TDM #3

[apocalypsehowmods]

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➥ Arrival

(cw: potential for severe disorientation/vertigo, claustrophobia, arachnophobia, body horror)

It happens in the blink of an eye. You may have been asleep. You may not have. You may have stepped through a door or turned a corner. You may have seen a flicker of something at the corner of your vision and turned to look. Or maybe you didn't.

It doesn't matter. What matters is that you find yourself somewhere entirely new and entirely unfamiliar. The arrival point is not always the same. (If you're lucky, it might be a canteen or an open office. If you're not, well... you aren't claustrophobic, are you? Or arachnophobic. These ducts do seem to be a bit cobwebby.) There is no one waiting for you but you don’t seem to be alone, either. Even in a janitor’s closet or the bathroom, you’ll find at least one person who seems to be just as out of place as you are.

If characters have arrived in a location devoid of NPCs, they may want to work together to figure out what is going on... or to avoid their 'kidnappers.' If you’ve arrived in the middle of the entry foyer or the gym, there may well be a few people who startle a bit at your arrival and try to approach (or discreetly leave the room... where are they going?). Will you cooperate or fight? Do you even understand what they're saying? You might need to find a translator, if you’re not immediately willing to follow a stranger.

After characters follow their new hosts (or are forcibly taken in) there will be a limited tour and the chance to settle in at the ADI-provided housing. (Do you enjoy living with strangers? Well. It's a new situation to navigate, anyway.)

➥ The Butcher's Camp

(cw: animal death, both human and animal butchery, implied cannibalism, potential for flesh/small limb removal)

Weird things happen in Dogtown, everyone knows it. The Apocalypse Disruption Initiative (ADI) is not above taking advantage of that to test out the waters for its newest arrivals. They're not looking to send anyone to their death, though. That's far too much paperwork, you'd been assured with a wink from the employee who'd directed you to the park trailhead. You've been left with another person. Maybe they're a new arrival, as well, or a more seasoned 'veteran.' Either way, you're together for the next while and you've been asked to find and record any paranormal activity in the park. You have your phones and any other equipment you might have brought with you. Those who succeed in documenting anything peculiar will receive a $100 reward to be used as they see fit.

This month characters who venture into Dogtown will eventually stumble across what seems to be an abandoned camp. Its usage is fairly obvious: the remains of a hunting camp. And remains really is the operative word, considering that whoever used the camp wasn’t particularly fastidious about cleaning up after themselves. There are bits of various animal carcasses strewn around and by the looks of things the prey of these hunters was quite varied. Not all of them are prey animals either.

Stepping into the camp seems to have an effect: anyone who passes over the threshold to investigate will find themselves powerfully driven to mark themselves - or their partner - with lines that seem to indicate where a butcher might cut. There are black, red, and white paint pens littered around the camp that are perfect for this exercise. As they proceed, they will get the sense that once the lines are completely drawn, something will be coming along to make use of them.

Staying too long after those marks are completed - either through curiosity or through some other force - will result in a sudden unconsciousness. And when you wake up? (If you wake up…) Well. It seems the butcher has returned and taken just a bit more flesh. At least the wound is properly dressed, though. Thank goodness for small mercies.

➥ Mirror, Mirror

(cw: altered perceptions and unreality/hallucination, body horror, dissociation, wounds, cancer, stalking)

Something is wrong with the mirrors.

Everywhere around Gloucester - at ADI headquarters, in ADI housing, at Bonnie's Flophouse, even in the bathrooms of mundane businesses (and, presumably, the homes of the innocent and uninvolved), looking in the mirror has become...risky. It's not predictable; it doesn't happen every time and may or may not happen to any given person the same way twice, but look into the reflection and you may see something that should not be there.

Perhaps your own reflection has changed, a face (human or monstrous) you don't recognize looking back at you, eerily in sync as though it has every right to be your true reflection… or un-synced from your movements, smiling knowingly at your distress.

Or maybe you still see your own face, but something about your body is warped, wrong: a growth or a seeping wound you can't find on your own physical form but that exists glaring and insistent in your reflection and feels, somehow, as though it's there in phantom form.

Maybe it's a pair of eyes watching from over your shoulder, hiding in the shadows, peering at you from every mirror you pass. Is it watching you from your reflection in that window, too? Is it growing nearer?

Possibly there's nothing wrong with your reflection at all, but the reflection of the room behind you stretches and twists, a view into an impossible, broken world that leaves you dizzy and wandering, lost down an imagined maze of hallways or following a phantom figure until someone else can snap you out of it.

Something is wrong with the mirrors. Best not to look again, lest you find out what else they have to show you.

➥ Haunting Tunes

(cw: hallucination, hypersomnia, vehicular accidents, potential for injury)

The summer is fading, and businesses around Gloucester have taken note. Fall decorations go up, and even some very early Halloween decor is on sale. The air is crisper in the mornings and evenings, the ocean breeze just a bit stiffer. There also seems to be a new melody floating around the town, one that leaves people feeling fatigued, heavy. Did you hear a snatch of it near the docks? Something that's vaguely familiar to you, nostalgic, almost. Maybe it's more a memory?

That song or memory seems to grow stronger when approaching the graveyards scattered throughout Gloucester. So, too, does the fatigue. Wouldn't it be nice to just sit down and rest? To close your eyes and let every worry that troubles your mind be soothed into the quiet oblivion of sleep?

Those most affected might find themselves passing out, and they always seem to do it when they are putting themselves in the most danger. You might drop while crossing a busy street or while riding a bike or some other wheeled mode of transportation. Those who investigate will find that traffic accidents seem to have seen an uptick recently, associated with the onset of these haunting tunes. They seem to be focused on the graveyards, but there's nothing immediately apparent there that might be causing problems.

Drink lots of coffee, and be careful trying to do anything. Stepping outside could be the last thing you do.

➥ Mod Notes

• ARRIVAL (Sep 1 - 21): Two people will always arrive in the same general location together. Arrivals occur throughout the early month, not all on the same day or in the same place. Arrivals are not naturally fluent in English/other languages immediately upon arrival. Characters may attempt to evade capture, but they will eventually be snagged before they can leave the building. PC's already in-game are more than welcome to interact with and try to guide new PC's to get them oriented. Please refer to the Arrival page for details regarding the arrival and onboarding process.
  
  
• THE BUTCHER'S CAMP (Sep 1- 24): Characters will only encounter the camp once. Everyone will feel the compulsion to draw carving lines along their own skin or that of the person they're with. If they stick around for long enough, they will pass out and may not wake up again. Those who do wake up will find that a piece of their flesh is missing and the wound has been bandaged. Whatever is taken will be non-fatal, but it will likely be inconvenient (e.g., some part of their calf or forearm, perhaps a finger or toe). Once ADI is made aware of injuries happening, they will stop sending people to Dogtown for training and only send people with the understanding that this is a potentially dangerous mission. Please bear in mind that if a character dies in the TDM prompt, they are dead. A different version who doesn't have TDM memories may be apped in their place. Similarly, injuries will not magically disappear. If your character loses a chunk of themselves, it is gone unless they can find someone who might be able to magically heal them. No one at ADI will offer this service, just mundane medical assistance. Magical healing is reserved for fatal injuries given the price of it!
  
  
• MIRROR, MIRROR (Sep 1- 24): Characters may encounter a mirror effects multiple times, and may experience the same effect each time or different ones. As noted in the prompt, there is no apparent rhyme or reason to when any particular mirror exhibits any particular effect. Within the first week of the effects becoming known, ADI will cover all the mirrors within their headquarters and send out an advisory for characters to do the same in their homes. Characters who experiment and/or interview locals will, after a lot of legwork, be able to ascertain that the effects seem to be most concentrated on the west side of town, nearest the empty fields where the Fenix Down Extravaganza had set up their circus tents last month, with additional concentrations around ADI-affiliated buildings and Bonnie's Flophouse. Mirror effects will gradually grow less frequent over the course of the month and cease to occur after the 24th.
  
  
• HAUNTING TUNES (Ongoing Effect): The tunes will be oddly familiar to the character, even if they are not from modern Earth. There are currently no ill effects from the song apart from inducing fatigue in characters. They can fight it off with coffee/caffeine, or other things they'd typically use to wake themselves up, but that tiredness always returns. An examination of the graveyard will not turn up a specific source. It just seems to be something there.
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Comments

QUESTIONS

[apocalypsehowmods]

[conning]

Hello! I'm assuming it's the case, but is it JUST the mirrors in which the reflections are bizarre? Not other reflective surfaces?

Mollymauk Tealeaf | Critical Role | OTA

[truthisvicious]

Arrival
[cw: claustrophobia, panic]

With a sharp, ragged breath, the purple tiefling sits up straight. Or, he tries. Immediately, he slams into something... metal? With dawning horror, Mollymauk realizes he's closed in on all sides. His pulse skyrockets and he tries to remember how to breathe. He's not buried. He's--just stuck. This is fine.

Trying to shove down that spike of panic, he figures out that he can move. Okay. Okay he can work with this. He wriggles along, hitting his horns against the duct walls if he moves his head too much. While screaming is wildly tempting, he thinks, maybe, he's already making enough noise and he has no idea where he is. Seeing light ahead, he makes for it. Is that a voice...?

He isn't anticipating that the grate isn't actually strong enough to hold him.

With a resounding crash of metal, body, and ceiling tile, Mollymauk lands in a heap of dust and cobwebs in front of whoever is unfortunate enough to be standing in that particular room or hallway.

Red eyes focus on his unexpected new companion and, for a few seconds, Molly can't decide if he should run or take a bow.

"Uh... Mollymauk Tealeaf, at your service?"

The Butcher's Camp

On the one hand, Molly gets it. Someone like him running around a town full of humans who have never seen someone like him is going to cause problems. Possibly accusations of devil worship or something. But it still feels strange to know that every time he isn't on ADI property, he looks... human.

At least he still has all of his tattoos.

And he is definitely paying attention to what the ADI agent is telling him and the person he's being left with. The reward sounds descent enough - he's still figuring out currency here - and he needs money. Charm and sleight of hand are only going to get him so far.

"Is this kind of thing the usual?" he asks as they start down the path. "Sent off into the wild to investigate things with promise for pay? Because if it is, it isn't all that different from home after all."

He's talking to fill the quiet. But Molly shuts up when he sees the camp. He can smell blood and it isn't long before he notices the carcasses... or pieces of them. His first instinct is to look around, scanning the woods around them. But he doesn't hear anything.

Mirror, Mirror
[cw: body horror, dissociation, wounds, altered perceptions]

Molly stands in the ADI bathroom, staring into the mirror there. He's searching for something, hands running over his face and his horns, through his hair and down his neck. He feels the same as he always has, but--

That isn't him. The person looking at him through the mirror isn't him. They, too, are a purple tiefling with red eyes, curled horns, tattoos and scars. But the smile isn't right. And the--it just isn't right.

