JULY 2019 TEST DRIVE MEME

[sodder]

JULY 2019 TEST DRIVE MEME

Welcome to July's Test Drive Meme! This month's Test Drive's theme is: DREAM 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: Violence, Freddie Kreuger references, fire, forced sleep with some drug-like references, stabbing, nightmares, monsters, possibility for extreme alcohol consumption, and lobster festivals
Don't forget to tag content whenever necessary. Have fun!

Prompt One
Prompt Two
Prompt Three
Character Arrival
Master Navigation

WHEN THE BOAT COMES IN

It’s July and July in Maine means lobster! The Lobster Festival springs up seemingly overnight down near Koji Pond. In the morning, there’s a large parade that makes its way through town, starting from the top of East Main Street and all the way down through West Main St until they hit the festival. There are tents, a few rides, games, arts and crafts, and most importantly, food pretty much everywhere behind the hotel and you can help yourself to free ice cream at the ice cream shop! Lobster ice cream and Blueberry ice cream are pushed to the forefront, but you can get just about any flavor you could possibly dream of in the long run.

You can hear live music playing and a stage has been set up on the roof of the arcade. Live bands play everything from folk music to jazz to classic rock that you may or may not have heard in your lifetime. There’s a tent where local artists (including sleepers) are selling art, a craft tent where people are selling goods they’ve made such as pottery and homemade fudge, and a Do It Yourself tent where people are teaching you how to make your own buoy decoration for your front yard or how to weave your own baskets!

A seafood cooking contest is held for anyone who may want to show off their culinary skills. Any kind of seafood dishes are allowed, but they highly encourage showing your abilities to cook with lobster! Think you can beat the longstanding champions from Deerington? It’s pretty unlikely, especially since it looks like the townspeople keep trying to sabotage your meal as you’re making it. Did you mean to put in an entire half cup of salt to your stew? Oops. Guess you better figure out how to work with it anyway.

Across Koji Pond, there are floating crates set up for the great crate race! See if you can make it across the lake fastest – challenge a friend! These lobster crates wobble pretty heavily, but each runner is given a life vest for when they might inevitably fall in. Be careful if you do! Some of those strange looking fish in there definitely bite.

Each morning at the festival there will be an all you can eat blueberry pancake breakfast. Surprisingly, nothing drastic seems to happen, so have as many pancakes as your body can hold! They’re delicious, after all. Through the rest of the day, it’s easy to get your hands on lobster rolls of varying sizes, full steamed lobster meals (with corn on the cob and a buttered dinner roll), lobster salad, steamed mussels, scallops, haddock (baked or fried), fried clams, lobster stuffed risotto balls, blueberry cobbler, and strawberry shortcake are all available at any of the food stands. All the food seems perfectly safe. But you’re gonna need something to wash it down with…

The drink stand has a great deal to offer, but every drink seems to come with a particularly strange side effect to it. People who enjoy the hand crafted beers will find that it gets them drunk twice as fast and can even make people who would normally never drink completely wasted after just a glass or two. Every glass you have makes you thirstier than the last and it can be easy to want to reach for another beer to try and get yourself together. In fact, it’s particularly hard to reach for anything else. Urges to drink the beer will last for at least one full hour or can be cut short by being responsible and going to drink some water instead.

So maybe beer isn’t your thing; that’s okay! There’s also blueberry lemonade which will turn you the color of blueberries from head to toe! Fresh iced tea will make you feel particularly sarcastic, prone to mocking even your closest friends and gossiping with complete strangers about the things you may or may not have heard about the town. Got a juicy secret you were trying to keep for someone? Well, it’s out in the open now. Cream sodas will make you extremely cuddly, wanting to cozy up next to the closest person to you for a little while. The more you drink, the more touchy-feely you may get, so maybe try and stick to just one or two unless you’re looking for some afternoon delight. Hot tea will make you feel calm and relaxed to an extent you never have before. To the point where you might even want to just go lay down on one of the docks and take a quick catnap in the middle of the afternoon sun. Hopefully you wore sunscreen.

