soddersays | AUGUST 2020 TEST DRIVE MEME

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AUGUST 2020 TEST DRIVE MEME

Welcome to August's Test Drive Meme! This month's Test Drive's theme is: CRYPTID HORROR.

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

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

CW: Violent animals, ghosts, hallucinations
Don't forget to tag content whenever necessary. Have fun!

Prompt One
Prompt Two
Character Arrival
Master Navigation

ARE YOU AFRAID OF THE DARK?

Everyone loves s'mores, right? Of course you do. If you've never had them, you're gonna love them, and if for some reason you hate them, well, as it usually goes in Deerington, something inside of you will nag at you about how maybe you ought to give them another chance. There's a variety of different kinds of s'more flavors to try and plenty of perfect campfires to roast your marshmallows over. There's promise of wholesome and innocent fun to be had! Surely that won't be a lie this time.

Everyone who gathers around the fire for some tasty treats will find themselves in the mood to share creepy stories from their home worlds. Maybe they make one up on the spot or maybe it's an ancient legend that was passed down through the ages. Regardless, there's gonna be a whole variety of spooky stories, and the flavor s'more you're eating seems to dictate the theme that you'll end up leaning towards.

🔥 Traditional S'Mores will have people wanting to tell classic ghost stories. Maybe it's a haunted house you ended up in or a spirit who possessed the friend of the brother of this guy from your town once. The main theme here will be ghosts of all varieties.

🔥 Peanut Butter & Chocolate S'Mores will have people wanting to tell slasher stories. A famous serial killer from home, maybe, or the story about a group of kids who went up into a cabin in the mountains where there was once said to be a creepy caretaker and they were never heard from again...

🔥 Chocolate Chip Cookie S'Mores will have people wanting to tell monster stories. Local legends, maybe, or the classic stories about werewolves, vampires, and Bigfoot. Any kind of monsters will do.

🔥 Salted Caramel S'Mores will inspire people to tell revenge stories. These could be legendary warnings that exemplify why vengeance always leads to digging two graves. Or maybe it's your own story of revenge from home— or the fantasy revenge you'd like to get someday.

🔥 Nutella S'Mores will have people wanting to tell personal horror stories. These stories are ones that hit extremely close to home. The scariest, most bone-chilling memory you have, no matter how silly or serious it may be in comparison to those around you. Hopefully most people aren't fans of chocolate hazelnut?

Regardless of which story you hear, anyone gathered around the campfire will listen intently to all words spoken, and they will find themselves believing every word. On your walk home, you'll be filled with a sense of paranoia and dread, seeing things move out of the corner of your eye that may or may not be there. Is that a man with a hook for a hand or is your imagination just playing tricks on you? It's certainly hard to tell.

These can stay as harmless hallucinations, but for those who end up stuck in the paranoia for too long without being talked down, they will slowly start to become real. Eventually, they can become solid enough for other people to start seeing them, and the creatures from your mind may even start to attack. They can be defeated with normal weaponry or by the power of positive thinking! Wish your attacker away with enough conviction, and poof! They'll be gone.

Let's hope you can do it before you end up the victim for the next slasher story someone tells.

AHHH! REAL MONSTERS

It seems that the monsters from these stories aren't the only ones popping up in Deerington, though. There's talk from locals of multiple sightings of classic Maine legends all over town. They're easy to ignore as the townsfolk just being easily spooked for a while. But when enough stories start to line up, you might start to think maybe there's some truth to them. Or maybe you'll even end up seeing one of the monsters for yourself.

Down in Lake Tomoei, the legendary Cassie can sometimes be spotted peaking up from the water, or trying to attack anyone who even tries to go near the lakes shores. She's a nasty beast with one hell of a temper and she's quite possessive of the lake she's found herself in. 100 feet long with a skinny neck and a fish like tale, she definitely seems like a force to be reckoned with. Cassie is easily injured by ordinary weapons, but her skin is thick, so it will take a while to draw blood. Most likely, she'll disappear into the depths of the lake before she can be killed.

Up in the mountains, there's talk of the ancient evil Pamola. Penobscot legend describes him as half-man, half-eagle, with the head of a moose and a temper to match one. Pamola can't stand people visiting his mountain, even for a casual hike, and will often try to deter people away with random and unpredictable storms; thunder, snow, and powerful winds will beat down on whoever goes looking for Pamola. If you manage to find him, he will show no mercy when he attacks. Most who have tried to find him have been killed and eaten by the evil spirit. Because he's an ancient spirit, he will be particularly hard to defeat if you manage to find him; he can not be killed, but you can offer a sacrifice to quell his anger. If you have magical powers that can hurt deities, these will still be effective in weakening him until he retreats.

The final creature that seems to be wandering about is the Specter Moose (pictured above). This moose is thirteen feet tall, with thirteen foot wide antlers, and is a blinding white color. The moose can be found wandering in the park, usually, but sometimes it comes out to look around town. He may seem harmless, even cute, but don't get to close; moose are dangerous and locals fear them for a reason. They can charge at the drop of a hat and not even large vehicles tend to survive an encounter with a creature that big. The Specter Moose also seems to be incapable of being injured by normal weapons; solid objects mostly go right through it, unless it's purposefully aiming for them. You'll either have to get a shot in while he's slamming into something (or someone) or just run. Anyone who has magic or weapons that can hurt spiritual beings will be able to fight the Specter Moose as they normally would.

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.

Threaded | Flat

01. are you afraid of the dark? (nutella s'mores)

( chiaki is in as good a mood as she can be, when she sits down at the fire. it's cosy, warm, and doesn't make her think of home. all things considered, it's nice. there are other people milling about chatting, and she settles herself in to listen, fingers twitching for her familiar game girl and a classic game to beat for the hundredth time. sadly though, that kind of thing doesn't exist here. or if it does, she hasn't found it yet.

although she hasn't got much of a sweet tooth, the s'mores look appetising, and she finds herself picking one up tentatively. it's gloopy, and she bites into it before it can drip all over her hand, finding the taste pleasant. a small hum of appreciation follows as she digs in to more of it. )

I— I have a story. ( chiaki offers this quietly, but people seem to listen. ) It's not very scary. It's something... well, it's a nightmare I have.

