joy. it’s when the hairs rise on the back of his neck and his spikes tingle that he turns around, discarding the candy in the nearest trash bin. he hasn’t survived this long by ignoring his gut, yet no matter how many times he spins around or jogs in circles, it’s like none of the shadows he’s chasing are tangible. the agitation comes to a head, sooner rather than later. )

I know you're out there! If you want me, I'm right here. Stop hiding and say whatever it is you have to say. ( which is conveniently around the time a bunny mascot slips out from between a kiosk with a knife in hand. so ... not as planned. especially not when something rattles beside him—perhaps a glass bottle rolling over, kicked by someone else's shoe—and he realizes he's not just calling danger to come face him. ) Get out of here. I can handle this.

( hit me up on plurk @ talldarkandgay if you want another starter/to plot, otherwise come at me. )

Spring Time

[tagartist]

[ Chloe had a tendency to spend probably too much time by the lakes and ponds in Deerington, but they reminded her more of home than anywhere else in the stupid town. Being near the water wasn’t something she’d thought she’d learned to treasure until the ocean was suddenly gone and she was pretty sure she’d never get to see it again. It was a weird sort of loss to focus on when she had family and maybe a small sampling of what could maybe be called friends that she’d left behind as well, but the mind latched on to funny things when it was put through unbelievable situations, she’d learned.

That feeling of misplaced nostalgia was what brought her to Koji Pond today, trying to fight the urge to rub at itching eyes because she’s always been told that just makes it worse. She’s not sure that that could possibly be true, but she’s occupying her hands with lighting a cigarette to avoid doing it when she notes the guy who had been skipping rocks a little further down is suddenly, uh, not doing that anymore. She looked at the flower, then back at him, and definitely to the rifle on his back, before letting the flame of the lighter die and pulling the now lit cigarette from her lips and blowing the smoke out of the corner of her mouth so it didn’t get in the guy’s face. Even if he maybe deserved it after that awful line. ]

It definitely matches the bloodshot and tears aesthetic real well. [ That’s not nice, Chloe. Haven’t you learned better than to be sarcastic towards dudes with guns yet? She’ll just... take the flower. Much better choice. ] Uh - thanks. I think.

Soldier 76 | Overwatch

[dadication]

ARRIVAL

[In another time, in another place, he'd been shooting squirrels on the edge of the family farm, lining up the shot while the little rodents chided him as if daring him to come closer. He'd had the little creature in his scope, smile on his lips and finger settling easily over the trigger like it was an old friend. Out of the corner of his mouth, he chewed on a stalk of grass, the sun behind him and kissing his hair. It was probably a perfect scene, one of those salt-of-the-earth postcards that some misguided tourist would send after accidentally taking the wrong road and deciding to stick with it.

Before he could take the shot, a buck had burst from the underbrush into the field where he was standing, startling him from the squirrel. A wolf followed, paused when seeing him and then retreated back into the brush after assessing the situation, taking the pack with it. The buck had held its head high, snorting and prancing as it turned back the way that it had come to also assess the situation.

Jack had lowered his rifle to his side even if he knew that a buck would feed the family for awhile and the shot wouldn't be hard to take. Instead, they took a moment to watch each other, and the rack of antlers tipped towards him as if to say "I'll take you on too." He had lifted his rifle and fired into the air, and the buck was startled into motion, but instead of wheeling away in the opposite direction, it had come at him, charging right passed him close enough that he could reach out and feel his fingers brush against its short fur. It was bounding across the farm, causing the family dogs to bay and give chase, but he had just watched it go.

There weren't any deer to be found in war, but in his travels through deep forests as he moved alone following his next lead from broken city to ravaged city to dying city, he had seen the occasional one. Sometimes when he wasn't dreaming of war, of old decisions made, of people lost, he would dream of that buck daring him to fire upon it. That's what he thought of the current dream until it wasn't anything like that.

Soldier 76 woke with a start, rolled right out of the bed he was laying on and came up with fists ready as he looked for his pulse rifle. The last 'house' he had slept in had been Bastet's hideout, and that had been nothing more than old dusty artifacts, a cot and a sleeping bag. There hadn't even been the benefit of whiskey. This place was pleasant but foreign. It reminded him of old houses used as cabins for camping.

With no one obvious to fight and no immediate threat, he eased his position and found his pulse rifle set neatly against the bedside table. He grasped it by the strap and swung it over his shoulder to lay across his back and went about exploring the house, why there was music on (just because apparently) and then he stepped outside onto the porch and found himself looking at a street with neat little houses in a town he had never been to.

He immediately noted people spoke English. He also noted that there was a doe in the front yard eating leaves off of a bush, and her dark eyes turned to look at him. Her intelligence was clear and she approached him as he stepped down to the last step on the porch. She stretched out her neck and nibbled on the edges of hair white hair at the same time he reached up to stroke a gloved hand under her jaw.]

This isn't my war.

[She pulled back, offered something of a knowing look and eased away, allowing him to run his fingers along her flank as she headed out. It was awful peaceful here, but like so many other little hole-in-the-wall places he had been to, it was nothing more than the calm before the storm.]

Hey, you, what town is this?