Effects from any drink will last for one to three hours or until you have some strawberry shortcake from one of the food vendors.

BLUEBERRIES FOR SAL

So maybe the lobster festival isn’t your thing or you got tired of all the crowds and wanted to go and do something else fun. Strangely enough, some of the fields out near the farmhouses apparently have a bunch of blueberry bushes that no one’s ever noticed before! They’re in full bloom and the berries look ripe for the picking. Perfectly round, juicy, warm from the sun – you could eat a whole handful of these and maybe never feel more satisfied. They’re deliciously sweet, perfect for pies and cobblers. And a whole basket seems to be reasonably priced, so why not go out and pick as many as you can!

The longer you’re out in the fields, the more you’ll start to feel a little groggy. It’s easy to shake off as just being from the sun at first and you might think about heading back, but something in you wants to keep picking. So you trudge in deeper into the fields, and that sleepy feeling becomes more and more difficult to ignore. Eventually, you might find that you’re ready to just lay down and take a nap in the shade of a particularly large blueberry bush. It seems like a good a spot as any – the ground is nice and soft. Just curl up for a little while and close your eyes. Even people who are normally not prone to sleeping will find that they are compelled and even capable of taking a quick nap in these fields.

Any dreams you may have while sleeping will feel more vivid than normal – to the point where it’s hard to tell what’s real and what’s not. Did you actually manage to find your way out of Deerington and back home? You can pinch yourself, but you won’t wake up, and it’ll hurt like a bitch, so it’s hard to be sure. Dreams seem to mostly be pleasant ones, but the occasional nightmare might find its way in to your otherwise restful sleep. Anyone who stumbles on you asleep in the fields might even hear you talking in your sleep, rambling out conversations and feelings you might normally have kept quiet. Got feelings for someone you were trying to bury? They might just hear you mutter them out loud if they’ve found you there in the dirt. Wanted to make sure no one in Deerington found out you had no home to go back to? That sucks, it sounds like you might have just spilled the beans without even knowing.

The real question is if the person who finds you will wake you up or just keep listening to find out more of your secrets without having to pry for them.

NINE, TEN, NEVER SLEEP AGAIN

It’s not just in the blueberry fields that sleepiness seems to be catching. Throughout Deerington, people seem to be having a harder and harder time staying awake for long stretches. The desire for a quick nap or even a long snooze becomes harder to fight as each day passes and you might find yourself nodding off in places you normally wouldn’t – behind the wheel of a car, in the middle of a store, at work… Hopefully no one gets too hurt or loses a job during these strange episodes.

Only unlike in the fields, when you do give in to sleep, the dreams you have are now far from pleasant. Nightmares are running amok in your mind, but that vivid realism? That inability to tell when you’re awake or asleep? That has definitely not changed. You might not have even realized you’ve fallen asleep at all – most of the scenery around you seems to be Deerington itself, but something just seems off. You don’t have time to think about it though because it’s then that things start to get scary. Whether it’s reliving your most traumatic experiences, running in to your worst enemies, or seeing monster of your own creation popping up and chasing you, danger and fear are permeating every corner of these dreams. Horror movie fans might find they’re being chased by Freddie Kreuger, hunted down by Jason, cornered by the aliens from Alien. Or maybe there are terrifying monsters from your own world that have started to come for you and are trying to tear you limb from limb. It feels impossible to outrun, and maybe in the end, you don’t. But if you die in your dreams, you don’t really die in real life, right? So you might just snap awake with a particularly frightening jolt.

You think when you wake up that everything is fine. That sense of fear is gone and you’re able to just breathe. But as you go about your day, you start to see images from your nightmares out of the corner of your eyes. Was that Freddie’s claws scratching against the blackboard? Did you just hear the strange clicking of alien feet against the tiles? You hope it’s in your imagination, but this is Deerington. When does anything ever stay normal?

The danger from your nightmares is definitely invading your personal space and it will try to kill you. Anyone else can see these images just as plain as day as you can and they are welcome to either sit and watch or help you fight. Whatever is trying to kill you will go down in the same manner it would have back home – that means that it could be as easy as a bullet between the eyes or it could be as complex as an intense ritual. Guess you’ll have to figure it out for yourself before it really does kill you.

