March 2020 Test Drive Meme

[sodder]

MARCH 2020 TEST DRIVE MEME

Welcome to March's Test Drive Meme! This month's Test Drive's theme is: SOULS & SINS.

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: Blood (both normal and black), B&W GIF with implied bloody hands, possible murder, possible body horror, possible insanity, possible suicide, possible forced aggression, possible demons, mental health references, leprechauns, stalking, being slowly eaten alive.
Don't forget to tag content whenever necessary. Have fun!

Prompt One
Prompt Two
Character Arrival
Master Navigation

GIVE IN TO THE BLACK BLOOD

Accidents happen. Maybe you scraped your knuckles against the lockers at school, or you got nicked in a sparring match, or your leg got caught on something in Rapture while you were away. Maybe you don't even remember how you got the small cut on your body, but it's superficial and nothing to worry about, right? Your tetanus shot is up to date (probably?) and even if it's not, it doesn't seem that bad.

You won't even notice the changes at first. The black blood is just like normal blood and you can't feel it as it invades your body, multiplying and taking over your regularly, healthy red blood cell count. It takes a day or two before your head starts to feel a little more chaotic than usual; thoughts start coming at racing speeds, becoming more and more violent as time passes. You can hear a voice that's not your own encouraging you, egging you on. telling you to just give in to the madness and embrace your destiny.

Under the effects of the black blood, you'll want to attack over the smallest things. Total strangers or casual friends will be the primary target as you seem to be able to at least recognize those close to you. You don't see these people as human, they're just a target, something to let out all those violent thoughts on. Even if you're weaponless, it won't matter; the blood in your veins can harden, burst from your skin and form its own weapon. Each one is unique to the person who is wielding it. Maybe it's a sword or two, a gun that is the perfect weight for you to hold, or a spear that's the exact length for the perfect throw. The weapons are indestructible and if they require ammo, they never run out. Those who are savvy enough will realize that they can harden the blood within their veins as well, usually in small concentrated areas, but it might be able to save you if someone gets the momentary upper hand and tries to strike a blow. While your skin can still be cut, any weapon will bounce right off of the black blood, and most blades might even crack if they don't have magical properties.

So how do you stop someone infected by the black blood? You'll have to get into their head. Looking into the eyes of someone under the effects of black blood will be difficult— their gaze is jumpy, staring at anything but the person they're attacking, and getting them to look at you long enough to enter into their soul will be a challenge because of it. If you manage to keep their head still, it only takes eye contact for three seconds before you'll be linked. You'll both end up in a small room, the one corner of their soul that hasn't been altered by the black blood.

The person under the effects of the black blood will feel weak, particularly if they've been trying to fight the effects of the madness taking over them. They'll feel defeated and might believe that fighting at this point is pointless. There's a small creature beside them, muttering to them these exact thoughts, that they're stronger this way, that it's the right thing to do.

The person who is trying to free someone from the black blood will have to target this ogre first. There are multiple ways to fight him, but the quickest is to find a way to shove him through the door you came in through and lock it. It'll give you a chance to talk alone, to try and encourage the other to keep going, to not give up, to take control. The ogre will be banging on the other side of the door the whole time, growing larger and louder with every passing second, so you'll have to do this quickly.

If the ogre ends up bursting back in or if you decide to attack right from the start, it can be killed— it's just hard to do alone. There's a glowing soul in the center of the ogre's chest, one you'll have to get a hold of and crush. Doing it by yourself is dangerous without weapons, but if you work together, it's not impossible. There is furniture throughout the small room you can use to attack with and if either of you are capable of summoning a weapon, you'll still be able to do so in this room. Magic will work so long as you're working as a team, but those trying to defeat the ogre alone will find their magic faulty and unpredictable.

Once you manage to pull the soul from the ogre, crush it in your hands, and the room will start to disintegrate. You'll end up back outside of the person's mind.

Purging the black blood from your body isn't pleasant; it will run from any open wounds and pour out of your mouth and eyes. It burns fiercely, evaporates as soon as it hits the ground, and sizzles like acid the entire time. When it's gone and your blood runs red again, you'll feel weak and disoriented. Maybe it's good to find someplace to lie down and recover for a while.

If you do not defeat the ogre or if someone fails to make eye contact with an infected person long enough to get into their soul, you will find the madness takes over all of your senses. The effects will last for two full weeks before you will collapse and the black blood will leave your body on its own accord. Death will also work to get rid of the black blood.

Note: Black blood can effect non-humans and those who don't even use blood. People who are usually incapable of getting cuts can still get infected with black blood as the wounds they enter through are supernaturally inflicted. The madness will affect non-humans the same way it affects humans and the weapons can be formed even if you don't have skin for it to come out of. You can still enter someone's soul even if they don't canonly possess one; it's the life essence that makes up any character. The black will pour out of whatever openings it can find when it leaves a body, regardless of if a character has a mouth or eyes.

WISHING YOU A RAINBOW OF HAPPINESS

Throughout early March, you will be able to find rainbows randomly scattered throughout the town of Deerington. They'll arc through the sky, overlapping one another, and each will end at different points throughout town. If you follow one and manage to find the spot where the rainbow meets the Earth, you'll find exactly what stories have always said you would; a pot of gold! Amazing! You're rich!

Only that would be too easy, wouldn't it? Deerington always comes with a catch.

If you find the pot of gold and take nothing from it, you'll find you're blessed with good luck and happiness for a full three days. Everything will go your way, people will be kind and friendly to you even if they are normally your sworn enemy. You'll find people do what you ask them to without even thinking twice about it. If you realize you have this power over people, you won't be able to order anyone to do anything against their will, and you won't be able to make anyone hurt themselves, but simple, innocent requests seem to work just fine. Want someone to feed you grapes? You got it. Need someone to fan you while it happens? Absolutely! Live like stereotypical royalty for a day.

If you take a small handful of gold but leave the rest, you'll find that your day is pretty average. Congrats. You just got yourself some gold free of cost.

If you take a large handful of gold, you will find your day goes pretty crummy. Everything goes wrong in the most expected of ways. You spill your coffee, your car breaks down, you're late for work, you mess up even the simplest of tasks, you step in a puddle that's way deeper than it looked and ruin your shoes. Everything sucks and no one is being very kind to you to make up for it. This will last for three days or until you return your handful of gold.

If you decide to take most of the gold in the pot, you'll be outright cursed. Things don't just go typically wrong, things will go terribly wrong. People around you will be put in danger, the ones you love will turn against you and might even start to attack you, accusing you of controlling their lives and being greedy and heartless. No one will try to kill you outright, but things happen when people are driven mad by your very presence. This will last for a week or until you return most of the gold.

If you take all of the gold, you'll get the same effects as taking most, but with an added bonus: people will definitely try to kill you. You'll also find that a small man seems to be nearby when ever any of these attacks happen. He'll start popping up everywhere, just watching you. He'll be at work, in the restaurants you frequent, on the streets you walk or drive down, and if you wake up in the middle of the night, you might even find him in the corner of your room. Just... watching. It's creepy, right? Each night it gets a little closer. If by the end of the week you haven't returned the pot of gold, the leprechaun will attack. It's hard to fight off, quick in its movements and difficult to strike. If it manages to knock you down, you'll have to hope someone comes along and saves you, as you'll be frozen in place. The leprechaun will slowly devour you, starting with your skin, and keeping you alive as long as possible through the process.

Guess you shoulda returned that pot of gold, huh?

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]

[inwhite]

For the black blood prompt, how might a character link up with someone who's infected if they're blind and don't have eyes to make eye contact with?

Huntress/Helena Bertinelli | Birds of Prey/DCEU | OTA

[crossbow_killer]

One - Character Arrival

[It takes her a moment to realize she's never been in a real forest before. When she'd lived in Italy, it had been by the coast, the saltwater thick in the air. And then there'd been Gotham, all sharp metal and worn brick, about as unnatural as any city could be.

It's strange walking around with air so fresh. Maybe she's supposed to enjoy that, but it just makes her feel all the more on edge. The whole place is strange and unsettling and she still has no idea how she got there, or even where she is relative to Gotham.

So she walks with her crossbow notched and ready, just in case. Can't hurt, at any rate.]

Two - Give In To the Black Blood

[She doesn't even notice the change, not initially. Helena was always a paranoid person, easily ready to conquer any threats. The sudden racing of her thoughts is almost familiar.

Besides, she has plenty of reason to be in a frenzy. This place is still strange and dangerous and unfamiliar, and no one can tell her how to leave. On a normal day, this would be frustrating, but under the black bloods effects? It's infuriating.]

Just tell me where to go!

[As she shouts, an inky slime pours forth from her arm, settling into the shape of a glimmering crossbow. It looks very similar to the one she carries with her, but it's slippery and larger, and somehow more malevolent than a normal weapon.]

One - Character Arrival

[curious_spirit]

[ Thanks to being thrust in the middle of a war between gods, Shadow hated trees. One visited his dreams and slashed his face, he was lynched and hung from one in the waking world, and also stabbed by one who attempted to take root in the wound.