PURPLE & PINK

[After exploring the town to get a sense of the lay of the land, Soldier 76 had allowed himself to be drawn to the carnival for the purpose of mingling with a crowd enough to note the differences between the strange people (and there were many, many oddities), and the townsfolk who varied between wanting nothing to do with him to vaguely tolerating him. If anything, he fit right in with his brazen leather jacket, his attack visor like some futuristic gaming tech, and the pulse rifle that hung down his back like a strange half-packed case.

He twitched occasionally at the sudden bright lights and the whizzing sounds, but after assessing the risks, he had explored. No, he didn't go on any rides; no, he didn't eat any food; no, he didn't participate in any games. If anything, he found a bench to seat himself on occasionally, slumping forward enough to look old and worn out so that he could observe people.

He hung around past sunset and when most people had gone home, that's when he began to explore in earnest. He looked in doors, he pushed aside curtains, he growled about rigged games, and then he nearly took a golf club to the head as he came around a corner. He ducked instinctively and the club impacted with the wall heavily, and he was faced with a truly terrifying enemy...

...a pink fluffy bunny mascot.]

Back off, punk.

[Another swing of the club at his head and Jack swung an arm up to hit it from hitting his head and then stepped in to kick the mascot right over, his right hand snatching the club right out of the kid's hands. He assumed it was a kid playing some prank until it stood up and attacked him again. So be it; he was more than willing to teach the little bastard a lesson or two.

He shouldered in, shoving the pink bunny mascot back and then swung the club to take out the other's legs, sending it sprawling. The head popped off with the impact, and he set a hand on the bunny's chest to keep it down as he leaned over to berate the irresponsible teenager... only to find the costume completely empty.]

So that's how you're going to be, huh? So be it.

[Soldier 76 abandoned the fallen mascot and stepped out onto the main path only to find another similar looking one rising from a bench with a baseball bat. Now there was a proper weapon for defensive mayhem. He waited until its path was clearly on him and then turned to the side and allowed his attack visor to give a quick assessment on speed, distance and targeting.]

Four! [There was always room for a bad golf reference, especially as he let fly to club he was holding and knocked the head right off the mascot, causing it to tumble backwards. It too seemed to be empty.] That's sir to you.

Arrival!

[tagartist]

[ Getting used to new arrivals isn’t too hard when they trickle in at the most random times of the month. It’s not like Reims that way and Chloe’s found she oddly appreciates it. The chaos of the large gatherings of newbies who all had to learn the basics in an almost boot camp like setting had been some of her worst memories - which was probably saying something, all things considered. She’s also getting used to being mistaken for a local in this town with the way her hair matches the citizens, which has been an... interesting experience, to say the least.

It makes it so she’s not surprised when someone stops her to ask what town they’ve arrived in (though she does take a second to look over her shoulder after the Hey, you because that could’ve been to anyone), but she is definitely giving pause to the fact that this dude looks grumpy, he’s carrying a weapon, and he’s... well. A dude. All things that count heavily against him, if the cautious look she’s got is anything to go by. It’s a miracle and a half that she’s learned to be cautious at all. ]

Deerington, Maine. [ She tilts her head a little, eyebrows raising in question. ] Did you read the note Sodder left you?[ He kinda looks like maybe he’s not the sort of dude to read notes, it feels like a legit question. ]

Hannibal Lecter | Hannibal (NBC)

[proquo]

⪼ A NEW (AND OLD) OBSESSION - [ A; OPEN | B; CLOSED TO WILL ]
A;
[ Even three years in the bowels of the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane had not robbed Hannibal of any of the sensory experiences of spring; they have been cataloged away in the echoing hallways of his mind for whenever he needs them, filed in sequence between woodsmoke on still autumn air and the singing of a single suzumushi cricket on a warm summer night. It's a good thing to be able to remember. He revels in the superiority of knowing that he can disappear into his mind when the times calls for it, that prisons and walls mean little to less to him - that he'd never truly given Alana Bloom full control.

Yes, it's good to remember. But it's another thing entirely to experience.

Wherever this is, it is not the middling winter of the Chesapeake Bay - not the cold waters he plunged into - and that's all the information he needs to begin to work out the strangeness of this dream (that isn't quite a dream). He's played for years at finding ways to extend this mortal life, writing equations to find those mysterious spaces in time where teacups come together and soap bubbles pop in the garden again, but he's never succeeded. Not until now.

So Hannibal isn't distressed. Not even in the slightest. The flowers are lovely, the breeze rippling the grass makes him feel connected to a lower plane in such a delicious earthy way, and the presence of so much life would have made him impishly giddy even without the effects of the curious drifting pollen. So curious. He walks through it until he decides to sit, an arbitrary and yet purposeful stop on a bench currently occupied by someone else.

It doesn't matter who. He's simply thankful for and delighted by the opportunity he's been given to speak with someone. There are holes to worm into everywhere. ]

Have you noticed that it seems as though every bloom, every leaf, has flung its arms open at once? I've never seen a fresher season. [ He turns a placid, friendly smile on his new companion. The slightest flash of his teeth. He's taking them in. ] Was the winter here very hard, then?

B;
[ As strange an effect as this place is having on him (and he isn't foolish enough not to suspect the pollen as the direct culprit, though it only ignites his interest in learning the secrets of this dreamscape all the more), Hannibal lingers in the natural, open spaces whenever he can. Anywhere without a roof is preferable when you've only seen the moon through a skylight for years. Three years, although one must subtract the most exquisite night of his life from that timeline or risk tarnishing it by association.