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

[finearts]

( Hilarious. )

I don't see any monsters. ( But she did. The monsters she saw were her own — shady men following close behind her, peering around trees, faces obscured behind the lenses of their cameras. But she knew. She thought she knew them both so well. )

It has to end. Shit can't go on forever, right? Everything stops somewhere. Isn't that, like, the second rule of physics?

( She'd never associate with anyone less cool than she is. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and she could stand to have some company right now. So she takes a seat on the bench beside him. )

[hiyakai]

[ hold on.

if the dalek can turn someone into a living puppet, would it be able to do the same to cade? a little problematic, don't you think? it's like... trying to destroy a monster just to create an even worse monster.

he isn't liking the sound of that. ]

Whaaat is the likelihood the little octopus guy will come out of its tank? [ a beat. ] Can you kill it?

[ it's always good to have a backup plan. ]

Because if it manages to take control of Cade, you'll be in worse trouble than your friend. Count on it.

II!

[finearts]

Woah, uh, lady—?

( This woman might be twice her age but Victoria could tell when someone's had a few too many. The Vortex Club was FULL of teenagers pushing their limits and getting hell because of it, so she learned to spot the signs. She normally preferred to keep her hands clean, leave the sloppy drunks to be someone else's problem, but after everything with Kate... well, she feels a little more compelled to take action.

Unfortunately, she's not the comforting type. Or the helpful type. Or the kind type...

But she'd make sure the lady isn't going to die, or something. Then she could drop her off on a park bench somewhere and let it be done. Problem solved. )

Aren't you a little old to be getting day-drunk? ( Alcohol is for cool kids only! ) Here, gimme your hands.

[bigbadrose]

I've only seen one open its tank, and it did it willingly. The only reason it would ever get out is if it truly had no other choice to survive, so I doubt it would. Really doubt it would.

They can self-destruct. They'd rather self-destruct than be alone in the universe, but I -- [Cheeks color and she looks at the ground.] Don't think too badly of me, but I -- [Shivers.] Had a lotta nightmares about... telling the one that opened up to destroy itself. It had started changing, because it was using me to regenerate, and in the process, got more than it bargained for, and it couldn't stand itself anymore. Wasn't a proper dalek so it just... didn't want to exist. So if you can logic it into self-destruction... it will, but I'm not sure I can. Again.

We could shoot it into the void. Darkness. They'll also self destruct rather than let enemies gain scientific progress from them, but uh, they're durable. The one I changed was being tortured for years before I found it and made them stop.

Why do you keep calling him Cade, he is Satan, right? I shot... my universe's version, at minimum -- I think he might be from another universe... or many but the Doctor's hella cagey about if that's possible, which means it is, he just doesn't want to admit it -- annnyyyyway he possessed an archaeologist and I shot him into a black hole. And I promised another demon I'll protect him from You-Know-Who.

Anyway, um... [Furrowed brow.] The way daleks puppet you, isn't like the way Lucifer or whatever, the King of Hell, possessed the dodgy archaeologist. Daleks would just manipulate your central nervous system from the spine. S-same way as [shudder] cybermen use it to operate, half-robot, half human circuitry, but cybermen are just... zombie cyborgs. You can fry their wires. No good with daleks.

But I don't think... if your demon friend is as powerful as you think, then the dalek shouldn't be able to take control of him, no. Wouldn't want to, either... like I said, they don't come out unless there's no other choice, and the only one I saw did it willingly, because it wanted to feel sunshine, and then destroyed itself in disgust.

Never thought to see if Satan could withstand a dalek's death ray though. Even TimeLords have to regenerate, and if it's too fast...

[Yeah fuck it, she's crying a little. Stupid stupid... she shouldn't have let him out of her sight.]