So far, none of the Deerington trees made a move toward him he couldn't differentiate between them. His distrust and disdain of the forest was on his face as he traveled cautiously between them. He'd heard how people usually arrived from the area so he'd set out to test if maybe it was a way home since he hadn't arrived from it.

What he hadn't expected was to run into new arrivals. Shadow hadn't thought about it. He walked cautiously ahead until finding a dark haired woman with a crossbow in hand. Immediately, he held his hands up and out in a motion of surrender. ]

Don't shoot.

Neopolitan | RWBY | Open

[threelayers]

(OOC: So, fair warning. Don't get your hopes up. This is a voice test [Hah, get it?], and I'm very unsure if I will app at this time. That said, let's have fun!)

Introductions/Pot of Gold
She'd looked at the fluid. Nope. She was not joining into much, if any of this idiotic banter. It would probably be a source of amusement down the road if she was stuck in this podunk little forest town for too long, but right now she had certain people to get ahold of and figure out what the next move was supposed to be, and what was going on, and none of them were on the network, so she officially did not care.

She was walking along, an umbrella over one shoulder and a jar of candies in the other hand. Occasionally, she'd pop one into her mouth while she observed the people here. Once in a while, you might catch her fingering a single gold coin she'd swiped. Only one, because people leaving pots of money lying around were seriously a little sketchy but who was she to resist just one?

For the moment? Nothing really demanded her attention, but that could change quickly. She was more or less getting the lay of the land, and said lay of the land was kind of boring.

My Blood is Blacker Than Yours
Nothing had been right since he'd been gone. Nothing had gone right since that night, and there were a lot of people in the world who needed to pay. So, when she'd woken up in this strange place with a stranger note telling her even stranger things? She had officially had just about as many fucks to give about it all. She cold cope. She could always cope.

But when the blood started seeping in through a paper cut? She hadn't been inclined to refuse its advances. Was her nature getting more dangerous than usual? Yes, without question. Were there people out there that maybe she shouldn't have just attacked? Oh, probably. But, again. She was all out of fucks to give, and right now she was staring at someone else. Familiar or not, they were just another target. Another person to play with. Someone else to get out of the way.

She spun her pretty little lace umbrella from her shoulder almost languidly, resting it, point down on the ground as she leaned on it. The thing was black as midnight, and the way that she grinned wasn't entirely whole. Reaching out with one hand, she grinned and crooked her fingers. Come on, they wanted to play right?

Pot of Gold

[clickclickbloom]

[OOC: Let's have some fun then!]

Boring? Ruby could hardly relate to that. After spending one month on a death ship and another in an underwater death trap, finally getting to see the town that everyone had been talking about was an absolute delight. She had compiled a list of places she had to find and visit. The ice cream store, movie theatre and comic book shop being the highest priorities on her to-do list.

Ruby kept her pace a bit slower than normal. While her back was mostly healed from the events over the last month she wasn't looking to take any chances to hurt herself anymore either. Her eyes focused on the map of the town she didn't even notice as she passed by Neo down the street.

Varian | Tangled: The Series | OTA

[droptheious]

[[Varian is from mid season 3, if you want to avoid spoilers, please let me know and none shall be cast your way!!!]]

Character Arrival

[Waking up on a soft bed was not what Varian was expecting at all- a soft bed was for sure not the place he fell to sleep, nor did he have a raccoon patting his face and chittering anxiously. Neither of those things happened to him lately and now they are. Something is clearly up. He mutters unhappily under his breath, leaving the room and wandering into a kitchen that is not his. He takes some time poking at the strange new inventions he's never seen before in his life. A box that's cold on the inside? A box that lights up and spins inside??? A jug full of spinning KNIVES?? Fascinating. Eventually, he finds his blessings basket and takes stock of the contents. Great. Of course it's another magical trap. Of course it is. God, he hates magic.

He throws his Blessing Basket and its contents into his rucksack, shoulders it and with Ruddiger clambering onto the back of his neck, he escapes the house. And so it is that a teenage boy from the early 1800s finds himself stepping out onto a 1950s street and having his little mind blown. It's Ruddiger who notices someone walking by (congrats, that's you!). The raccoon tugs at his owner's hair, pointing a little finger-paw your way and chittering loudly. Varian turns your way and jogs over.]

Oh good, a person!! So hey, listen! How do you get out of here? There's always a trick or a riddle or some really obscure instruction to follow, right? That's how magic works. [His tone suggests he doesn't think magic should work at all, but magic keeps proving that it doesn't give a single frosty shit about what he thinks. Varian pulls out his jar of uneaten berries.] The letter says I'll vanish if I don't eat these. Does that mean I get to leave? Does eating the food trap a person here? Or does 'vanish forever' mean dying? Has anyone tested this? Do they have their results recorded anywhere for me to read? I'm kinda on a time crunch to get back, so any information would be useful!

Wishing You A Rainbow of Happiness

[Varian has learned his lesson when it comes to (probably cursed) treasure. You disturb an ancient cursed treasure and get attacked by demon skeletons once, you learn not to do that again. That's just basic survival. So when he comes across the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, he lets out a very solid "NOPE" and turns the other way. No thank you. Not today. He doesn't want any.

The good luck that follows comes as something of a surprise. Varian is usually hounded by misfortune - probably something to do with never thinking anything through before he does it but whatever - but currently things are going his way. None of his experiments have exploded in a whole day (a new record!!!) and everyone is super nice! It doesn't take him too long to realise people are being overly helpful to him and that's probably not right. Not even Corona is this friendly and helpful and Corona's stomach-churningly pleasant most of the time.

As soon as he realises something is out of place, he decides the best way to handle this is to do some research. And this is how he comes across you, a quill and notebook in his hand, grinning up at you like a lunatic. ]

Uh, hey! I wondered if I could take a minute of your time? I'm testing a hypothesis of some strange effects happening here - but I need some willing test subjects. I wanna test how far I can push the limits of the spell before your own self-preservation kicks in.

[He pauses. Probably should re-word that a little. It's making him sound like a sociopath. ]

...For my research.

[Fucking nailed it.]

Arrival

[ghoststanning]

[He has just met this kid and he already adores him. He waves at Varian with a crude robotic arm as he listens to his onslaught of questions.

Even as someone who almost vanished from not eating food, he shows absolutely no concerns about this kid implying that he hasn't eaten them yet. ]

Well I wasn't able to see all of it, but I did actually start vanishing when I decided not to eat from those things!

Unfortunately a lotta people started yelling at me for not eating it, for some reason. It was for important research!

The Narrator | The Twilight Zone (... look)

[onlyexplainit]

Arrival (cw stalking)

[You feel like you're being watched, no matter where you are or what you're doing, you can't help but feel like someone's watching every move you take.

The good news is that it won't take long for you to find the source of this feeling. This strange, well dressed man makes no effort to hide himself. Instead he's just idly smoking as he watches you in the open.

It's weird, he doesn't even seem alarmed if you spot him or even acknowledge that he's being seen.

Hey at least you can keep ignoring him if you want?]

Black Blood

[The Narrator wasn't one who enjoyed feeling strong emotion but damn.

He hated this.

Not for the reason most people would hate this, however. While most people would hate killing innocent people and being possessed by the black blood, The Narrator just hated that he had to be doing things.

He actually found the black blood corrupting souls and forcing them to kill incredibly fascinating, but he would find it so much more fascinating if he didn't have to participate in it himself and could just watch from afar.

He keeps attacking people with an inky gun, looking more bored than anything else. He speaks, mostly to himself but loud enough for others to hear him.]

If you were looking to corrupt a soul via forced murder, I'm afraid you've picked an inadequate vessel.

[He can't even pretend to be horrified.]

arrival

[portraitor]

[Well.

Here's a little girl, formerly a sentient painting in a haunted art gallery, who is going to approach the Narrator when she notices them staring.]

What'cha looking at, Mister? Is there something on my face?

B - Network/Wishing You A Rainbow Of Happiness; UN: AS

[devoutish]

Right.

[The feed starts out on video for a second or two, showing a lovely view of the ceiling, before abruptly flicking to audio. Someone is still getting the hang of newfangled future technology. The voice is the same on both mediums, though: deep and growly, mumbly, and possibly near-incomprehensible to people who aren't used to heavy Cockney accents.]

Right. Given the situation, and the fact that I know that this is a town filled to the brim - the fucking brim, right - with the naive, the reckless, and the foolhardy, we're gonna have ourselves a little talk about something what's called fairy gold. Yeah, it's a legend on my world, mostly told in the countryside - not taken very seriously in the city, where I'm from, but I thought it might be relevant and all, given the circumstances. Yeah. The problem with fairy gold is that it looks like gold, feels gold, tastes like gold if you take your teeth to it - but once you've had it in your possession for a while and, you know, accrued some debts, it turns to dust in your hands.

[There's a pause, a creak of a chair, and a muffled groan.]

Now, I know what some of you are thinking already. Mm, you're thinking, "Now that's all very well and good for simple, superstitious country folk, but I'm a modern man. And even though I have found myself in a fantastical world where nothing is as it seems, I intend to stubbornly insist on trying to live by the rules that I am used to." Well, don't you worry, mate; I've got an argument for your sort, too, and here it is: any pot of gold that is fucking free is not fucking worth taking. Yeah? Think about it. We're talking about something valuable, something useful, something rare, and it's not behind a lock and key? That tells me, right, that there's something nearby looking for a hapless victim for their trap. You take that gold, and you're gonna find yourself fighting with something, you mark my words. And that something, it's gonna have teeth.

un: KovacMD

[funnyname]

[Huh.