It may have ended in the ocean, but Hannibal relives his first night of freedom hourly. The chase, the unfaked escape. His little isolated house on the bluffs. He turns it over carefully in private moments, delicate, the memory already crystallized at the heart of his palace but still new and breakable. He doesn't want to rub down the vivid edges. It's all Hannibal has until he sees him again.

And there must be a reason that he's dreaming this dream. So he polishes his new favourite memory and he waits. Tonight he's waiting outside the theatre, a silent, well-dressed man among many. If someone were looking for him, perhaps they would think to start here.

The air is warm and full of new beginnings and the theatre is emptying out. He runs through The Rite of Spring in his head, vaulting between Stravinsky's notes and feeding the restlessness inside him, the urge to join into this blooming around him... but the notes are all wrong without accompaniment. He no longer enjoys playing alone.

And then, footsteps. That scent, a riot of pine sap and motor oil and the too-sweet tang of a whiskey drinker. Hannibal doesn't need to turn. He does because he wants to. ]

Hello, Will.

⪼ CURIOUSER AND CURIOUSER - [ A; OPEN | B; OPEN ]
A;
[ Hannibal has his insufferable good taste and high standards to thank for the fact that he never - not even for a moment - found himself compelled to eat any of the food at the amusement park. Not that he would have risked the experience at any such public establishment, but even though he'd found himself drawn here to observe the crowds at their most bovine and herd-like, he'd taken one look around and made the easy decision not to touch anything - least of all the 'food'.

So he merely observes when everyone else's world begins to deteriorate around him. Most of the park guests have been eating throughout the night, and Hannibal gets to watch as they become more and more paranoid, jumpy and frightened, panicking as they bump into one another. It's hard work keeping the intrigued little smile off of his face as he watches a couple suddenly scream and bolt away from one another, or as a mother disentangles herself from her children, swearing that they mean to kill her.

When someone stumbles too close to him he's quick to react, stepping smoothly out of their way and taking them firmly by the arms to steady them. It's a reassuring and yet dominating gesture. He doesn't let go. ]

What is it that you're seeing? [ Gently, as though he means well. And then he spins another lie, because why not? ] Let me help you.

B;
[ He's still lingering at the park into the night, his obsessive fascination with this place only growing with each strange occurrence. He's appreciating how much the crowds have diminished and how he's been left alone to explore without interruption, a lean shadow in the falling dark, when he notices it. He's being followed. Hannibal doesn't turn at first, feigning ignorance to the pursuit until he can lure them around a corner and into a better choke point for a fight, and then...

Well.

He couldn't possibly be more surprised that he is when he turns to see a little gang of toy-like rabbits, weapons in hand, 'staring' at him. Hannibal's eyebrows lift slightly, the only thing that gives away his utter amusement and bafflement. He doesn't reach for the blade he has tucked away, but there's just no way Hannibal is running from a threat like this. It would bruise him terribly, even if it remained a purely private embarrassment.

And besides, there's no one around. Not that he can see. Hannibal turns to the side, squares up. Waits. For what, he has absolutely no idea. ]

I suppose it would be too whimsical to ask if you speak.

⪼ WILDCARD!
( ooc: Have a better idea? Know the setting well enough that you can come up with a better starter? Hit me with a new scene or PM me to chat about details! Players can hit me @ kaitniss )

curiouser & curiouser — b.

[tasteofink]

( This guy doesn't look like much of a fighter, but there might be something hidden beneath the calm exterior. Demyan nearly wants to watch to see how this sort of thing unfolds, but when the group of rabbits descends, he finds his body moving before his mind can really catch up.

He'll later chalk it up to the dregs of his humanity he has yet to stamp out.

His four extra arms are out, clawed and dripping; they swipe the weapons out of the hands of a few. He finds himself here after the hallucinations worked him up into a frenzy; he feels groggy and bleary.

Of course he'd have to fight his way out. )

Can you fight, or do you just stand there and look good?

wanda maximoff ( mcu )

[magija]

.• gazing at the purples and pinks

---

[ her heart beat quickens, a frantic pulsing of a thump, thump, thump that booms even louder in her own head with every ongoing step. there's laughter around her, a collection of happy emotions that bundle together from the park's other visitors, to weave into her own mind for her own personal reading. but amongst there is something dark, ferocious like a foreign storm cloud trying to shift within the contrasting shine.

she whimpers, crouching down behind a lonesome bench, the cold metal of it digging into the flesh of her neck as she pushes back against her, breaths inhaled and exhaled faster, faster, faster, as the panic builds within her mind.

they're coming for her. she can feel them getting closer, hear them in her head, can almost feel the tight straps already getting placed around her arms to hold her down. she's dangerous, an uncontrollable monster capable of terrors unknown — better dead than alive, if they can't use her, they'll put her down for good. ]

Pietro. [ she whispers softly into her sleeve, but he won't come. they'll do to her as they did to him.

her fingers curl, chipped black nails digging hard into the flesh of her cheeks as they quiver, knowing she'll have to do something if they come, she'll need to fight them. but it's strong, the emotions rippling through her mind, ghost sensations of tubes and needles, the straps, curse the straps. she won't be imprisoned again. not ever again.