He's been seeing that face for days and now he's trying to figure it out.

"Go away," he hisses as his hands drop and he grips the edge of the sink. "This--You're not me."

As he looks, the faint phantom of red eyes open in the reflection. Molly whips his head back but there's nothing there. He looks at the mirror again, at the person there smiling at him, full of mockery and derision.

Jaw tight, Molly wraps his coat sleeve around his fist and slams it into the glass.

Haunting Tunes

That music...

Molly hears it first in the park. It reminds him of the tunes he'd hear at the circus, played to draw visitors in and entertain them while they waited. He waves it off as a weird memory at first, nostalgia or longing or something.

But he keeps hearing it. So, one day, he follows it. And when it brings him to a graveyard? He suddenly has every reason to stop following it. But he can't stop hearing it. He hears it wherever he is and it makes him feel heavy. He sinks into sleep on a sidewalk, half in the street. Another time, he's practicing with his swords at ADI when the fatigue hits him. He nearly lands on the blades as he drops to the floor.

That's when he starts finding ways to stay awake. And he keeps an eye out for other people who might be wandering and looking a little tired. He'll approach other ADI people and offer to stay up with them.

Wildcard

[Happy to match brackets or prose! Molly will be investigating all over town so please feel free to run into him. When not on ADI property, Molly looks human with all of his tattoos still intact. Otherwise, he will look like his usual self.]

Mirror Mirror - hiiieeee!!

[lavorreable]

Exploring is a great way to take her mind of things, Jester reasons. Like how there's no one here she knows and she's been taken away from her family to this 'Earth' where money is paper and everyone is human and she can't seem to get Artie to talk to her (though he's probably really busy) and oh yeah! Giant fear things are trying to end the world! Actually that last one seems the most familiar out of everything, which probably says something fucked up about Exandria but the Nein fixed it so its fine.

Yup. Totally fine.

She hears the sound of shattering glass and immediately goes to investigate, completely ignoring the sign on the door proclaiming this to be a restroom for whichever gender its supposed to be for.

"Hello? I heard a cra- Molly?!" She stands agape at seeing him here. "Uh, I mean, Kingsley. But you've got your coat so you have to be Molly, right? Maybe???"

She bites her lip, hoping against hope that this isn't some trick, or Lucien returned or other awfulness. In that doubt she glances to his hand. "Oh, uh, do you want me to-- I can heal, in case you don't remember, maybe."

Jester Lavorre | Critical Role

[lavorreable]

1. Arrival
Common, luckily, is a whole lot like English, to the point where Jester could understand most of what she could hear people saying from under her in the vent she appeared in. Mostly just vague day to day conversations about 'catching the show last night' or filing reports. It's context she's missing. Basically all of the context really, since one moment she was on her way to Nicodranas to start an exciting new life as a pirate and the next she was crawling through what felt like one of the weird metal tubes in Aeor, though thankfully far less cold.

She moves for a little while on her hands and knees, stopping to peek through grates and see who she can see. A lot of humans mostly, all in weird clothes, but it doesn't take long for her to find someone who looks a little out of place like herself, even if they're in weird clothes too. Deciding to finally face her predicament head on, Jester pops the grate out of the air duct she's been crawling in and pokes her head out and down into the room upside down.

"Hi! I'm Jester!"

Have fun with an inverted blue girl with curled horns sprouting from the sides of her head suddenly greeting you from the ceiling, friend.


2. The Butcher's Camp
It was hard enough figuring out how much gold was really worth once she'd gone out in the world back home. Now she has to figure out how much this place's paper money is worth too. It seems like its worth a lot less. Maybe like... silver? But there's three kinds of silver coins too, and the smaller one is worth more than the bigger one but the biggest one is worth more than both but the paper is worth...

Whatever. A hundred of anything has to be enough to get some cupcakes.

"So what exactly are we supposed to do with what we find? Just document it, right? I can do drawings, I'm really good at drawing." Of course she has her phone too but it's still not the first thing that comes to mind. Besides, she'll want to document all of this in her sketchbook anyway. She's already made drawings of the weird straight buildings and cars and a stray cat that didn't look anything like Frumpkin but made her think of Frumpkin and Caleb and everyone all the same...

"And what do you think we'll find anyway? Something spooky obviously, but spooky like a ghost or like a zombie or-" She gasps suddenly. "Oooohhh I hope it's not like the the gross flesh people in Cognoza that was so. Gross."

And so very sad. But mostly gross.


3. Mirror, Mirror
The room behind Jester spins slowly, turning as if a spiraled windchime in a gentle breeze but viewed from above, turning at odd angles and twisting in distorted shapes that elongate at one end as if being sucked down a drain. As she stares into her reflection, the corners of her form start to do the same. Stretching, deforming into blurs of color, and she imagines she can feel it too. Pulling at her face and hair, pulling at her clothes, her shoulders, her body. She morphs and twists and her stomach twists too and a moment later she finds herself on the floor with no recollection of how she went from standing to prone.

In the middle of a crowded cafe. In front of the dessert case.

She sits up, hand against her head, and glances again at the reflective surface of the case protecting all of the cakes and pastries and sees nothing out of the ordinary besides her newly charmed disguise of a freckled human girl with dyed blue hair. "W-what...just happened?"


4. Haunting Tunes
Fall in Nicodranas is typically the same as any season in Nicodranas. Growing up where she did, she didn't see a dramatic change in seasonal weather terribly much until getting out into the world with the Nein. She recognizes this as fall, though, and is even more delighted by the smells of cinnamon and confections that seem to come with it in the local culture. Pumpkins everywhere!

Her arms are loaded with bags brimming with pastries and candy, as well as candles and lotions that smell as if they could pass for either as she heads back to ADI in order to drop off her bounty when something else catches her ear. Music here has been strange too. Interesting, to be sure, but the use of what she's found to be called 'electric' instruments gives much of what's on the tv or radio an alien feel. The music that catches her ears now is different. Familiar in a haunting way as it evokes the floating gems of the Opal Archways and banners flying on feast days. It calls her not just in ear, but in heart.

A creature of impulse, Jester turns her feet and follows the sound, dreamily tracing the melody towards the sea. As she walks down the lane, arms laden and eyes directly forward with a glassy look, she doesn't really pay much attention to where she's going. After all, cars and busses are the trappings of another world, one far away from Wildemount and Lavish Chateau.

Even the frantic, rapid honking of an oncoming truck doesn't snap her out of her daze.


5. Wildcard
[ Come at me, bro! I'm new to playing Jester but I'm v. excited to have threads! Jester's disguise as given to her by the ADI is basically the same as her tiefling appearance physically only human, with freckles and skin on the darker side. She retains her blue hair, though it looks as if she's dyed it. ]

1

[jumpthegun]

[Unfamiliar maintenance closet, some sort of building. Service pistol, pocket knife, the mini-torch on his keyring, and wallet still there. A quick check of the racks on either side had netted him 'Apex Detectives, Inc.' on a few different items, so he can surmise he's there, but to what purpose, he has no idea. This isn't the first time he's been kidnapped, but the transition is just so sudden, and it's the first time since Sherlock had died. What... the hell is going on?

And then he hears the sound of something up above him. The doctor's eyes track to the ceiling, then a suspiciously large grate, just before something pops out of it. John whips his gun out and levels it at the horned... girl? Vent-based cosplayer.]

What are you doing up there, Jester?

[He keeps his weapon fixed on her, expression blank. What the actual bloody hell is happening here? Is this- has she been kidnapped, as well?]

beauregard lionett | sorry it's more critical role oops

[lesbeau]

i. arrival

[All things considered, Beau's pretty fuckin' used to waking up places she doesn't remember falling asleep. It's been much less since she started traveling with the Nein, but that doesn't mean that it won't take her a few seconds to rouse with a mumbled 'what the fuck' before she does.

This time, though, there's no other bodies around her to remind her of what's going on, and that's surprising. In fact, she's not boxed in just about anywhere. It looks like she's just lying in the middle of the hallway and went from lying flat as a board to upright and on her feet in about 3 seconds. Sorry if you happened to be in said hallway to notice this, especially because she's very muscular and is approaching you at top speed.]

Hey! Where the hell is this and what did you do to get me here!

[Oh no, her hands are fists already. Better get some words fast.]

ii. butcher's camp

[Now this is something Beau is far more used to. People might have questions seeing someone in the common day walking around with a staff strapped to her back, but walking into Dogtown must mean she knows what she's doing... or look like it, at minimum. Her eyes are sharp as she looks over the camp, nudging one of the carcasses with her boot.]

Looks like a bear ran through here. Or a dragon. Ugh.

[Ew, it's gross. She turns, one hand still on her staff as if something's going to jump out at her immediately.]

Are we sure this isn't just a trap?

iii. mirror, mirror
(cw: blood, glass injuries, body horror mention)

[This isn't the first time that something's been watching her through unseen eyes. Beau has spent a significant amount of time feeling incredibly watched before she even came here, but it's becoming much stronger these days, a lot more harrowing. Beau finds herself checking places there used to be prying eyes on her very body, scratching at the back of her hand, feeling for her shoulder. They're not there, not anymore, but she can still feel them just under her skin.

It's when she finally does catch a glimpse of her reflection and sees it lit up with eyes, bulging like Cree did before she transformed, it's the quickest reaction in the world to shove her fist right into the center and shatter it.

Her hand is bleeding immediately, bits of jagged mirror splitting out in places, but other than holding the wrist of her injured limb she still seems focused on the remains of the mirror, using her boot to grind a fragment on the ground into smaller pieces.]

Damnit.

iv. haunting tunes

[If you happen to find yourself drawn to the graveyard by any of these spooky sounds, you might find a girl there who looks a little... no, pretty insane at the moment. She's got some kind of paper shoved into her ears, is crouching like a gargoyle on a particularly crumbled grave, and still seems to be nodding off as both of those things are happening. A few moments later, her resolve seems to fail and she starts to tilt towards the ground, only to hit it, become a tangled mess of flailing limbs, and then be up on her feet again with bloodshot eyes.]

I WASN'T SLEEPING!

[She probably doesn't even know you're there, nor could she likely hear you very well even if she did. That just seems to be words to the universe, for some reason. Who knows who she's trying to convince.]

[OOC: Hit me up via PM or through Plurk at cancerously if you want to do something else or talk!]

butcher's camp

[battingaverage]

[ There's a teenage girl accompanying Beau. She's got her hands on a weapon: she's really hoping for a mace but as she can't really fine any, she's holding a big fuckin' stick instead, obviously made for clobbering. Mahiru's right behind Beau, keeping a look-out, but obviously a little nervous.