Luka listens to all that – well, tries to. His English is pretty good but man, every third word there just eludes him. One keeps popping up, though, gold. That helps? Context always helps and he thinks he's getting the gist of it, mulling it over before he chimes in, contrasting Alfie's Cockney accent with his Croatian tinge.]

It is for good luck, no? A reward for finding the butt of the rainbow.

[That's how they always did it in the cartoons??]

xiao xingchen | the untamed

[inwhite]

black blooded:

[at first he thinks nothing of the cut. xiao xingchen is still a gifted cultivator even without his eyesight, but his simple lifestyle is also sometimes rough, and none of the things that he hunts goes down without a fight.

a nick from a knife while chopping vegetables. a scratch from a corpse that was terrorizing the living. these things happen.

when the thoughts begin, xingchen notices them immediately. they're too unlike his normal thoughts. they interrupt his usual peace and fill his mouth with the taste of blood. he tries to ignore them at first, tries to meditate and settle them. but ultimately, even virtuous men can be tainted here. 

when all else fails, he tries to run from the voice, his mind too unsettled to understand that he can't escape something that's inside him. his breath is coming in gasps, and xiao xingchen covers his ears with his hands in another vain attempt to make it stop.

but he has to pull them away when the black-bladed sword bursts from his palm.]

over the rainbow:

[the rainbows must be truly beautiful, and xiao xingchen would love nothing more than for someone to describe them to him. and maybe someone will as his reward, because when he accidentally discovers one of the pots of gold, he takes nothing.

should someone else also find it and be tempted, xingchen will tilt his head for a moment to listen to the coins jingling together, before speaking in a gentle but firm voice.]

I hope you're not thinking of taking any. It most certainly has an owner. 

Black Blooded

[cultivatingsin]

[Did you call for a hero, Xingchen? Xue Yang is looking remarkably like you, though he is quick to remove the glamor, tucking the mask into his belt. His hands are shaking, but he is as quick and strong as ever. Catching up to the other man is no problem and he grabs onto his arm - the one with the sword, staring into the face he has missed the most.]

Daozhang, can you hear me?

max mayfield | stranger things

[zoomering]

ARRIVAL: SKATING cw: knee scrapes

---

[ it's not hawkins, but it kind of looks eerily like it. at least it probably would be if it were taken backwards another thirty years or something. she's not going to run scared, even if she does feel a little uneased at being on her own without her friends, like if she'd been kidnapped somehow. but they've been through a ton worse before and if she's gotten through mind flayer craziness, she can get through anything. she can handle this. she can.

first things first is figuring out what's going on, and at the very least, max's still got her skateboard with her, a convenience for travel, one even better than a car in small towns like this.

she'll be easy to spot, bright orange hair flowing behind her as she zips along the sidewalks, making sharp turns with expert ease. but even professionals stumble, and in time, one of her wheels hits a deep crack in the gravel, knocking off her balance and in turn, sending her stumbling forward on the hard ground. ]

Shit! [ rolling on her behind, she brings up her knee, red already forming around the scratched skin, her breath hissing at the sting. ]

ARRIVAL: ARCADE cw: loose teeth

---

[ all it takes is a day, maybe a few hours, and some people who hang around the arcade will come to notice some new record high scores in some of the machines, labeled under the name MADMAX. finding these frequent victor will probably be easy since the young teen ginger has been roaming around to different machines all afternoon, a prideful look upon her face.

eventually, though, her mood is soured when she comes across a seemingly broken game, lights flickering out just after she presses the button to exit the main title menu.

she gives it a few bangs, brows squinted tight in annoyance as she mutters a groan and kicks it to no avail. ]

Fine. Whatever. [ she makes another annoyed noise as she crouches down, presses the button to return her coins — except coins don't slip out, instead finding a few pieces of actual teeth when she reaches her fingers in the slot. ] Ew! What the hell?

GIVE IN TO THE BLACK BLOOD cw: blood but the weird moving black kind

---

[ even when she manages to slap a band-aid over that knee scrape, it continues to sting gradually, more and more until it starts to feel a bit unbearable. when the red spots begin to get darker, begin to move right down along her leg, she doesn't even notice, too distracted by the bubbling anger that squeezes in the center of her belly.

the black blood drifts down to the skateboard, wrapping around the wheels until they form thick, sharpened spikes, visibly dangerous that the slightest touch could potentially draw blood.

instead of debating her board's new look, max turns where she stands upon the street, casting a deep glare to the first person she finds in front of her. ]

All you've ever done is treat me like garbage, you asshole!

[ her target might want to be prepared because she's moving fast as she ducks down to grab around the center of her skateboard, lifting it up to give it a swing, intending to attack her target with those sharp-bladed wheels. ]

WILD CARD

---

( max is from season 3, episode 2, about around the time she and eleven essentially say bye felicia to dumb boys and run off to be cool single ladies instead. feel free to adjust the prompts above as needed to better fit throwing your character in or go ahead and give me an entirely different scenario all together. or send me a pm if you wanna chat it out. anything goes! )

arrival: skating

[sscuriosity]

[Plenty of people showed up in this tiny nightmare town, a couple of months back he saw El only to never see her again. That's normal, what isn't normal is the way that he stops dead in his tracks when he sees Max. The familiar hair, style of clothes, and posture throw him on his walk back from the library.

There are four books under one of his arms, that tumble to the sidewalk with her when she goes tumbling. Dustin drops them in an attempt to catch her on the way down, instinct kicking in quick these days. Especially after the stupid boat, and then the underwater town that followed. Dustin didn't hesitate anymore, he jumped into action.]

Max??? No way....

Jaskier | The Witcher

[valleyofpenis]

A Bit of Luck
[ Jaskier's just wary enough to not pocket the gold coins. Oh, he'd thought about it, but this place is too strange and it leaves him with too many questions to fall for what he thinks must be a trap of some sort. He's already been attacked by two people while minding his own business. No thank you.

He doesn't make the connection between that and the way his day turns around. Luck is a mistress he courts all too often and though the rejections sting, the good days leave him grinning from ear-to-ear in bed with a warm body. It's really not all that confusing that an offhand comment about wanting to be fed grapes with his head in a soft lap has landed him in that exact situation, even if he hadn't been expecting it. Surprises can be nice. ]

Maybe this place isn't so bad after all.

A Serenade
[ It's taken a few days for him to figure out this whole fluid thing. In fact, he still hasn't entirely figured it out, but a helpful child had shown him how to make a video and the idea of recording a song for wider consumption had been too tempting.

The video comes on and he leans the device against something so that he can sit back with his lute. Without introducing himself, he goes right into the song, strumming with confidence and launching into Toss a Coin to Your Witcher. ]

Wildcard
[ Feel free to toss something else at me or hit me up at blauren ]

serenade

[variantcover]

[ What the fuck kind of guitar is that? It looks weird.

Song's catchy, though. Gwen claps and cheers at the end. ]

Wooooo! Play Freebird next! Or-- OOH! No! Play Wonderwall!

reggie holiday | oc

[pritchel]

( ooc; ww2 era SOE courier, member of the pritchel réseaux. born in trinidad in 1921, raised at first in london, moved to new york just before the stock market crash of '29. joined the war effort in '40, executed by the gestapo in southern france in '43. relationship with life status 'it's complicated'. )


  ⇴ 𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒂𝒍

( dying was the easy part. it's out of your hands most of the time. a knife in the back, a bullet, a beating. starvation. he's had friends go missing in the night. you don't always get a say in how. the best you've got most times is when. he wants to die brave. on his feet.

does it matter, if no one's around to see it? the white rose had an audience. he's got an empty field in southern france, miles outside a city he loves so well. he's got three gestapo and a crow for company. he dies thinking about aveline and eugene. the former's out of toulouse by now, the latter's... hell, weren't they in tunisia last? he had one of gene's letters in his pocket. supposes they took that. he hopes it doesn't get the kid in any trouble, but at least the censors were thorough.

he dies with the sun at his back and a light sprinkle of rain on his face. he doesn't expect they'll bury him.

then the dream. the deer. waking up in a bed. for a straight minute he just lays there blinking in the dusty light, wondering if maybe this means aveline got to him in time. funny thing is, nothing ever pans out that way. not in france, anyway. c'est la guerre. he gets up. inspects the walls, the windows. any wires he can find. nothing's right.

this is how he gets out of the place he'd woken up, headed to a cafe. strongest cup of coffee he can find and then, so braced, he approaches a person on the street. with a broad smile and an openness to his posture that's hard to fake, )

Hey, fella. ( or 'ma'am', depending — ) Any chance I can sweet-talk you into pointing me towards the nearest bar? Got a mean hankerin' for some good whiskey.