The weakness is the eyestalk. [Between sobs.] If you're strong enough or get a good kind of leverage, you can grab 'em by it, tug 'em and -- [Hiccup.] With luck, Cade'll go for that and they'll both destroy each other at the same time. If not you can blind them if you get something strong enough to break the shielding, but they create force fields, and suck in energy from surrounding sources.

Outta the tank... they're feisty and fast, really fast, like light-speed fast, but squishy. You could stab them with just a sharpened stick at that point. Or a regular screwdriver. Just gotta be... ruthless and aim for the eyes and brain, not the tentacles, because they can survive without those.... oh and you gotta... they'll still be... kind of alive if they're not immolated. Like how frogs still move when you dissect them? But conscious... That's their genetic engineering. They live on hate. Of everything not dalek. So all you can really do is make it sludge, burn the sludge, but that's an absolute worse case scenario. The only reason it would come out of the tank is if the tank's completely useless, and that's nearly impossible. And it wouldn't likely try to puppet Cade because it's not like... we're close with him. It would only use people as a shield like that. Double hostage. They like hurting people emotionally for leverage. And they're smarter than they seem. They'd grab onto someone powerful or important to others to force submission. 'S what it's trying to do with me... But they're cocky. And one dalek in a tank is enough to dominate most worlds... honestly. [Hiccup.]

I could try talking to it again... [That might require her to stop crying first.]

[Her brain runs through a list of a billion options. Bury it concrete. Find an honest-to-goodness magic user with sun-levels of fire to melt the whisk. Rope??? Lots of rope. Completely tangle it up in unbreakable chains, then haul it sideways with a truck.]

[She starts calming down. She's got this.]

[Reviving the Doctor and making sure he wasn't killed again can wait for a bit. It'll have to.]

[unvirgin]

Too bad they're not serving fruit punch. If you decided to mix the two of them together, maybe that would give you the hue you're looking for. [ Top-tier art student right here, because did you know combining red and blue makes for purple?

Dana nudges a hand against her lips to stifle a soft hiccup, but then thinks to hell with it and takes a testing sip from the cup. It definitely tastes like iced tea, but appearances can be very deceiving; her drunken thought process means that she's feeling less inclined to take the safe road right now. ]

Sweet tea. [ She purses her lips, smacks them together a few times. ] S'not bad.

[unvirgin]

I don't know, millions? [ Dana waves a hand, because she can hardly be expected to do the math in her head at a time like this. ]

Not that it matters. We're all just ants to them. Teeny-tiny ants who can be squashed at any time. Or melted with a magnifying glass. Or offered up in ritual sacrifice because it makes for super fun entertainment. Take your pick.

[unvirgin]

Oh! Maybe. [ But in spite of Dana's apparent reluctance to try new things, her current level of intoxication means that she's more inclined to embrace the side of her that wants to be more daring, the kind of girl who absolutely would sample some lobster ice cream even though some distant part of her is thoroughly not in favor of the idea.

So she definitely does reach out to take the spoon that's being held out to her since there seems to be a little ice cream on it already, sticking it in her mouth and making a few thoughtful noises. ]

Okay, s'not bad. You were right.

[ She mouths the name of the country after it's uttered out loud — So-ko-vi-a — but in spite of all the time she spent reading up on Soviet economic structures for Bennett's lectures, she doesn't remember ever stumbling across a Sokovia. There's every chance that her memory is just bad when she's this plastered, though. ]

Your accent is nice. Kinda exotic, you know, like — okay, that's not the word I meant, but it's different. Melodic. Uh, soothing. Like they should pay you to read the phonebook or something.

[bigbadrose]

Being eaten by ants is a nasty way to go.

[Glances at her nails.] What's that song? [Yes... she's going to sing to you. Yes.]

Next time you're found with your chin on the ground,
There's a lot to be learned
So look around

Just what makes that little old ant
Think he'll move that rubber tree plant
Anyone knows an ant, can't
Move a rubber tree plant

So any time you're gettin' low
'Stead of lettin' go, just remember that ant
Oops, there goes another rubber tree plant
Oops, there goes another rubber tree plant
Oops, there goes another rubber tree plant

When troubles call
And your back's to the wall
There a lot to be learned
That wall could fall

Oops there goes another tyrannical god~!