and as the children and the families and the crowds continue to laugh, wanda screams, an echo that emits a streak of red lights which shoot through the air, glass of nearby lamps shattering all at once. ]

.• arrival, cafe

---

[ she keeps to herself mostly, easier to blend if she stays quiet, limits conversation. perhaps she shouldn't be wearing the jacket, red leather quick to draw the eyes, but even if her eagerness to be lost within the crowd, she can't bear to part with it, a faint remnant of home — or rather, of the base, where she'd once considered to be a comfortable place to return to. these days, she couldn't be sure it was worth returning to.

she orders a tea, feeling the heat of it soothing her palm through the paper cup as she makes a quick step for the side counter where the sugar packets are crammed in a basket for her to pull from. removing the lid, she rips several packets at one, tilting them into her cup, herbal scents drifting to her nose and already allowing her to breathe more easily.

even with her discomfort of the town, it's a temporary cure.

but as she tosses the empty packets to the trash, lid reading to be placed once more upon the cup, she feels a heavy push to her back, an accidental nudging perhaps, that presses her forward, hand swatting at the tea-filled cup, forcing it to fly into the air. instantly, she gives a swift wave of her fingers, a flicker of crimson light drifting from their tips to curve around both cup and liquid, steadying it in the air with a transparent force. another twirl of her fingers, and the liquid lifts itself to dive back into the cup, the latter which floats up to be grasped once more within her palm. ]

.• wildcard

---

( willing to do variations of the tdm prompts or any other arrival options and locations. feel free to pm for alternate starter options as well! ♥ )

cafe

[boyobscured]

[ Credence is nearby getting his own cup of tea when he sees the incident with the girl who can un-spill her tea. He's seen that kind of thing before around wizards, of course, but it startles him. She moves her hand to do it, it seems like, which is kind of like what Mr. Graves could do...or what Grindelwald can do, magic without words or a wand.

He isn't usually one to speak first or bother people, but his curiosity wins, and he's already pretty near to her. He's clearly nervous when he speaks, but he does it anyway. ]

Excuse me. I noticed what you did with your tea. Are you...

[ a witch? No, of course he can't ask that. It's too loaded a question. ]

You can do magic?

bishop young (and guest) | original character(s?)

[knifetricking]

i. staggering heights ; night

[Bishop arrives at night.]

[This is, unknown to anyone, ideal for all parties, because it means they don't have to take the time to realize that this world has a sun and day-to-night cycles; as it stands, their home is shrouded in perpetual night. They don't particularly remember when they fell asleep, or when they woke up here, only that it happened.]

[Out of instinct, they reach out at the other creature living in their soul, clawing for familiarity where none exists. The scent of rot and degraded plastic and crushed popcorn, candy, an infinity of carnival-themed treats that Bishop would not have felt at ease enough to partake in except on a very good day, unfurls beneath their noise in a poisonous inflorescence. Their throat bunches up as they try not to retch.]

["Golden?" A mental shout, scrabbling and bordering on hysterical.]

["I don't understand," comes Golden's confused reply. They're scrambling to make sense of the shift in their surroundings as much as Bishop is. "I've never seen this before."]

[A dilapidated theme park with crumbling rides and eerily vacant stands is nothing like the nocturnal sprawl of Noctalion's city skyline, warped shadows of eerily distorted buildings highlighted by the vibrant orange-yellow of periodic streetlights.]

[Neither Bishop nor Golden have time to process this shift any further. That's around the time that one of the rabbit mascots comes trundling at them with a snapped-off chunk of rebar and cartoon murder in its disturbingly uncanny eyes.]

Get back, [Bishop manages, between teeth chattering with fear and the night chill and possibly both.] Get - get the hell away from me!

[The rabbit, naturally, pays their protests no mind. It only winds back and swings, and Bishop hastily throws themself to the floor to avoid being clubbed across the temple with a hunk of iron.]

[They don't waste any more time with negotiation. They kick themself upright and start to run - but their breaths are thin and wheezy, and it's clear that their lungs aren't in any state to keep them going at a pace that will keep much distance between them and their demented, leporid pursuer.]

[They're going to need help, lest the side of their face become a pulped-in crater of busted brain and bone.]

ii. staggering heights ; evening

[The purplish dusk isn't quite the all-encompassing blanket of night that they're most accustomed to, but Bishop can adjust. It's better than being chased by giant stuffed rabbit animatronics, in any case.]

[Currently, Bishop squints at the pinkish fluff of cotton candy stuck on the end of a white paper stick, regarding it dubiously.]

I don't like it.

[They tip their head to one side, plainly anticipating a response. To the outside observer, they seem to be conversing with someone who isn't here when they are, in fact, responding to someone who is very much inside their head.]

I don't need to try it. Food shouldn't be that color.

[Another pause. Then, a disdainful curl of their lower lip.]

Fine. Then you eat it.

[And half a minute later, a pair of large, curled horns, not unlike those of a ram, have curved out from the side of their hands, their eyes bleached a pale gold. The tips of their fingers now seem to be crowned with blunt and faded clawlike protrusions.]

[All in all, they look rather different as they happily bite into the cotton candy, tearing off a sizable strip and chewing with slightly pointed teeth.]

[When they speak, it's in a lower, slightly fuzzier register, as though the words are being filtered through a different pitch.]

It's good. Like eating a cloud made of sugar.