( that's not true, but who's here to call her out on it? )

So imagine your teacher goes missing. You gather your classmates together and rally them to help save her, because you know she's nearby. Each of you go to find her, when a friend stops you... ( she tries not to think of her too much, but her name just appears in her head sometimes. ) She pushes you into a dark hole. There you find your beloved teacher, who leads you along and shoves you into an elevator. In the elevator, a classmate of sorts is there, and she forces you to go through a game.

( it wasn't a game. not the ultimate gamer's kind, anyway. it was torture, plain and simple. enough to drive her to almost madness, despite her determination to see her classmates again. it was despair.

the thought makes her shuffle in place, her seat suddenly too uncomfortable to sit in. no matter how she moves, she can't find comfort from the warmth of the fire again. )

Spikes, giant balls, a maze... all of it. You have to go through, knowing that your friends will be looking for you and worrying about you. Sharp things pinning you in place and piercing you to make it harder. And you have to force yourself through. It hurts, it hurts a lot, but— ( her eyes become wet as she speaks, and trying to blink it away does nothing. ) When you find the exit, you see your friends, your teacher. But they're fake. And you feel sudden, blinding pain. Spikes everywhere, and...

( she can't mention hajime. it hurts. ) That's it.

Not very scary, right? ( she tries to laugh, but it's wet and obviously fake. she's never been one for laughter in sadness. ) It's a weird nightmare. Sorry.

02. network
un: konami

Hello. My name is Chiaki Nanami. Where I'm from, I'm known as the Ultimate Gamer. It's not much of a title.

Please tell me, are there any Game Boys here? Or arcades? Any alternative is fine. If not, then is there any way to get one from somewhere else? I'm not sure what's possible here.

Thank you.

02. wildcard
[ prompts no good? feel free to hit me with something else! log/network/other is fine! ]

Edited 2020-07-25 00:40 (UTC)

1. Are You Afraid of the Dark?

[This gathering seems a little childish, but then again, he might learn something useful. A lot of ghost stories and legends have some vague basis of fact, and he can at least get a feel for the sort of people who live here.

He sits quietly most of the time. He just smiles when suggested he should tell a story]

Oh. I don't think anyone wants to hear any of my horror stories.

[They're pretty fucking gruesome tbh]

2. Ahhh! Real Monsters

[Like he is going to ignore rumors of actual monsters running around. That is definitely a thing he wants to see for himself. As luck would have it, he spots the giant ghost moose]

As if regular moose weren't terrifying enough.

[But he's also fascinated because holy shit, that is a giant moose]

3. network
text; un: g.gray

Does anyone know if there are spare parts for these devices?

4. Wildcard

[idk mystery option I guess???]

Edited 2020-07-25 00:29 (UTC)

Arrival

I promise you won't be gone for long.

Kavinsky doesn't know what the fuck that means. But he wakes up remembering those words in a bed that isn't his. That's not even that weird, but as he gets up and looks around, he's increasingly aware that nothing here is familiar.

He leaves the house and finds himself in a place that's like the Stephen King version of Henrietta or some shit and he actually laughs. What the fuck kind of shit is this? He feels like he's still dreaming, but he doesn't think he is?

Is he?

He's woken up into dreams before but this--this isn't anything he's constructed. Nothing he would make.

He rolls his shoulders, then starts laughing, right there in the street.

Are you afraid of the dark?
[cw: potential mentions of violence, drug use, horror]

A. Kavinsky is drawn to the flames like a goddamn moth. He could never leave fire alone and so he appears out of the dark to take a seat in the circle around the flames. People are roasting marshmallows and shit and for a moment, it feels like something from home. Significantly less booze, but whatever. He can vibe with this. He's kind of zoned out when someone passes him a s'more.

It tastes like Nutella and it's actually pretty fucking good, giving him weird flashbacks to a childhood that, ostensibly, isn't that far behind him. But it feels like something out of his reach. He stares off at the fire as he eats, listening to stories intently even if he isn't always looking at the storyteller.

When he finishes his s'more, he feels compelled to start talking. He doesn't even really think about it, it's not a decision he makes.

"What do you do when the nightmare doesn't end when you wake up?" he asks, getting into storytelling mode. He doesn't talk about this shit. "I have this dream sometimes and something fucked up is trying to get me. It wants to rip me up, just shred me and leave me bleeding. As soon as it gets me in the dream, I wake up and sometimes I swear to fuck it's still there with me. And I can't move."

B. Kavinsky stumbles away from the fire on legs that fell asleep forever ago. Pins and needles shoot over his nerves as he regains feeling in too-long inactive limbs. As soon as he's out of the light he feels that creeping kind of paranoia any body gets when it's being followed. He slides his cigarette case out and shakes it a few times before he pops it open. He slides one between his lips and snaps it shut again as he walks, just looking for something to do with his hands as he tries to shrug off that feeling. After he gets it lit, he looks back over his shoulder, but there's nothing fucking there except dark and the increasingly distant point of light and life that is the fire.

But as he walks, he keeps seeing shit. Flutters of wings and flashes of metal. Creeping dark that clouds the periphery of his vision. He can't have brought anything here. He isn't asleep, he didn't fall asleep.

"What the fuck," he breathes.

C. There is something following him. It's been following him for two nights now, ever since the fucking bonfire, and he keeps fucking seeing it, but never head on. What the actual fuck. He's not even on any shit that would make him hallucinate. He's walking quick down a sidewalk, trying to lose whatever it is that keeps creeping on him.

When he snaps, he grabs someone and looks behind back over his shoulder.

"Can you fucking see it?"

It is a mess of feathers, razor-sharp beaks, and roiling darkness that seems to refuse to hold a discernible shape. Can you see it? Or is it still all in Kavinsky's head?

Wildcard

[Find Kavinsky around town. Throw anything at him, positive or negative. If you wanna talk PM or hit me at givemedragons!]

afraid of the dark
Tim loves camping, and outdoorsmanship, and all those things you lose when you live in the city for too long, that he has to make an effort to get up to. He doesn't want to think about how the last time he went on a vacation and tried to be in the great big world, he was away from the Institute for long enough that he started to get ill for being away from it. He doesn't want to think about any of it any more.

He doesn't have to, he supposes.

It's probably been years since Tim's had s'mores, though. First introduced by a girl that summered from Canada one year when he was about sixteen, they never became staples of his camping routine. But the set up is all there, and he doesn't see why not.

Even if people are starting to get into that witching hour mood.