And to be fair, she's got every right to be nervous considering all this. ]

Um, I don't know much about this sort of thing, but if you think something's a trap, isn't that a good sign that it's actually a trap? Maybe?

[ There's a little hesitation in her voice as she talks. ]

jack √ tales from the gas station

[stations]

arrival

( Jack doesn't need any help to feel disoriented; adding the arrival fog to that is a little bit like trying to drown a fish. He doesn't even notice at first when the counter behind his back turns into tile, nor the wall turned into a metal stall door. He seems vacant, spaced out, staring out into nothing for a long stretch of seconds.

A couple of things might stand out.

First, he's arrived with two things (three, if you count the prosthetic leg): an ice chest on the floor beside him that he seems to be heavily leaning on, and a Louisville Slugger clutched against his torso like a seatbelt.

Second, he looks like shit. Seriously like shit, with dark bruises under his eyes, a little too thin, and what seems to be blood in his hair and on his clothes — as well as the baseball bat.

If left uninterrupted, he'll come back to himself slowly. Clearly confused, a little delirious, and with absolutely terrible vertigo when he tries (with middling success) to actually stand. If disturbed, he'll blink rapidly like he's coming out of a long sleep, tighten his hand around the handle of the bat, but show no other outright signs of aggression yet. He'll offer up a hilariously neutral, polite: )

Um. Hi.

mirror, mirror

( After the clean-up and the initial introduction to the world around him, Jack still seems dazed. He carries the small ice chest around with him wherever he goes, and when anyone attempts to part him from his baseball bat he offers them a polite refusal of, no thanks. He's got it on the bathroom counter beside him in the bathroom as he washes his hands, scrubbing his face with the water like he's trying to snap himself out of something.

When he lifts his eyes, it isn't his own face he notices first, but rather the one over his shoulder. Grinning.

Spencer. Fucking. Middleton. looks him right in the eyes and drawls out an amused, "Hiya, Jack."

He moves his hand slowly, reaching for the bat. As soon as he's got it, he spins around and swings. )

misc.

( → Jack's willing to go poke around spooky ghost butcher town, and he'll seem perhaps bizarrely calm no matter what they see, even when the creeping impulse to mark out lines on himself or his partner hits.
→ The music doesn't appear to affect him (emphasis on appear), so when someone else in proximity begins to lull he'll jump in to try and course-correct the situation.
→ Absolutely wildcard me!
→ Hit me up rifting for any questions! )

Arrival

[henchgal]

[Meredith's been around for a while; she knows the look of a new arrival, and the bloody bat seems to be a sign that he's Been Through Some Shit. But at the same time, he's blocking access to (ironically) the accessible stall in the ladies' room.

She clears her throat softly, lightly tapping the side of the ice chest with her cane to get his attention.]

Good afternoon. I'm certain you'd like an explanation for what's going on, and I'd be glad to give it to you, after I use that stall. Would you mind waiting by the sink?

Romelle | Voltron: Legendary Defender

[romelle]

I. Arrival
[ Were you trying to use the little employee's kitchen on the second floor? You're going to be treated to the sight of a weirdly elf-looking girl kind of... perched on top of the fridge, trying not to fall off. Romelle has materizalized right here and, a bit like a scared cat, she is not yet ready to come down from her involuntary hideout.

Making eye contact with someone else - either someone who just wanted to grab a coffee or someone who maybe manifested under the tiny table? - will cause her to offer a very smile. ]

Good... afternoon? You wouldn't happen to know where we're headed?

[ She absolutely assumes this is a spaceship. ]

II. Mirror Mirror
[ Romelle is a naturally suspicious person but even she does not suspect everything - mirrors had, so far, always seemed like perfectly safe objects. So really, she is not expecting anything untoward when she passes by a mirror in the ADI foyer and quickly checks her hair, only--

It's herself, but it's not. She's young yet old, she's alive but lifeless, shriveled up and drained of everything that has ever made her herself. She looks like her brother, the very last time she ever saw him, and though that face haunts her sleep every other day, she had not been prepared to be confronted with her own possible demise like this.

She screams, but it's only a second before she covers her mouth (her skin feels full and soft, it's fine, she's fine, it's fine) and stumbles backwards, falling rather unceremoniously onto her butt. She's going to remain on the floor for a bit, just kind of hugging herself, don't mind her. Juuuust walk around her, it's fine. ]

III. Haunting Tunes
[ In the caféteria, Romelle is staring back and forth unhappily from what is her third cup of coffee this afternoon to her own shaky hand. ]

How can one be so jittery and yet dead tired at the same time? This 'coffee' thing was recommend to me very kindly, but I do not think it is working...

[ How is she going to get anything done like this? Maybe she should have stayed home and just spent the day in bed.... ]

haunting tunes

[marmoron]

[ from across the condiment table, keith is busy with the microwave to heat up a cup of soup. he looks even more exhausted than usual, and the somnolent tune isn't helping in the slightest. head full of the sleepies, the monotone hum of the microwave and a vaguely familiar tune, he doesn't quite register that the girl is talking to him, much less register the subtle oddities about her appearance.

the microwave dings loudly, and that more than anything is what gets keith to straighten up very suddenly. no, he wasn't dozing off just now, shh. ]

Dead -- what? Where? -- [ he swivels around, scanning for anything that mmight be an immediate threat and then sighs loudly. ] ...oh.

Neal Caffrey || White Collar

[conning]

➥ Mirror, Mirror
He's in an ADI unisex bathroom, washing his hands, and when he looks up the weasely face of Matthew Keller stares back at him, ashen with surprise, a hole in his forehead dribbling a trail of blood down across his nose.

Neal jerks back, almost tripping over himself in the need to put distance between him and the image.

It happens again later, though this time it's not Keller's face. Neal notices right away. As hypervigilant as he's had to be over the past few months, anything odd in his periphery gets immediate attention.

A decorative mirror behind a bar where he's been integrating himself. Something shifts in it and Neal looks up sharply, to see the space around him popping, melting, burning and reforming, like traditional film held over heat. He closes his eyes tight, blinks them open again--

And now there's Keller, raising a glass, that hole still in his head. He's naked, Y incisions marked across his body, and when he drinks his beer it leaks out of the cuts with blood and pus.

Neal leaves. Quickly.

The third time lasts the longest. It doesn't matter what building he's in, it doesn't matter what room, it doesn't matter what he's doing. Every mirror gives him the same visual, the same hunted feeling. Eyes and smiling teeth, the room gone dim around them, encroaching and retreating and, at one moment, the teeth snapping shut next to his ear.

He whips around at that to find--of course--nothing there.

Deep breath. Reclaimed calm. He flashes the closest person an apologetic smile.

"Didn't sleep well last night."


➥ Haunting Tunes
He's out for a jog. Minding his own damn business. Flashing a Hollywood smile at anyone he passes, because it doesn't hurt to be remembered as friendly if one is remembered at all.

The song, the memory, it's the feeling of a distant silver arch and the taste of macaroni and cheese made with spaghetti. It's Meet Me in St. Louis, or something very like it, and Neal can't decide whether he's drawn to it or wants to recoil. Either way his steps slow. His mind starts to wander. His eyelids flutter closed as he stumbles out into the street at a corner, in front of an oncoming bus.


➥ Wildcard
Neal is rapidly coming to the conclusion that he does not like this place. To put it in socially polite terms. As though the mirrors weren't enough, as though the disturbing reflections haven't spread to other surfaces, as though the eerie songs and ghosts of memories haven't made him balk at going outside, now two out of the three people he was connecting with in town are dead.

The third one is missing.

It takes some work to get information about his contact's last known whereabouts. No one is particularly eager to talk to him, not now that word has spread about his affiliation with ADI. Eventually the hints, rumors, and veiled threats lead Neal to a back-alley near the docks, where supposedly there's a back room poker game on Thursday nights.

He starts to knock the way he was told to... and the door creaks open.

"Oh, that's fabulous," he says, very dry. He looks back toward the brighter area outside of the little alley, possibly flashes a disarming smile at whoever just spotted him, and slips inside.

Haunting Tunes

[musicdied]

There's a warning, "Hey!" from behind Neal, where the morning's other pedestrians are waiting for the light to change and signify that it's safe to cross without interference from oncoming traffic. Yelena drops the nearly-full cup of coffee she's holding, and it splatters against her legs, staining her jeans, and the shoes of the woman next to her, and flecks the coat of a small white dog that has begun yapping frantically.

There's a fraction of a second in which she evaluates the situation, realizes the man is too tall and too far into the street for her to haul him back onto the sidewalk, and decides to work with his momentum instead. She hurls herself forward to hit him hard at the waist, timing her collision with the next stumbling step to carry them both past the bus and onto the decorative median.

At least, that's the plan. The one that hopefully won't end with them both having a really, really bad day.

Kid Loki | Marvel Comics

[thecoolerloki]

(CW: child death, child endangerment)

I. arrival

[He didn't expect there to be anything... after. Loki had no place in the Book of Hel and would be reincarnated if he were to die, he was living(?) proof of that. However, Loki hadn't died. His body was still on Midgard, likely gallivanting around with the Young Avengers about now. His death was a metaphorical one, and the death of a mere story is not often entreated to hopes of heaven or even a proper funeral. It's even less likely when no one knows and thinks the evil you inhabiting your body is actually still you.

And still, there was something. He was a in a closet of some sorts, and across from him was another who had yet to wake up. Loki pokes at them, checking to make sure they're actually a person and not a corpse. (Did he count as a corpse himself?)

Continuing to poke at them, he then says in whatever their native tongue is,]

Hey you. You're finally awake. There are better places to take a nap than on the ground, you know. And so on...

[it's all said as if he's boredly reciting something. Because well, he is. Turns out even memes can't distract him from having just died.]

II. mirror, mirror

[Loki's not sure what to think of this second, second chance on life. Of the places to be reborn into, this would probably be fairly low on his list, but it's a rebirth nonetheless. Technically. He's a ghost maybe? Good thing he always has his phone on him anyways and is now bound to it. It's fine.

Either way, when someone else mentions seeing something in a mirror, he's too curious to let it go. And so he decides to investigate them, in a public restroom of all places. At first, there is nothing. It's just a mirror, just his reflection. Then it shifts, and he sees a smiling old man in his place.]

You! Is this your doing, Ikol? Loki?! All of this! Allowing me death as a good piece of fiction was too generous for the God of Evil, was it? Your wicked magpie heart wasn't satisfied with the murder of a child? I knew you were incapable of change.

[His words are laced with venom as he accosts the reflection who says nothing, still grinning.]

III. haunting tunes

[There is a child fallen asleep in the middle of the road. That's all.]

IV. network; un: LOKIOFASGARD

I demand you share with me your greatest of memes forged in your time here. And if you are freshly plucked like myself, why not take this time to make a meme that expresses your emotions at all this that we've found ourselves a part of?

iii, haunting tunes, I am so sorry

[friendsfordinner]

[ There's a child in the middle of the road.