[Clearly, neither entity sharing this body expects this exchange to alarm anyone. Where they come from, after all, this sort of conversation is a perfectly normal occurrence.]

iii. wildcard?

[You can read up on Bishop and Golden's preliminary information here, if you're confused! Alternatively, you can get in touch with me on plurk at arrpee or on discord at zero#8942 if you want to hash out anything!]

staggering heights ; evening

[beeboy]

[ He must have found his way inside another time loop somehow. This is the assumption, and one the boy accepts easily enough, perhaps too enthusiastically. His afternoon is spent indulging in fun, taking ride after ride, helping himself to a variety of treats, many new and unfamiliar. There is little concern, really, about the fact he's on his own. Rather, he's enjoying the solitude and the chance to experience something he rarely gets to.

But by the time dusk is a chill settling in, the darkening sky rests a cloak of heaviness on his shoulders, stealing childish naivety away. A trek into town to find some place to stay will be necessary, but he has no money -- and no familiars. Now he feels the danger of it. Of a young Peculiar on their own after dark.

Suddenly, it's the small things he's most aware of. Sounds. The disturbance of wind against a chain fence somewhere could be the rattling breath from a Hollowgast's tentacled jaws.

He needs to drift towards other people, make his scent less palpable -- and finds himself lingering when a conversation that includes no one else drifts through the quiet. By the time the transformation he witnesses is complete, Hugh's body has turned to face them completely.

Rather than fear or even confusion, the expression on his face is... familiarity. Brows lift, the young boy approaching the stranger slowly but not cautiously. He tilts his head up (and up; they're quite tall), his arms linked politely behind his back. The remark is casual, accent lilting his words upwards in the sweet and soft voice of a child. This isn't England, but Peculiars can be found anywhere, and Hugh thinks he's just stumbled across one. ]

This your first time tasting cotton candy, then?

[ An odd boy. Odder still is the fact that a couple of honey bees are drifting around his head -- first in lazy circles, but then hovering in the air to face the horned, golden-eyed individual with curiosity. ]

It's pretty fantastic, isn't it? Only don't eat too much at once or you'll get a stomachache from it. [ A grin appears quickly, almost guiltily. Clearly he speaks from experience (though thankfully, he did not eat the lavender or maple sort). ]

mollymauk tealeaf | 2 critical 2 role

[viciousmaukery]

[one: cuddle pollen | cw: mentions of death, blood]

[Molly isn't allergic to pollen, and thank the gods for that, because it's everywhere—in his hair, in his clothes, under his nails, some of it even getting into his eyes. He ducks under whatever cover he can find, but alas, it's too late. The pollen's already all over his coat, and he takes it off to start irritably dusting it off—oh. Hey. Look at that. There's a hole right through the back where the glaive went right through him, and dried blood staining the bright designs on the back.

Molly himself is perfectly fine. He knows because he checked, passing by store windows and breathing a sigh of relief when he saw that there wasn't a wound where Lorenzo's glaive sank into his chest, but there's a hole in his coat and that makes it all real.

He sinks down into the seat. Right. He's dead. He'd been able to put it aside in the rush to get out of the storm of pollen, but now that he's out and staring right at the evidence, the shock of it has finally hit him with the force of a sack full of bricks. Or Beau's punches.

Beau. Shit. Nott, and Caleb, and even Keg. Jester and Fjord and Yasha, gods. Yasha's gonna be devastated.]

Fuck. [He says this out loud, even as someone sits down next to him. Staring down at his coat, he adds, idly:] Should've brought a needle and thread, this is gonna be a bitch to repair.

[What he wouldn't give for that. Or for his friends, safe and sound.

...there's a warm body next to him, and Molly is—tired, and vulnerable, and misses his friends. He leans into their side, shifting around to account for the horns, and doesn't look up from the hole in his coat.]

[two: killer rabbit | cw: self-harm, blood, violence against violent furries, mentions of death]

[So.

This park has been creeping Molly out like nothing else since he got here, and the rabbits have been a huge part of that. They're just a little too pink, a little too fuzzy, and a little too animated for his liking, and he's been keeping a nervous hand on his swords as the night wears on and the park seems almost to crumble around him, shadows creeping in at the corners of his eyes.

(He also enjoyed some cotton candy an hour ago, but surely that's not the other cause!)

And now—yeah. Well.

The bunnies are trying to kill him.

The edge of Molly's carnival-glass sword runs across the inside of his arm. Blood drips down the blade as it glows eerily, and the rabbit's steel pipe passes over his head as Molly dances out of reach and cuts across its arm for good measure, escaping another angry swipe at him. He leaps over a rusted fence, the sword still glowing in his hand, when he hears another noise.

He spins on his heel with a curse. Goddammit, he'd just wanted to enjoy a night at the park, and now this? Now there's a person in the vicinity, and even with his natural darkvision, the shadows still creep in, seem to turn their face into a snarling monster's. (Or a grinning human face, bald and tattooed.)

Molly grits his teeth, and calls out in an Infernal language, pushing what meager magic he does have into it, aiming to hurt:] Back off, I've already died!

cuddle pollen, but slightly a wildcard

[orphanmaker]

( Pollen is dusted over her skin, yellow and clinging, and she can't bring herself to brush it away. It's so different from the sort of thing that happened in Xhorhas, and so for a while she's content to just wander, looking down at her arms to see the little speckles of colour.