( his accent is about as new yorker as you can get. you might almost take him as bed stuy born and raised. )

  ⇴ 𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒃𝒐𝒘 𝒓𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒔

( he's plenty familiar with bait. he doesn't approach the gold, just sort of idly leans up against a wall nearby. he's probably smoking. if anyone else heads towards the pot, he'll idly call out, )

You sure about that? Seems a little too convenient for me.

  ⇴ 𝒏𝒆𝒕𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌

@.dumas

Dying to know. ( ha! he's hilarious. #stillgotit. ) Allies win the war, or nah? The one that started in 1939. You know, Germans being jagoffs and all.

network; un: price is right

[tagartist]

kicked their asses, freed a whole bunch of peeps, and now we have like 4 holidays to remember it by

Geralt of Rivia | The Witcher

[ploughing]

[[ ooc; rolling with netflix series geralt for now, but i can do games geralt too, just put a note in the header if that's what you're looking for o7 ]]

A.] Black Blood;

[ there’s a man dressed all in black, leather armor, mud caked to his boots, two swords strapped to his back, pale skin and white, white hair sat in the grass in the middle of a park, so it takes some wandering to happen on him. His legs are folded under him, butt rested on his heels, hands on his thighs, and a spread of small vials full of liquid in varying colors and consistency. Honestly, he looks like some LARPer that’s feeling a little too edgelord today.

Breathing out slow, unnaturally yellow eyes pour over the options laid out, and he selects one holding a golden-amber potion sloshing around inside. Golden Oriole - should nullify and poisons in his blood. Assuming whatever’s inside him is a poison, but who the hell knows? Worth the shot. Teeth pull out the cork stopper, and bottoms up - the witcher takes the liquid like a shot, swallowing hard against the burn of it.

That’s when things get a little weird.

His pale face somehow goes… paler? Black rushes up through the veins under his skin, spidering out through his face, making dark clouds under his eyes, and the black of his pupils blows outward, engulfing the entirety of each eye. Geralt gives a vague grimace, like taking something bitter, and rolls a shoulder, waiting for the elixir to do it’s work. Which… it doesn’t. ]

Fuck.

[ There’s still that abnormal urge to find someone and break them, and that strange voice in the back of his head telling him to give in and ~embrace your destiny~, which causes an unimpressed snort. Please, his destiny is a twelve year old girl living in a palace in Cintra, not kicking some rando’s ass in whateverthefuckville, maine. Welp, back to square one. That’s when he looks up, with his freaky not-eyes and his black-veins face and spots whoever wandered over. ] Can’t tell when someone’s trying to be alone? Get the hell out of here.

[ well, more rude than he usually is, but whatever, it’ll probably save this idiot’s life, considering Geralt tends to kill things he starts fights with. ]

B.] Me Lucky Charms;

[ Geralt knows cursed shit when he sees it, okay, and a pot of gold just sitting there at the end of a rainbow? Definitely cursed. He doesn’t take anything from it, but he sure does wait around until someone else does, hiding out around some nearby trees until some fool grabs themselves a handful, or better yet, takes the whole pot. That’ll be the one he starts to trail. Especially once the leprechaun himself shows up and starts his stalking game.

For the next few days, that’s what the Witcher’s up to. Look, he hasn’t seen any monsters here yet, or any postings offering to pay for monsters, so he has to improvise. Be proactive, you know?

That’s how Deerington ends up with some huge ass dude casually creeping around not far behind a short, redheaded, bearded man like he’s hunting the guy. Because he is. Or, more so, he’s waiting to see if the leprechaun plans to do anything about his stolen gold first. Or just, you know, passive aggressively stare from a distance. Sorry, whoever happens to have nabbed enough gold to piss off Lucky Charms here. He’s not stalking you, he’s stalking your stalker. But, if you haven’t noticed your stalker yet, it’s understandable to make that mistake.

Sometime while he’s lounged out, observing, someone else walks by looking over their nice new handful of gold. While Geralt doesn’t lift his eyes or so much as turn his head, he still speaks up - ] Put that back.

C.] Network | un: witcher

I solve monster problems. I hear this town could use some of that. Anyone have details?

D.] Wildcard

[ hit me!! ]

A

[princessences]

[ A general sense of "that can't be good" is something that should be trusted, but the problem with Deerington is that it's ever-present. Most things don't seem to be good and, generally speaking, turn out to be true. She's grown a little numb to the ways that different people choose to deal with it, but Allura is still unable to look away when sees a man down some sort of vial like a shooter and look rather...

Unwell.

She frowns, rounding carefully to see if something is supposed to happen, but it seems her own staring hasn't gone unnoticed. Allura at least has the wherewithal to look a little surprised at being caught, but her expression turns serious again rather quickly. His lack of manners is overlooked for the moment. ]

Not the best choice of place to be alone, where others can find you.

[ Allura narrows her eyes to the black veins on his face. She'll be forward-- ]

You look ill. Do you need assistance?

jonathan sims ( the magnus archives )

[optikon]

( network | text | un: j.sims )

My name is Jonathan Sims, and I'm the head archivist of the Magnus Institute in London, England. [ the only part of that statement that's strictly true anymore is his name, and given what happened, what he did, he's not even sure he can say that anymore. he's the archive, after all, isn't he? ]

The Magnus Institute is an academic institution dedicated to researching the esoteric and paranormal, and the archives take, research, and file statements from those that come into the building with paranormal experiences they wish to unburden themselves of. [ it feels surreal to explain all of this as if nothing's wrong, as if the institute really is exactly what it's presented itself as for over a hundred and fifty years. still, needs must. ]

I'm not a therapist or a counselor, but if you're interested in committing your experience(s) to paper, I'd be interested in collecting them. Some people find catharsis in the act. I prefer nothing recorded [ please don't record it, he doesn't want to be in anyone else's nightmares. ] but typed is possible. [ as long as he transfers it to tape, anyway. he thinks. ]

Thank you.

( the ceaseless watcher )

[ there's someone--something--watching. staring, gaze heavy and eerie, and apparently coming from everywhere. whatever it is, it knows you've had a run in with something awful, and it wants your fear and trauma. it's so, so hungry, and somehow, you know it'll rip it out of you if it has a chance.

and then you see it. see him, standing just out of reach, skinny and scarred and swaying faintly in apparent exhaustion, static passing over the dark eyes beneath glasses, hands curled into tight fists at his sides.

it's all he can do not to Ask, but as eyes meet his own, jon sucks in a breath, and the heavy, terrifying effect of the beholding's regard dissipates. in a few moments, he's just a weary, slightly sick-looking man, expression pained and a little panicky. ]

God, I-- Are you alright? I didn't-- [ didn't what, jon? nearly rip someone's trauma out of them because you're feeling a little peckish? ]

( wildcard )

[ idk man he's definitely here to get involved in inadvisable shit. ]

network/text; un: hargrove

[driving]

do you just want stuff from here or from home too
i have one but it's a doozy

Natsume Takashi | Natsume Yuujinchou

[natzoom]

i. give in to the black blood

[He supposes he's been comparatively fortunate. Thus far, he hasn't been injured, accosted and/or mugged. Natsume had assumed that's what happens in a big city -- a laughable concept, since Deerington is hilariously small-town, but he's a country boy, all right. It's been a couple years since he lived in a city. He has a lot of experience adapting to new places, at least.

The little cut is left over from Sensei -- which is both annoying and oddly comforting -- but there's something...wrong with it. A darkness that spreads through his hand and up his wrist and arm, bringing a hot, hairtrigger anger with it. Clearly it's some sort of infection, some illness from this new place that he doesn't possess the antibodies to block out.

Natsume's gut is telling him to get angry, to start a fight, but his sense of manners is still in place, despite it. Still, he's visibly struggling as he steps forward, clutching his black-veined wrist with his opposite hand.] Excuse me...do you...do you know where a doctor is?


ii. wishing you a rainbow of happiness

Don't do that. [Natsume is genre-savvy enough to know full well that a mysterious pot of riches isn't something to tamper with, so of course he hadn't so much as touched a single coin. However, there doesn't seem to be any containment around the treasure -- no sealing spells or warnings.

So he's lingering close to it, trying to warn others away who might come too close. It rankles against his all-encompassing desire to disappear into the background, but he can't just let people get hurt. A stupid weakness, Sensei would say. Still, he remains, arms crossed loosely over his stomach, tall and pale and skinny, shaking his head.]

It's a bad idea. Don't touch it.


iii. arrival

[Perhaps your character encounters this strange, oddly still young man in another context -- standing in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at nothing. It could be down a darkened alley, or up at the branch of a tree, or perhaps it's at you. But examination proves that there's nothing there, just thin air -- or, occasionally, a member of the Authority or one of the Wastes. Natsume doesn't move, doesn't say anything.

He just stares.]

rainbow

[blackblooded]

Oh. [Crona says, looking from the pot of gold to the rainbow to the stranger.] Is it yours? If it's yours, maybe you shouldn't leave it here.

Crona and Ragnarok | Soul Eater | OTA

[blackblooded]

intro

[Crona doesn't like it here, that much has been obvious. The teen is skittish and tentative, trying to be brave but mostly just hiding in dark corners of empty houses and alleyways.