Tim sits back with the fixing, more intent on the chocolate individually than the messy melted sandwich all together.

network
Anyone know how I can get a plane ticket back to the real world? Fantastic ta

wildcard
[ hit me up with whatever you're jiving with, or plot with me with a PM to Tim's inbox, or a PP at

besosde ]

1. Are You Afraid of the Dark?

[Marshmallows are like THE food in Thneedville, so of course Ted is going to be drawn to a campfire where there are a ton of them. And they're telling stories, too! He eagerly leans forward to hear what people are going to say]

Oh, oh, wait! I know a good one! It's about a pair of green pants!

[He is dead serious]

2. Network/Ahh! Real Monsters

[The video comes on with Ted near the park. He waves at the camera]

Hey! Look at this! Look at all this grass and the trees! It's all real! And look at that thing! [He swivels the camera to point it at the Specter Moose] That thing's an animal!

3. Wildcard

[Save this child from himself]

( i. arrival )

[ there is an emptiness in her as she wanders the town in a daze. a question rattled around in her brain but she couldn't give voice to it. as if merely speaking it would make it seem real. she presses her palm against her chest. thump thump.

the hand drops.

she's not looking when she bumps into someone. instincts snap her into moving into a more defensive position before she immediately relaxes, looking sheepish. ]

Oh, I'm so sorry! I wasn't looking where I was going.

( ii. ahh! real monsters - cassie )

[ at least there's one thing that remains consistent. monsters threaten people. monsters hurt people. and it's a huntress' job to defend them. she unsheathes her sword and shield, standing behind some bystanders who had wandered too close to the lake. ]

Go! Now!

[ cassie gives a sibilant hiss and pyrrha clenches her jaw, preparing herself for the fight. ]

( iii. network - un: nikos )

Do you believe in destiny?

( iv. wildcard! )

[ got a different prompt you’d like to do? pm this journal ]

ARE YOU AFRAID OF THE DARK?

a. ( the air is filled with a familiar—revolting—sweet smell, one that had defined him for so long that goro can no longer stand, and yet... huh, there is something about it that makes him follow his nose towards it. he'll call it nostalgia for his own sake. to his surprise, even if it's not crowded, there are a few people who gathered at the campfire... whatever, it is not like has to talk to them to get a snack, right? )

Please, do you really find that scary? You're gonna have to keep trying if you actually want to scare me. ( that's him alright, about ten minutes later, with his mouth full of melted marshmallow. )

b. ( well, that was a mistake, even if in his mouth the sweet flavor of the smores lingers, there is a sinking feeling down his stomach, he hates it, he absolutely loathes it because he perfectly knows what it is. fear.

akechi's usually calm (questionable) demeanor seems rather at edge as he quickly—very quickly—tries to make it back home. )

Idiot... it's not real, c'mon! ( he scolds himself, and quickens his steps not quite looking where he's going as he turns back for the fifteenth time. )

( ooc; this kid comes with a handful of spoilers for the still fresh persona 5 royal, please let me know, either in the subject or a pm if you'd prefer to avoid them. ty! )

Are You Afraid of the Dark
He likes to listen to other people tell their stories. The way they do it, and how, what sounds similar between each story. It's a different kind of poetry than anything in Mr. Keating's class, more like slam poetry or play work, beautiful in a dark and sinister sort of way.

It speaks to something morbid, deep inside of him. Everything about this place does, just like showing up in Darrow had. But listening to ghost stories in the warm summer night, that creeping, impenetrable dark a ring around the firelight like it will hold them in. Neil doesn't know what to do about it, this unnerving darkness and these quiet feelings of taking in all the stories around him.

For every story he listens to, he eats a s'more and shuts himself up from telling one of his own. Some of them are silly. Some of them are darker. Some of them are ones he heard around Halloween, or when he first came to Welton, or even experienced in Darrow.

So it takes several s'mores and a bit of psyching himself up, a lull in stories where no one else is talking or seems ready to tell one of their own, before Neil speaks up.

"I've got one," he says, moving closer to the fire to push another log on. "I've got one too."

Wildcard
[ hit me up with whatever you're jiving with, plot with me with a PM to Neil's inbox, or a PP at

besosde ]

[ 1 - Are You Afraid of the Dark? Traditional Smores variety: ]

[ There's absolutely NO ONE in the world who has the ability to stop Ann Takamaki from partaking in sweets when the mood hits her (which is near anytime sweets are in her line of sight). The warmth of the fire is what draws her in first, though the smores are coming in a real close second.

There's stories being passed around, and as Ann chomps into her first (of probably MANY) ooey gooey treat, something hits her: the urge to tell a ghost story. She knows of a few, of course, but she clears her story to tell the first one that comes to mind. ]

I've got a good ghost story. [ She clears her throat -- if she had a flashlight, she'd be shining it under her chin right now, but alas. ] So, I'm from Japan. We've got plenty of ghostly things, you know? But the one story that sticks out the best is story of the Inukane Pass Tunnel. Now, I've never been there...

[ She takes another bite, because look, priorities-- ]

Many years ago, a young girl was murdered there, and her body was never properly laid to rest. They say that if you enter the tunnels, you'll hear whispering. You don't know what it is at first, until you get a little further in. That's when you hear a young girl whisper 'stop', pleading with them not to venture any further. Others have said that even after trying to deeper into the tunnel, a force pushed them violently back out....

[ She hums as she finishes her smores. ]

...We've also got a ton of haunted schools, too. I've heard of ghosts in the school I attend, as a matter of fact.

[ Later on, after smores and horror stories have been had, Ann takes her leave. Except now she's a little more than spooked, and she can't help but think she's hearing someone telling her 'stop' every few seconds, hearing odd, otherwordly, disgusting gurgling noises.

She's pretty sure, at one point, that she is being followed. Someone... may or may not want to reassure her. Maybe. Or laugh. ]

[ 2 - AHHH! Real Monsters: ]

[ The evening after her adventures in ghost stories and smores, Ann finds herself in the park. It's quiet enough, at least, not that she can complain. She takes in a deep breath and exhales slowly, before something catches her attention out of the corner of her eye. What was not there moments ago suddenly is -- a moose. It's a gorgeous creature, really, and for a few seconds, she's in awe.

Except that it wasn't there moments prior. ]

...Hey. [ You. Yes, you-- ] You see that?

[ She jerks her thumb over towards the moose, who seems to be paying them little attention as he slowly meanders along. ]

C - Wildcard

[ Got any ideas? Toss them my way! Feel free to PM me if there's anything you'd like to hash out. ]

i - arrival;

[ New worlds aren't anything new to Kurogane, and feel more like routine at this point. It's the fact that his traveling companions aren't nearby that has him concerned. He's out of the house almost immediately, looking around the town for signs of any of them.