He should probably wake up said child.

So Hickey looks down at the child, looks around to make sure that there's nobody else here, and then lightly kicks the child in the side.

He knows that kicking a child is definitely bad form, but he's not going to get in the child's face! Who knows where it's been! ]

Cornelius Hickey | The Terror (AMC) | ota!

[friendsfordinner]

arrival
After getting patched up and taken care of (and given a new change of clothes because hey, guess who arrived bleeding!), Hickey is set off for the grand tour...which he promptly ditches because he wants to go explore himself.

They never show you the fun parts on the tour anyway. Just the parts where they want you to be, and Cornelius Hickey knows that usually the best place to be is where nobody wants you to be.

Though it's as he explores one of the open office areas, that Mr. I Arrived Here From 1848 is realizing that maybe he should have stayed on the tour. Because some of these things make absolutely no sense to him. Like fax machines. Or computers. Or telephones.

And it's as he looks at a telephone that one rings. And it makes Hickey nearly jump out of his skin. He backs away from the telephone, looking very confused, as he turns to look at the other person in the room (possibly someone who was sent to find this guy who straight up ditched the tour group) as the Englishman asks, "Why's it doing that? What even is that in the first place?"

the butcher's camp
Well isn't this just a kick in the teeth. The moment they come across the butcher's camp, a wry smile appears on Hickey's face, like he's privy to an inside joke nobody else knows about. The more things change, the more they stay the same, isn't it. What had started off as investigating just to get a decent chunk of change, turned into something more.

"Whatever this is, it's not a bear," he says, with absolute certainty. "I've seen a bear attack before. This isn't it."

Though don't mind Hickey as he just immediately makes his way to one of the animal carcasses, bends down, and starts to investigate. He pulls a boat knife from out of his coat pocket as he uses the tip of the blade to push back some of the skin and meat on the carcass.

mirror, mirror
(cw: drowning, blood )
The face that stares back at Hickey is a different face entirely. It's the face of a young man, someone in his early twenties, with the mottled, swollen appearance of someone who's drowned. His hair lies plastered to his head, his face is swollen with water, this is the appearance of a drowned corpse—a drowned corpse that looks nothing like the Cornelius Hickey standing in front of the mirror. But a drowned corpse that Cornelius Hickey 100% recognizes.

There's a scowl on his face as he brings back his fist and just outright punches the mirror, hoping to shatter it. The mirror shatters, but to nobody's surprise, a few shards of glass get embedded in the man's knuckles. There is now quite a lot of swearing.

"Oh goddammit!" Hickey yells, looking down at his bleeding hand. Yeah, he didn't think that one through all that well.

misc.
please check out my opt-out as this dude is trigger warnings central (and the butcher's camp prompt might only exacerbate those trigger warnings)

mirror, mirror

[jumpthegun]

John is just stepping into the toilets at ADI HQ when he sees a man punch one of the mirrors. He startles slightly as it shatters, fractures, and then he's over quickly.

"What the hell are you doing?" He grabs quickly for some of the paper towels. "Show me your hand. I'm a doctor." Lucky bastard, whoever this is.

Steven Chen | OC (Chronicles of Darkness game system) | OTA

[infrastructured]

((Sheet is here. Feel free to DM me with questions.))

An Untimely Arrival

Landing in a new place with no understanding of how you got there is somewhat odd, even by Steven's standards. A click of his phone reveals... a broom closet? But that's not the oddest thing about this place...

He can't feel the Machine. He's always been aware of it, in the back of his head, not knowing what it's doing but knowing it's there. That pressure is gone. If it wasn't so freaky, he'd laugh out loud.

But it is, so he doesn't. Instead, his dark eyes search around, the rest of him holding veeeery still. He can tell he's not alone. When he finds his company, though, his eyes narrow. "Are you local?" His voice has a slight California accent. "Mind telling me what world this is?"

Butchers Should Keep Their Tools Clean

Steven's always had a silver tongue, been able to convince anyone that things are reasonable. This... isn't. He's not comfortable here.

"We should go...." He's nervous, irritable. He's too busy looking outward to realize that there's more to picking up the pen than just investigation.

Be Careful Around Mirrors - They Look Back

Steven is a paranormal investigator by hobby, but he's got some disadvantages here. It's hard to say what he was thinking, then, ignoring the ADI, but that morning, there's a soft shout dragging his flatmates out of bed.

Steven is staring into a full-length mirror, aghast, and his reflection is smiling back. It's not his reflection exactly, though - it's covered, head to toe, in dark burns in the pattern of circuits on a silicon board.

Lullaby, And Goodbye, Go To Sleep My Dear Angel

Steven's careful this time - earplugs outside, always. He avoids the graveyards as best he can, despite his usual love for their serenity... Now it's more siren-ity, though. That doesn't stop him from helping others, of course.

He's not a hero by any means, but grabbing someone before they collapse in a crosswalk? Stopping a rogue bike? He can manage that.

Lullaby and Goodbye

[henchgal]

Meredith doesn't have what anyone would call good sleep hygiene at the best of times, before all of this started, but the music is making things very rough for her. She can be seen dragging from place to place, her usually slow walk turning into nearly a crawl. It's at a crosswalk that Steven manages to rescue her, her cane falling to the street as the cars begin to go.

Luckily it's metal, it might survive being driven over a couple times.

Ryunosuke Naruhodo | Great Ace Attorney Chronicles

[convene]

➥ Arrival

He wakes up in a haze, body haphazardly draped over a chair, eyes blinking away bleariness. The rocking of the boat was surprisingly absent, his equilibrium completely thrown as he attempts to stand, hand slamming onto the desk as his legs buckle. Wait... desk? Ryunosuke opens his eyes wide, panic rising in his chest as his eyes dart from where his hand sits on the desk to the thankfully empty chair on the otherside. Where was he? His heart races as he tries to recall the last thing he did, brows knitting together.

"Where am I?" He asks to the seemingly empty room, legs finally functioning properly as he stands straight. "Hello?" He calls out in accented English. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

Without an initial answer, he walks over to the door and oh so slowly turns the knob and opens it. He peeks his head outside the hall, looking for anyone who might be able to give him an answer.

➥ Mirror, Mirror

Ryunosuke thought he was safe in the bathroom. It was normally an uneventful thing, but the bathrooms here in Gloucester was worlds beyond what he's seen in London. He's taking advantage of the modern conveniences of this time and the novelty hasn't worn off. He's washing his hands, marveling a little at the foaming soap when he glances up at the mirror.

And something looks back.

He screams, leaping back from the sink, water flying off his hands and splashing against the wall. His eyes dart around before he spins to look behind him only to find nothing there. His heart beats hard in his chest, and he quickly dries his hands and sees himself out of the bathroom into the hall where he stops against the wall and tries to calm himself down. There was nothing in the mirror, right? No one was in the bathroom with him, no one was there but there was a distinct feeling that something was watching him. A crawling sensation that he couldn't shake.

➥ Haunting Tunes

He yawns again, trying to blink away the weariness that he's feeling. Maybe it was about time for a strong cup of tea but Susato wasn't here to aid him in that. There's something of longing there, wondering if she is doing all right without him or if she was filled with worry. Dread filled his mind wondering what happens to those he left behind, even as the melody he's pretty sure he's heard before creeps in. He finally has to stop walking and sits down on a nearby bench.

He yawns again, stretching his arms, exhaustion creeping into his bones as he settles into the bench without a second thought. Maybe he could just rest here for a little while, he thinks to himself eyes closing as his head leans back against the metal frame.

"Maybe I should find some tea." He finds himself muttering, pulling his hat over his eyes. "Before I fall asleep here." He crosses his arms across his chest, waiting for sleep to take him.

haunting tunes

[carmesi]

Wanda is aware that strange things have been happening in Gloucester, and that includes a particularly nostalgic sound streaming in from the nearby graveyard. She hesitates, wanting to follow the sound, but finds herself instead drawn to the bench where a young man seems to have fallen asleep on.

This is a strange place to fall asleep at.

So, as she approaches him, she puts a hand on his shoulder and shakes him in an effort to rouse him from his sleep.

"Wake up," she tries suggesting, a command that isn't laced with magic.

Essek Thelyss | Critical Role

[gravity_fissure]

Arrival

[Essek Thelyss did not know where he was.

It was disconcerting, this strange vertigo that settled in the back of his head as he stood in a room he did not recognize, something lined with desks with papers and …boxes atop them. Light streamed in from the widows that made his sensitive eyes squint, and the carpet was thin, flat.

And he was standing on it. Standing. Not floating, but standing.

What was this? A forced vision? Confusion? …not Banishment because no other plane looked like this. But as he tried to float again – less for the aesthetics and more to see if he could – nothing happened. ]

Caleb? Jester? [It was an effort to keep the panic out of his voice, but he had years of training to do so. Being the Shadowhand had its advantages.]


The Butcher’s Camp - cw: blood, gore

[What was a hundred dollars worth?

Not as much as the information.

Essek didn’t mind the human looking façade; he had grown used to wearing disguises over the years, both for good reasons and…less than. It looked closer than what he usually wore: dark brown skin instead of the purple hues, rounded ears still pierced several times over, white hair that hadn’t changed.

He had readily volunteered to go out here, hoping to find more answers about this place and understand the world and its dangers beyond what was fed to them. It had seemed a reasonable idea at the time, but as he smelled the death and scraps of carcasses, he wasn’t sure that applied anymore. He had seen camps before, but this- this was off.]

I…do not like this. [He shook his head slowly. He looked at the “phone”, this machine he still did not trust or like, then at the camp. Some of the viscera reminded him of a city he longed to forget.]

How long do you think this camp has been abandoned?


Mirror, Mirror

[Essek saw it in the window the first time, in the glass at night when the reflection was strong and sharp enough to see himself. It had been red and large and smooth against his throat, that eye in his skin staring back at him. He had gasped and gone to the bathroom to see it properly, finding his neck smooth and unburdened, the violet skin bearing no red eye tattooed there.

It had to be the stress of this strange place, the concern he had for his own lack of magic and many, many questions. He thought no more of it, preparing to settle himself as best he could.

But the next day, as he was walking past another set of windows in a common area, he found that red eye on his throat, as if it had never left. He could hear his hear slamming in chest and he worried-worried the other eyes were there, too, the ones he could not see. Fingers curled over his throat, rubbing at the skin as if he could get rid of the mark, his breath coming faster.]

Impossible. [He – and the city – were gone. This could not be happening.]


Haunting Tunes

[Essek remembered this sound: he had been taught dances to it when he was young. His mother had told him it was important for the high profile and political dinners he would be invited to; celebrations had their moments of levity too. He had learned with a dispassionate distance of someone getting through something unfortunately necessary so they could get back to what was really important.