Occasionally, cautious steps outward, a thin figure with hunched shoulders and shaggy hair clinging to walls and edges and looking ready to bolt. Being ready to bolt, really, at the first sign of any potential danger.]

I don't know about this, I don't like it, I don't know how to deal with it. [is one thing someone might overhear, a quiet patter of words in an unhappy tone.

Or maybe] This really isn't Death City. It's a dream, isn't it? I think that's what it's supposed to be. I don't think I had a dream like this before. I don't know how to wake up. I don't know how to deal with not knowing how to wake up.

[or a few days later] Do you think we could find some food? I don't know. Maybe you're not supposed to eat food in a dream, I heard that once. But I ate those berries. That person said to eat them, so I did. But I don't know about anything else. I'm hungry.

my blood is black

[Something's strange, something's wrong, there's a feeling of not-quite-right in the air that Crona doesn't like. There are a lot of things that Crona doesn't like about this place, that Crona can't deal with. But there's something wrong, a madness wavelength in the air like a fog, sliding sideways along Crona's soul like someone petting a cat the wrong way (or, what Crona thinks it must feel like for a cat to be pet the wrong way, like that time Crona pet Blair wrong and she hissed and scolded and Crona knew not to do that again).

But there's something not quite right, and it's not a surprise, not a surprise at all.]

You feel it, don't you? [Says Crona, to a stranger. Crona is thin, with blood showing black under the skin and everywhere someone should show that faint tinge of red. Crona's tone is distracted, Crona's eyes skitter off to look in other places.] There's madness everywhere.

your blood is black

[The blood in other people isn't the same as the blood in Crona, doesn't hum on quite the same frequency, but it's sort of the same, which is just wrong enough to put Crona on edge, and worse, it's enough to put Ragnarok on edge, under all his grumpy bluster.]

Maybe it's this kind of dream. [Crona says, sword in hand, swinging at someone who's trapped in the full grip of black blood madness.] You know, the kind of dream where you have to fight something because there's a meaning.

Shut up, Crona. [Says the sword, because it has a mouth on it (the kind of mouth with lips and teeth).] Let's just kill this guy!

Can we? If it's that kind of dream maybe we aren't supposed to kill anyone. Their blood is black too.

[or maybe it's later, after black blood hasn't won against black blood no matter how much Crona and Ragnarok have tried. It seems like stabbing isn't the solution, so what is? Souls, of course.]

But I don't know how to do that, [Crona says, internal thought process slipping to vocalizations. Block a strike with Ragnarok's blade, take a strike on an arm full of blood like steel, it's easy.] Not like Maka did. And it might not even be the same thing. It might not be like that. And I don't think I could do that anyway.

You better come up with something! [Ragnarok complains, his voice annoyed and screechy.] Don't just keep saying stupid things!

Oh. Okay. Hey. [And that last word is addressed to Crona's opponent.] Look at me. Look over here.

black blood

[eudaimonikos]

No!

[He snaps, but he sounds more terrified than angry. Michael knows, still, that this isn't what he should be doing. It's just that the impulse has grown too strong to be resisted. It's wrong. He knows it's wrong, and he doesn't want to, but at the same time he isn't stopping himself. Everything's awful and muddled. He can still distinguish this desire from his own; he's familiar with the shape of his own sadism. But the longer it goes on, the harder it is to hold onto those boundaries.

The subtler impulse, the one to avert his gaze, is something he hasn't even tried to resist. Maybe if he doesn't look at her, he won't think about what it would be like to torture her. He just has to avoid her hard enough that he can get away.

Except, well, he's not actually trying to get away. He's just lashing out at her with several long tendrils of black blood, like tentacles sprouting in place of his arms.]

Captain Jack Harkness l Doctor Who l ota

[captainspain]

One: Character Arrival:

Jack Harkness was not a man who normally did emotions like "cranky" or "annoyed." But for some odd reason his normal sarcasm was replaced with these more human impulses. His skin itched and there was this yearning to be somewhere he currently wasn't. With a sigh he started walking trying to find the place where he was supposed to be because feeling human feelings like this kind of sucked.

Two: Give Into the Black Blood

Jack was so used to healing that he never even noticed the scrapes when they happened. He just winced and went on with his day. But soon he was very aware that something was wrong. The voice he was hearing was cruel, angry and dark. Like all his trama and grief had bound itself into physical form and it was attacking him.

Why do you fight for them....they don't care about you....they never did. They only see what they want to see. They hate you so why not show them how much you hate them in return.

Jack loathed this feeling of being consumed by hate, but he'd been warned that leaning toward his normal reset button was not going to end well. So he tried to hide hoping that whatever was going on in his head would burn itself out. He was old and strong he could fight this....at least he hoped so."

Give Into The Black Blood

[borntolove]

The other red string on Ten's left ring finger - solidifies and of course, follows because he wants to know who is there and the closer he becomes the more dread and the pain starts to creep into their link and can hear the voice but not the voice of his lover.

Don't listen to him. You're connected to me. You're important

There's a wave of love starting in Jack's direction as someone becomes closer. Don't mind the other red string on the right ring finger.

There's a look on Ten's face when he finds Jack that he's not going to abandon his friend and reaches out for Jack with his hand.

Maximus Boltagon | Marvel (Comics)

[pint_size]

[I. ARRIVAL]

[ It looks like Earth. It feels like Earth, though, if Maximus is honest with himself, he's had such little experience with Earth that he probably wouldn't know the difference anyway.

What he does know, with a large degree of certainty, is that it is not New York City.

Despite the somewhat alarming arrival, he's not entirely put off. Times are strange, after all, and there are certainly other worlds in existence. His steps are still cautious, and his gaze darts around. Is anyone here? His brother? Medusa? The Spider-Man? And not to mention his growing agitation at having not his medication. He needs it, after all. To quiet his mind.

Taking his jar of food from the basket, he brings it with him as he steps on to the streets. Absently, he eats as he walks. ]

Excuse me, but - Where is this place? And is it possible to return to Attilan from here?


[ii. BLACK BLOOD]

[ You can find him in the park, hunched over on a bench. His head is in his hands and his fingers tug at his hair as he seems to rock back and forth, shaking his head.

The problem is that, when madness is creeping around the edges of your mind, you never stop thinking about it. Not really. Maximus is aware he's capable of truly great but awful things. It's why they medicate him. It's why he chooses to let them, because it quiets the world, and it quiets the things he can't quite control. And now he can hear a voice in his ear telling him to forget about control. And it's very, very tempting. ]

No, no, no …

[ He rips his hands from his head and digs furiously through his pockets. He retrieves a bottle and pops off the lid, and shoves the capsule into his mouth. This, he thinks, will make it stop. But it doesn't. It doesn't do anything at all. ]

Please - These should be helping, but it's not stopping - Help me.

[ He's desperate. ]


[iii. NETWORK; maximus]

Hello.

My name is Maximus Boltagon. This might be a reach, but are there any Inhumans here? I'm also in need of a scientist, someone who can analyze a pill and recreate it.

Thank you.


[iv. WILDCARD]

Choose your own adventure. Maximus is from the origin story of Once And Future Kings, so he's young and hasn't come close to reaching his villainous potential yet. Powers are nerfed but I'm willing to play around if necessary.

ii

[blackblooded]

[A stranger says "help me", and so Crona stops and tries to help.]

Do you... want to write a poem? If you don't feel good, you can write a poem to work through your feelings. [Here's the thing. Crona can recognize when someone else is suffering, but has very very few skills to help manage that.]

MAD SWEENEY, OG LEPRECHAUN (american gods)

[godking]

𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝕀ℕ𝔾 𝕐𝕆𝕌 𝔸 ℝ𝔸𝕀ℕ𝔹𝕆𝕎 𝕆𝔽 ℍ𝔸ℙℙ𝕀ℕ𝔼𝕊𝕊

(Sweeney hears tell of a pot of gold. He's been able to get his Hoard back, but he wants to investigate. Is there really another leprechaun around, or is this the higher ones fucking with them again? It's probably the latter.

The gold's just sitting there, and before he can get any closer, he sees someone walk up and reach for some of the gold.)

Hey! Hands off.

k wants to believe~

[obeir]

[ The sharp rebuke from a familiar voice causes K to pause, hand hovering over the gold as he glances over his shoulder at Sweeney with a furrowed brow. ]

I'm examining it. I know better than to take any. [ There's a pointed pause, then, in a curious tone: ] —Is it yours?

[ That seems the most logical explanation for pots of gold inexplicably appearing all over Deerington; the guy must clearly be the genuine article, and maybe this is his way of acquiring more believers. The android proceeds to pick up a gold piece, turning it over in his hands, thoughtfully rubbing a thumb against it. It feels solid enough, and there's a good weight to it. Interesting. ]

Michael | The Good Place | OTA

[eudaimonikos]

arrival

Huh. Creepy town.

[Very Stephen King. Wow.

Michael's been to Earth before, and this doesn't really feel like Earth. His powers don't feel entirely up to snuff, but he can still sense them there to some degree. For now, though, he's more interested in who else might have been dragged here. The first, most important step is to find some new friends, right? He wanders town casually until he sees someone, whereupon he approaches with a wide grin.]