He'll stop anyone that looks like they'll answer him. ]

Hey. Tell me about this place.

[ Anything that can point him to his group is good enough. ]

ii - are you afraid of the dark;

[ He hates the s'mores. They're too sweet, and if he wanted something sweet it would definitely not be something like this. Yet he can't keep himself for going to make another anyway. It takes a while for Kurogane to figure out what he actually wants out of these s'mores, deciding after he's made on that it smells too sweet and making another. Unfortunately the second one isn't much better and he now has two different kinds—chocolate chip cookie and nutella. Might as well eat one and offer the other. ]

Want one?

iii - ahhh! real monsters;

[ The Specter Moose certainly gets Kurogane's attention, and he watches it for a while even if it's hard to look at with how blinding white it is. He's careful not to do anything to draw the moose's attention, but when he comes across someone else his hand immediately goes to the sword at his side. ]

Watch out.

[ Although he hasn't seen the moose do anything, he has no idea if it's going to suddenly attack. With the sheer size of the moose, it's best to be cautious. ]

iv - wildcard;

[ Choose your own adventure! Feel free to use any parts of the prompts I didn't use or give me a network starter! I'm up for anything! ]

are you afraid of the dark?

[Arthur finds himself talking after a lovely chocolate hazelnut flavoured s'more, regaling his audience with modern-day horror stories of blood-starved vampires in the dark. He speaks of his 'team' sneaking through creaky abandoned factories of the rural midwest on the hunt for who-knows-how-many hungry immortal creatures, wooden bullets barely a match for the fangs and brute strength.]

[His voice is steady, nearly disconnected, like it's rehearsed. But sure enough, if you listen closely, those vampires start to creep out of the shadows.]

monsters

[Perhaps you'll find him down by the lake, watching and waiting for Cassie to show herself. He has a pistol with him, loaded and waiting, though this is a mission of observation more than anything else. He just needs to know what kind of fucking beast lives in this lake and there's really nothing more pressing than that at the moment.]

[He's on high alert, but it's focused rather than jumpy. If you approach he'll spare you a glance before looking back at the surface of the water, keen to see a ripple that betrays the full scope of whatever's lurking under there.

free for all

Please PM me or reply with a starter if you want to thread something else! I'm definitely open to network threads as well!

ARE YOU AFRAID OF THE DARK (1)
[ Kyle's only really here at the campfires for the warmth which, is ironic, considering most don't want anything to do with the heat around here as of late. But the crackling flames bring him a sort of comfort, if you will, of... well, not exactly fonder days or moments. Where he's from? That's not exactly a thing for anyone. Not when you're being hunted by machines. But it's a familiarity, even if the flames aren't dancing in a busted old television and rather, out here in the open. In nature. Something he's trying to not think too much about.

So when he's handed a stick with a couple of marshmallows stuck on the end of it, he stares to it as if it's the strangest thing he's ever seen in his life and, really, it pretty much is. That's why he gives a puzzled glance around at what to do with it before he thinks to just ask whoever is closest to him. ]

What are you supposed to do with this?

ARE YOU AFRAID OF THE DARK (2)
[ It doesn't help that even without the nightmare-ish workings of a s'more coupled with personal horror stories, Kyle is a rather paranoid person to begin with. At least when he's out of his element. But despite that, he knows what he's been seeing around, what's been appearing in windows and in the shadows. There's no mistaking what it could be when he's dealt with hiding from them all his life. There's a terminator here and he knows it's been following him. What he doesn't know is if it's the same one that's been after Sarah - never mind where Sarah is to begin with - but he knows it's not going to stop and that with what he's currently got on him? He's shit out of luck in doing anything but making it more angry. As if machines could feel anger to begin with.

Either way, he grips the aluminum pipe he holds against his chest tightly, sweat dripping from his brow, back pressed against the wall of the building he hides behind. It's only when he hears someone approaching, someone he clearly thinks is the machine, that he swings the bar from around the corner with the intent to knock for the head. Meaning... you might want to duck or lean back or something because otherwise, that's probably going to hurt. ]

HART MART (like father like son)
[ Settled wouldn't be the word he'd use in terms of his current status within Deerington here but Kyle has always been a survivor, has always been swift to navigate through his surroundings and find the best sort of outcome in terms of making it through another day. While he may not be laying low and moving both quickly and quietly through the rubble in a world taken over my machines who wish to see humanity extinct, this is still a sort of nightmare in its ways.

That's why he's at the Hart Mart, filling his basket with bottles upon bottle of corn syrup, ammonia, and boxes of moth balls. Not exactly a delicious looking dinner but when it comes to making homemade bombs, they're definitely the sorts of things you need for that particular recipe.

In a not-so-surprising trope, when he makes his leave from the grocery store with a good five or six bags stacked in his arms, he bumps into someone he obviously didn't see and ends up spilling a good chunk of the aforementioned products stuffed in those bags. Luckily, moth balls, corn syrup, and ammonia aren't exactly things that go boom when knocked down and with the bottles being plastic, nothing shatters either. Does make for a bit of a mess with having to pick it all up though and he's crouched down in a matter of seconds doing just that, not really regarding whoever he bumped into aside from a: ]

Sorry.

WILDCARD
(( feel free to PM for something different if you'd like or catch him passed out in whatever parked car happens to be around. ))

Edited 2020-07-25 04:04 (UTC)

01 - Arrival
[By all intents and purposes, Vanitas should be dead. His heart had been shattered once in a clash with Ventus, and then again during the battle in the Keyblade Graveyard. So the hazy feeling of being dragged back, quite literally, to the world of the living was more than disorienting. What was he doing here? Hadn't he faded back into darkness where he belonged? He half-expected to awaken in the presence of a familiar old man with piercing yellow eyes, but when he jerked awake in a bed that wasn't his, all that greeted him were the scramblings of his own Unversed appearing in the small room he awoke in.]

[Once he gains his bearings, Vanitas abandons the small room in favour of taking to the streets. What's fortunate is he's able to summon forth his mask, which he dons as soon as he's able to manifest it. He doesn't know what this world is and doesn't know who he might encounter here. Might as well be cautious.]