It was still familiar, warm, something curious on why it would be here of all places. He followed the sound, worried if he would find someone else pulled from Rosohna, if it would be someone wishing him a rightful death. But the more he walked, the more tired he became, the lethargy in his bones in a way that was not common; he was used to weariness, but sleep was not something he normally did.

But there was a heaviness in his eyelids that felt as though Trancing would not solve. And as he walked across the street towards the graveyard, he didn’t see the coming traffic and the lights bearing down on him.]

Butchers Camp

[aelwyn_aberration]

[Aelwyn has a very mixed experience with her fellow elves, but luckily this guy is certainly not a High Elf, and is certainly not from Spire. Still, her curiosity got the better off her (plus a desire for money), and she applied to take him out on his first scouting mission.

She hums in agreement. It's all... very disgusting to her, to be honest. She doesn't want to get any of the viscera on her clothes. But she's used to doing worse for money.] Hard to say. Sometimes with these places it's up for debate whether anything was here in the first place. The priority is harvesting fear, nothing else.

[She pinches her nose in disgust.] Smells awful though.

Kugrash | Dimension 20: The Unsleeping City

[ratjesus]

i. Arrival;
Fuck me-- [ There's a thudding from inside the ceiling accompanying the irritated voice, light but the muffled. If the gruff New York accent doesn't tip someone off to a new arrival, the noise will. Kugrash's words are quickly followed by a few more thumps, a little louder as he tries to reorient himself in the vent. If it sounds like there's an animal in the cieling, that's because there is. ]

Absolutely fuck my life. [ The gruff voice is low and gravelly, akin to someone chain smoking at least a pack of cigarettes a day. When Kugrash exits the vent, it's not with a panicked thud, or even a call for help: it's mostly just annoyance as he brings a paw to the vent, just sort of pushes, and then immediately plummets into the room, right into someone's desk in a cloud of dust and dirt.

Kugrash himself is a rather horrid sight: he's a two foot tall rat man for starters, complete with a scar on his eye, a large snout, and a chunk of his ear missing. He doesn't bother with dusting himself off, dressed in raggedy clothes and holding a pipe like a staff, a bright orange scrap of a vest from an MTA worker cinched on his neck like a cape. Drawing himself as tall as he can (it's a feat, he's got a hunched back and a goddamn rat body), he finally assesses the place and shouts out to the nearest person. ]

Hey buddy, where the hell am I?

ii. Mirror Mirror;
Check it out, I'm a human again! [ Even if it's temporary, it's a start. The moment he spots his reflection outside of the headquarters he stops what he's doing and grabs the first person walking past, barely looking at who it is. ]

I'm just a normal dude! A regular guy! [ Between the thick glasses and chunky suit his human form looks like he's trapped in the 80s, and the look seems to spurs him on. Kugrash reaches out to at his glasses, a relic of an era gone by--his era, his human era--and with absolutely no warning, he erupts into tears. ]

This is the greatest day of my fucking life. [ Sorry, stranger: Kugrash is now not only gripping your hand, but is now attempting to hold it tenderly. His reflection shifts and warps, but Kugrash doesn't notice until he wipes his nose dramatically with his sleeve, peering over his reflection with beady, bloodshot eyes. He's got mouse ears on his mostly human reflection and finally lets go. ]

Is that, uh, supposed to happen? The reflection changing back?

iii. Wildcard
[ Feel free to find Kugrash running about, be it as a rat eating out of the garbage in the office or a human about town. He tends to gravitate towards the homeless or impoverished sections of the city. If you need a grimy guy to smack you awake, he's your rat. PM me if you want a private starter or have any questions!

Kugrash's normal form is a little rat man, but while he's out and about he'll look like his human self! ]

I

[aelwyn_aberration]

[Aelwyn was already looking around, trying to find the sound of the gruff curses. God, these new arrivals are coming in spades...

Is that. Is that a talking rat. Oh no, hopefully they can keep Thackery from eating him. He's pretty gross looking though so maybe he'll survive...]

Uh. Different universe. Cosmic entities built off fear are lurking around, planet's called Earth, you're in the Apocalypse Disruption Initiative – Are you an awakened rat?

Danny | OC | OTA

[wetwolfsmell]

I. HAUNTING TUNES

Alright, fine. Being in another dimension might as well happen, with all this other shit going on. Or, Danny guesses, all this other shit that was going on. Fuckin' cults, man.

Apparently though, that doesn't mean the daily grind stops. And yes, for Danny, the daily grind is ghosts. Not like the cartoon, mind you, but this whole song and dance of weird stuff happening near graveyards and other stereotypically haunted places? Well, he's no Ghostbuster, but let's just say that thanks to events not unlike this, talking to ghosts acting out (and possibly eating them) is part of Danny's life's work now. So while anyone who isn't in the business of hero and hero-adjacent recklessness would probably steer clear of the sites of these eerie trends, one scrawny teenager is marching right for the source.

Which...is probably how he ended up where he is now, passed out on the sidewalk right outside some cemetery gates. Well, he tried. Maybe if you're able to resist it enough you can try to rouse him and haul him out of there, or maybe the ADI's already got it covered and you're the lucky duck who gets to give him a lecture on why charging in is not actually the best way to approach a mystery, especially one in which people have already died.

II. MIRROR, MIRROR

Is this kid playing tough because he's young or is he actually unbothered by all this weirdness? One could argue for the former in most cases, but when you find him standing at one of the public bathroom sinks, brushing his teeth and staring dead-eyed at the absolutely colossal wolf standing menacingly behind his reflection, it's harder to make that case. And that's exactly what he's doing right now, with a look on his face that looks more appropriate for giving to a nagging parent than to a hulking carnivore with six-inch teeth that probably weighs about as much as a small car.

When he catches you looking, his focus - and the wolf's - shifts from the mirror to you with an extremely tired, annoyed-sounding "What?"

Essek Thelyss | Critical Role | OTA

[resonantcomplications]

Arrival-
Teleporting to Eiselcross was never a smooth thing. Being off his mark was almost expected, but he'd been headed to Uthodurn. Where he'd been expecting to see the subterranean streets of the city, he was met with books and strangely lit boxes, and a few surprised and confused expressions turned his way that Essek was willing to bet he was mirroring back. This was not a place or people he knew.

His head felt light, the disorientation and sudden attention beyond dizzying, but he breathed through it as his thoughts took off. Local interference from...wherever he was or something left in the Grove? Surely not the latter. It was possible someone tried to throw off his teleportation from somewhere far away, but that would require a lot of power and dedication. The kind of dedication that would have seen him arriving wherever they'd meant to pull him, more than likely.

Surely there would be less surprise directed his way if he was expected. In the split seconds his thoughts ran through his options, he decided his next steps carefully and deliberately. He would not allow the vulnerability of showing exactly how flat-footed he'd been caught.

Chin lifted, gaze ahead, he stepped purposefully towards the small collection of books on a nearby shelf. He looked them over only a moment before seeming to find what he was looking for and pluck it from its place. Hidden in the illusion of reading whatever was on the page before him, Essek bought himself a few moments to catch sight of anyone nearby in his peripheral vision and watch whatever reactions there may be as whatever normalcy there was here seemed to settle back in. At least he didn't seem to be in any sort of restricted area.

He looked back to the books and their titles for anything that might give him some clue to where in Exandria he was.

If he was even still in Exandria...but that particular possibility was going to need to wait a moment.

Butcher's Camp
They'd mentioned the possibility of research and that had held far more appeal to him than fieldwork...yet here he was all the same. He understood the need for a trial and what better way than a seemingly innocent look into a suspect area? That didn't mean Essek had to like it.

His consternation, however, was very carefully clear of his expression and tone as he and his current companion stepped onto the grounds in question. Hopefully, this was all just rumor or something minor enough to be documented and leave, because he honestly wasn't certain what he was supposed to do with an actual threat without his magic at hand; he couldn't even float and that didn't help his annoyance.

"Let's hope we can make this quick." Was the somewhat terse offering he made as he fell into step with his companion and nudged the sunglasses he'd been provided back up his nose. At least he hadn't been left squinting in the midday sun, then he really would be completely useless.

Mirror, Mirror
The first time he passed by a mirror, it was some small motion that caught his eye. He stopped for a beat, eyes trailing over the dark brown skin and light blue eyes of the generated human disguise staring back at him. It was easy to write off then, just a trick of his eye still unfamiliar with the reflection he wore outside the ADI building.

The next time was harder. That same movement caught his eye once more and when he turned his eyes to meet the reflection, the imperious glare of Shadowhand Thelyss stared down his nose at him with human features and scathing contempt. It was jarring, but not near as much as the red eye open and staring from the reflection's throat.

A startled gasp tore from him and his fingers went to trace the place on his own throat. No, it was an illusion, a trick either of his own mind or forced upon it. He turned quickly and avoided any other reflective surfaces he came across.

The third time was worse. He hadn't meant to look, he knew what he'd see as soon as he did, but compulsion was tricky and his eyes found their way up to his reflection all the same. Those cool, hateful eyes now in his own Indigo-blue, and that bright red eye against deep purple skin was there to greet him, only now there were more. A column of eyes lined his throat, one split along his cheek and another across his forehead, and the hand he brought up to touch his face held the same cursed mark, all staring back at him. Too many. Too many and he'd-

'Stop!' It's panicked and in his mind and nearly in his throat as he turns to seek out anyone nearby he could ask over and gesture to the reflection.

"Do you see them? I know how this may sound, but I need to know: do you see them?" Even if he sounded crazy, he needed to know. Let him be crazy rather than on the threshold of being under the thrall of the Nine Eyes.

[Wildcard option also available if you have an idea! Essek's human form mostly looks like him with dark brown skin, light blue eyes, and blonde hair that looks like it's been bleached.]

Mirror Mirror

[lavorreable]

"See what?" He's caught her mouth full and wide eyed on the street just starting to head back from a bakery. In fact she still has crumbs on her face from the bite of cupcake she'd just chomped on.

Then is dawns on her what this man's voice sounds like. Then his cheekbones and posture - even distressed - click into place and Jester nearly drops her entire box of cupcakes.

"Essek?!" she exclaims with surprise and delight, forgetting momentarily that her own appearance is charmed to look just as human as the dark elf appears and that he might not recognize her. "Oh my god Essek you're here!!"

Forget what it is she's supposed to be seeing, reuniting with one of the Nein is far more important right now.

Glenn Rhee | The Walking Dead (dusting him off for some voicetesting - will match style!)

[halffull]

a͢r͢r͢i͢v͢a͢l͢

[ Glenn was on a supply run in an abandoned supermarket when he finds himself in a room that looks nothing like the place he was supposed to be. He arrived in the canteen area, with a pistol in a holster on his hip and a machete sheathed away on the opposite side. There's sweat on his brow, old blood splatters on his clothes and he looks like he hasn't slept properly for a few days.