Hi! I'm new to all this - do you have any more information about this place? Maybe a pamphlet or something...? That whole deer experience wasn't very enlightening.

[If only for the moment, he doesn't seem too freaked out. Everything's okay back home. If someone needs help for a little while, well...he's got time.

Alternately, you may see him testing out his powers! Most of this looks like him getting increasingly annoyed while he snaps his fingers at an empty patch of grass, until eventually one of them takes. Sort of. From the look on his face afterwards, he probably didn't intend to rain a bunch of paper clips down over his own head.]

black-blooded; infection

Ow!

[It's a quiet hiss of pain. Michael's hand, when he draws it back from the tree he'd idly brushed against, is already welling with what appears to be entirely black blood. A few droplets hit the ground, sizzling, before Michael wraps his other hand around his injured finger.

Did he get a splinter? How ridiculously human! He chuckles a little, even as he has to stamp out a couple fallen leaves that have caught fire from the burning ooze coming out of his body. This is all, as far as he's concerned, completely ordinary!]

black-blooded; diseased

[By the time Michael realizes that something is very much not normal, the little cut has already been forgotten.

It sneaks up on him. However much he's changed, he's still a demon, and his past is still his. Sometimes when he looks at people, those thoughts still flash through his head: look at them, so vulnerable, it'd be so simple. It's a reflex, a groove worn into him over thousands of years. Even when he hated his friends the most, he never raised a hand to them, but he's thought before about how easy it'd be. And now that they all trust him...it's shameful. He's never told anyone. He knows how to push those thoughts aside.

So he just ignores it, until the urges start to become overwhelming. That's when he finally realizes something's wrong. Even when he did want to hurt people, he's never felt out of control. He was never one of those newbies who just flew off the handle, ripping humans apart willy-nilly; he has precision. But now, his limbs seem almost ruled by impulse.]

Okay, okay, okay...

[Panic already beginning to rise, he stops short and takes stock. When he listens, he can feel something moving through his body. This old thing should not contain blood. Michael stares at the ground, clutching his arms tight against his body. He doesn't want to look up and see any humans, walking around with their brittle little bones.]

Ohhhh, oh boy. Oh, this is bad. You should leave, right now.

(( I know I testdrove in the last one too, but this one's for real now ))

Michael :D also spoilers are fine watched all :)| arrival

[borntolove]

[That had been a very rough month in Rapture and The Doctor is going to enjoy 'the downtime' for the moment. Which means - he's in their open backyard and working on building a greenhouse. Which for the moment, which for the moment The Doctor has a welders mask on and flame torching some metal (the base) into place. At the voice, The Doctor pauses, looks over and flips up the welders mask. He seems to be a cheeky, young man, brushy brown hair, big brown eyes and wearing a pin stripe suit/pants with red sneakers and also seems to have strings of red, gold and blue attached to his fingers]

Hallo, it's a pocket universe where time is linear and people can be transported from all over the multiverse and from any when as well as any where.

Quentin Beck (Mysterio) | Marvel comics | OTA

[makeanentrance]

Network, with a side of Rainbows

[A craggy faced man with a bold bowl-cut haircut appears on the screen. He seems kind of pleased, holding up a gold coin.]

It's a nice welcome when you find real gold coins just lying around for anyone to take.

[And yes, he took a lot. His pockets rattle with coins.]

Seems like a great place to retire.

[He has no idea what he's in for here.]

text, un:luckyfucker

[godking]

Oh, you'll be lucky if all you do is "retire"

Darth Maul | Star Wars

[survivalthroughhate]

A) Character Arrival

[Upon waking up, Maul had been surprised, but not alarmed. He'd gone through much stranger and worse events then this. He goes downstairs and reads the letter. How quaint, real paper. Reaching out, he can sense the Force, but yes, it is more of a muted presence then if he were truly awake. While he's not about to trust everything entirely, there appears to be some truth to the letter writer.

When he goes outside, he finds an old and unexpected pleasure: his hoverbike Bloodfin that he hasn't seen in years is parked by the curb. Now how in seven hells did that end up here? As tempted as he is to try it out, perhaps the slow path is better. He starts walking to see what's going on in this town. His hood is up, but it should be clear to anyone who takes one glance at him that he's not human. He steps off the curb and just walks right across the street.

Unfortunately, he's not looking where he's going, and a car horn blares out as he crosses the middle of the street. The brakes screech, but its clear the driver will never stop in time. But never fear, there will be no gory mess as Maul gets turned into street pizza. With instinct borne out of long training, he jumps on the hood of the car, and then uses the momentum to move forward, climbing onto the roof. His red lightsaber comes out with the infamous Whoosh! sound associated with it and he points it downwards, Sith yellow eyes burning with fury. His hood has fallen down, and with the lightsaber in hand, he looks like some vengeful demon. Someone might want to get him down from there and diffuse the situation before he impales the driver.]

B) Give into the Black Blood

He hardly notices when the cut on his hand happens. He's used to such things happening, and with an especially high pain tolerance, he merely accepts that it has happened and moves on. What happens next is a lot harder to ignore. The whispers in his head, the ones that sounds so much like his Sith teachings, that tell him to go out and show all the little people why they should be afraid of him. He's already full of rage as it is, so a few ideas of homicide aren't going to do too much to his mindset.

Upon seeing anyone, whether they're two feet away from him or down the street, he holds up a single hand and the person in question will find they've been lifted into the air a few feet off the ground. More pressingly, there will be an invisible hand at their throat, slowly choking the life out of them. "Don't struggle and this will all be over soon," he says in a soft voice that would be pleasant to listen to if it wasn't full of menace.

If he can be distracted for a moment or two, he will release the person in question, but things are about to go from bad to worse as a sword made of the black blood that is reminiscent of the Darksaber he carries back home bursts forth from his skin. He's got that in one hand an a lightsaber in the other. Might be time to run unless someone is feeling especially brave and wants to help purge the blood from his system.

C) Rainbow of Happiness

[For once, Maul's utter indifference to money comes in handy. Others can take the gold, for he has no use of it. What good is money in sustaining fury or getting revenge upon one's enemies? Exactly.

He soon starts seeing that somehow he's acquired extraordinary luck for the day despite never having truly believed in it before. Everything seems to be going his way, and as he thoughtfully munches on a free sample of food he was randomly given, he sits down on a nearby bench to mull things over. When he sees someone, he calls out to them.]

You! Come over here.

[There's no malice to the tone despite it coming from someone who looks like a demon escaped from hell. Indeed, it sounds rather pleasant all things considered.]

D) Wildcard!

Want something specific? Feel free to ask! My plurk is Light_shade and my Discord is Lightshade#4738

A

[detectivedwloki]

[Detective Loki was driving along, grateful to be back in the town and out of Rapture. Maybe his mind had wandered a bit and he saw too late the figure crossing the street. Oh, shit! He brakes and.... doesn't hit. What the hell...? The person jumped on the hood and moved to the roof? He's jarred by the sudden stop himself and winces, flexes his hands, pained by their grip on the steering wheel. Then he opens his door carefully. Maybe this was some other dangerous creature... With Deerington, that was likely.]

Hello...?

[He calls out cautiously from inside the car, just leaning slightly out.]

Are you okay?

Q | Bond films (reboot) | all open prompts

[commandline]

{ooc; permissions | basic character info}

arrival [network post] [ cw: potentially incoming references to religious rituals?? ]

[ It took until his fingers started drifting away, like sand in the wind, before Q ate the damn jar of berries that had been included in his basket. All at once, like he was chugging down a shot; half-frantic at the abrupt signal that the vague threats in the letter and the setting were real.

At least the phone's a tiny marvel. Q considers abandoning it for about five seconds — easiest not to be watched that way — but then decides to hell with it, they've already got his real name. Most of his colleagues back home didn't even have that much. So he keeps the Fluid on him, convinced that with enough meddling, he'll learn more about how it was made...and through that, learn about his captors.

**

Unfortunately, learning about his captors means scrolling through an appalling backlog of network posts. Eventually, Q gets it in his head to make one of his own...and he's seen the repetitive ones of people denying that this is possible. Those get filled with advice and explanations and arguments, but overall they show him one thing: it's been done before, and won't net new information. So instead: ]

This world runs on powers it calls magic. It also borrows logic surrounding magic from other worlds in order to facilitate this.

Has anyone tried any rituals for summoning Sodder or her parents? Or summoning anyone else capable of answering questions.

[ ...So instead, it's an unusual (but still formal) take on 'May I speak to the manager?' ]

arrival [interaction in town] [ cw: none so far ]

[ Q's outside, walking, and...yes, that's right. He's doing the newcomer thing. He's come across someone on the sidewalk, someone who isn't vacantly staring and wearing all pastels or frowning at him from under their fifties hairdo, and he's approaching.

At least he's dressed in a cardigan. That's probably a good sign for his potential threat level, right? ] Excuse me.

I'm sure that either you're in the same boat I am, and you don't have answers, or you get this question a lot and you're tired of giving out those answers, but...

How much of what that letter said is true?

bad blood [triggering rage] [ cw: potential for violence & body horror ]

[ Did anyone think Q was really going to start turning into some sort of Spider-Man knockoff— skinny and glasses and suddenly gaining powers? No. No, he's not having that sort of luck this month.