[Perhaps you see him out and about, trying to get his bearings. He doesn't ask anyone for directions while he's here, though he doesn't seem to be going in any set direction while he explores. He's not always alone, though; sometimes he is trailed by a couple strange-looking creatures that sniff at the surrounding area and skitter after the masked boy.]

02 - Are You Afraid of the Dark? (Nutella S'more)
[Vanitas has never in his life had a s'more. He's never even heard of such a thing before coming here, and under normal circumstances he wouldn't even waste his time with sweets and storytelling. But even though he had only intended to observe the campfire from a distance, he finds himself snatching a few leftover s'mores from the outskirts of the campfire's light. And in the flickering shadows of the campfire, he is careful to remove his mask just long enough to chomps down on a few of the sweet delights.]

[Rather than taking his pilfered snacks and skulking back into the night like he normally would, instead Vanitas lingers, listening to the tales being told. When one chilling tale ends he scoffs out loud, glancing from his spot by a nearby tree at whoever just finished their story.]

You call that a horror story?

[He leans forward just enough to be seen from the campfire, the orange flames flickering off his dark mask.]

Imagine your heart being ripped in half, sifted apart nice and neat. Now, imagine the half you didn't get going to live the life you once had, taking everything about your very identity with him while conveniently forgetting you were ever around. And while he gets to live his charming little life, completely oblivious of your very existence, you're left with a ragged mess of a fragmented heart filled with darkness, all the while feeling every echo of happiness and light from the half that was stolen from you. So not only are you painfully aware of what's been stolen, but you get to be reminded of it every single minute of your miserable excuse of a life, all the while living with the constant agony of knowing you're merely living in the shadow of a life that what was once yours.

[He leans back against the tree, glancing off into the forest.]

I'd say that would be a real horror story, wouldn't you?

03 - Ahh! Real Monsters!
[Vanitas hadn't thought much of the lake when he approached it, looking for a quick drink and to splash his face after a day mostly spent exploring around the area. But when the Cassie suddenly bursts from the lake's waters and moves to snap at him, he leaps back in surprise and summons his Keyblade on instinct. Despite the shock of a sudden monster appearing, he can't help but smirk under his mask.]

Great. I was starting to think this place was boring.

[If anyone is nearby, they are free to help him fight the sea monster. He won't say no to some extra help, but he's not exactly the best teammate when it comes to fighting, usually only looking out for himself and his own well-being.]

04 - Wildcard
[Got an idea you'd like to explore with Vanitas? Feel free to PM me or poke me on Plurk (

pocketnoivern) to plan something out!]/

Edited 2020-07-25 06:43 (UTC)

[Are You Afraid of the Dark?]

[Well it doesn't look like he's touched any of his peanut butter and chocolate s'mores, though it's hard to tell. He's broken it up a bit, there might be a few pieces missing. He's never been one for sweets, but he's always up for some wholesome family fun story time.]

So who wants to hear about The Ripper of Bayou Road?

[With a voice heavily laden with static, tinny and hollow and distinctly artificial sounding. How reassuring!]

[Network]

[The hissing and popping of what sounds like an ancient radio briefly spits across the audio function. Don't worry, it doesn't last long before the chatter starts]

And how's your evening going tonight, ladies and gents? How's the wildlife treating you? Anyone meet the moose yet? Tell me all about it, I'm still looking for him!

No I'm not talking about the Ghost Moose, the winged one! Say, if anyone out there wants to do a man a favor, I'll give you something special if you get me an up close picture of Pamola. Yes, the winged moose man has a name, and it's Pam and I'd just love to get a look at him.

[Wildcard!]

[Not keen on these prompts? Well tag him with an idea of your own!]

Edited 2020-07-25 07:32 (UTC)

(i.) Let's Have Nutella S'Mores

[For years now, Satou has been ignored: No one back home can see her, hear her, or acknowledge her existence... Well. Not enough people can. So as she sits around the campfire, she is squirming with excitement. A lovely group of lovely people, who can see her and hear her! She wants them to find her impressive and cool, maybe enough so to keep her, so her mind is scrambling for a cool ghost story to tell. One that'll knock their socks off and leave her as the spooky story Queen! Invited to campfires everywhere-- The guest of honor! Wanted by all, because her spooky story was just that good--

Oh shit.

It's already her turn, and she hasn't even figured out what story to tell!]

i.a ♡ The Witch of Sins
Oh, uhhhh um! [She munches on her s'mores... And an idea creeps into mind. One that she would never tell without the treat's influence;] Have you heard of the Witch of Sins?

i.b ♡ Embers of Regret
[After saying 'good bye' and wishing everyone a safe trip home, Satou if left by the embers of the fireplace. Just her, some dying flames, and a lot of regret.]

Oh my heck. Why did I tell that one? What if they put two and two together...? [She ruffles her hair, whining loudly. Satou doesn't think anyone can hear her, or she would keep acting like a cutesy young lady.] Daaaamn IIIIT!

i.c ♡ Stalked By Yourself
[For the next few days, Satou is plagued by anxiety over her story. She's terrified that someone might figure out that she is the scary Witch of Sins from her story. Will they know the campfire story is made-up? That it's just a rumor used back home in order to make Satou feel bad?

On one of those stressful nights, while walking back to the campire in hopes of a second bonfire party, Satou notices it. The second set of footsteps behind her own. She freezes in place, with the steps also freezing. A stalker, her paranoid mind assumes. Is someone in Deerington out to get her, then? Another assassin?

She turns around swiftly, summoning her magic wand in its scythe mode and clashing it with-- Her magic wand?! Another one? Satou leaps back after the initial clash, eyes going wide as she recognizes the stalker.]

You're... Me?! [shit.]

(ii) Arrival

[It is with caution that Satou leaves her assigned home. She pockets the key, tucks the jar of food into her purse, and holds the map and letter in front of her. Her surface demeanor is calm; lips pressed together, neutral expression forcing panic and screams down her throat. Kidnapped or dreaming? Or both? She can't decide, but she also can't stay still.

She can be found wandering town in two stages;]

ii.a ♡ Let's have a breakdown!
[Satou didn't necessarily forget to eat. She made a calculated decision not to. In her teenage mind, this was a way of controlling her circumstances: She is disobeying the letter and making her own path. If it's true that not eating will cause her to vanish, then she wants proof. This way, she can confirm if that letter is full of lies or not.