[It probably won't surprise you to learn it took several genuine continuous miracles to keep this girl alive.]

1

[bigbadrose]

[Shoots her a dirty look.] I think it's brilliant.

[timeriffs]

Oh no, no, bro, don't wake up.

[He's grinning, an insufferable quirk of his lips that speaks volumes of the shit Karkat is about to go through.

He reaches down to pap Karkat's hands, since they're blocking his access to face, which must be crazy red right now.]

Shh, shh, sleepy troll, go back to sleep. Tell me how you were gonna pin me.

[shoutymutant]

[Maybe all he needs is a distraction from the fact that he's obviously losing his mind. That or the thing is real and it's going to kill him when he's not paying attention. Either way, he deserves a break. He's not gonna lose his shit in public if he can help it.]

Congratulations if your life hasn't been a shit parade since night one. Not all of us are so lucky.

[Then the defensiveness crawls up on him, and he leaps to the offensive-defensive position he's so comfortable in:]

And this isn't because I'm young. I'm not even that young. I've earned my angst, fuck it.

[shoutymutant]

[WHY IS HE NOT DYING. Why is the multiverse so cruel. Why can't he just be dead. He wonders if maybe he can go back to sleep, presses his eyes shut for a moment, but all he does is feel groggy. He yanks his hands away from his face and scowls.]

I don't know what you're talking about, get out of my face.

[timeriffs]

[Big mistake, bro, with Karkat's hands gone, Dave is free to press his to hand gently into his face, papping alllll down that scowly face.]

Were you gonna try to get me in a head lock? Leg lock? Leg head lock?

[finearts]

Well it's a good thing I wasn't asking for your opinion, isn't it? ( I mean, technically.... ) 
You'd probably even consider Jackson Pollock worth buying.

[shoutymutant]

I forgot, no one can kick the ass of a pajama-wearing flying asshole. Can you get out of my face for five seconds?

[The papping is working, though. He sighs wearily and rests his head back against the ground. There's no point fighting the situation, so he just gives in. At least he didn't hear anything incredibly incriminating. He goes on grumpily:]

It was just a dream. Don't read into it.

[finearts]

( Her experience has been a 'shit parade', as he so eloquently put it. She's just not going to talk about it. She's not going to bring it up until she absolutely has to. Suffer in silence long enough and maybe the monsters will just... disappear. ) 


Oh, look. A pity party. ( Said all the bitterness one might expect from someone who can't bear to look someone so similar to her in the eye. ) 
 Thanks for the invite, but I think this is one party I'd rather not crash.

( It's hard to tell his age underneath all of that grey make-up. She'd guess 18.) 
 Are you cosplaying or something?

lukewarm coffee

[swill]

[Hawkeye's hungover and, less than one week as a resident of Deerington, Maine, he's been wondering if he ought to just count the days when he isn't hungover instead. Make some kind of tally on a journal or the walls, or even in the letters he keeps scrawling up to some day drop off at a post for his dad (but that'd be depressing as shit news, he thinks, to receive from your grown son, and so the letters are out of the question). So anyway, sleep's too easy to come by. There are no landmines or low-flying aircraft or shells falling on red crosses and he'd thought the ambience shift would make it difficult to lull himself to the Land of Nod, but it doesn't. If he hits his bed, he's asleep; if he sits upright for a minute too long, he's asleep; if he thinks about sleep, he's asleep.

He's pretty sure that's a symptom of depression. He oughta know; he's a doctor.

Anyway. He still tries to dress up and shower and look the part of... Deerington, Maine, NPC native. Because he might as well be. He's home, but not home. He's every bit a Mainer as these fatheaded fucks are, but not. He'd been itching for years to shed the olive drab for good and so he has and he wants to almost show off just how much of a success this... reintroduction to society has been.