He approaches someone nearby, hand resting close to the machete handle. A precaution mostly, born out of the habit of having to deal with both the undead and the hostile living back home. ]

Hey. [ Should someone recognise his accent they'll be able to tell that he's from Michigan. ] Do you know where we are?

---

m͢i͢r͢r͢o͢r͢ m͢i͢r͢r͢o͢r͢

[ This place looked normal. Despite being pulled from his world, Glenn had yet to see any hordes of walkers roaming around or abandoned buildings. However, there's a feeling in the pit of his stomach that not everything is right. It's a feeling he can’t seem to shake off, even when he goes into local businesses and stops by the ADI headquarters. Oddly enough, it reminds him of that old video game he used to play – Silent Hill. That everything here was not as it seemed on the surface.

He went into the General's store to have a quick browse, despite not having anything to trade with. There was nothing weird about it, the store was like any kind of store you could find in small town America.

One part of the store has panes of glass set aside, presumably for window repair. Glenn gives it a passing glance as he walks down the aisle, but what he sees in the reflection of the glass is enough to make him stop in his tracks and take a closer look.

He could've sworn he saw the face of Noah, a friend he lost back home. His friend was calling out to him for help, arms outstretched as he was mercilessly torn apart by walkers. Glenn had never forgotten that day when Noah was trapped, and he couldn't save him; he had to watch his friend die a painful death. ]

I'm sorry. [ He whispers to himself, trying to keep his emotions in check. ] I should've saved you.

---

n͢e͢t͢w͢o͢r͢k͢

Man, it's been forever since I used a cell phone.

[Glenn doesn't elaborate on the reason why that is, but he follows up his message with:]

Is anyone else getting some Silent Hill vibes off this place or is it just me?

[Not everyone will get the reference.]

Arrival! (just oot and abooot?)

[bossyboiler]

[ And there's Kate, just staring at him. Fresh cup of coffee in one hand, a group of folders in her other. She'd never seen someone materialize in front of her before. Give her a moment, please! ]

Yes. I know where you are.

[ When she finally learns how to brain. Is she being cautious? Yes! She's seen the gun and the big, fuck-off knife. Of course, she's being careful. ]

The Vestige | Elder Scrolls Online | OTA

[nightblades]

Arrival

[ Anyone coming or going from the ADI housing complex might run into a man - hood up and swathed in dark clothes from head to toe - loitering (perhaps suspiciously) around the entrance. It looks like he might have been there for a while, and though it'd rile him to no end to hear how out of his depth he looks, Kodi is exactly that. His only saving grace is that if he wasn't supposed to be here, security would have escorted him away by now. Turns out he does live here, he just has no idea where or how to access his room.

He's never seen an apartment complex before. Or a bus. Or a keycard, in fact. How does a thief pick a lock that doesn't exist? There's a deep-seated kind of panic he's desperately trying to ignore. Out of his depth is bad. Out of his depth is a threat to his continued existence.

So while he's yet to see anybody yet to emulate - to pretend like he knows exactly what he's doing - he's absolutely going to prop up a wall as if that's something he really wants to be doing.

It's not. ]

The Butcher's Camp cw: vague ref to black market organ selling >.>

[ Irritated by the employee's wink, as though it's implied he's stupid enough to believe that what lies on the path ahead is in any way worthy of one, Kodi glances sidelong at his apparent partner for the day. Frankly, he'd rather be doing this alone and not least because he most definitely wants to veer off track and explore. But just in this moment - one that could be more conspiratorial rather than anything else - he's wondering if he's the only person irked by the wink. ]

Do you think he's getting extra gold for the wink?

[ Now might be a good time to confess that modern technology is so far outside of his experience that a wax fire poker would be of more use. Vastly more use. Instead he's making sarcastic comments and wondering how much one-hundred of these dollars is equivalent to in gold. ]

Eyes are worth a lot, though.

[ What a charming conversationalist Kodi is! Enjoy your time with him, fellow hiker. ]

Mirror, Mirror cw: snake-like monster linked

[ The novelty of how crystal clear the mirrors seem are only lost on the Nord for one reason alone. It's not so much that he's vain, though he doesn't think his features cut a particularly unpleasant shape. It's just strange to be able to see in such detail his own reflection without needing to use the kind of magic that he's not very good at.

The distraction, as it turns out, comes in the form of a tall, quad-limbed daedra known as a harvester, rising up to tower over him just over his shoulder. Both hands slam at his hips, hilts of daggers what his fingers are reaching for and they find... nothing.

Where are his blades?

Spinning around with more grace than a panicked man should probably have available under great stress, his gaze is already pitched way above whoever has joined him across the room. In fact, he hasn't even noticed his new company, too busy sporting a pale-as-a-spirit look and losing half his water content in cortisol-induced cold sweats.

Has he ever mentioned that he's really not a fan of snakes? ]

Wildcard

Please feel free to slam down a wildcard if nothing above takes your fancy!

arrival

[sorser]

[Stephen doesn’t live in the assigned ADI housing—he finds the freedom of Bonnie’s more convenient, and more forgiving to those who burn the figurative midnight oil—but he’s no stranger to the ADI administrative buildings, or the apartment complexes associated with them.

And the thing about living in the ADI apartments is that you’re either in or out — there’s no real reason to loiter, not without being escorted off the premises if someone didn’t belong, he presumes. Meaning that this man, who isn’t blending in quite as much as he’d like, is either deeply lost in thought, or having some difficulties entering.

Stephen approaches. He’s dressed normally today, though that might not mean much to someone from a different world altogether. Still, he speaks up—]

You’re a face I don’t recognize.

[…He can’t actually see his face, not with that hood. But hi.]

abby kim | original (gifted & talented)

[retisense]

ARRIVAL

[Waking up in the tight squeeze of an air duct would probably freak most people out, what with the metal closing in on all sides and the cobwebs brushing against exposed skin, but Abby finds it kind of...almost reassuring, at first. It isn't enclosed spaces that bother her, but big, wide, open spaces with nothing on the horizon. Being stuck in one place isn't so bad, not when you can hear voices talking and the life of a building full of people around you. It's not like it's a dark cave in the middle of nowhere and no one is coming for her.

So, for a few moments, Abby is just still. She lies there trying to get her bearings, trying to figure out where she is and why, feeling disoriented and weak and exhausted, despite the fact she remembers very distinctly that a moment ago she'd been rolling around in bed trying to convince herself to get up.

Then a spider crawls across her face and she makes a startled little noise, jerks, knocks her knees against the metal of the duct, and slaps her hand over the spot the spider had been.]

Ah fuck, jesus, gross.

[It's more breathy and disgusted than really scared, but it gets her moving. Using her knees and elbows, she drags herself on her belly through the dust in the bottom of the duct until she sees a grate pointing downward and someone moving in the room there.]

Hello? Hey, hello? Care to give me a hand here?

THE BUTCHER'S CAMP cw: possible discussion and memory of survival cannibalism

Seriously, I'm only doing this for the $100, we don't have to try too hard, right? Like, the first minute we see something weird, snap a picture and we're outta here?

[This whole place makes her nervous, and she readjusts the strap of her messenger bag before crossing her arms against her upper belly, walking just behind whoever she's with. It's just...creepy. Abandoned towns and buildings are always creepy, but knowing she's here to find something weird just takes it to the next level, and she squeezes a little harder at the smartphone they'd given her. As calm as she looks on the outside, the trees looming over her and the prospect of a big gross spider-infested abandoned cabin showing up around the next curve on the trail are messing with her head a little.

But instead of a gross cabin around the corner, they run into an abandoned hunting camp. Stopping dead in her tracks, Abby opens her mouth and then shuts it again immediately, staring at the scattered carcasses and blood everywhere, eyes wide. She can't identify what some of the bodies were, without heads, without feet or limbs or skin, they could be anything, they could be deer or bears or people.]

No. Nope, no way. I am not stepping one goddamn foot in there.

[Setting her jaw, she crosses her arms harder to try to hide how much she's shaking.]

MIRROR MIRROR

[The first time she'd noticed it, she'd been applying some lipstick at the mirror in the morning. Her reflection had behaved at first, but after a few minutes it had stopped following her movements and stayed still, staring at her with a malevolent expression on its face, looking for all the world like the monster she'd been painted as in more than a few news stories and publications. At first she hadn't quite picked up on it, still half-asleep, but when she did, she'd startled, jumped a little, and sucked in a sharp breath.

Abby isn't like a lot of the other people here, actually interested in this crap, so she'd immediately draped her jacket over the mirror and left the bathroom. Come afternoon, she's still studiously avoiding any and all reflective surfaces. When she spots someone giving just a bit too lingering a look at the well-polished surface of a table, she puts a hand on her hip and shakes her head.]

Wouldn't do that if I were you.

HAUNTING TUNES

[Does everything here have to be creepy? Between the body-strewn hunting camp and the weird reflections in the mirrors, she'd been on edge enough, but now there's gotta be a creepy memory she's sure she remembers her mom singing to her when she was a kid?

It happens when she's crossing the street...jaywalking, actually...from the sidewalk bordering a graveyard toward a coffee shop across the street. She'd wanted coffee because she was feeling drowsy, the tune was louder, she was feeling worn out and on edge and all she wanted was a damn coffee. Instead, she feels a wave of exhaustion so intense she can't ignore it anymore, right in the middle of the right lane of the street, and for just a second feels a wave of panic at where she is and what's about to happen before she passes out in a lump.]

WILDCARD

Write me a random starter or send me a PM to plot a custom starter. I'm also open to text misfires and other text threads.

Opt-out for the character or for topics involving her history of survival cannibalism is here.

mirror mirror

[cacophonish]

The warning seems to slide right over Jeff. He's leaning forward, closer and closer to his own warped reflection, not because he seems particularly concerned about it, but because of the thing just behind it, seeming to peek out from over his shoulder.

It's familiar, in how wrong it is. He misses it. He wants to reach out and touch it, but he knows that won't do shit. And if he turns and looks behind him, it won't be there.

It only exists here, in this polished surface.

"I'm used to it..." he says, dazed and a little distracted in his longing, before something seems to click in his head. Jeff looks over at the woman. "Hey. You see something too?"

That's new. Usually his hallucinations are, like, you know, in his head.

Faith Lehane | Buffy the Vampire Slayer

[slayerskiss]

I. Far From Home

[One night, you go to bed, dreaming of a girl leaping from a tower into a hole in the universe and telling you to live, telling you to help her friends and protect her sister and any number of things people do when they're dead or dying.

Then, the next morning, you wake up and you're on a bathroom floor.

Faith's having a bit of a bad day.]