But after a few minutes pass, she is given proof that yes. Yes, the letter was true. The teenager stops suddenly, hands lifting in front of her eyes. She sees the flicker of dust, the proof of her disappearance, and loses her grip. Fear floods her, mouth opening but no sound immediately leaving it. The letter was right about the food. Does that mean everything else was true too?

The entire reality hits her suddenly. Satou lets out a shriek, purse slipping off her shoulder and she collapses to her knees. The jar of food (blueberries,) cracks and its content spill over the grassy path. Satou, a trembling mess of teenage fear, holds her head and whimpers.]

C-Calm down, calm down! Calm down, calm down. You're okay, y-you're okay... Y-You've g-gough.... gough'dis...

ii.b ♡ Let's be a magical girl!
[After she's calmed down, Satou decides to be thoroughly embarrassed. Not horrified, not angry, not rooted by fear, not out of control; Nope! She'll be embarrassed!

So she walks the streets with a calm step, expression no longer measured and serious but cheery and smiling. She's humming a tune to keep her spirits up as she traces the paths on the map with her own feet.]

Aha. Hart Mart. So this must be where I can get food? [She smiles to herself, peering into the windows but not going inside. Without a pen or pencil, Satou has resorted to digging her fingernail into the map. She marks the Hart Mart as being a real location. The Police Station has an 'X' marked into it.]

Good to know! Okay... Next location~! You got this, Satou! Hee-HOO!

( are you afraid of the dark? )

[ is he? no. the things in the dark, though..? that's an emphatic yes. a couple of days here hasn't made the thoughts of being here, especially alone, any easier. he hasn't been alone in his entire life, and the last ten years, the person keeping him company, keeping him grounded, has been his brother. here, he doesn't have that. all he has are his thoughts, and the familiar whispers of the creatures he belongs to.

so he's never sought out strangers in his life, but he is now, seated near the fire but not too near other people. he's covered up from head to toe, but there's still too much risk of touching others for him to be entirely comfortable. (or even a little bit comfortable.)

still, of course people can't just ignore him, unfortunately, so he's carefully handling the nutella s'mores, trying not to get his gloves sticky, when someone asks him to tell a story. he freezes, the bite in his mouth going to glue with his discomfort, and as he swallows, he finds himself speaking in spite of himself. ]

There's-- There's the night my community was sacrificed. [ his breathing hiccups, doe-eyes wide and upset in his face, but he can't-- there's a part of him that wants to tell it. ]

( network | un: bell )

if this is a dream are our bodies helpless out in the real world?
and can things from outside come in here if they're not brought?
gods i mean
or monsters
also is there anywhere to get good well fitted leather gloves at this time of year
i only have the one pair

[ ooc; info and permissions for additional info/CWs. basically, bell is the chosen consort of lovecraftian extradimensional gods, and his powers can create insanity in people, warp them into eldritch monsters, etc. ]

Edited 2020-07-26 05:00 (UTC)

i. are you afraid of the dark?

[Number one best thing about being a spider demon - spidey sense.

Nah, just kidding, that's all bullshit comic book stuff, the only thing Angel gets extrasensory tingles about is some hot dude being completely bewildered by his presence. Bonus points if they're also completely uninterested in him in any way, that really gets his motor revving.

No, the real best thing is the extra limbs. Three times as many sets of arms has come in handy (hah) in a variety of ways throughout Angel's afterlife, whether those be practical (making sandwiches takes about 30 seconds), perverted (six hands = six guys) or somewhere in between. Right now Angel's making use of his three sets of arms to roast marshmallows, stack up peanut butter, chocolate and graham crackers, stuff an already-made s'more into his mouth and slide one fuzzy limb around the shoulder of whoever's nearest.

The aforementioned s'more must be one of the salted caramel sort, because Angel is current drawling in a thick, Italian/New York accent:] So there I was, tryin'a have a good time at the family reunion and all'a a sudden, cousin Vinny decides to spill his ma's good penne all over the floor!

[A heavy sigh, and hopefully whoever he's talking to isn't too freaked out by a tall, fuzzy spider demon lounging against them and smearing marshmallow goo everywhere.] It was the good shit too, with the romano cheese? Yeah, Vinny slept with the fishes that night, you betcha sweet ass he did... [Angel licks melted chocolate off his fingers, then glances at his seat partner.] ...what? What's the look for?

ii. arrival

[Honestly once you die once and wake up in a bizarre hellish city where you can easily get crushed, shot, exploded and/or otherwise maimed, it's sort of boring after that. Angel can be found post-waking up, wandering down the streets with a supremely unimpressed expression, occasionally pausing to tap at one of the lampposts or cross a set of his arms and examine a kitschy storefront.

It's...hard not to stare, considering he's a six-armed, pink-and-white, eight-foot-tall spider demon, but if anyone catches his eye, Angel's going to be legging it right over to them, flashing a mouth of sharp teeth and asking sweetly:] Hey, toots, ya know where the nearest bar's at? I ain't goin' through this shit sober, if ya get me.

iii. network: un; spiderboots

soooooooo this some secret inner circle of hell i didn't know about?? cause it's a little all-american cutesy bake sale potluck for me, ya dig?

when's the kinky torture shit start up again?? or is this just straight-up regular torture through boredom??

Edited 2020-07-26 03:09 (UTC)

1. Are You Afraid of the Dark? (monster stories)
[Mika lifts his hands theatrically as he prepares to tell the story.]

There is a myth that says that vampires exist. Not dead people, like you expect. These are alive, but it's a cursed existence. They're red eyed and monstrous, and often wear white and worst of all--

[He takes a deep, dramatic breath.]

Their favourite snack is CHILDREN.

2. Network/Ahh! Real Monsters

Oh wow, the camera works? Phew. Hey. Hey! If you see this, I'm stuck in a weird place. I didn't do it on purpose.

3. Wildcard
[Anything goes! Mika is exploring and trying to stay out of sight but he's easy to find.]

Character Arrival

The first thing she sees when her eyes snap open from the nightmare is...a ceiling fan, turning lazily overhead. She is on her feet in a moment after that, as if scalded by hot water.

A snarl comes to her lips and her hands reach for her lightsabers, ready to ignite. Ready to fight. The room is confining, and the fear of the dream blends into the panic of the moment.

There is an open window, she takes it, rolling on the ground and coming up ready to run, or to fight to the death.

Whichever she needs to do.

1.Are You Afraid of the Dark?