It's a genuinely innocent mistake that has him bumping into a stranger.] Christ—! [ He sighs in aggravation - mostly at himself for jolting in surprise. As if anything was going to happen. He shifts his grip on his laptop bag, eyeing whoever he's bumped into — perhaps at the library, the cafe, or on the sidewalks outside.

And...something that he sees in their eye contact back at him - or rather, their lack thereof - feels off. ] ...Are you alright? [ He sounds confused, genuinely concerned, and...like he's starting to think he should begin backing up. ]

rainbows [finding a pot o' gold] [ cw: none so far ]

[ If he hadn't already seen ten outrageous things just this week, Q might be questioning his sanity more as he stares at what was at the literal end of this literal rainbow. It's... ] Well. Suppose they were bound to play with a legend I'd heard of.

[ He's bending in to look, although his hands stay firmly far the hell away from what he's assuming is booby-trapped at best and actually somehow cursed at worst.

When someone comes up behind him, he turns. He's currently crouched on the ground, chukka boots with faint grass stains at the edges after walking off the sidewalk to pursue this...oddity. ] If you've got the idea of getting rich quick, I'd maybe rethink that retirement plan.

rainbows [a good luck day] [ cw: supernatural persuasion/compulsion ]

option a. [ Q absolutely did not take any gold from that pot earlier. He's never felt superstitious, quite the opposite - but given what he's been lead to believe about how this world functions, he's not about to do something that's so clearly a bad idea right off the bat. He'd rather learn the rules better before he starts breaking them.

Q doesn't notice how everything's timed perfectly for him the rest of the day...but he does notice that the person ahead of him in line at this cafe is really dawdling through picking out their order. Helpfully: ] Earl grey's good. Could always give that a try.

option b. [ Q used to run his own department, back home. And certain tics stick with you, even when the promotion's fresh. (Alright, so perhaps the power does, occasionally, go to his head.)

He doesn't mean anything bad by it, but it's absolutely reflex. He's walking in the library, and so is another person, and when he sees that they're near the book he's looking for... ] Hand me that one, will you? Blue spine, silver lettering.

arrival - town (let's start an alphabet gang)

[obeir]

[ The someone whom the man approaches is indeed not clad in pastels — the very opposite, in fact — and is focussing intently on a small, vaguely pen-like device that he's very carefully turning over in his hands. His furrowed brow and frowning expression suggest some level of frustration, perhaps concern, but at least not hostility; he appears to be safe to approach.

When addressed, he automatically looks up from the device to the stranger, posture subtly straightening with an air of what might be read as military, if one doesn't know any better — someone more accustomed to receiving orders than casual conversation like this. ]

The entirety of it, as far as I'm aware. [ There's a pointed pause. ] And as far as I've experienced. You must be a new arrival? [ The query is accompanied by a cursory once-over of the man, K's expression settling into neutral curiosity now. ]

valryn melana — dungeons & dragons oc (drow noble, warlock) — ota

[curseborn]

from the blood you carry within you

— open to all | cw: violence, blood, supernatural, horror

( Valryn often minds his own business. (up until the point where he doesn't, but he isn't equipped to begin meddling in current affairs just yet.) as he steps down the strikingly foreign-looking streets of Deerington, he's ever the observer; pale-red eyes scanning the buildings through the dim night, surveying the surroundings, critical and calculating. he doesn't stop any of the petal-hued monochromes that pass him by, his image starkly cutting against their palette where he doesn't blend into the evening atmosphere. he's monochrome in his own unique way: silver hair, stone-grey skin, draped in black garments of spider silk with paneled and inked leather. he watches them with curiosity, but remains at a strict distance within his severe neutrality. it isn't difficult to keep to himself and keep himself behaved, given that he's still coming to understand where he is, and knows no one and nothing of this place.

within his path, eventually, is someone appearing in realistic shades of living color, less of a sense of a mirage as the vague native dwellers in their springtime hues. Valryn's attention is piqued, but isn't inspired to approach...

until he senses movement in his periphery as he crosses by them, or is it the sound of rage drawn against vocal cords? Valryn's nervous system is a tool all of its own, primed and finessed as the blades concealed on his person, and he dodges — just barely. he feels the cutting breeze beside his cheek where a land intended to hit, where a weapon, sudden as if from the very air, nearly grazes him.

bracing himself on his planted feet, he takes another good look at the stranger, assessing — their form, their balance, the blackened weapon in their hold.

and the blood on them. in the dark, Valryn can see detail as if it were midday; the hue of that blood is eye catching for him, in particular. most blood might appear black in the semi-dark, even with the aid of supplementary light. in his eyes, he can see the depth of the color. )

Interesting — I'm usually the one who bleeds black. ( as a point of cultural pride, Valryn has to perform a conceited effort to not get competitively offended that he isn't the only one with something dark fueling his veins. his voice nearly slithers into the air, low in its tone and pitch, lilting with an odd accent. as he speaks, he holds his assailant's eye contact...while shifting his dominant hand back, fingers slipping into a fold of his rigid, sleek cloak, draped just over his shoulders and fully open at the front. he feels for the handle of his own weapon. ) Do you intend to see for yourself? Unfortunately, I wouldn't recommend it.

black gold with a diamond soul

— open to all | cw: to be determined

( rainbows don't occur at night — and it's rare to find Valryn out and about during the day. nocturnal by force, an accommodation to his species' sensitivity, but Valryn did not choose to leave the Underdark for a life on the Surface without foreplanning.

it results in some odd accommodations, however. catch this lithe and striking drow sauntering down the park in a spider silk veil, draped over his head and reaching down to his waist, looking like some ominous wraith — and you'll see him quietly, patiently bee-lining right down to where a band of colorful light spills down from the midday sky into the heart of the park. here sits a startling display — gold, a cascading supply of glimmering coins bright enough to make the drow wince his eyes narrower as he approaches, the light coming off of them brighter than he expects. the pot is cauldron-sized, gratuitous...and very tantalizing to look at.

Valryn extends a hand — finely gloved, though it isn't particularly cold on this day, that isn't the element the drow is shielding against — and lifts a coin out of the top of the pile. he looks it over with intrigue, viewing its pressed design through the black mesh veiling his entire head, blocking the harsh sunlight from blinding him fully. he doesn't recognize the artistry in the coin from any racial culture he knows, but he feels the delightful buzzing of something energized running through the metal. he doesn't know what it is, but it feels imbued. ) What was it that the elders said, about when something appears to good to be true? ( no small measure of wealth, laid out in the open for the taking, without surveillance? surely this couldn't be some honeyed snare for the common fool to be lured into... that would just be silly. )

general info post is down for rewriting but Valryn is a drow warlock through and through.
some info still exists on journal or profile. feel free to pm with any questions about logistics.

I love......one drow prince

[wontgraham]

[ Maybe it's the vague sense of confused unease the town gives off this month. Maybe it's his own internal lack of confidence, after dreaming up an entirely new self in January on the Titanic — whatever it is, it's not letting Will sleep well this month. March comes and he's brought back here to Deerington, brought back to a place he internally calls home, but Will can't stay calm. Can't stay still. Wants something he can never quite reach—

The pushes and pulls from the invisible tethers between Will and others he's met in Deerington keep him awake and unsatisfied. Even Ben, whose connection soothes Will when they're near each other, is something that hurts tonight — Ben went to go help Peter through some late-night call, a nightmare or worse, and Will fretfully insisted it was fine, go alone, he'd stay home.

He hadn't stayed home. Will's walking the town in its continuous day, feeling like his skin is something he wants to burst out of. Something in him is deeply unhappy, unfulfilled, cavernous...and he doesn't know what it is that's wrong.

Will's barely exercised the power that his masquerade suit granted him back in Rapture. He has no idea that his infection is one he's brought back with him, along with the strings, and he has no idea it's blooming as the flowers are in Deerington.

He's walking and he sees a new figure — they're easier to spot now. Will's used to everyone else who lives here, has seen them all before even if they've never spoken. This is someone new.

But it's not neighborly obligation that brings Will circling closer. No, it's a fascination he doesn't usually feel...for what this veiled person has found.

The voice is a surprise, but at least it lets Will know this figure isn't a woman, despite the gauzy appearance. ] What, not going to take any? [ Will comes closer — bends in, touches it with curiosity. It feels like staring over the ledge of the hunger he's discovered in himself. He wishes he had a name for it.

He wishes Ben were here. Will frowns, looks up at the stranger. ] Might as well. No one else is going to be stupid enough to take such an obvious trap. It'll sit here all day.

Vanya Hargreeves | The Umbrella Academy

[misplayedmelody]

[ ARRIVAL ]

[ The last thing she remembers is the gunshot. Bright light. Her siblings. Then BANG.

She's roused by a terrible high pitched ringing in one ear and the nuzzle of a-- deer? Through the sound she can hear someone speaking, but it doesn't make much sense. She must be dreaming.

But the gunshot had been real. And everything before the shot had been real. Vanya's pale eyes snap open, and she awakens screaming. The ringing grows unbearable with the added sound of her own voice so she falls silent and curls into the fetal position, hugging her knees to her chest and squeezing her eyes closed tightly, trying to block out the sound.