And speaking of—
She sees the flash of colour, familiar movement, and for a moment she's sure she's having a vision, a dream, something. Even if that were the case it wasn't like she could ignore it, not after what had happened.

The way Mollymauk moves is so familiar, and the brightness of his whole being, beyond just the colours he wears, a man who was vibrant in all senses. It's a sudden change of course, doubling back and pushing past some poor unsuspecting bystander, and with each step the familiar coat and the curled horns look more real and solid.

She can see the blood across the back of his coat, and her steps almost falter before she reaches out and grabs the back of his coat, not yet speaking. She doesn't know what to say, or if she even could say it.

So Yasha stands there, grasps the back of his coat to get his attention, and is silent. )

scott lang ⇉ mcu

[dumbthings]

I » POLLEN

( the first time he sneezes, he thinks he's just inhaled a little dust. he manages to catch it with the sleeve of his shirt and then he continues on his way. the second, third and fourth time he sneezes, he thinks he's dying. at least, that's what webmd would say. two sneezes was fine, three or more was a death sentence according to that horrible website.

a woman passing him on the street gives him a look and he holds up a hand, trying to sound apologetic when he says: ) It's allergies. I don't have the bird flu. Or the pig flu. What flu do people get here? Is it different than what people get in the actual non freaky world?

( because this world was fuh-reaky. appropriate, wasn't. he sneezes again, displacing more pollen and when he blinks his eyes open, there's someone standing in front of him and scott can't help but grin widely. sure, his insides are still being eaten alive by pollen and it probably looks like someone's maced him but he's never felt happier to see...this person.

what was their name again? )

Hey there.

( #smooth. )

II » PINK AND PURPLE PLANS

( cassie would have loved something like this. it's a thought that won't leave him as he wanders around the area. she would have loved to eat so much cotton candy that her stomach would have hurt later and she would have loved to shove funnel cake in his face because she was her father's daughter. the loss aches but he tries to put it out of sight, out of mind.

so, scott does it all for her. he eats too much cotton candy and he ends up with confectioners sugar all over his face and he doesn't regret it one bit.

except when he thinks he actually catches sight of cassie out of the corner of his eye. she's not doing anything except staring and when he turns to call out to her, she's gone. vanished. he swallows. he just misses her. he's been up too late. hasn't slept. really need to stop writing horror novels in his head with himself as the main character to fall asleep at night.

so, he dismisses the whole thing. trick of the light. smoke and mirrors. he's fine. he's...hearing her laughter behind him. now, that's not cool. that's not cool at all. he whirls around, a hand raise to tell her that scaring daddy is not a fun hobby but she's not there. )

Great, I'm cracking up. I'm losing my mind.

( this was because he'd cleared out the cotton candy cart, wasn't it? his stomach's payback. he's not thinking about how much this is creeping him out. that would be admitting this place is getting to him and — footsteps behind him again.

scott spins around and exclaims: )

Stop following me! I donated to the United Way at work!

( ah, that wasn't cassie. sorry, uh, random person. )

Sorry. Thought you were someone else.

( thought you were my kid makes him sound like he's losing it so he keeps that to himself. )

III » WILDCARD

[ feel free to choose your own adventure. pm me if you'd like to discuss anything! canon point is post cw for the moment. ]

I » POLLEN

[trigeminalheadache]

[ this place is strange. a dream world. they're asleep in their own worlds back home? this feels like a trick. it reminds her of what barry and kara described a couple years back, when that being trapped both of them.

she's praying that, for her sake and everyone else's, there's no singing and dancing involved here.

caitlin's decided that she should at least get her bearings here, examine the place in case she can find a way out. (it's doubtful, but there's a first time for everything.) the pollen coating everything looks normal enough, if taken a bit to the extreme. thankfully, she's never had an issue with hayfever or springtime allergies, so the yellow dust is more an annoyance than anything else.

that doesn't appear to be the case for everyone, though. she hears the sneezing—one, two, three, four times. she can see the source of it, a man apologizing to a local who glares at him as if he's contagious.

stopping in front of him, she's fishing a small package of tissue out of her purse when he speaks. ] Hi. [ her smile is friendly, if maybe a touch concerned. ]

You look like you need these.

Inspector Jacques Clouseau | The Pink Panther

[notnowkato]

Arrival
A man stormed along the streets of Deerington, searching for the first person who could give him some answers. He had awoken in a strange bed, which was in fact not an entirely unheard of occurrence given the countless forces impeding his investigations and willing to drug him to do it. He had not been assaulted by his servant, which made him intrinsically suspicious of the situation already. He appeared to be across the Atlantic Ocean, which was admittedly a little alarming. And worst of all? The calendars were all wrong.

None of these many locals seemed willing to speak to him, however, which was growing in furiating. And so, now, he had come upon someone else who was dressed differently than the others. Perhaps, maybe, they would be of some use. And so, a fedora-wearing, trenchcoat bedecked individual stormed right up to them with intense purpose and, with what may have been the most outrageous Parisian accent imaginable, spoke to them, getting way too close for comfort in the process, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"I am Inspector Jacques Clouseau of the Sûreté. I require your assistance."