It just means he needs to consume an ungodly, other-worldly (get it?) amount of coffee and sometimes the only diner still open at 3-past-o-dark-thirty is this one. There's a girl, can't be into her first semester at a college, just helping herself to a snooze on a booth and Hawkeye can't help but think she isn't... dressed the part, to have wanted to just pass out in a diner, at 3-past-o-dark-thirty. He slips into the booth opposite her (he's tired, okay?), and does what any guy would do

he snaps his fingers in front of her face, things like] Hey, hey, rise and shine, doll-face. I don't think you're quite where you think you are. [Because like hell he'll lay a hand on her or anything. He's pretty sure he's still got the bruise from Beej's vice grip on his forearm when he'd tried to rouse the bastard from a nightmare.]

[bigbadrose]

He's the one that does the splotches, yeah? Yes, yes I would. It's foundational art history and future alien species will consider it absolute treasure.

Everyone's a critic. Van Gogh was one of the best painters of all time and no one knew it until he was gone, because he didn't use lines, but he's a recognized genius by the best of the best.

[finearts]

( Future alien species? Is she on something? ) 


You can't put Van Gogh and Pollock in the same conversation. Abstract expressionism and post-impressionism are on two different planets within the spectrum of the art movements. Some of us are better qualified critics than others, it seems.

[bigbadrose]

[Not at the moment!]

But they both started their own things. You could be looking at the next Face of Boe, and you wouldn't even know it just because you've never heard of it before.

The Mona Lisa doesn't even have eyebrows! [Said without regard to anything...]

[finearts]

Of course I know Face of Boe. ( She doesn't, but she's already committed to out-arting this person. Face of Boe could have been something Rose just made up on the spot for all she knew, but Victoria would play it off either way. )

Mona Lisa started the eyebrow shaving trend! ( Said with an odd amount of passion. )

Ronin | Clint Barton | MCU | Spoilers, yo

[mohawkeye]

I. Blueberries for Sal

[The house and the fields reminds him of a farm that had once been his own. That had once been home. He walks out among the bushes because it feels so warm and inviting under the sunlight, even when the leather he wears makes that familiarity a lie. If he closes his eyes and thinks about it, allows himself to forget just enough to believe it, he can almost picture Lila and Cooper. He can almost imagine Laura- her smile, and the kids' faces.

He knows he wont find them here, but he lets himself walk among the bushes, pausing occasionally to pick the ripest ones to place in the basket. Something to take back with him, at least. Losing his family had changed who he was, the Decimation might not have touched this place, but it didn't make him Clint again. They were still dead, and he was a murderer. He'd killed before, of course. But it was always in service to someone, something else.

A soldier for the army, then for SHIELD- there was a difference in completing a mission and the campaign that he's waging these days. Put down the bad because it was the only way he could make it make sense. The only way he could live with what happened, the hole that ached inside of him. But eventually, the blueberry basket is set down next to him, napping in black leather in July is maybe not a great choice, but the draw was so irresistable.]

Where's Lila? The hot dogs are about done.

[The words murmured in his sleep. Meaningless, and yet there's a weight to it, to the dreams. Because he knows. Even dreaming, when he can let himself believe it-- he still knows.]


II. Nine, Ten, Never Sleep Again

[The horrors that Clint dreams to life are more subtle, more tragic. Ashes and screams. Voices that call for help, leaving behind only silence and a whisper of ash on the wind that sticks to the leather of his gloves like no one was ever there. Nothing to fight, to run from. Just inevitability, and the reminder of loss.

The voices are indistinct, sounds from around the corner, and his fingers clutch against the hilt of the blade that he carries, his face still hidden in the mask that he wears in public. Hurried footsteps on the stairs, a whisper of something like wind and then the unearthly silence stretched too thin, death that lurks just out of sight.

It strains, weighs against him. He follows it out into the street, and as the whispers vanish again he's left bundled in too tight, aching to lash out-- But he pushes it down, for the moment. The only way he stopped from melting into a ball of hate was to put rules on it. And strangers that happened to be too close didn't fit the bill. It comes again: a young girl, though the words are still indistinct, and he fights the urge to chase after her, knowing what waits as he looks toward someone whose eye he seemed to have caught. Ashes on the air and the vague scent of death.]