He listens to the stories being told with a sigh, leaning back against a tree. A cigar rests in his hands, smoldering gently. At times, depending on the flickering light, it is the only way to see he's there, give the all-black attire.

They're all so mundane to him. And quite a few of them, he can attest, aren't true - well, aren't accurate, at any rate. But it is the vampire ones that annoy him the most. And, being who he is, he waits for the right moment to speak his mind.

"You speak of vampires as if they are from storybooks. I can assure you, they are quite real. And far more terrible than anything you can imagine. Their lore stretches from at least seventeen different worlds, and what you know as vampires are as nothing compared to the Great Vampires of old."

He smiles, mirthlessly. "The Yssgaroth could drain the life of an entire world. Imagine that power, just think on it, for a moment. A planet's worth of beings, looking up with vacant eyes as their lives are drained away, rotting them from within as you witness it."

1.1. Are You Afraid of the Dark? Suggested track

[You might hear the grass rustle, but that might have been the wind blowing through it. Something moves in the shadows beyond the circle of firelight, and you wonder if you imagined it, if the spooky stories you’ve heard this evening have caused your mind to play tricks with the small movements you see out of the corners of your eyes and soft noises you hear over the crackle of the fire.]

[Something shifts in the darkness and a tall man in an unseasonable black suit strides out of it. Even here at night, he’s wearing aviator glasses for some reason. As he pauses, observing the scene, given the slight angling of his head, he adjusts the cuffs of his black driving gloves and straightens the sleeves of his jacket.]

I hadn’t heard there was a gathering in progress. Local custom I take it?

[There might be something a little high-falutin’ in his deep, throaty baritone voice, though his accent – upper class Bostonian? Aristocratic British? Mid-Atlantic? - might lend it that hoity-toity air. He might shift as if to step back into the shadows, but something about the way he appears to look at you, even behind those dark lenses suggest he’d be willing to linger for a little while.]

1.2. Are You Afraid of the Dark Suggested track

[Wesker does not unsettle easily. If anything, he prefers being the one spoken about in hushed tones, and he’s imagined Chris Redfield and his compatriots, that deluded bunch of the would-be righteous, talking about him and the things that lead to the Mansion Incident and everything else that followed, with the same manner that these story tellers have been relating their anecdotes. But as he makes his way back to his lodgings – temporary, he hopes – he can’t stop the frisson sliding up his spine and prickling at the back of his neck.]

This is absurd. Fear with no tangible cause is a human flaw…. [He might be trying to psyche himself up, but it’s not working, as he feels that ice trickle run down his limbs. He might quicken his pace, peering out of the corners of his eyes, swearing he’s seen movement in the trees and bushes that line the path. He could easily break into a run that would turn him into a dark flash in the dark if he wanted to, but he can’t show his hand here, not yet. Not just yet. And that fear, that sense he prefers to see in the eyes of others when the moment arrives for it, has started to cloud his mind. He tries running down the chemical components of several RNA protein chains in his mind, but that fear causes his recall to stumble over the names.]

If this is a prank, it’s a highly childish one. Who’s doing that? [He tries putting some annoyance and condescension into his tone, but a warble of fear creeps in despite his efforts to stay in control of the situation.

Wessskerrrr….

[A hiss on the wind, and he wonders if only his ears could hear it. At that name, his name, his head comes up, his spine straightening. He turns on his heel, reaching under his jacket for the handgun holstered there. In the shadows, he spies the translucent figure of a patrician old man, regarding him with cold, hollowed eyes]

You can’t be here, unless hell exists and this is its location. [Panic is unseemly, but he’s come to the razor edge of it…]

2. Network: un: A_Wesker

Does anyone know the significance the antler design which someone inked on me before my abrupt awakening here? And could they have placed it less conspicuously? I’m in the habit of rolling up my sleeves.

[Attached is a pair of photographs of someone’s nicely muscled forearms, displaying a single antler freshly tattooed onto each. If one looks closely, on the right arm, a stylized 1 has been worked into the tines, and a 3 into the tines of the other.]

3. Wildcard

((Got an idea for a prompt? Throw it at him! He promises to be on his best behavior. For now…. Permissions and an opt-in are here.))

are you afraid of the dark? (traditional)

[There is something comforting about sitting next to a warm, gently crackling fire. Perhaps the people around this fire had also been drawn in as she had, seeking welcoming warmth and company. Mantis is settled primly on the ground, legs curled underneath her, and her third s'more in hand. The toasted marshmallow is sticky on her fingers and she never would have believed how good that chocolate is had someone simply told her about it. No wonder Peter loves Earth so much, if this is how they always eat.

When it's her turn to speak, she's not entirely sure why she starts weaving this particular story.]

I lived in a haunted house. [Perhaps not in the classic sense, but the ghosts of Ego's conquests lived in those quiet corridors. While there had never been actual ghostly encounters, she can embellish for the sake of the story, right? Right.] I always felt like there was something nearby. Maybe in the walls? I'm not sure.

[She's a great storyteller, can't you tell? Her voice is naturally soft; perhaps people have to lean forward to hear her.] I think they died there. [She knows they died there.] Sometimes, it would get so cold that I could not get warm. Sometimes I could hear them whispering to me and walking with me down the hallway. They wanted me to help them with their revenge. Sometimes, I felt like they could take me over and make me do what they wanted and I could have never gotten away. Ever.

[And with that she takes a bite of her s'more.]

Ahhh! Real Monsters
[Mantis does not approach the specter - she's not dumb - but she does stand a the edge of the park and watch the moose with a sort of horrified awe. It's... huge and deadly and stunningly beautiful. She crosses her arms over her chest and rocks back on her heels. She doesn't want to turn away - the sight is incredible - but she knows that she should.]

It's amazing. [Her voice is low and she says it to no one in particular.]

wildcard.
[hit me up with anything!]

Arrival
[So, he'd done it. He'd done it and then gone home and the world hadn't ended, not just then. Mr Mountjoy had not revealed himself, wars had not suddenly broken out. He'd not been recalled.

...The clock had started ticking. But the world had not ended and Zak had gone to sleep. Only to dream. Only to wake up to...this...

A portentous dream and and unfamiliar place. A room not his own, a letter, a town decidedly not York. The letter is not from Mr M but that does not ease any of Zak's suspicions.

Leaving the house (one of the townhouses on Blackwood Run), he sets out to explore. Get a feel of the place. At some point - just outside 'his' door or further along in his investigation - he tilts his head back to look up at the sky, narrows his eyes and addresses (or seems to address) no one in particular.]