Theme Park
Whatever reason your character may have had, it was time to throw that wrapper away. Only, there was some small problem with the act. You see, when the trash was about to go away from the receptacle, it was tossed right back out, and a voice in a dreadful french accent spoke from within, a suspicious pair of eyes staring at whoever had done this.

"Go ewey, I am attempting to remain incognito."

...the sad part? He hadn't actually had any sweets and was not hallucinating at all. This was normal for him.

ginny payne [ original character ]

[trashgoblin]

{ooc; as you can see, ginny is an oc! she has a basic info page here and an explanation of her powers (pre-potential-nerfing, at least) here.}


arrival.

[ You don't just eat food left for you by fairies. But this - to evoke a terrible cliche - isn't just any fairytale, it seems.

You haven't gone where I can't follow, child.

'Thank god. Wouldn't want to suddenly not have verbalized vaguebooking in my ear all day.' Ginny's still checking over her new tattoo, standing in the kitchen of this unfamiliar space. Sweat is sticking her shirt to her back, and despite her grumpiness at the startle of a voice...the fact that Opossum hasn't left her is a sharp relief.

Almost as sharp as the shock of seeing her new tattoo behind the bone of her left ankle.

Ginny ends up outside her new home, making her way into town. Which is how she manages to pick out a stranger from the crowd, someone who looks like they might not immediately hate being called out to by a stranger. You're approached by a woman who's dressed like a garden witch trying as hard as possible to stick to the stereotypes - she's draped in layers of neutral colors, and there's at least three? four? crystals going on via bracelets and necklaces. But don't be fooled - this form has function, too.

You may also notice that there's a shadow approaching you from the side - if you turn to look, it'll have already formed into an opossum. Odd to see one in the daylight, right? ]

Hey, not to give you a line you've probably heard already, but - what the fuck's up with this place?


snuggle pollen.

[ Positive side of being immune to almost everything - allergies are a hilarious non-issue. Negative side of being immune to almost everything is...mostly just the fact that a night out gets expensive fast when shots don't do anything.

Which is way less relevant right now, during broad daylight. While Ginny's leaned in towards the mailbox in front of her, finger-writing in the pollen that's collected on it.

Only thing is, this isn't her mailbox. When she's caught, she startles, expression momentarily pinching with surprise before it smooths over. ] If this one's yours, I promise you it's a good luck charm and not a picture of a dick?


devil's food.

[ Yeah, Ginny's got a sweet tooth. So what?

So, apparently, the wonderful smooth chilliness of lavender sorbet eventually fades from her mouth. So, apparently, she hears the hissing of names in her ears; human names, creature names, forgotten names. Titles for deities no one's worshipped in decades. Titles for lesser beings that she's never heard of before.

Don't work yourself up over shadows, child. Opossum's voice is a crackle in her ear like always, the rough-smooth of running your hand against a pinecone.

But this isn't nothing, no matter how much her avatar says as much. Each corner she turns, the dirt and concrete walkways hold a sea of people who know what she is and hate it. Fear it. Disdain it.

Ginny intends to leave. She's almost at the exit when she finally snaps, and grabs the nearest person's arm. Touch - that's usually how she gets to find out someone's name. That's supposed to be how this works. Angrily, voice shaking with the brittle fear barely supporting her: ] If you think you can scare me away from here, you're wrong.

[ Bold words for someone who was literally on their way to run home. ]

—devil's food

[fifthproverb]

( that is now two people that V has watched unravel in this amusement park, people growing tense and fearful, spiraling away to go hide behind ticket booths or crying past him on the way to the exit, their confections dropped with carelessness to the ground.

V stares at the cup of frozen delicacy, bleeding sadly but slow into the concrete — a sunny day it may be, but spring is still young. it seems reluctant to be dematerialized, forced torturously into something unsubstantial.

relatable, that.

and then, someone clamors at him, hands gripping his arm, skin on skin. it feels shocking — literally, like an open current that kicks V back at the closing of contact. he isn't launched away with it, but rather, he stands his ground, squaring his feet. his eyes fall on the woman's wide animal stare, round and exposed. he looks back to her with a keenness, her words sharp as they hook into his attention.

bold words for sure, given to a man who hadn't known her presence or existence until this moment; given to a man strolling about with suspect curiosity, investigative, nothing more.

V doesn't blink, but his eyes twitch over her face, looking. )

I'll take your word for it.

( V doesn't understand the threat, but he sees it clear as day, and therein lies the conflict. the woman doesn't come across as his most compelling antagonist to date, but V would also be a fool to judge a book like this by only its cover. too many mysteries in this place, too many conundrums. he has no inspirations to lay a passerby out on the ground today, but people in this entertainment mecca edge closer to irrational irritability. it certianly would be quite the inconvenience, to be the next one to slip into sudden insanity.

a shadow ripples over the both of them swiftly, before a large bird swoops in a curve around them to glide up to a bench. the bird catches the top of the bench with its large talons, perching there, a few yards to his right, her left. feathers of black and illuminating sapphire glimmer as the winged beast regards her with an uncanny awareness. )

'Seriously, if you think this guy's scary, just wait until he reads you a soliloquy — ha!' ( its voice, coarse and shrill, sounds terribly human for a thing that could likely not be farther from. ) 'Talk about nightmare fuel. Or is it just me?'

james bond [ bond films ]

[nameusername]

arrival.