After an indeterminable amount of time, the ringing pain begins to fade, so she uncurls and looks around a bit dizzily. Glancing in a mirror, her eyes have returned to their normal brown. Ordinary. Like before she's learned the truth. She takes a deep breath.

Still dressed in her white tuxedo (hadn't it been black before?), she quietly descends a flight of stairs to investigate. The house seems too large to be empty and echoes a little with her footsteps. Perhaps someone is around and might have any idea about how she get here. There's no immediate sign of her brothers or sister... probably for the best. ]

Hello? Is anyone here?

[ Or maybe going outside will provide answers. She braces herself against the possibility of the Apocalypse that Five talked about, but it's just a sleepy little town. Kinda eerie. A little quiet, but maybe that's a good thing. ]


[ Give in to the Black Blood ]

[ There's a stain of black on Vanya's white tux jacket. She doesn't remember clearly how she cut her hand, maybe a snapped violin string, maybe when she fell after Allison--

but it doesn't matter now. The damage is done and the suit is stained. In one hand, she twirls a curious black violin bow but is carrying no instrument to use with it. Pale eyes look this way and that, on the lookout for trouble. Something inside her wants to seek it out.

She can hear someone approaching. She can hear them long before they'll be able to hear her. And by the time they reach her, the sound they've created might very well be their undoing. The strange black bow begins to glow faintly as if illuminated by a streetlamp.

She waits. ]


[ WILDCARD ]

[ ooc: Vanya's canon point is post-season 1's finale with the option for both Vanya and The White Violin. Since it's unclear what state she'll be in when season 2 begins, for now we're making things up.

Got another idea? Let's do it! ]

black blood

[wontgraham]

[ Maybe it's the vague sense of confused unease the town gives off this month. Maybe it's his own internal lack of confidence, after dreaming up an entirely new self in January on the Titanic — whatever it is, it's not letting Will sleep well this month. March comes and he's brought back here to Deerington, brought back to a place he internally calls home, but Will can't stay calm. Can't stay still. Wants something he can never quite reach—

The pushes and pulls from the invisible tethers between Will and others he's met in Deerington keep him awake and unsatisfied. It's evening — or maybe it is, Will's tired enough that he thinks it ought to be evening, if the days hadn't suddenly started bleeding into the nights and become a permanent sunny landscape — and Will is out walking.

He's yet to meet anyone infected with the black blood. He doesn't know to shy away from it when he sees the stain on the unusual suit in front of him.

His footsteps aren't hushed in any way. He has no idea what this person can do, either. He pauses when she does, can tell she's someone he hasn't seen around before and can also tell...

He feels hair raise on the back of his neck. Might be insomnia making him paranoid. He's staring at the blood stain on her cuff, too-dark on white. ] ...You okay? [ Without eye contact, like he's reluctant to even ask. ]

Richard Gansey III - TRC (TW possible in later tags will update as needed)

[affection_for_research]

(ooc: Mun has not read Call Down the Hawk)

Arrival

After trying and failing to understand the strange dream about deer and trying to comprehend where he was, Gansey headed out of the house he'd found himself in to explore the town. It wasn't a place that he recognized, but he after years of traveling alone, he'd perfected a polite smile that usually charmed others into offering needed information that would help him acclimate to his new surroundings. Eventually, he found himself in the library. Wandering the stacks, his expression rapt as he pulled books from the shelves. He'd planned to try to research the town but instead, a familiar topic captured his interest.

Turning to one of the other patrons, he offered that polished, practiced smile. "Excuse me, do you know where the books on Welsh history might be?"

Rainbow

After years of chasing myths, of course Gansey would have to find the end of a rainbow if only to see what might have been the basis of those myths. Despite his experiences with magic and mythical forests, he hadn't expected to find a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. It did tempt him, not for the riches, but the magic and knowledge it represented. It also reminded him of the stories he'd read as a boy and the ones that Niall had told when Ronan had invited him to the Barns.

The gold tempted him enough for him to study one of the coins to see if the markings matched anything he'd seen in the museums he'd visted over the years. Eventually, he'd carefully returned the gold to the same spot he'd plucked it from. He knew what the price of stealing from the fair folk could be. It wasn't until Gansey stopped at the coffee shop and made a few innocuous requests that others hurried to fulfill he realized that something was off.

His words had always held a hint of power, but this was unnerving. Looking at the person that he'd accidentally ordered to fetch him a napkin, he thanked them, then spoke carefully. "Do you feel strange? Like something is compelling you to act a certain way?"

Black Blood

[At first, Gansey thought the change in his emotions was related to his arrival in a town that was definitely not Henrietta. His friends normally kept him grounded while the Pig and his model building slowed his racing thoughts during his restless nights. Then he hears the voice, steady and insistent, offering seductive suggestions of anger and violence. He attempts to ignore them, but that makes the situation worse.

Then there's another voice. One that seemed to know all his worst fears.

They'll be better off without you. They won't miss you. They'll be grateful that you're gone.

The litany alters to promises that if Gansey gives in to the violence, then he'd be free of his fate.

The voices set his thoughts spinning faster and faster until panic begins clawing along his nerves, screaming through his mind. His skin crawls and he feels himself starting to shake. Maybe if someone interrupts him, he might not give into the panic attack, or maybe it will cause him to give into the temptation of violence and the chance to elude mortality.]

Arrival

[survivalthroughhate]

After getting settled in for a few days, Maul had gotten most of the whereabouts of the town situated. Which meant it was time to settle in and do one thing: read. Sure, he may have looked like a horrifying demon that escaped from hell, but at his heart, the former Sith Lord was a bit of a book nerd. He'd been in the library all day, just occasionally gnawing on some beef jerky and drinking water he'd brought with him. Clearly, he was in for the long haul.

His hood was up and head was down, so it was hard to see his face at first. He merely holds a finger up in a 'wait a minute' position and finds a suitable place to stop. He takes a bookmark out and slides it in. (He'd never dog-ear a page to keep his place. He might be a dark, twisted soul, but he's not a monster) When he looks up, the first thing to be seen in the shadows of that dark hood are a pair of yellow eyes, tinged all the way around with red at their edges. Then he pulls his hood back and the full picture comes into view, red skin with strange black markings all over it and a head full of horns.

Still, he doesn't seem ready to attack despite the intensity of his presence. His voice too, when he spoke, was rather pleasant to listen to, quite unlike the 'borne in the depths of the seventh circle of the underworld' vibe his general appearance gave off. "Forgive me, I wasn't listening. Did you say something?"

Yennefer of Vengerberg | Netflix's The Witcher

[bottle]

arrival

[the last thing Yennefer remembered was oblivion. she remembered pushing out everything she had left in her. all of the anger. all of the chaos. all of the pain. everything. it had been cathartic. to finally let it all go. release the bottle. one minute she was on sodden field, releasing it all, and then the next --

she's asleep. she's dreaming. she's had strange dreams before. it was common for magic users in her world, but this one had been particularly disturbing. someone kept saying they needed her. As if she had not already given everything had. ss if she would ever go down without another bloody and fiery fight. she does not belong to anyone but herself -- she has ensured that time and time again, sometimes to her own detriment.

she wakes up in a room she doesn't recognize. In a world that is unlike her own. she's able to clean up, but when she tries to magic up her clothes and makeup -- instead of her signature white and black she finds herself in a deep navy blue gown, and her face is bare of makeup. her magic doesn't seem to be working the way it should.

which is disconcerting.is this because of what she did in sodden? or because of this new place?

she heads to the street, calling out to the first person she can find. she's impatient, as always, and demands answers. ]

You there, what can you tell me about this place?

wishing you a rainbow of happiness

[yennefer wasn't born yesterday -- unwatched coin like that is certainly some sort of trap -- but perhaps if she triggers it, she can learn more about the place. she's always been a risk taker, and not always known for her wise decision making. so she grabs a coin. to see what happens.

the first day goes fairly normally. did she not take enough?

well, then she just needs to up the ante. which is how she finds herself herself a bag that she dumps all of the gold into. because why not just go from zero to sixty? it goes....badly, to say the least. Everyone seems to be reacting poorly to her and to make it worse there seems to be a little man trying to kill her.

lovely. just what she needed.

she's currently ducked into an alley with her bag of coins, hoping to avoid her leprechaun assassin but he finds her and when she brings up her hand to attack him -- instead of the magical attack she planned on, a spray of confetti comes out. ]

Fuck

[if anyone wants to do her a solid and help her out of her own mess, she could really use it right about now. ]

wildcard!

[want something specific? PM me and we can hash it out and I will set something up. yennefer is netflix flavored, but i have played the third game, at least. she comes from the end of season one.]

Yen! <3 (Arrival)

[valleyofpenis]

[ Jaskier hasn't been here long himself. He's been wandering the town, marveling at all of the things about this place that he doesn't understand. Traveling the continent has brought him to a lot of strange places, but none quite as strange as this.

His thoughts are broken when he realizes he's being addressed from behind. Moreso when he realizes that he knows that voice.

When he turns, he looks unimpressed. ]

I might have known that you would have something to do with all of this.