Can't tell if I'm still dreaming.


III. Keep Your Head Down

[He tends toward wearing his gear most of the time, just because, well there are people around he's not exactly looking forward to running into. Conversations he doesn't want to have. Some of whom were supposed to be dead. The mask at least offered a certain barrier to that, anonymity. But now he's just looking around town, hoodie pulled down low as he picks up some essentials for the house he'd woken up in. Which was his now, apparently.

He has no interest in the lobster festival, but it's a little hard to avoid regardless. People cuddling, drunks that have had one too many, people with their lobster ice cream cones. The kids would have liked it, he thinks. Even with them gone, he still finds those thoughts creeping through his awareness. Like he could grab a pint or take a picture back to them. Like all he has to do is make it back to the farm, and they'll be waiting for him. Like always.

The punch in the gut always comes, though. And he pauses, leans against the wall to catch his breath. They're still dead, still gone. Maybe you notice something's wrong with him, or he's just blocking foot traffic.]


V. Wildcard!

[So, Clint is going to be leaning into the whole Ronin persona, and avoiding owning up to being Clint Barton aka Hawkeye, so hit me up if anyone wants to call him on it. Elsewise, he's sad and angry and not feeling very superhero these days. natalia_vdova hit me up if you want to plot something specific or have questions you want to ask!]

[finearts]

( It's the snaps more than the words.

Sounds so close, so sudden — no matter how soft they were in reality, they tore through her like thunder, briefly making their way into her dreamscape. Like those rough mornings from before, the sounds of an alarm clock working their way into her dreams when she refused to get up. All at once, his snaps were hurried footsteps growing closer, the arrhythmic ticking of a crocked clock, the sound of a body hitting the ground, and the sounds of a camera shuttering closed over, and over, and over...

When she finally does open her eyes, the scream is immediate. The knee-jerk reaction to get away is immediate, in the same breath as her shriek. It's not the face of Hawkeye that she find herself flinging the nearest object towards but the monsters in her own life, all bounded together into one hulking, sulking figure. It's dark, shadowy, and large, multi-faced — though one face stands out beyond the others. There’s no time to register the difference between imagination and reality — she doesn’t trust herself to be able to tell the difference, either. The coffee — wait, when did she have coffee? — is already hurling through the air when her vision clears, like peeling away a layer of film, leaving only Hawkeye behind. 



Whether he actually gets hit or not is only second to her outrage. Maybe it’s not just outrage; maybe it’s a lot of emotions, with fear being chiefly among them. Maybe it doesn’t matter what she’s feeling because how she’s acting is outraged, and that’s all that really matters. ) 



What the hell are you doing? ( There are better, more informative questions to ask, but it’s not as if clear thinking is coming easily to her right now. She doesn’t have time to feel guilty for java-assaulting this poor guy and she doesn’t have time to feel embarrassed for causing a scene in this relatively empty diner. ) 
 Where did he go?

[timeriffs]

[He won't admit it, like, ever, but whenever Dave got Karkat truly riled up, Karkat sometimes awakened his stupid troll strength and he gets Dave in a hold he can't escape. But that's when you bring out the big guns of licking to gross Karkat out enough to let go.

There's no honor in rough housing.

Dave only gets lower, but adjusting so he's "laying" on his side, head propped up in his hand, elbow supported on a literal air mattress. He hovers down so he's just above the dirt Karkat is snuggled in, like they were sharing a king sized dirt bed. He reaches out with his other hand to keep patting Karkat between the eyes. He doesn't know why paps make trolls go soft, but heck if Dave doesn't like it.]

C'mon, I bet some of Rose's psychobabble's rubbed off on me and I can tell you all about what it means. Spoilers: it'll probably involve the word "penis" at some point.

[bigbadrose]

[Rose laughs. Boe's an artist way into the future, and a living trivia question always saving her life so no, she knows.] No, you don't.

She did not!! No one does that!! You don't even do that!! People just think she's mysterious because they can't figure out what's off about her, and that's it!