[ Waking up in places he doesn't remember falling asleep is not, unfortunately, too far from familiar. What's less familiar is the acidic taste of a nightmare that doesn't fit any known hangups. Deer running through the woods - what could be further from his reality?

Apparently, the answer is: a basket of offerings, and the threat that he'll die if he doesn't eat the food whoever's abducted him has laid out. As if he's stupid enough for that.

By the time he gives in and eats the food - every nut and berry in the damned jar - he barely has fingertips to grip it by, they've dusted away like sand pulled back in by the tide.

*

Bond is in the nearest parking lot to wherever it is he's been dropped off. His phone has been left at his new 'home', because he assumes it's a tracking device. And it's proven useless - he has no way of contacting anyone. No number that matters is answering him.

Anyone walking past who owns a car has an equal chance of an unfortunate event occurring - he's breaking into your vehicle. Sorry, stranger, but he needs to get out of range of whoever's done this, and regroup. ]


great horror bake off.

[ There's been four people - no, five - that Bond's seen duck out of sight as he moves down the concrete and dirt walkways. He'd be more suspicious that it's about him if anyone made eye contact, or if they were closer, but it seems anything can set these events off. It's unsettling, and he's gone from high alert to higher. Keeping an eye on everything; he's certainly not about to leave.

The next one who breaks away from the crowd, panting, goes to pass Bond. He steps out of the line of general traffic and follows them at a casual jog, ignoring the occasional confused stare from anyone who happens to glance at the pair of them.

Taps them on the shoulder. ] Sorry to disturb. [ He doesn't sound particularly sorry, only alert. He's still within arm's length, although he's no longer touching the stranger. ] Need some help?


chuck e cheese after dark.

[ Bond isn't generally one to stay until the end of a party, but this amusement park had only gotten stranger as the day progressed. He'd stayed, for lack of anyone to report to and tell him to lay back and let someone else do recon.

Being followed in the dark isn't exactly new. Carnival music playing softly over loudspeakers scattered throughout the park during it is certainly giving it a new atmosphere, though. ]

Sorry. [ Bond stops in the middle of the dirt walkway, turns back to face the two mascots that've followed him around the last half-circle past the Ferris wheel. One of them is holding a golf club, presumably from the mini golf course halfway across the park. The other has what looks like the drawer to a cash register in its hands. ] Not fond of candyfloss.

[ If they don't make the first move - he will. ]

—wallop some rabbits

[fifthproverb]

( V has a terrible habit of kill-stealing.

never let it be said that he isn't capable of taking constructive criticism.

a bird, large and dark as the very night's sky, dives in at one of the two ominous mascots in a sweeping blur of sapphire glow. with its talons, it knocks the head-mask away from the figure's shoulders, slamming the thing with the force of its flight. as soon as it appears, it glides up, just a few yards shy of the man. as it sets a growing distance in flight, a voice can be heard cackling: 'nighty-night, cottontail, haha!'

from where? the bird itself? better question: is that the hardest idea to believe here, right now?

the felled mascot lays lifeless with the till drawer on the ground, its head rolling shamefully toward Bond's feet. alas, there is no identity revealed, not a head or an inch of any sign of a person within the limp costume. the other mascot remains standing, but, now mobilizes as it slowly turns.

the next voice is closer, entering stage left of the scene as this man strolls calmly up. the picking of his cane is muted in the dirt, but his steps are sleepy and drag slightly on the earth. in his other hand, a large book, leather bound, and it's the singular and solitary place where his eyes rest. )

Till the little ones, weary,
No more can be merry;
The sun does descend,
And our sports have an end.

( the book shuts with a gentle tap. at least V didn't wait for most of the work to be done for him, right? )

Steve Harrington / Stranger Things

[acidwashjeans]

HOUSE OF MIRRORS
or: where will you be when the hallucinations kick in?

[ Man, Steve loves a good carnival. He's been on the rollercoaster, braved the haunted house, eaten a bunch of popcorn and ice cream and pie, pretty soon he's going to go to back and win a prize at the coconut shy for sure, but right now he's checking out the house of mirrors, because why not.

It's kind of disappointing though. It's just a bunch of warped mirrors. He waggles his arms half-heartedly up and down to see how their reflection moves.]

I used to love this kind of thing as a kid. Man, was I an idiot.

[Hi, stranger. Hope you're feeling chatty because Steve really is.]

THE IMPORTANCE OF PEST CONTROL
or: holy fuck that rabbit just turned its head to look at me

[ Hello stranger. How's your evening going? Hope it's going well. It's just gone 11.10 and all sensible people really should be going to bed. You just happen to be coming out of the bathroom (or any building with a door), only to find some kid with big hair running straight at you. ]

Jesus Christ-- don't let the thing in!

[Whether you move aside or not, he's going to try to run right past you.

Please note the three adorable fuzzy rabbit mascots ambling after him (and now, you). One of them has a chainsaw? So cute.]

pest control

[norivals]

[Stupid watered down carnival beer. You make a detour to the restrooms for ten minutes and everything goes to hell.

Thankfully, Shades' sense of survival is fine-tuned enough that he reflexively turns aside enough to let this screaming teenager past him, before quickly slamming shut the heavy bathroom door and ramming the deadbolt shut. He back away from the entrance and turns to look at Steve. He doesn't look nearly as concerned about this as he feels.]

You realize that was the only door?

[Now what, genius?]