Is this your idea of punishment? It's all a bit convoluted, if you ask me.

[His tone is not...scathing, running more towards 'unimpressed'. But to those particularly observant, there is a faint undercurrent of anxiety.]

Are You Afraid of the Dark
[Campfires and all that aren't quite Zak's style and yet he finds himself drawn to this one. At the very least, it is an opportunity to meet - he believes - these fellow 'Sleepers' of his. En masse. The overly sweet-looking confections that everyone seems to be eating aren't really his style either but the longer he stands (just slightly back from whatever circle of people he finds) and listens to the stories being told - which are, to be fair, somewhat interesting - the less opposed he is to trying one.]
traditional
[Classic seems best, if he's trying. Zak nibbles on the gooey treat for a bit, listening to the current story in progress. After the person telling it lapses into silence and no-one immediately follows up, Zak himself steps forward a bit and without much preamble, begins to tell his tale.]

The story I have is one of a young woman so enraptured with the house her father built that she wished to be a part of it eternally.

[His voice is steady and sure and while he does not grandstand, it's clear that he's quite used to telling a story. Leading an audience.]

Anne Griffith was a young woman when her father, Sir Henry Griffith, began to construct their new home. It was to be a grand estate and - she thought - the most beautiful home ever to be built. She dreamed of when it would be finished and in the meantime wandered the countryside around it. One day, near to the end of the hall's construction, Ann set out to visit a nearby village, accompanied only by her dog. She made the journey there, safe and sound, but unfortunately on her way back - at dusk - she was set upon by criminals. The young woman was robbed and quite badly beaten.

She was brought home to the hall, but the damage done to her was severe. She drifted in and out of lucidity. In this time, she told her sisters that she could not possibly rest unless she could remain part of their beautiful home, as long as it shall last. She made them promise that upon her death, they would sever her head and keep it in the Hall.

[Zak pauses for effect, here, looking about the circle before he continues.]

Accounts differ as to just how she made this request. Some people claim that she asked her sisters to secret it away in the walls of their home. Some say that she wished it to be displayed. Either way, her sisters agreed - horrified, no doubt, but wishing to mollify their dying sister - but sensibly (at least, they thought) did not honor her request when she passed. She was buried in the church graveyard, head still attached.

Then the screaming began. Every night, the peace of the Hall was broken by spine-curdling screams of panic and horror. There was no spectre, no source, just screaming. In the end - at their wit's end - the family decided to honor Anne's request. And it worked. Once the skull was brought into the home, there were no more haunted evenings and the house was peaceful.

Ever since then, any attempts to remove the skull have been met with the same result. Once, a chambermaid unaware of the skull's origin found it in a cupboard and threw it into the garden. Later occupants tried to bury it. Every time, the screaming would begin again. Finally, the skull was placed in the walls of the house and Anne has been silent and a peace ever since.

nutella
[The once hadn't been bad. Zak is...slightly aware that his inclination towards telling ghost stories had come from somewhere but really, if that's the worst-

But it isn't. He sees someone spreading Nutella on their s'mores and thinks it's a delightful idea. He copies it, eats it...

And then the story-telling urge strikes again. Only this time it isn't...impersonal. Not some long-ago ghost story. Not even supernatural or inexplicable. It is a perfectly...human sort of horror. Mundane and terrible.]

I served in the army for a bit. [His voice is quieter than before.] As a captain. Fought, some, until I made a choice that my...superior disagreed with. Saved lives I was told I shouldn't have.

['Superior'. He could mean superior officer, but he does not.]

After that, I was assigned to the Front. I'd been a lawyer - am a lawyer, that is - and so it was thought...appropriate that I should defend soldiers accused of cowardice. Poor, broken souls who deserved mercy and understanding and instead were given a trial.

Four years. For four years I woke at dawn to hear them cry for their mothers, for God, for that mercy denied them before they died.

Four years, and not a single ruling of mercy.

[There's horror in his voice, but also bitterness. And surprise, that he'd tell complete strangers something so personal. During it all, he'd had an almost dream-like expression but now he stands up abruptly and turns to go.]

ah, real monsters
Watch out.

[Anyone coming into too close contact with a certain spectral moose might find themselves quite suddenly - almost miraculously? - spirited out of harm's way (only a few feet, of course, but enough) by a blond haired gentleman in a suit jacket.

Who may well not have been anywhere nearby a moment before but really, who is to say?]

That was incredibly unwise. [His tone is lightly chiding and a little condescending, the look on his face unimpressed.] Let's not do that again, hm?

Wildcard
(ooc: Feel free to throw any other kind of situation at me! Also: Zak is an angel, and therefore would definitely ping anyone with any sort of divine and/or supernatural senses. If you want to chat, you can definitely PP me @

ltmutiny)

Edited 2020-07-27 03:54 (UTC)

01: Are You Afraid of the Dark?

[Camp Fires and S'Mores were something that Kio could certainly get behind, of course there were also a few beers and a few other snacks nearby as well. It wouldn't be a fun trip with just marshmallows and chocolate. Taking the time to sort all of the different ingredients, and ensuring that they won't get dirt or anything else on them took a few minutes, but shortly enough he has an entire assembly line ready for whoever wants to try.

Taking a sip from one of the cans he looks around.]

Ok, who's ready to get started?

02: Ahhh! Real Monsters
[There was no way that Kio was going to believe all the stories that he had been hearing. At least not at first, everything was like sitting around a campfire. But after awhile he did get curious, and so late in the afternoon as the sun started to descend he found himself wandering towards the lake. He stayed away from the water's edge to be a little safe, but still he peered down towards the murky water to see if there were any sign of movement.]

Come one, there's not going to be anything there.

[Despite the doubt he still really couldn't bring himself to get much closer.]

Wild card:
[Kio is very social and outgoing, he will likely be found in any kind of hangout, and most likely trying to cope with the idea of monsters and magic. Art studios will be something he gravitates towards, as well as any place with sweets or social gatherings.]

Threaded | Flat

Page 1 of 2

AUGUST 2020 TEST DRIVE MEME

ARE YOU AFRAID OF THE DARK?

AHHH! REAL MONSTERS

Character Arrival

QUESTIONS

chiaki nanami | danganronpa

Gabriel Gray/Sylar | Heroes

Joseph Kavinsky | The Raven Cycle

Tim Stoker | The Magnus Archives | OTA