Eugh. Fuckin' gross. [She curls her nose in disgust before quickly jumping to her feet. It takes her a few moments to realize this absolutely isn't prison, and a few moments more to push the door open and step out into a hallway.] Where the fuck am I...?

II. The Hunter

[So it's a lot like what Buffy and her do, except it's in a cushy office with free coffee and Ann Ual Reports. Whatever the fuck those are. Well, it's five by five, she's decided. At least with this one she gets paid, and isn't just permanently put on standby in a motel.

So here she is, going through Dogtown, deceptively chill. They're supposed to be looking for some kind of abandoned campsite, and Faith just wonders if there's still vampires in this world. Dumbass campers make for a really appetizing snack for any of the more outdoorsy type of bloodsucking demons.]

This your first time? You know, in uh... whatever the fuck this place is called. [She speaks in a Boston accent that really shines whenever she says anything that ends with a vowel or vowel adjacent sound.]

III. Siren's Song.

[She's a Slayer, she hears word of some spooky demonic music, she goes to investigate and hopes to slay. Of course, that's harder when the graveyards of Gloucester seem largely empty of any beasties to be killed.

She sniffs as she patrols through the graveyard before seeming to grimace.] This might be the most boring Graveyard I've ever seen. [If she spots a dubiously friendly face, she'll give a nod in greeting.] Same idea?

The Hunter

[bloodalwaystells]

I've been here once before, last month when I first arrived. It got very strange.

[Jaeger glances down at Faith, then off into the trees again, stepping cautiously over rocks and branches in his big, sensible boots. It's definitely not the cushy office job, but so far it's not horrible, at least.

Not yet, anyway. He's fully aware that this could turn out terrible in the end.]

Dogtown seems to be the local mystery spot, if just because it's wooded and isolated. I'm not surprised we've been sent here again...

[He reaches up to briefly touch the camera hanging around his neck, before letting it drop again. Nothing to take pictures of yet, but the trees do thin out ahead...]

Sebastian Monroe | Revolution (pre-Blackout) | OTA

[everything4him]

1. Arrival

This was clearly a sign from God that he was going to get a dishonorable discharge. Bass had dtepped into the supply closet to meet Sgt. Thompson for the kind of fun no one was allowed to ask them about and that Miles was the only person he'd tell about it. Mostly because they needed a lookout, and Miles was exceptional at that. The irony of stepping in to a closet to do things that only military regulations kept him "in the closet" about to begin with was not lost on him.

But when he looked around, not only was Thompson not there, but the supply closet had undergone a serious remodel since last week's meetup. He peeked back out in the hall wanting to get Miles' opinion on the place, but that was not the barracks hall and Miles was not standing guard. That was the most ridiculous part, honestl. No one ever asccused Bass about being great on details (though the Marines had drilled situational awareness into him pretty damn well), so the hallway looking different could just be his not paying attention and even going to the wrong barracks. He'd met Cpl. Jameson in her barracks three days ago - maybe he'd wandered there instead, which was gonna be even more awkward if he got caught. Though less likely to lead to a dishonorable discharge. But, really. Miles wouldn't have let him make that stupid of a mistake, and, more importantly, there was no way in Hell Miles would've sbandoned him.

"...Miles?" He kept his voice low, even as he called out inquiringly, then backed up into the closet again to try and figure out a plan, bumping in to someone else. He gave a slightly undignified yelp for a Marine (or anyone but a teenage girl) because no way did he miss another person in here before.

Turning, he straightened the jacket of his desert camo BDU and tried to look like no one who would've made that sound.

"You weren't here a moment ago." He really hoped it didn't sound like a question. "And you are not Sgt. Eric Thompson." Of that, at least, he was sure. It might be the only thing he was sure of, but he hadn't forgotten the man's face or name before sleeping with him. Even he wasn't that careless. Although he did just admit to expecting to find another..male...Marine in the closet with him, so..that last point was debatable. "I don't suppose you know where 'here' is? I seem to have gotten turned around."

If he were Miles he'd come up with something about where he'd expected to be that wasn't a supply closet with another male Marine, but Bass sucked at lying, and Miles was better thinking shit like that up on the fly--even if he picked the worst aliases when giving a fake name. So, he just smiled and tried to not look as lost and incompetent as he felt.

2. The Butcher's Camp
cw: animal death, both human and animal butchery, implied cannibalism)

He wasn't feeling any less lost--or out of his depth if not incompetent--when he and his assigned partner were dropped off with their instructions and sent down the trailhead. It was, at least, a more familiar feeling--he was used to being sent to scope out potentially dangerous places, though usually better armed and more often for insurgents than "paranormal activity," but this whole place is fucking weird, and Bass remained unconvinced he hadn't had a stress-induced psychotic break. Their last engagement had been brutal...

About as brutal as what they discovered in the camp in the woods--it had been as bloody, at least. Less of a sense that one might end up dinner if one lingered too long, but the oppressive feeling of not-nice people and the liklihood of a bloody death were refreshingly familiar. "Refreshingly?" Christ, he had issues.

He hesitated before moving farther in.

"I don't know if thid counts as the 'paranormal' stuff they're looking for, but it sure isn't normal," he remarked quietly to his partner. "You think we should at least document it? It's 'peculiar,' for sure."

He appreciated his necessities were provided for by these folks who'd clearly kidnapped him into a psych ward or whatever, but he wasn't going to turn his nose up at $100. If he ever found somewhere to go away from here, he could use the extra at the ready.

Still, he really didn't want to go in there.

3. Mirror Mirror
There had been a horrific wound obscutring his tattoo when he glimpsed himself getting in the mirror after his shower that morning. When he'd looked down, it had been fine--his and Miles' mark, with "Monroe" draped beneath it. Catching a glimpse of his back in the double reflection of his mirror and the one behind had dshown its own mess--a criss-cross of bloody welts. When he'd tuened and twisted to get a better look, they were gone his back an unblemished stretch of tan skin.

"What the hell?"

When he looked a 3rd time, both wounds were back and he could feel them, too. Not pleasant, not pleasant, not pleasant.

He was pretty sure that seeing things and feeling phantom wounds was something he was supposed to tell his shrink--err, "grief counselor"--about, but the man was back in Baghdad, with Miles, either on the other side of this world or on another. When a sideways glimpse in a window along the street showed blood leaking from his left eye and a bad head wound above it, he stopped looking.

That didn't stop the pounding of his head, though, or the fact that hisperipheral vision seemed wonky on the left. It didn't stop the raw feeling on his back of the burn where fabric chafed against his forearm, either. Looking away helped, but only so much, and the headache wasn't going away.

He found someone who looked like they might know something about this place.

"Hey, I'm sorry to bother you, but is there a med unit or clinic or something around here? I think there's something wrong with me..."

4. Haunting Tunes

Just as recent as two years ago, in the time Before the accident, Bass had loved Fall. Now the decorations twist his stomach in knots, but he waas getting better at pushing it aside. He'd gone off on people putting pilgrims up in the barracks last year, but he just winced a bit at the decor around Gloucester. The music caught his attention more, not least because of his own musical leanings. He found himself chasing it, trying to find the source. The grester number of traffic accidents he noted and felt personally attacked by--like someone hasd poured salt on his not-yet-healed-wounds--but his situational awareness still functioned, remarkably, even when he felt in a trance, and he managed to not get hit, even if he had a couple of close calls. Honestly, it was enough to make a fellow wonder just why he hadn't died before now, given all his close calls and dangerous life choices. Why them and not him? Whatever it had been back home, it seemed to be continuing here.

Which was how he found himself in a graveyard, investigating. That was his job now, right? But there wasn't anything he could explicitly identify as causing it. He left for supplies and came back later with a blanket and a large thermos of coffee. If he knew where to score here, he'd have gone for something stronger, but he had yet to figure that out. He told himself it would just be like a late patrol, but he usually took something before that, and coffee, it turned out, wasn't enough. Eventually, her fell asleep, blsanket around him for warmth and propped up against a gravestone. There might not be any immediate danger to key him awake, but that surely can't be a safe place for a nap...

Jerry • Tales from the Gas Station

[murderology]

Arrival

[ At some point during the arrival process, there's a sound coming from a maintenance duct, loud and prolonged, dying down for a second only to pick up the volume again. It's almost as if the building is breathing.

It won't take very long (or maybe that depends on how tolerant you are of the sound) before a vent overhead falls to the ground after a couple of good hits and someone's head comes poking through.

Confused, he quirks a brow.]

Huh. That's new.

[ He drops himself down, dusts the cobwebs off himself the best he can — mind the t-shirt with the lovable cartoon character giving the finger — and gives the room a once over. Wasn't he just napping in the storage closet?

At any rate, once he notices someone else in the room the confusion on his face gives way to a big grin.]

Oh, hey. Sup?

mirror, mirror

[ It takes a damn long time to get the cobwebs off of his clothes and hair, which means he spends a long time in the bathroom plucking at webbing, getting it stuck on his hand, and then fighting with it until he accidentally rubs it off on his shirt and...repeats the process.

Kinda annoying.

At some point he glances up at the mirror and sees someone behind him. A woman. He's about to point out that she's in the men's room but he totally won't judge or tell anyone because at the end of the day who cares —

—but he recognizes this woman. ]

Van?

[ He spins around, only to see that he's still alone, mouth hanging agape in confusion. This happens...several more times, almost any time he passes a reflective surface. At some point, wherever there may be a mirror, you're liable to come across Jerry trying to crawl right into it. Or maybe just holding it up and yelling at it. ​]

Van? Hellooo! VAN! Come outta there!

[ He'll turn towards anyone walking by him, casually asking— ]

Hey, wanna help me get my friend out of the mirror?

wildcard baby
[ or feel free to wildcard me yo. there is almost no amount of shenanigans this guy won't get up to so go nuts. ]

arrival;

[stations]

( Saying things have gotten complicated would kind of be like saying the ocean's a little wet. It's not even just about being here, although that's pretty weird. It's about all the stuff that came before it, all the months he's spent alone, all the killing he's had to do, and the hard revelations hitting him in the face like a fucking canon ball. The point is, Jack's in a really... bad... place.

Which is why he's dead silent for a solid three seconds after he stands, and why his voice cracks a little in thick, wavering disbelief. )

...Jerry?

( Are you real, or is this— Oh, fuck, please be real. )

Mollymauk Tealeaf | Critical Role

[circus_man]

1. Arrival

When Molly first wakes up he thinks he's in his grave. The memories of the last time come back in a rush and his heartbeat picks up rapidly, his breath catching in his throat. He'd died. He remembered dying, so surely he was, it was this all over again-

Oh but- but he remembers. He remembers his friends and he remembers all of their faces and he remembers the man who had taken his life. That hadn't happened the first time.

It takes another few seconds for him to realise he's standing as well, not laying on his back. And then once he realises that he realises it's not earth pressing against him. There's nothing pressing against him. He holds out a hand it catches on something in front of him that has been obscuring his vision. Several dark swaths of fabric are hanging up near the back wall of what appears to be some kind of small closet, and now they're out of the way he can see the bright line of light around the door.

Molly steps over a bucket, his tail catching on a broom and knocking it over, several bottles of something clattering across the floor in front of him.

So he isn't dead this time. Or he is dead, and he's already come back, this time with memories. Which is an improvement.

The handle on the door twists, and Molly steps out into a brightly lit hallway, with no further clue as to where he is or why he's here. It's just another new adventure.


2. Butcher's Camp

Mollymauk isn't a stranger to marks on his body. He has his scars, he has his tattoos, it probably isn't too weird that he's drawing a dotted line around his forearm just above where the scars stop. He has no real interest in documenting anything, he's seen enough weird shit, but he does like money, so here he is.

He puts the brush down and holds out his arm to admire his handiwork, turning it back and forth. The black looks really nice against his lilac skin.

“This place is really creepy.” It goes without saying, but Molly likes to state the obvious sometimes, because looking around it’s obviously not a good spot to spend too much time, and the closer he lets himself inspect things the more he thinks the payout isn’t worth it.

Picking up the black brush again, he looks to his companion. “Do you want me to do one for you?” His eyes move over their body, from their throat, down their arms, their belly, their thighs. They’d look so pretty covered in little black lines.


3. Mirror Mirror
[cw: altered perceptions and unreality/hallucination, body horror]

Molly likes looking at himself. He has spent a lot of time looking at himself. So Molly knows when something isn't right. Not that is isn't obvious, it isn't subtle, because as he stares at his reflection, one of his eyes begins to slide slowly down his cheek.

If Molly blinks then it returns to the right place. But then it starts to slide again. And after a minute the sliding eye is joined by one of his horns on the opposite side beginning to slide down the side of his head.

His hand jumps up to touch the horn, and it's still where it should be. Another blink and it's back in place.

He doesn't think he took anything. He doesn't remember taking anything.

His eye and his horn slide again. He blinks. The whole side of his face begins to slide with his eye.

Molly clutches his hands over his face and tries to swallow down the panic. Tries to hold his face in place. And wishes he could tear his eyes away from the mirror.

4. Haunting Tunes

Molly used to hum this song all the time. It played over and over at the carnival like some kind of constant background music that is easy to miss after a while, something you got used to if you were around it enough, but it also got stuck in your head easily.

He found himself humming it when he was on the road after he left the Carnival. It was something familiar, something that took him back to a happy place.

So it isn't unusual that he's humming it now. He's been tired recently, his tired brain must be dredging things up from the past. But it is unusual that he can actually hear it. And he thinks maybe he's following it, because the music grows gradually louder as he gets closer to the graveyard.

It would be a weird place to put a Carnival, Molly's increasingly tired brain thinks. But it wouldn't be the weirdest place.

His feet feel heavy against the ground, and he can't seem to see any sign of the Carnival, but it might be a nice idea to have a nap. Maybe a nap will help. Maybe if he just lays down here-


[ooc: my personal journal is hey_tulli if you want to hit me up for any reason. i'm also very new here, so if i mess up then it's all me being a mess]

Caleb Widogast | Critical Role

[caleb_widogast]

1. Arrival

“Oh no,” Caleb says out loud, possibly an understatement to the predicament he’s found himself in. His mind races through all of the possibilities that could have led to him being here so suddenly. Wild magic- but he had been in Rexxentrum. A miscalculated teleport? He hadn’t been going anywhere. He had been still and peaceful in the library. And now he was very much not.

So ‘oh no’ didn’t really cover it.

It takes him a few long moments to process that this is a bathroom. There is a row of sinks with a long mirror stretching across the wall above them, and he sees himself there, pale and confused and possibly more bedraggled than he was expecting.

Stepping back he looks along the row of individual cubicles that his brain suggests must hold the toilets, though that step is far enough for him to see that he isn’t alone. The shock makes his heart jump, but there’s some relief that there might be some answers to be found here.

“How did we get here?”

It doesn’t seem like it should be the first thing to ask, he surprises himself, but those are the words that come out of his mouth.

How did we get here?


2. Butcher’s Camp

“I think we have seen enough,” Caleb says, despite the fact that they’ve just arrived. It probably says a lot for the place that one glance can tell you that you really shouldn’t hang around.

The air smells of blood and rot and death and Caleb is pretty sure he would be vomiting right now if he had anything inside him to vomit up. As it is his stomach just curls and twists and clenches and his mouth fills unpleasantly with saliva.

He’s been to bad places before, but even facing down a dragon he never got this immediate feeling of fear, of wanting to turn back right now and run.

“It’s really not worth it. We should go.” He doesn’t advance forward. He doesn’t think he could make his legs work that way anyway. “Please, let us leave.”


3. Mirror Mirror

Caleb is only washing his face. It's the simplest thing, which is why he's taken by surprise. Which is an understatement.

Looking up, Caleb looks at his reflection to make sure he hasn't missed anything, then startles. Something moves behind him.

He turns and looks around the otherwise completely empty room. There's nowhere anyone else could be hidden. No one else is here. He was probably just seeing things.

Scratching his damp beard, Caleb turns back to the mirror.

This time he physically jumps, spinning around to pin himself against the sink, staring around the room, his heart hammering in his chest.

Trent was in here somewhere. There was nowhere he could have hidden, but Caleb had seen him. Standing behind him in his reflection, smirking at him.

"I know you're here," he says loudly. "I know you're here. Show yourself."

When there is no response, Caleb turns again, looking over his shoulder at the mirror. He sees himself, but the room behind him is on fire, flames lapping all over the walls, smoke curling against the ceiling. And Trent is there. Smirking, then laughing.

"What are you doing?" Caleb yells. "Was willst du von mir?" His fingers are gripping the sink as he stares blindly around the empty bathroom, the image in the mirror not changing when he glances over his shoulder again. "Lass mich in Ruhe!" His voice cracked, panic rising in his chest.


[ooc: you can find me on hey_tulli for any queries or thoughts or anything. i'm very new here, so forgive me for any mess i make.]

[infrastructured]

There is a slight knock at the door to the bathroom once Caleb's initial outburst is over. Then, at the yelling, Steven attempts to open it. Locked. Dammit.

"Caleb? Caleb, open the door. Are you alright?" He's not panicked himself, but his voice rises with concern. "Did something happen?" German is a language Steven never bothered to learn, but he gets the basics. "Let me -in,- Caleb, or so help me I will break this door down to rescue you."

Moira McNamara | original | OTA

[glaringdesignflaw]

Arrival - Gym

One moment Moira isn't there, and the next moment she is, stumbling mid-step on her crutches and looking around wild-eyed at the bright, unfamiliar room in which she finds herself. She flinches as catches sight of herself in the mirror from the corner of her eye, relaxing only incrementally when she turns and sees her own reflection. From there her gaze darts around the room; for all the world she looks like a frightened animal as she edges backward toward the mirrored wall, eyes going wide when they light on the other person in the room.

"Where am I?!"



Haunting Tunes

Moira lays sleeping in the graveyard, her head resting on her overstuffed backpack and her crutches laying discarded nearby. To all appearances she seems to have just dropped where she was and curled up on a grave for a nap - at first glance one might think they've found something worse than someone who's merely asleep.



[OOC: For general reaction/reference, Moira is missing her left leg below the knee.]

Haunting Tunes

[resonantcomplications]

It's music that brings him here, music he hasn't heard in over eighty years, not since his father was alive. He'd thought it a trick of the wind at first, but the snatches of it he caught were tempting enough he'd followed them until he'd stood at the gates of a graveyard, it's stony sentinels greeting him and no cause for the music in sight.

He liked to think there would have been a time he would have done the sensible thing and turned right around and left instead of giving into curiosity and half-hearted excuses to go further in. He was sane at one time, he was sure...now, it might be a bit more debatable.

As he comes across the poor girl laying on a grave, head pillowed by her bag and eerily still, he's not certain if he's glad he came in or more weary than before. Carefully, he kneels, a hand hovering over her shoulder. "Hello? Can you hear me?"

Essek takes a breath and places his hand as lightly as he can on her shoulder to give her a small shake before pulling his hand away again. "Miss?" Hopefully she was only making unwise choices about sleeping in graveyards and not one of the many other inhabitants here, simply at a higher elevation.

Eric Matthews | Boy Meets World

[mistersquirrels]

A. Arrival

So he's in a janitor's closet.

Not exactly weird because he was in a janitor's closet a second ago? But this one is different from the one he was in a second ago. The broom to the left was just off to the side of the mop, and it absolutely wasn't a second ago.

"Something's wrong."

He sniffs the air, noting a whiff of lemon. Not entirely unusual in a janitor's closet with several large containers of cleaning stuff that says lemon on it, but he could have sworn the ones he saw a second ago were lavender flavored.

"Something's definitely wrong."

He pulls his foot gingerly out of a wet bucket--still lemon flavored, even if it was dirt water--and quietly opens the door.

There's an office on the other side.

"Oh! I know this one!"

He snaps his fingers and points at the unfortunate person who happens to be walking in front of him, or perhaps the unfortunate person who has materialized in the closet with him.

"We're in Narnia!"


B. The Butcher's Camp

This is the least-fun magical world he can think of. Nothing like Narnia or Disney or Busch Gardens or London, all those mystical, whimsical, magical places you see on TV that aren't real but a lot of people wanna go to them. In fact, it downright sucks.

It downright sucks real bad right now and he's terrified.

Eric lets out a little shriek and latches onto his partner when he sees another carcass.

"This is the part where the killer jumps out at us," he hisses, wide-eyed.

They're about to cross over the threshold into camp and he's hating this every second they stay here, but he really does need the hundred dollars, having spent his stipend completely already on candy.

"Whoever has the best scream gets the most screentime," he informs his partner, who he is still clinging to. "But you also run the risk of being the first victim. You'll probably end up in the trailer, though."

He's not letting go.


C. Mirror, Mirror

"Quit it!"

It's just a decorative mirror on the wall at Headquarters, but Eric has had enough of his mirror self mocking him. It's warped and weird, shadowy and his smile is way too big and way too sharp.

He starts poking at the mirror aggressively.

"You think you're better than me!?"

He puts his hands against the wall and sticks his face in the mirror.

"Do ya? Well, you're not! I mean, you could look worse, it's not so bad, actually...the teeth are a little unnerving, sure, we can work with that, but..."

D. Wildcard - Anything goes!

c!

[cacophonish]

"Dude."

It's nice being on the other side of this, for once. Watching somebody else react to their warped and twisted visions, instead of being the one yelling at nothing, it's like, a nice change of pace.

"Your reflection needs a dentist."